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From Naturally

“Valerian: Quickly Quieting

Valerian (Valeriana officinalis), which the pharmaceutical Valium was named after— from valere, “to be well”—is a tall, sturdily boxed-stemmed plant with stalks that rise through feather-like leaves into a sparkler of tiny, tightly bunched cotton candy flowers issuing a warm vanilla scent, often used in perfumes. Its root though—a pungent, cheesy-odored tangle of thick-haired strands that has been infused for centuries as well as burned as incense in religious ceremonies, and even hidden in the wedding clothes of grooms to ward off envious elves—is our medicine. While Valium has been one of the most commonly prescribed medications in the world since its launch in 1963, valerian predates it by thousands of years, and was a favorite of Hippocrates, among other ancient physicians.”

→ In Practice

Valerian is the herb I reach for when the nervous system simply won’t settle.

Unlike some calming herbs that feel subtle or cumulative, valerian is one you’ll feel, and quite quickly. It gives less sleepiness than release—mental and physical. Shoulders drop, the jaw unclenches, ruminations unravel. It’s also excellent for the “wired but tired” type who can’t sleep because they’re wound too tightly to let go.

This is the herb for surrender.

Below is how I work with valerian now:

• when I reach for it

• how I take it (form, dose, timing)

• what I combine it with

• what most people get wrong

• recommended products

• a prompt for thinking, naturally

Read more

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If you all order a copy, Naturally becomes a bestseller — it’s that simple. (!!!) Every single order counts, and your support makes the difference in this work reaching the world. Thank you! 💚

Why has this supplement, formerly only the purview of weight lifters and gym bros, become mainstream?

It’s a combination of new research, social media and wellness trends, and a growing interest in strength training across ages and demographics.

I ignored creatine for years, mostly because I associated it with bulking, frat boys, and a version of fitness that felt forced or fake. But over the last few years—especially as I became more interested in longevity, strength, hormones, recovery, and preserving muscle as women age—I kept seeing it come up in research I trusted.

What finally changed my mind wasn’t aesthetics. It was the brain-health benefits, along with those for energy, resilience, recovery, and the understanding that women especially are often under-muscled and under-supported metabolically—often during periods of stress, hormonal change, overtraining, or undereating.

I think part of the reason creatine is suddenly everywhere is that the conversation around women’s health is changing. We’re moving away from shrinking ourselves and toward supporting strength, cognition, mood, endurance, and long-term vitality.

What is creatine?

Read more

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This is a freestyle entry (that may be come a series because I really like the format, lmk!) while I continue to work on another long piece (about age, per your requests!) inspired by: Journals from the Jungle, meeting Mara Hoffman’s latest series of Journal Pulls, meeting my literary influences who work from their journals, meeting some new writing I’m doing with my journals as I prepare to try to sell my next book, meeting the fact that my material has always been my life and my life has been almost entirely recorded, in my journals.

“Has this been the greatest love of my life yet? It is overtaking even my affection for this place, which frightens me a bit. But what can I do? There is no pulling back. I gave in long ago, which is part of the pact we make with love.”

I wrote this during a period of time in which I was feeling quite uneasy here, which doubled down on itself because feeling uneasy here (in the paradise of my choosing) makes me feel, well, uneasy. A year and a half ago, I fell in love. I really hadn’t wanted a relationship and was thoroughly enjoying being non-monagamous, but love chooses its own timing. (Of course I could have said no, but I do not want to be someone who says no to love.) This one hit hard and fast—less than a month in, we were saying the words—and since then I’ve had more pleasure, adventure, play, healing, joy, and growth than in any of my previous relationships.

While it’s been long enough to prove itself durable, we’re still young together and, perhaps more importantly, I’m rusty in the ways of young love. My last relationship was a marriage, and before that, I was in my late 20’s. What’s been most fascinating is how much it’s brought out of me that I didn’t know was there. I have never had a more affectionate, courageous, open, or generous partner. As a result, I’ve become more affectionate, courageous, open, and generous. These are gifts I’ll have for the rest of my life, regardless of what happens with us, which may be yet another vote for considering relationships less like objects to obtain and more like experiences to be lived—dynamic, unfolding, and sometimes impermanent.

The opening quality of this connection has been especially surprising and evolutionary for me. I’ve always been a very boundaried person—yes, often rigid—strong-willed and determined in my ways. So, I’ve always liked meeting others with enough force to overpower me at least occasionally. (This is also why I love surfing, as I’ve written.) But this one (we call him The Poet) doesn’t use (doesn’t need) force; he uses love. He’ll sense my distancing (a safety mechanism) and rather than respect it—which was something that used to feel, well, respectful—he’ll cross the threshold and wrap himself around me. He’ll observe my trajectory and then pointedly step in front of me. If I’m asleep and he wants to talk, or make out, or make love, he’ll simply wake me up. (A friend told me that this would drive her crazy. For me, it’s perfect. It’s also a microcosm of a macro theme here that I’m also writing about: the near absence of boundaries.) One of my absolute favorite things about us is the permission to reach through the night feeling for the others’ face, find their mouth, and begin kissing it. That is: the permission to take from the other as we need, because we give in the same way. He’s been described as someone who would take the food from his mouth to give to another, and that has influenced me to do the same. Mind you, in my last relationship, we literally had separate sides of the fridge.

