Are You Practicing Herbalism or Just Buying Herbs?

We love to talk about "natural remedies"—but how natural is it if we’re just replacing pharmaceuticals with herbs we barely know? When ancient herbal wisdom is reduced to another pill we can pop, does it become just another form of consumerism?

About ten years ago, I completed nearly four years of herbal training. I felt confident suggesting the most effective herb for a person—but something was missing. One day, as I stepped outside for a walk, it hit me: I wouldn’t be able to recognize a single herb I had learned about in all those classes. I felt devastated. I loved herbs and herbalism, but my education had left me disconnected from the land and the plants themselves. It was like reading the beginning and end of a book but never grasping its full depth. That moment changed everything—I decided to learn how to wildcraft, forging deep connections one plant at a time.

Looking back on my herbal training—and the general approach to herbalism—I realized that even when we move beyond allopathic modern medicine, we often carry over many of its principles. We swap pills for plants, but the mindset remains the same. Yet, the true potency of herbs goes far beyond symptom treatment. For me, it’s about deep connection—with self, with plants, and with the land.

The Aesthetics of Herbalism

Search #herbalism on social media, and you’ll find beautifully curated posts: “Herbal Travel Essentials,” “Top 10 Herbs for Sleep,” or reels declaring, “Willow is nature’s painkiller” and “Why you should always have echinacea in your home apothecary!” While visually appealing (and, I’ll admit, even I’ve fallen into the trap of catchy titles), this approach runs the risk of simply swapping aspirin for willow bark. People stockpile bulk herbs because an influencer said, “Use this for that,” without considering their personal needs or their ecosystem—still locked in a symptom-based mindset. When we do this, are we truly honoring the healing power of nature? Or are we missing something essential?

Part 1: Deep Nature Connection

One story I often share with my students is how many times I’ve suggested an herb to a client, only to hear them say, “Oh, I love that in tea blends!” or “I just came across it recently,” or even “That’s the plant on my duvet cover!” Beyond the usual criteria for choosing an herb, I’ve started asking clients if there are plants they feel drawn to or that keep appearing in their lives.

Once, I joked to a client that I was merely passing along messages from the natural world. And I’m not alone—fellow herbalists around the world share similar experiences.

I think Robin Wall Kimmerer was onto something when she wrote:

“Our indigenous herbalists say to pay attention when plants come to you; they’re bringing you something you need to learn.”

Or rather, Indigenous herbalists have always known this. Traditional herbalism was never separate from the land, the seasons, relationships, and spirit. Medicine was more than treating symptoms; it was a reciprocal relationship—nurturing what nurtures us.

Since becoming a steward of a small piece of land in the North of the Netherlands, I’ve come to understand something our ancestors likely knew by heart: plant medicine isn’t just about how plants affect us. Plants are in conversation with the land, offering healing to their ecosystem too. Nettle restores and detoxifies both our bodies and the soil. Chamomile soothes humans and neighboring plants alike. Plants adapt to their surroundings—those growing in harsh conditions produce more antioxidants and bitter compounds. Even the salic acid (the precursor to aspirin) in willow is influenced by water levels. Herbal medicine isn’t static; it’s a living dialogue with nature.

Part 2: Symptom vs. Being

Hippocrates, known as the father of modern medicine, once said:

“It is more important to know what kind of a patient has the disease than what kind of a disease the patient has.”

The same applies to herbalism. Plants aren’t just “good for” specific ailments—they have energetics (warming/cooling, drying/moistening), just like people do. Ayurveda, Traditional Chinese Medicine, and the Four Humors theory all recognize this balance. The beauty of herbalism is that we can work with plants to restore equilibrium—not just alleviate symptoms but support the whole system in returning to natural regeneration.

When we find the right match between a plant and a person, one herb often addresses multiple concerns at once. That’s where the magic happens: it’s not about treating a symptom—it’s about finding a plant ally that gently nudges the person toward regeneration.

Of course, herbal medicine has its limits. And while that’s another conversation, it’s worth noting: our ancestors would have given anything for access to modern medicine when needed.

A New (Ancient) Approach

So, what does nature-connected herbalism look like? To me, it’s about:

🌿 Viewing herbalism as relationship-building—deep, reciprocal, and personal

🌿 Considering the whole being: both plant and person, including energetics

🌿 Honoring the ecosystem of both the herb and the human

🌿 Learning to wildcraft or grow your own herbs—or, if buying, sourcing ethically and locally

I wonder—what would you add to this list?

How We Can Shift Our Approach

Let’s practice herbalism as herbalism—not modern medicine with herbs instead of pills. Here are some of my favorite ways to shift our approach (which we explore in depth in Wild Medicine!):

🌿 Take it slow and go deep: Learn plants one by one.

🌿 Practice observing and listening to nature’s wisdom.

🌿 Work with local plants—remember the ecosystem connection.

🌿 Focus on nourishment as an invitation for the body to heal (I share more in my free workshop, Nourish to Flourish—join us here!)

Let’s not turn herbalism into the latest consumer trend. Let’s make it about connection—to plants, to the land, and to ourselves.

Are you inspired to continue your herbal journey? Consider joining the 3 month herbal immersive Wild Medicine, or sign up for the free workshop Nourish to Flourish.