Ginkgo

Libra & Scorpio: September 23 - November 21

Hibakusha (被爆者) is a Japanese term for the people who survived the 1945 atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Hibakujumoku (被爆樹木) is a related term that refers specifically to the trees that survived the same event. Hibakujumoku are also known as "witness trees." By some coincidence, I had already started reading about hibakujumoku when the Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to Nihon Hidankyo, a group of hibakusha, this past October 11th. Nihon Hidankyo has been lobbying the Japanese government and the world for the abolition of nuclear weapons since 1956.

Ginkgo is one of a handful of hibakujumoku species. Standing as close as 1,120 meters from the hypocenter of the blast, these Ginkgos were exposed to massive amounts of radiation and traumatic soil conditions. No one thought they would survive the event, but eyewitness reports relate that within two years of the bombing, the trees were growing new leaf again.

From the Poplars used as gallows in the South, to the 5,000 year old al-Badawi Olive, to the Hiroshima Ginkgos, I have been thinking about what memory is like for a tree. In 2017, Ariel Dorfman wrote a piece for the now loathsome New York Times called 'The Whispering Leaves of the Hiroshima Ginkgo Trees.' In it he writes:

"The Hiroshima Ginkgos were able to resist the most devastating outcome of science and technology, the splitting of the atom, a destructive power that could turn the whole planet into rubble. Those trees’ survival was a message of hope in the midst of the black rain of despair: that we could nurture life and conserve it, that we must be wary of the forces we unleash...How paradoxical, how sad, how stupid, it would be if, more than seven decades after Hiroshima opened the door to the possible suicide of humanity, we did not understand that warning from the past, that call to the future, what the gentle leaves of the Ginkgo trees are still trying to tell us."

Predating the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs, Ginkgo Biloba is one of the oldest living tree species in the world. Along with horseshoe crabs and royal ferns, Ginkgo is considered a living fossil, meaning it has remained essentially unchanged from earlier geological times. Many Daoist temples feature Ginkgos older even than the temple structure itself, marking the locale of early shamanic worship.

We may never know how these ancient trees mark time beyond the formation of a ring, but it is interesting to note that in Western Herbalism, Ginkgo is worked with as an herb for memory support. Good neurological health depends on the proper circulation of blood to the brain, and Ginkgo helps facilitate this action by stimulating circulation and reducing inflammation throughout the central nervous system. Many studies point to concentrated extracts of Ginkgo as a promising agent against cognitive disorders like Alzheimers. I have been drinking Ginkgo, Rosemary and Sage tea to improve focus and maintain cognitive agility, as well as taking dropperfuls in tincture form at mealtimes.

Trees that might live for hundreds of years in the forest may only make it for a few in the urban landscape. Unphased by stressful city conditions, however, Ginkgo is an exception. When Ginkgo was brought by Western botanists from China to England in the early 19th century, the Industrial Revolution was posing a serious threat to both human and tree health. But Ginkgo was found to thrive despite heavy air pollution and soil compaction, making it an ideal urban tree. The only complaint people seem to have about Ginkgo is its smell at a particular time of year...

"There's not much spooning in the moonlight around the Ginkgos after the first part of October, unless a lass and a swain happen to be employees of a tannery, or some other highly scented place."

– The Washington Post Express, December 27th, 1914

Only female Ginkgos produce the apricot like fruits – technically seeds – that carpet our streets every fall. These seeds contain butyric acid (the signature smell of human vomit), earning them the reputation of being profoundly stinky. Called by some a public nuisance, nurseries have tried to graft exclusively male Ginkgos to avoid this problem. But Ginkgos outsmart us once again, this time by spontaneously changing their sex – male trees suddenly growing female branches. If I have one takeaway from this fact, it is that trees are truly above gender.

Although Western research emphasizes the circulatory and neuroprotective effect of Ginkgo, usage of the herb in the Chinese medical tradition has mostly centered around the lungs. It is possible that Ginkgo has remained little known as a circulatory herb in this modality because there were other more accessible, effective, and cheaper herbs in the blood moving category of the Chinese Materia Medica.

Instead, in Chinese Herbalism, Ginkgo seeds are known to constrain Lung Qi, and are commonly prescribed as a lung tonic to calm wheezing and coughing. Ginkgo seeds are often stewed with chicken, or as a key part of herbal formulas to address asthma, bronchitis, and leukorrhea. Following a Zoey Xinyi Gong recipe, I made Lotus Leaf Steamed Sticky Rice with Chicken and Ginkgo – a 13 hour preparation that tasted like a pocket of earth. The recipe called for lotus, coix, and ginkgo seeds, as well as adzuki beans and fox nuts. I was able to source everything from Chinatown, including fresh Ginkgo seeds harvested from city trees.

Though Ginkgo has different applications in Western and Chinese herbalism, it is becoming apparent to me that across medical herbal traditions (Ayurveda, Chinese, Greek, Unani-Tibb, etc.), there are actually more similarities than differences. According to Sajah Popham, these organizational systems are all united by the concept of vitalism. Vitalism is the belief that the living body is animated by a vital force possessing an innate intelligence. This vital force is to be worked with - not suppressed - to restore an organism to health. Increasingly, I am seeing it as my work to shift my perceptual approach to seeing this vital force in everything living (plants, organs, tissues, even patterns of disease). The late fall early winter time that we are in, when the veil between the world and the Earth is at its thinnest, is helping.

Thank you for your patience with this issue of One Year a Garden. It has been quite the time, the cherry on top being the sale of our building, which precipitated an unexpected move on December 1st. Saying goodbye to the garden was something I never imagined would have to be done so soon. But this change might be the best thing that's happened for the project. My new home has a backyard, neglected but full of potential. So far, I have identified a Mulberry and a Maple tree – the rest is buried in leaves. It's only been a few days but I already feel a mending deep within.