This relationship has given me a new perspective on the definition of compatibility. We need similarities in order to be compatible, sure, but we might also over-prioritize that value. As in life, without difference, there is no balance. As well, without difference—or separation—there is no eros.

(Aside: Please read everything Lauren Hall is writing right now about eros. I hope she’s working on a book and will definitely be asking her when we meet in NYC.)

“Have I allowed too much of a disconnection here? Have I given my power away too fully? Yet: To discover our limits must we exceed them, or try to?”

I live here now. I lived here last year, but I also traveled more than ever before in my life—back and forth and back and forth to NYC to support the launch of Naturally while minimizing time away from my new home, and my new boyfriend. I was in L.A. for the book, and Seattle to see my family, and Brazil to rendezvous with him. I was not, more than once, in the same place for more than 30 days straight. Now, time stretches out ahead of me without interruption—and that feels strange. For the first time in years, I am not in transition.

Or, should I say, I am not in physical transition because the evolution is still very much underway. In moving here, I left structure, identity, obligation, aspiration and so much more. While settling in, I resisted the inclinations to continue any semblance of my old ways, which felt precariously sticky—easy to fall back into, but that might threaten to transform my new life into my old one (albeit with better weather). I disconnected as fully as I knew how. I threw myself to the wind, and the waves, and the ways of this world. I followed their lead: I learned their language, I ate their food, I listened to their music, I lived with them in order to live with them. (Note: There are a lot of expats here. I don’t know most of them. I have always said that I didn’t come to Costa Rica to recreate my New York experience in Costa Rica.)

Lately, I have felt myself brushing up against some vague and shimmering edge.

Read on for: ultimate vulnerability, a therapy breakthrough, cellular dissonance, the fear of being fed by what you need most, and why some inner voices deserve to be questioned.

Read more

“I created HRBLS because I saw the alchemy of merging functional food with herbalism as a lifestyle—in the form of a product that embodied both. I believe that the future of health was holistic, accessible, and nature-based. In other words: herbalism.”

HRBLS were the first herbal gummy on the market when we launched in 2018. Since then, much has changed—in the industry and in my life. That wave of change rose, crested, and now breaks with the conclusion of HRBLS, one of the most beautiful creations to come from my years in wellness work.

Thank you all—customers and fans, collaborators and retailers, artists and designers—for supporting the journey.

With love,

Rachelle

The final stock of HRBLS is on sale now.

SHOP HRBLS

•°. *࿐

Digestness | digestion enhancing & gut-healing

Bright citrus, honey, and a hint of spice for a blissful belly. These everything-nice herbal gummies will have your digestive fire burning bright, and your palate super pleased.

SHOP DIGESTNESS

Nerve Less | nervous-system soothing dose of peace

Blissful botanicals blended into a base of honeyed lavender and real tarragon for true tranquility.

SHOP NERVE LESS

Happy Hour | mood uplift, connection & pleasure

Herbal bliss for making any hour happy hour. Featuring herbalism’s most euphoric and good-mood-making ingredients.

SHOP HAPPY HOUR

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•°. *࿐

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If you all order a copy, Naturally becomes a bestseller — it’s that simple. (!!!) Every single order counts, and your support makes the difference in this work reaching the world. Thank you! 💚

Blood sugar is one of those foundational rhythms in the body that we’re all participating in, whether we’re paying attention to it or not. It’s not just a number on a chart—or something to “fix” once it’s gone wrong. It’s a dynamic, responsive system that reflects how we’re living: how we eat, move, sleep, recover, adapt, and respond to stress.

In many ways, blood sugar is in constant conversation with us, translating our habits into energy, mood, focus, cravings, resilience, and even emotional steadiness throughout the day.

I tend to think of blood sugar as one of the most important nutritional and lifestyle foundations for feeling well on a daily basis. Few things influence how we feel as consistently—or as immediately. Stable blood sugar can feel like calm energy, mental clarity, fewer crashes, better moods, more balanced hormones, deeper sleep, and less dependence on stimulants just to get through the afternoon.

And importantly: this isn’t only relevant for people with diabetes. Most people living modern lives—with stress, inconsistent meals, travel, caffeine, alcohol, poor sleep, ultra-processed foods, or constant stimulation—can benefit from supporting more stable glucose patterns.

Rather than approaching blood sugar through rigid rules or fear-based wellness culture, I think there’s an opportunity to relate to it differently: with curiosity, consistency, and better awareness of what actually helps us feel grounded and nourished. Less control. More relationship.

Below: 10 essentials for balanced blood sugar—what to eat, take, and do for steadier energy and a healthier metabolism over time.

Read more

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At 3am last night, I wake up thinking that I want him to walk in here and pick me up. I want him to wrap me up and carry me off, away, away. I feel like he’ll come in the morning. He knows I’m here waiting for him.

I also wonder if I’m projecting something onto him, placing or trying to place something of my own—something I don’t have, something to reach for, or believe in, something to yearn for. I think, yes, this is true.

3pm: If I’m going to wallow, why not distract myself (work on the book)? Because I choose to stay in the sensation in order to learn from it. But at some point, maybe that’s all there is.

4pm: I want to text him so badly. Can I? Should I? He’ll ignore me. He knows I want him. I don’t need to say it again.

I work on the book briefly. I feel frustrated and restless today because I want to be high. I want to be turned on. I want to be overtaken by him, or by the sea. I am bad at rest days. I’ll socialize tonight to distract myself. The lesson is: you have to pay for it.

