A Tale of Two Spikenards
Meditations on A Pair of Potent Plants From Opposite Sides of the Globe
Browsing the catalogue of a botanical vendor from whom I source incense materials last week, I noticed an entry that didn’t look right. The item for sale was listed as Jatamansi, an herb I’m familiar with from Ayurvedic studies and from time spent in Nepal in 2008-9. But the picture didn’t look like Jatamansi.
Jatamansi, whose name is Sanskrit for “dreadlock-fleshed,” is a high Himalayan root with a dark brown color and a distinctly hairy appearance that does indeed resemble a natty dread. It’s pretty unmistakable stuff, whether by appearance or by aroma—spicy-pungent, an acquired taste, but mellowing with age to something with an earthy beauty.
The problem was the catalog listing was for something light tan in color, with nary a dread or even a stray hair in sight. What’s more, the country of origin was given as France, pretty implausible for a Himalayan medicinal typically found at altitudes above 12,000 feet.
I concluded that the item in question was most likely the other Spikenard—for there are two. Both are rather rare and remarkable plants.
The “other” in question is a New World species, American Spikenard, a member of the ginseng family that happens also to have a medicinal root with a spicy-earthy aroma, and a potent medicinal profile of its own.
Do the similarities run deeper than nomenclature and (however vaguely) aroma? Let’s get to know each of these plants, and we’ll see what emerges.
Biblical Spikenard, Nardostachys jatamansi
Known botanically as Nardostachys jatamansi, the Valerian family member Jatamansi has been valued since ancient times for that aroma and for its calming, nerve-restoring properties; it features in ancient incense and perfume formulations and plays at least a couple of cameos in the Bible: first when Jesus’ feet are anointed with Spikenard by Mary Magdalene, and again when his head is anointed with the same stuff before the crucifixion.
This Spikenard was valued for medicine, incense and anointing, and probably featured in ancient perfume compositions as well. Today it remains an important herb in the Ayurvedic system of medicine and in Tibetan and (to a lesser extent) Chinese medicine, as well as in South and East Asian incense-making traditions, which have always been closely associated with medicine and religious ritual.
Overall Jatamansi’s properties are cooling and calming, with an affinity for the brain / nervous system (majjā dhātu, in Ayurvedic terms). It is calming to Vata dosha (wind) and to Pitta (fire). It is notably relaxing and antispasmodic, with applications in nervous, digestive and respiratory conditions. It’s also noted as a hair growth remedy, which is delightfully in line with the so-called doctrine of signatures (since the root is so notably hairy).
In Traditional Chinese Medicine, Jatamansi (there known as gan song) is much less used than in Ayurvedic tradition; in China the emphasis is on the plant’s qi-moving, digestive and pain-relieving properties. It’s actually quite common to see a plant used for psycho-emotional or nervous conditions in one place, and for digestive conditions in another; the invisible link is of course the gut-brain axis. Digestion and cognition are simply inseparably intertwined.
Jolanta Basnyet summarizes the aromatherapeutic applications of Jatamansi, which are analogous to the herbal ones:
In clinical aromatherapy, Jatamansi oil can be employed in the treatment of epilepsy, hysteria and in many varieties of convulsive affections. It is used in cases of heart palpitations (even as a substitute for Valerian). At the Preston clinic, this oil is being used successfully in intestinal colic and nervous disorders. Its antispasmodic characteristics are unsurpassed. Clinical aroma- therapists do appreciate Jatamansi's properties as a diuretic, carminative, stomachic and laxative (excellent when used over time in cases of chronic constipation). Tibetan herbalists use Jatamansi oil for the purpose of hair growth and colour restoration. The results are more than rewarding as many patients in our clinic would testify. This essential oil shows excellent results in combating baldness and grey hair.
As do other traditional aromatics such as Sandalwood and Agarwood, Jatamansi blurs the line between medicinal and spiritual uses. At the same time as it relaxes and soothes the nerves, it elevates the mind and encourages sattvo guna, a pure or rarefied quality of consciousness. Jatamansi has long been considered a sacred plant.
It’s certainly one that I value to the point of reverence; I’ve worked with Jatamansi in incense and perfume, anointing oils, tinctures and powdered herbal formulas for internal use, though always sparingly due to the conservation issues (see below). I still have a drop or two of a tiny vial of Jatamansi essential oil purchased at the Ayurvedic Institute in 2008.
It’s rare to find Jatamansi in any form on the US market, in part because the tastes of the typical consumer don’t run toward obscure biblical botanicals, however sublime or spiritual, and in part because of the rarity of Jatamansi itself. The plant is a CITES (Convention on the International Trade in Endangered Species) listed species under Appendix II of the convention, the second-highest level of conservation concern, and as such its export should in theory require a certificate stating that the material has been sustainably cultivated. Being such a high elevation plant, cultivation opportunities are limited to the Himalayan foothills, with some cultivated Jatamansi coming out of India and Nepal (possibly Bhutan as well).
For those interested in getting their noses on a well-made and fairly-priced Spikenard oil, this is one from Pure Plant Essentials is one I’ve used and can recommend (note: not an affiliate link, I’m just pleased to be able to connect folks with a sustainable source). Whether applied to the forehead, temples or feet, used in a diffuser or blended into a perfume composition, a little goes a very long way.
