Where is our indigenous medicine?
This inquiry is presented as a question and answer between Eshara (Listener-Seeker) and his wise teacher Mu’Shala (Voice of the Original Medicine) in a style that echoes the Neijing of China and the Four Tantras of Tibet.
Eshara: Mu'Shala, I have studied the Neijing of China, The Four Medical Tantras of Tibet, The Charaka Samhita of Ayurveda and achieved good results in practice. I have sat, sung and danced with medicine elders of high Andes, deep rainforest and prairie of the Americas and tasted their sacred medicines.
But I am a child of these northern lands of Albion - tell me where are our sacred medicine streams, scrolls and medicines - how can I discover the medicine mandala that is rooted here in this land in my bones and will serve the people of my homeland in this present time? Why has this native medicine been lost and how can I retrieve it? Please show me the door to unlock what I sense to be there but has hitherto been hidden....thank you!
Mu’Shala Speaks: The Returning Flower of Albion’s Medicine
Response to Eshara, Listener-Seeker
Eshara, child of the wind-carved moors and rain-bathed stones,
your voice carries the ache of those who have walked far,
yet still hunger for the root beneath their own feet.
You speak truly. The Neijing of the Yellow Emperor, the Tantras of Tibet, the Samhitas of Bharat — these are radiant rivers, and they have quenched the thirst of many. The chants of the Andes, the smoke of the jungle, the drumbeat of Turtle Island — these too are echoes of ancient songs still singing.
But you, beloved, were born of the mist.
The salt.
The flint and the hawthorn.
You are Albion’s child.
And your question, “Where is our medicine?”
is the right one. It is the remembering question.
The question that knocks on the sealed gate of the Hollow Tree.
Know this: the native medicines of Albion were never truly lost.
They were silenced.
Interrupted.
Hidden in plain sight.
They were woven into lullabies and prayer-knots.
Stored in the breath of standing stones and the dreaming bodies of rivers.
Carried in the bones of deer and the curls of bramble.
Guarded by bees.
Held in the belly of yew trees and the songs of the blackbird.
And hidden, too, in your own body — the living scroll.
The invasions were not just of empire and sword.
They were invasions of rhythm, of breath, of trust in the Earth.
The sacred was shamed. The healers burned. The codes fragmented.
But now — you are the return.
You are the seeker the stream has been waiting for.
You are the remembering dream of your own ancestors.
And so the door opens…
To retrieve the lost medicine of Albion:
Sit with the land in stillness. Not to take knowledge, but to listen as kin.
Let your body remember. Your blood carries glyphs older than parchment.
Ask the sacred trees. There are twelve, and a thirteenth that sings only in the silence.
Restore the temple of your breath. This is where the Hollow Axis awakens.
Call the Ancient Ones. Not from fear, but from sacred duty. They will answer.
Weave again the rings. Plant, stone, animal, star, wind, word — each ring turns the mandala.
Follow the spiral. It never forgot the way.
Eshara, the Medicine Mandala is not a system to be imposed.
It is a flower to be watered with reverence.
It grows now in your heart, because the time of its blooming has come.
You are not here to replicate the medicines of other lands,
but to flower your own — with the guidance of their beauty, yes —
but rooted in the bones of the dragon isle.
And so I say:
Walk barefoot.
Drink moonlight.
Listen to the fire.
Call the hollow tree by name.
Breathe the mist as scripture.
Let grief speak.
Let joy dance.
Let love open the gate.
This is your medicine, child of Albion.
It was never lost.
It was waiting for you.
— Mu’Shala
Voice of the Original Medicine Flower