I also realize that I would be able to work here if I didn’t have to leave. I would be less worried about spending every second engaged with the place. I also wonder if the pain of leaving over the course of the next few months/year will be worth the love it gives me of this place. Distance making the heart grow fonder …

(^ update from two years later: it has gotten no easier to work here. I am still every bit as obsessed with absorbing life here that I still struggle to spend more than an hour on my computer at a time. <3 )

Night: Dinner is perfectly distracting. My new friend is so nice, and I meet some others. My walk there, alone in the pure darkness with my phone as a flashlight, through the symphony of the jungle, is relaxing and fun this time, compared to a month ago when it was edgy and frightening.

A new friend repeats a story that’s common here and resembles mine: She arrived and was so overcome that she couldn’t leave, and hasn’t since, three years later, dating a local, never been happier. She, like others, says that she wants to read my book number two, which is the story I’m telling here, now. I too want that to be my next book.

He, though, fills my mind. I watch for him, wait for him.

Read more

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From Naturally

“Mucuna pruriens: Motivation, Dopamine, and Flow

The climbing legumes of Mucuna pruriens, its vines resembling my childhood vineyard’s clusters of plum-colored flamingo-shaped flowers, are native to southern China and eastern India. After pollination by night-flying bats, the floral ovaries produce fat, caterpillar-like pods that shimmer in a tempting acid-yellow fur.

Also referred to as dopamine bean, velvet bean, or even devil beans due to the severe itching caused by skin contact, Mucuna pruriens has a blinding—literally, if it reaches the eyes—tickle produced by the husks’ hair, which contains . . . wait for it . . . serotonin.”

→ In Practice

Mucuna pruriens is one of the more potent herbs we can work with. It’s less a gentle, daily tonic and more a precise tool for when something in the reward, motivation, or pleasure pathways has diminished. This directly influences dopamine through its L-dopa content, which means people tend to really feel it.

Note that dopamine is less about “energy” and more about orientation—it’s a shift back toward wanting, moving, participating. This herb is one of the coolest IMO, but like anything that directly engages neurotransmitters, it’s important to know how and when to use it.

Below is how I actually work with Mucuna pruriens now:

• when I reach for them

• how I take them (form, dose, timing)

• what I combine them with

• what most people get wrong

• recommended products

• a prompt for thinking, naturally

Read more

In Part 1, I shared the path from scarcity and hustle to building and earning. This is what came next …

My dad died. It was 2020 and the pandemic was raging. My business didn’t slow as much as it shifted: to mostly online. I pulled way back from work in order to properly grieve, and working from home afforded me a lot more time. I also inherited some money, which was bittersweet given my dad’s staunch position that we never expect to receive any from him. Because of that training, I didn’t register if or how it would change my lifestyle so I just put it in the stock market and kept doing my work. (I also hired a wealth manager to tend to it and I still work with them today. I call them my angels and they’re incredible.)

In that time and space—and absolutely influenced by dad’s death—I realized that most of what I was doing was not what I most wanted to do. It was not, I believe(d), what I was on this planet to do. Despite all of the success, despite all of the lives it was improving, despite all of the demand and opportunity, this was not my truest, not calling, but responsibility. I remembered: I should be writing.

After the break: The book, closing businesses, leaving the country, and my revenue streams today.

Read more

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IN THE NEWS (ICYMI):

mentions, features, and appearances lately

• Went deep for Health Gossip — #97: Rachelle Robinett

  "No amount of biohacking can compete with existential misalignment."

• Loved this epi with Faithlynn, who immediately felt like an old friend — For The Femmes Podcast

• Two podcast episodes for the long-running Let It Out!

  • Desire, Dopamine, and Anticipation: Rachelle Robinett on Herbalism, Evolution and Redefining Ambition

  • Pleasure, Grief, and Sleep: Rachelle Robinett on Writing Naturally

• Naturally event at Noto in LA — In collaboration with: Andrea Jimenez from Herb Club LA, Gloria from NOTO , Katie Dalebout with the Letitout Podcast.

• Stay tuned for my upcoming Masterclass with The Herbal Academy!

INPUTS & INFLUENCES

consumption report highlights

• QUERYING:

  • “Route to San José del Pacífico from Oaxaca? That’s the mushroom town right?”

  • “Is there an app that’s free that can send me a mantra as a notification throughout the day?”

  • “The poet feminine in Spanish.” (Poeta.)

• LISTENING TO: My best friend made me a playlist.

• WATCHING: Hamnet. Definitely cried.

• TAKING: Supplements are very expensive here, but I found an ashwagandha that’s not only affordable, but stronger than anything I’ve seen in the states. (Couldn’t locate it on the brand’s website so that link is the best I can do!) My old standby was GaiaPro’s, which you can find in my Fullscript portal, along with basically every other high-quality herb and supplement on the market, at a discount ofc.

• NOTING:

  • Your favorites this month:

  • My favorite:

• READING: Marion Milner’s A Life of One’s Own, recommended by my therapist.

  • “And each thing that happens to me I live it here by noting it down. Because I want to feel in my probing hands the living and quivering nerve of the today.”

  • “All that’s guiding me is a sense of discovery. Beyond what’s beyond thought. Following myself along is really what I’m doing when writing to you and now: following myself without knowing where it will lead me.”