American Spikenard, Aralia racemosa (see also Aralia californica)
As mentioned, American Spikenard is botanically unrelated to the Old World plant we’ve been discussing, and was almost certainly unknown to the authors of the Bible. I’m frankly not sure how it came to share a name with the original Spikenard; that’s a question it would take a more dedicated researcher than me to answer. Yet the two plants do have something in common.
For one, Aralia’s aroma shares an earthy spiciness with that of Jatamansi. This is not to say that the two are indistinguishable in scent; Jatamansi is cooler, with an almost menthol note, while Spikenard has a slightly root beer-y spicy-sweetness. But there’s enough of a resemblance, perhaps, to account for the shared moniker.
What about medicinal properties?
As an American species, the medicinal uses of Aralia are much less well documented than is the case with Jatamansi. There are scattershot references in the Native American ethnobotanical literature, and then the usage of 19th and early 20th century herbalists; this info is summarized by herbalist Matthew Wood (with whom I studied circa 2012) in the New World plants volume of his Earthwise Herbal.
Wood classifies American Spikenard as a “bear medicine” (along with Osha root, Elecampane, Angelica and others): big, spicy brown roots with an affinity for the lungs and digestion that help to dispel phlegm improve nutrient assimilation.
Now, I’ll be the first to admit that reading about herbal properties on paper can be rather dry. The juice is in the relationship. As it happens, American Spikenard was one of the plants that drew me into herbalism in the first place.
The plant grows in relative abundance (i.e. a dozen or specimens) near my mother’s Vermont house, and one August years ago I noticed its purple berries. This was well before I knew what the plant was, but I was drawn to the slightly soapy, root-beery flavor of the little berries, and was smitten by the elegant growth pattern and purple stems. It’s a gorgeous plant.
Not long afterward I wound up in my first formal herb class, a correspondence course with Maine-based herbalist Gail Faith Edwards. She told us to spend time with a chosen plant and get to know it, and I chose Aralia racemosa—I felt in some mysterious way that the plant chose me.
Part of the assignment was to speak out loud to the plant, something that seemed surpassingly strange at the time, and—stranger still—to listen for a response.
At that point I had yet to break free of rational-materialist reductionism (the gospel of the Church of Progress, as John Anthony West called it). As a religious studies major, I‘d read about other ways of knowing; I was attracted to these “other ways” but had yet to really test the waters. So this plant encounter was pretty weird. Yet tantalizingly so.
The weirdest part was that it seemed to work. Whatever I said, awkwardly, to this plant that I only half-believed to be conscious, I did hear something back. What the plant said, quite clearly, was: “I help open the pathways of nourishment.”
This got my attention. Nourishment and finding ways to achieve it are a big theme with me, a theme that lies at the root of this Seeds from the World Tree project. (A prior blog of mine was actually called Roots of Nourishment.)
Anyway, I started working with Aralia after that, if by “working” we can read “nibbling on.” I nibbled berries, a chunk of root. I noted the distinct spicy-sweet oiliness of the root; the berries too have a slightly soapy quality that speaks to the plant’s capacity to help emulsify or effectively solubilize oils, quite the way soap does.
Soap makes water wetter. Saponin compounds such as Spikenard contains (triterpenoid saponins in particular) similarly help modify surface tension to create more exchange across membranes.
American Spikenard was best known at one point as a respiratory remedy, and my sense is that it works partly through this saponin-type action, making the working surface of the lungs (inside the alveoli) work better. Increased oxygenation is one result, and this in itself helps feed the metabolic fires, but the same sort of sudsy compounds also work within the digestive system to make fats more assimilable as well. The result is better nourishment.
These kinds of actions probably account for a good portion of Spikenard’s (and its cousin ginseng’s) reputation as an adaptogenic tonic, or plant that generally enhances vitality and improves stress response.
In the way of these things, I somewhat lost track of Spikenard in the years following that initial encounter. While in Nepal and then in Oregon to study Chinese medicine. I more or less forgot about that initial transmission from the plant. Until just the other day, up in Vermont.
I tend to visit Vermont in August, when Spikenard’s berries are ripening, and while on a walk I chewed a couple dozen (making sure to scatter many times that, in hopes of propagating this uncommon and very welcome species). Sure enough, the nibble seemed to rouse a powerful appetite and to put a wind in my sails.
I came home to NC with a rare harvest of a whole Aralia plant, something I’ll do only every 5 or 7 years; it’s now macerating in vodka in a half gallon jar, enough medicine for many moons.
Two Nard Tonic
The two Spikenards are very different, yet surprisingly complementary. Beyond the name and the family resemblance in aroma, they share medicinal potency that works on opposite ends of the gut-brain axis.
I can see them working well together to help one digest life, physically and mentally; to stay nourished and stay calm. Just yesterday, with both herbs in mind from writing this piece, I found myself pairing them in a formula for the very first time. I added some other medicinals as well, but at the core was what from now on I’ll call Two Nard Tonic (TNT): Aralia and Jatamansi. A one-stop shop (or at least a solid foundation) for gut and brain, lungs and digestion. A qi tonic par excellence.
On a personal note, both plants have surely enriched my life experience; both I find extraordinarily beautiful, and perhaps not coincidentally, both come from places in which I have spent time and that I hold dear. There’s medicine in that, too.