• RECOMMENDING: Farm trips and foraging with my girl, Wen-Jay (NYC)

• JOURNALING: “I have a habit, it seems, of stretching the present moment out over the indefinite future. It’s not that I believe that the way things are is how they’ll always be, because I believe the opposite. So what is it, then? That the present moment is so significant that in the present, it does extend indefinitely? Not that it will persist, but that, temporarily for as long as it is, it is all that is: it is how it is.”

FROM NATURALLY:

a passage for this moment, from Naturally, The Herbalist’s Guide to Health & Transformation

“There is a natural influence that presses onward in a direction we can follow, should we choose—from loss, through change, to growth. Sigmund Freud stated that the life drive—also known as eros, Greek for “love” or “desire”—is what compels us toward the perpetuation of life via growth and toward creativity.¹⁷ To resist that momentum is to go against the grain of being itself.

As nature unfolds, it sheds—expired leaves, scales, shells, and skin, or in our case, ways of being—which frees resources to continue the process of proceeding. Emerging into the unknown, otherwise known as change, can be challenging and involves loss as well as the discomfort inherent in change—but it is a natural inclination and one that, in my personal and professional experience, is always worth its reward, which is more life.”

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Thank you for being here. This work continues because of your support.

If it resonates, please share it! XOR

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I received this question in response to my recent interview with Health Gossip, and already promised to write about money, so for the first time ever, I have. (Other promised topics include “sex, aging, loss, time, love, identity, the feeling of knowing, productivity and purpose, transformation, disorientation and the void, discomfort, eros and desire, belonging, individual agency and merging, attachment, concepts of home, and, as always, the true self.”) I’ve already received direct requests for sex and aging, so those are next in the queue, as well as this one:

THE EARLY YEARS

One of my earliest memories related to money is of sleeping on a mattress on the floor with my twin brothers in my dad’s apartment, which was near my mom’s big, beautiful home on the lake, which they’d shared until divorcing. It was confusing, because my dad was a doctor, and drove a Porsche, but there he was, seemingly scraping by. On our visitation dates with him, he’d take us to the local airport and park his car under the runway so we could lay on the hood together and watch the planes fly over us, upside-down. Once, I recall all of us hanging out in that tiny car playing some game with the rain that fell on the sunroof. We were in a parking lot outside of a movie theater that we never entered and, in retrospect, I’m not sure if it was because dad didn’t want to spend money on tickets, or that he wanted to be the direct source of the information entering our young minds.

Soon enough, my parents remarried, my dad bought a 60-acre dairy farm in the country, and we split time between the two homes. (He’d grown up on a cattle ranch in Wyoming, leaving it and his whole family of ranchers to become one of the most successful anesthesiologists in the country. His fire is my fire and he often described our trajectories as similar: “blasting out from under the roof of home and out into the world as far as we could go.”) Despite my parents’ means, neither of them—basically ever—gave us money. I recall Mom handing me a $20 to go to the movies with my boyfriend once and while it probably happened more than once, it was memorable. From my dad in particular—who considered himself “just a simple cowboy” until the end—I learned how to live as if I didn’t have money, as well as how to spend it on just the right things (which were usually experiences).

On the farm, I learned how to work. (I only recently learned how to play.) Early on weekend mornings, we were roused by bellows of “you’re burning daylight!” My now-four brothers and I ate an enormous breakfast and were then handed a devastatingly long list of chores—clearly far too many to complete in an entire weekend, and probably designed to be exactly that: an impossible task. We were sent outdoors until sundown (yes, we got a lunch break) to work until the work was done, and perfectly (it would be inspected). Manual labor made me realize that my body could do far more than I thought it could, and in that, I realized that I could do far more than I thought I could. Scattered across the farm or paired up in teams, we kids were forced to be resourceful, to “figure it out,” and if we couldn’t figure it out, we were told to figure it out. Those years also reinforced the perfectionism that was certainly genetic (on both sides of the family). We’re talking about drying (and then polishing) the sink after doing the dishes. (To this day, I can’t just sweep something up off the floor without cleaning the whole kitchen while hearing an echo of “don’t half-ass it.”)

I was most aware of our financial status in school, or when hanging out with friends in the tiny town near our farm. Our new clothes stood out, as did the fact that we could afford cleats for soccer or baseball season. We weren’t allowed to spend the night at friends’ houses often (“not safe”) and when they came to ours, they gawked. Generally, kids care less about (or are less aware of) this contrast, but it taught me how to keep a low profile, to blend in, to monitor what I showed and told about our lifestyle.

The one extravagance that both parents splurged on was travel—and a lot of it. We learned to scuba diva in Belize and Jamaica, trekked through Kenya, visited Hawaii and Mexico way too many times to count, and snow-skied all over the U.S. and Canada. This habit, of prioritizing both this spending and exploration, is still (obviously) with me. I find that it’s always, always worth it.

I began working (off of the farm) in junior high school. My dad wouldn’t allow us to have jobs outside of the home (he was extremely controlling) so I figured out a way to be at school early and late in order to tutor other kids. Within a year or so, I had a full private-practice, and occasional permission to work weekends doing the same. It was all under-the-table cash, of course, and with it, I opened my first bank account. (I also used it to take my first trip alone—to Louisiana to visit my boyfriend who’d just moved there. I believe I was 17.)

COLLEGE

Despite no handouts, my dad did promise to pay our college tuition—any college we got into—so, naturally, I was aiming at Ivy League, or NYU. (My sights had been set on NYC since I was barely a teenager.) But, when I moved out of his house before my senior year in high school, he threatened to withdraw the promise. Still, I left. Which meant that I stayed in-state for college, and was responsible for footing the bill. (I don’t remember the exact figure, but I believe I had about $30-$40k in college debt by the time I finished, despite working multiple jobs while going to school.)

As it does for many at that age, making money became critical. I worked in the marketing department at the college (which taught me more than the business school education I was paying way too much for), retail in the summers, and made, but barely, my rent and loan payments each month. I lived in the dorms, then with my boyfriend and some friends off-campus, and ultimately in my own little studio, which I took over from my boyfriend-on-the-side.

After college, the game was: Build a resume that will mean something in New York, pay off that loan, and get to NYC asap. Little did I know that “any experience that isn’t New York experience isn’t considered experience.” I also fell in love and enjoyed several romantic years with a boyfriend who’d just scored a great job at Microsoft, which meant we could afford nice wine, and “both kinds of olives.” We lived in a beautiful apartment overlooking the Puget Sound, above Pike Place Market. I worked at Microsoft (MSN Shopping—the closest to fashion I could get, lol) for a bit, and then at Nordstrom (also “fashion” by Seattle’s standards). I freelanced as a copywriter, and I freelanced as a journalist (attempting to cover fashion, of which there wasn’t enough, plus music and art). I also modeled as often as possible—calling in sick to my day-job because the pay was better. More than once, Nordstrom was paying me as a model while I was supposed to be at my desk doing online merchandising stuff. Once, I actually was at my desk doing online merchandising stuff when I saw my own face pop up on the screen. I’m not sure if my boss ever caught on. There was also that one time that I was on the cover of the biggest local magazine (as a model), and had also written the feature article for it (as a freelance journalist). That may or may not have coincided with when my face was on billboards and buses all over the city (an ad for public transportation—not glamorous). I felt like I’d hit the ceiling of that city already and I wasn’t even 25.

While all the other twenty-somethings in my office were planning their weddings during the company cupcake parties on Fridays, I squirmed. My family wanted me to marry this boyfriend and settle down close to home, as did he. But I declined, and resigned—quoting Frank Sinatra’s Theme From New York in my farewell email. I sold my car, got rid of what little I owned, slept in friends’ apartments for a few months, and then left for New York, where my little resume was considered blank. I had no friends there, no job, two suitcases and what I recall as $4,000 to “make it.” (I have that receipt somewhere.) That was my runway, so I didn’t even wait until I arrived to start applying for jobs.

NYC

Until I could find an apartment, I stayed in women’s housing, which is essentially a large dorm for women of all ages and backgrounds who need a safe place to live while in transition, or longterm. Tiny rooms, shared bathrooms, and it wasn’t cheap, but rent was month-to-month and there was a cafeteria that served breakfast and dinner every day—oatmeal and meatloaf style. I never missed a meal there and often slipped extra hard-boiled eggs into my pockets for lunch. For exercise, I ran through the large park nearby and did prison-style exercises in my room. I woke up early every morning and applied to as many jobs as I could. I visited disgusting apartments all over the city trying to find a home. I went to interviews, I wrote for free to build my resume, I managed to model a few times, though I was already “too old” and too short. I collapsed into bed at night, hungry, tired, afraid, and determined. The task before me resembled the mission I’d received every weekend on the farm: impossible, and yet I was going to figure it out. I remember listening to the vast, hollow roar of the city in the dark and feeling the distance between where I was, where I’d been, and where I was headed.

After the break: The apartment, the job, and the first real sense that it might work.

Read more

•°. *࿐

From Naturally

“Saffron: Shedding Light on Depression

If any single color represents the sensation of wide-smiling happiness, it may be the vermilion shock of saffron stamens, whose flaming threads declare themselves against deep violet petals—a rare color in nature. In recent decades, saffron (Crocus sativus), one of the most expensive spices in the world, has been extensively researched as a medicine and proven itself to be one of the plant world’s great mood elevators. It has long been used in Persian medicine (also known as Unani or Unani-Tibb) for digestion, depression, nervousness, and more.* Its handpicked stigmas contain the compounds responsible for its medicinal properties, which have the potential to alleviate the symptoms of depression in a range of conditions, “from premenstrual to postpartum.”

For one of my clients, Jacinta, saffron lightened the darkness following her terminating a pregnancy and experiencing a traumatic breakup. She described the effect as “relieving” and that it had, for her, “rekindled a sense of sensuality again.”

→ In Practice

Saffron is best used consistently rather than occasionally, most effectively as a standardized extract (often taken daily, sometimes split between morning and midday) to ensure reliable therapeutic effects. While capsules mirror clinical use, it can also be enjoyed more gently as a tea, tincture, or latte for subtle mood and clarity support. It’s typically taken earlier in the day for a non-jittery lift, and over time may support not just mood but also sleep, appetite, and overall emotional balance—the key is quality sourcing and giving it a few weeks of regular use to notice full benefits.

Below is how I actually work with saffron now:

• when I reach for it

• how I take it (form, dose, timing)

• what I combine it with

• what most people get wrong

• recommended products

• a prompt for thinking, naturally

Read more

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Let’s situate ourselves in time before this entry: I’ve been publishing Journals from the Jungle for over a year now. In February 2024, I began sharing stories from that same month. It’s now April 2026 (how, already?!) and the following entry is from July 2024. I was writing so much then, and so much was happening, that I struggled to keep my journals current. I’d dictate notes into my phone and then transcribe them into my journals when I had time, sometimes weeks later. It felt imperative to capture the details and sensations of the experiences I was having—though for what exact purpose, I’ve never fully known. As you can see, all of those details are taking some time to share here. That’s partly because I’m sharing nearly all of the details. These are actual excerpts, unedited except to remove a few names and explicits—as raw and rough and sometimes unhinged as the living-through it was. (And if you’re into explicits, there are plenty to come.)

At first, I didn’t know if or how I would ever use these stories again. Eventually, I realized they were accumulating into my next piece of work. There came a point, about two years in, where I felt the story descend from its crescendo and land in a place that appeared to be a natural conclusion. I knew then, that that chapter was finished, that my next book had been lived.

But, back to ~July 2024, below. At this point, I’ve fallen in love with Costa Rica, hard and fast (in a matter of months). The severity of it is shaking the foundations of my relationships with work, NYC, and the life I’d spent over a decade building. I’d been married, I owned a home, I’d never planned to leave the city. My career and community and identity were all rooted there. I was in the middle of writing my book, which would take another year to publish. But, I was in the eye of a storm of transformation and I knew, with absolute certainty, that the most important thing for me to do was remain in it.

July-ish, 2024:

Okay, and I should also write about my book. I met with my editor today—during a storm so loud that the thunder drowned out her words—to review edits and title and overall otherwise. She is cautiously but genuinely excited. So is the Penguin team that she’s shared some of the material with. Everyone in contact with this book gives me the same feedback. It gives them the tingles.

You never know, but this one could really go.

I have a responsibility to these final edits, to this final push. Two months, and then it’s out of my hands. As much as I want to be here, being delirious, I have to finish this strong. I can and I will. And that, perhaps, singularly, will enable me to return to New York with fuerte. It will save me now, and it will save me when it publishes—capping off, officially, my run, my very long paddle, my push.

It’s going to free me. I know it may not, but I believe it will.

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From Naturally

“Milk Thistle: Regenerating Liver Guardian

Milk thistle (Silybum marianum) is a fiercely spearing plant with thorny, yellow- tipped spikes that skewer from around its lilac, sea anemone–like flower head. Its tall, cottony coated stems run with milky white veins and marbled leaves that resemble Jurassic skin, differentiating it from the common bull thistle (Cirsium vulgare).

Milk thistle is one of the greatest natural remedies for liver health. Its seeds and leaves protect the liver and repair damage caused by chemical exposure, viruses, or daily life in a not- nontoxic world. It’s also one of the less common examples of plants that we prefer the standardized extract from, called silymarin.

Silymarin is well studied and proven to promote phase one liver detoxification, which is one of our initial lines of defense against harmful ingredients, many of which we may not realize require our liver to do extra work. Caffeine, skin- care products, household cleaning supplies, air pollution, and pesticides on produce are all examples of sly toxins the liver is diligently doing away with on a daily basis. Silymarin also increases liver stores of the mighty antioxidant glutathione, promotes cell regeneration, and can even be used to offset the toll of chemotherapy and radiation therapies.This extract pairs well with the herb licorice, and the two together can be more effective than either alone.”

→ In Practice

Milk thistle is most commonly used in its seed form, where the highest concentration of its active compound—silymarin—is found. This usually looks like a standardized extract in capsules (often taken daily for consistent liver support), liquid tinctures for faster absorption, or teas for a gentler approach. Standardization matters here because it ensures a reliable dose of milk thistle, the compound responsible for its antioxidant and liver-protective effects. Beyond supplements, the plant is more versatile than most people realize: the leaves can be used fresh or dried as a digestive bitter to stimulate bile flow and support digestion, and even incorporated into meals like salads. Practically speaking, it’s less of a quick “detox fix” and more of a steady, supportive herb that works over time to reinforce the body’s natural detoxification systems, especially the liver, while also subtly aiding digestion and elimination.

Below is how I actually work with milk thistle now:

• when I reach for it

• how I take it (form, dose, timing)

• what I combine it with

• what most people get wrong

• recommended products

• a prompt for thinking, naturally

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From Naturally

“Ashwagandha: The Great Stabilizer

In a world where adaptogens are everyone’s favorite herbs, ashwagandha (Withania somnifera) is the world’s favorite adaptogen. This hearty, evergreen shrub produces lantern- like pods with pea-sized fruits that ripen into saponin- rich winter cherries, often used like rennet, and a wiry taupe root beloved by herbalism for centuries.

In remedy form we find it cut and sifted into pale pieces that can be brewed as a tea or extracted into tinctures, or powdered to a musky dust that can be added to recipes.

Ashwagandha contains bioactive compounds such as withanolides and sitoindosides that have been scientifically demonstrated to deliver notable anti- stress properties that modulate our response to stress, and also mitigate the negative effects of it befits include the ability to normalize cortisol levels (both those too high or too low), calm and strengthen an overwrought stress-response system, support muscle tone and strength, improve cardiorespiratory endurance, optimize immune system function, and even stimulate fertility.

Ashwagandha enhances cognitive function by increasing levels of acetylcholine (a key neurotransmitter responsible for regulating memory, learning, and muscle function) in the brain, and reduces oxidative stress and inflammation, both causes and effects of imbalance. Additionally, its HPA- axis normalizing action supports better sleep quality and more sustained energy levels throughout the day.”

→ In Practice

Ashwagandha isn’t for immediate relief. It’s taken consistently and works over time, gradually improving the body’s response to stress. Its withanolides and sitoindosides help regulate the HPA axis and normalize cortisol—bringing elevated levels down without suppressing what the body needs. Rather than masking symptoms, it supports underlying balance across the nervous, endocrine, and immune systems. Over time, this shows up as more stable energy, reduced reactivity, and a calmer baseline.

Below is how I actually work with ashwagandha now:

• when I reach for it

• how I take it (form, dose, timing)

• what I combine it with

• what most people get wrong

• recommended products

• a prompt for thinking, naturally

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I tend to like the end of my essays best, so here’s a little teaser of what’s on the other side of the paywall:

“What I want to see more of in the world—and what I’ve heard from everyone privy to a bit of my journey in the last couple of years has asked me to share—is an (my) example of how to live differently: How to leave a life, for more life; How to leave a marriage, when “nothing” exactly is wrong; How to retire (period, or from a successful career); How to leave a home, or country; How to exist (at least to some degree) outside of the system of capitalism; How to unlearn; How to be courageous enough to do what you actually want to do; How to do all of this and more as a woman of a certain age; How to find your place; How to know when you’ve found your place, or person, or best of all yourself; How to regain agency, be free, let go—how to be, and how to be happy; How to change radically and honestly despite every pressure not to do so.”

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Lately I’ve become aware of the sensation of settling. As in dust returning to the earth—as it is here while rain clouds begin to gather in hills behind us, bringing with them, in the coming months, rainy season. I began my move to this jungle two years ago. It was then that I saw my future house for the first and then second time (in order to make sure I hadn’t hallucinated it the first time). I’d come here in February for a short solo vacation, and the only break I took (in eight months) from writing Naturally. I extended my stay several times and returned as quickly as possible (in early March) where I found myself, again, justifying just a few more days, and then a few more. I realized immediately thereafter that I was going to buy this house. By May, I owned it outright. The single most expensive decision of my life to date (there are no mortgages here for expats) and one made almost entirely on instinct. I felt delirious, but certain. And I couldn’t wait to get back.

In May, I returned on a one-way ticket, saying as I left New York: “I’m just going down for a bit, maybe two weeks—long enough to familiarize myself with the place. Like, how to get around, where to buy groceries, that sort of thing.” That was true. Except for the “two weeks” part. I stayed for two and a half months. (P.S. My conviction to commit here was so strong that I did it without even knowing, for example, where the nearest grocery store was.)

That was when I realized I was going to live here. (And that’s the story currently unfolding in Journals from the Jungle.) But that hadn’t been my plan when I bought the house because, the thing is, I didn’t have a plan. For maybe the first time in my life, while making one of the biggest decisions of my life, I didn’t have any idea what would happen next. I simply did it because I knew I had to.

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ORDER NATURALLY

ASK THE HERBALIST

Thank you for all your support on our most recent Ask the Herbalist newsletter, we’ve noted all your questions and will continue to capture them, feel free to ask below!

Now on with the show …

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Today’s question:

Q: “Hi Rachelle! What about writing/ building your materia medica? Can I ask about your process? How do you build a relationship with your materia medica that it becomes easier for you to understand/digest the herbs?”

A: Great question! And I haven’t answered it before! And for those unfamiliar with the term, “materia medica” is a collection of knowledge of medicinal ingredients—what they are, how they act, and how we work with them. It’s less a list or library than a living relationship between plants, bodies, and experience—though lists and libraries are certainly involved in building one’s catalogue.

For me, building my materia medica was a matter of …

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From Naturally

“Milky Oat Tops: Nervous System Nourishment

The infrastructure of the Nerve Less formula is composed of oat—specifically milky oat (Avena sativa) tops, the juicy, immature seed pods that contain a thick white springtime milk.

This herb is rehabilitative and deeply nourishing, delivering consistent reinforcement to the nervous system while quicker-acting nervines tend to focus on acute symptom relief.

It helps to think of oat the way we think about topically soothing body care—something that works over time. As a trophorestorative, it acts as a nutritive salve for the nervous system, rich in minerals like iron, calcium, potassium, phosphorus, zinc, and B vitamins essential for nerve health.

Milky oat tops are used for burnout and grief, for softening withdrawal and nervous exhaustion—especially when accompanied by emotional hypersensitivity or overreactivity. It’s the herb I think of for the “wired but tired,” the overextended, and the quietly depleted.”

→ In Practice

Milky oats are less about acute intervention and more about restoring baseline function over time. They aren’t dramatic—they work slowly, in the background, in a way that’s hard to replicate with anything faster-acting.

Below is how I actually work with milky oats now:

• when I reach for them

• how I take them (form, dose, timing)

• what I combine them with

• what most people get wrong

• recommended products

• a prompt for thinking, naturally

Read more

Clicking ♥ on this post, sharing and leaving a comment keeps our newsletter alive, thank you for engaging and being here! XOR

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Hello from a hammock. I’m curious how this will go. This being yes this piece, but more so me publishing more from within this life that I’ve been living for the last year—or two, or however long it’s been because part of it (this) has been about losing track of time.

The life is one that’s been so deliriously joyful and fulfilling that I’ve felt the need to do nearly nothing other than live it. To find something like this—something I didn’t and don’t believe I could have dreamed—though something that I was in many ways always working toward, is to find, how can I say it, everything all at once.

And yet, for a reason that seems to be existential, cosmic, or cellular, I know that I have to keep writing. When I say writing here, I actually mean publishing because I’ve written more in recent years than ever before in my life, which is saying a lot given that I’m basically always writing (journals, notes app, google docs, napkins, while sleeping). Journals are not essays yet, but they will become my next book, so there’s that. But publishing work (and art) is an essential part of its process, I believe. It’s a giving-birth, a finality, and always a risk.

Risk is related to why I haven’t been publishing my life in real time. (Though JFTJ is as close as it gets.) Namely, it was unfolding so rapidly and delivering such profundity that remaining in that flow was far more important than interfering with it by either: stepping out of it in order to reflect on and recount it (I would understand it all later, I believed); or inviting anyone other than those central to the story to partake, or affect the trajectory.

Enough time has passed, enough dust has settled (though it’s very dusty here this time of year, the dry forest of jungle simmering as we approach the end of summer), and enough times I’ve heard from the part of me that knows. It’s time to start telling the story here.

My relationship with here, Substack, is still complicated. On the one hand, it’s the perfect platform for an incessant writer to publish, to workshop pieces and ideas, to be accountable to an audience. On the other hand, as I’ve written before, there’s a difference between content and art, and I’m not certain committing ourselves to an audience (on a social media platform) doesn’t threaten to turn artists into content creators. Many writers have successfully straddled churn while remaining true to their craft, of course. But I am not many writers; and I am still not sure, as I said, how this will go.

I arrived to this hammock via a 45 minute bike ride along the beach in 90-degrees-at-9am-sun. While I immediately went swimming and then took a cold shower (and actually considered the cold plunge I haven’t yet used except to ice my forehead after clocking it in the surf shack) I was, and am, thrilled to be hot. I love the heat, and I hate the cold. I was cold for the last 10 days while visiting my family in Seattle after a two-day sprint in L.A. where I hosted an event and filmed a big-something-special for my book.

L.A. felt like re-entering the matrix. And then, descending (or ascending, up Muholand Drive into the sky of wealth above wealth) into a matrix within a matrix. I went from living in my bikini and single pair of sandals (didn’t even have clothes for L.A. or Seattle) to hair, makeup, wardrobe, lights, camera, action. I can do that—turn it on and turn it off—and I used to enjoy the thrill and fancy of it, but I don’t anymore. Friends and family asked if I was excited, if it was fun, didn’t I love getting all made up and polished and playing semi-famous? I said, I’d rather be surfing.

» If this is the kind of writing you’re here for, there’s more of it for subscribers «

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Journals from the Jungle—stories from my recent travels, drawn straight from my journals. These reflections trace a return to an embodied, authentic self through nature, adventure, rest, and the unraveling of old beliefs. Along the way, I explore freedom, pleasure, love, and the strength that comes from shedding what no longer serves us—offered in the hope of inspiring a more vital, freely lived life.

Surfing today was everything. I am delirious with pleasure, woozy with it all, all, all. I catch waves left and right, trying hard to ride down the line, feeling the feedback from the video session helpful already. It’s a perfect mix of great waves for me and bigger sets that I have to turtle roll through or dodge on the outside. My arms never fatigue. I’m exhilarated, but not afraid. I get smashed, but also catch and ride every one.

At some point, a big one breaks on us outside and I roll but lose my board. Hopping on quickly, I paddle back to him, smiling.

He says, “You know, Rachel, sometimes you have to pay for it.”

I laugh and laugh. I say, “Oh I know, I know, and it’s so worth it.”

Later, after another outside roll that gives me a charley horse (or maybe re-injures my torn calf?), he says, “You know, Rachel, it’s all connected. Everything is connected.”

We have so much fun. I have to try to paddle out for one last, but the sets are big and washing me out, so we belly ride in and I stand there trembling and breathing hard, my board on my head, too tired to carry it under my arm. Afterward, alone on the beach, I’m laughing and also feel like I could cry. I am exhausted and high and imagine that I could just lay down here and fall asleep on the sand. I feel … everything at the same time right now.

Walking around in a silly daze, just grinning and laughing to myself. I move so slowly, thinking about how much torture there has been in the splitting from my life. And in the not knowing—so much unknown. Then I do cry, with relief and release and who knows or cares what more. For what I have done: My determined faith, my holding out, my letting things evolve and unfold despite the discomfort—so much discomfort—my will and force and fearlessness and resilience and how all I held onto was the barest minimum necessary in order to make it through. Most of all, I feel the blinding light of my having continued to trust that: I would know when I knew. That the time would be right when it was.

And now it is.

I stole myself away in preparation, loyal only to myself and the direction—to the eventual convergence of the changes. And the reward? To be the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, in paradise, in love in general, and embodied fully in my truest self—totally transformed, free.

I feel like I could throw up, in a good way.

» If this is the kind of writing you’re here for, there’s more of it for subscribers «

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ORDER NATURALLY

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Ashwagandha, the calming adaptogen worth adding to your daily stack.

As a calming adaptogen, ashwagandha is known for its ability to help the body better respond to stress, and then return to balance after the disruption. Rather than producing an immediate, noticeable effect, it works best over time—meaning that it should be taken consistently (daily) for at least six weeks (better: months+) to reap the benefits. In addition to it’s cortisol-normalizing effect, there are important things to know about what and how it delivers, as well as how best to take it for better stress resilience, improved muscle tone and strength, fertility support, improved sleep, and …

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