The Body Remembers: On Listening, Intelligence, and Plant Allies

The Body Remembers

Before I became an herbalist, or a nurse, I was a human physiology student.

One of the most influential teachers in my life was Dr. Harrell Gill-King, an evolutionary and forensic anthropologist and gifted educator whose work involved helping identify human remains and uncover the stories written in the human body. Long before I understood the scope of his accomplishments, or glimpsed the path my own life would take, he taught me something profound that has stayed with me for thirty years: the body is intelligent.

Bones record the lives we live. Muscles leave their marks. Injuries tell stories. Adaptations paint a picture. Nutrition leaves a roadmap. Our cravings can be a prescription. The body remembers where we have been, what we have endured, and how we have survived.

Even after death, the body continues telling its story.

That understanding changed the way I see the body.

Our bodies are not passive objects waiting to be repaired. They are active participants in our lives. They know how to heal wounds. They know how to knit broken bones. They know when we need sleep, water, movement, connection, or rest. They are constantly gathering information from the world around them and adjusting accordingly.

As a student, I remember Dr. Gill-King talking about the body's remarkable ability to communicate its needs. An example that stayed with me was the tendency many women have to crave chocolate at certain points in their menstrual cycle. While a candy bar is hardly a nutritional supplement, chocolate contains magnesium, a mineral involved in hundreds of physiological processes and one that many women need in greater amounts during that time.

The body may not always choose the most elegant solution, but it is often trying to solve a problem.

We see this kind of intelligence everywhere. We experience thirst before dehydration becomes dangerous. We become tired long before exhaustion overtakes us. We develop cravings before we consciously understand what our bodies may be seeking.

Most of the time, we only notice the loud signals:

Pain. Fatigue. Illness.

But the conversation is happening long before that.

The Conversation

The body is constantly communicating, but are we listening?

Most of us have learned to wait until the signals become impossible to ignore.

By the time pain, exhaustion, illness, or burnout arrive, the body has often been trying to get our attention for quite some time.

Scientific research has demonstrated that our bodies are continuously gathering and responding to information from both within us and from the environment around us. Hormones rise and fall. Blood sugar fluctuates. Nutrient levels shift. Our nervous systems monitor safety and threat. Our senses absorb far more information than we consciously recognize.

Most of this communication happens below the level of awareness.

We don't consciously decide when to feel thirsty. We don't summon sleep when our bodies need rest. We don't instruct our immune systems how to respond to a virus. The body is paying attention long before the conscious mind catches up.

In many ways, health is not just about fixing what is broken. It is about learning to recognize the messages before they become emergencies.

What Is a Plant Ally?

If our bodies are constantly gathering information and communicating their needs, what happens when we begin paying attention?

Sometimes a plant catches our eye. Someone mentions the same herb you've been hearing about all week. A plant appears repeatedly in our research, our conversations, or along the side of the road on our drive to work.

Something about it lingers.

Most of us have experienced this phenomenon, whether we think of it as intuition, coincidence, unconscious pattern recognition, or something more mysterious.

For me, these moments are an invitation to pay attention.

Not because every fascination carries profound meaning, or because every herb that catches our attention is destined to become a lifelong ally. But because curiosity itself is valuable.

In the tradition of my lineage, a plant ally is not simply an herb that addresses a symptom. An ally requires that we form a relationship.

An ally is a plant whose gifts meet us in a particular season of life. A plant that supports a need we may not have fully recognized. A plant that helps us notice a pattern. A plant that invites us into deeper relationship with our own bodies, our own lives, and the living world around us.

Sometimes we choose the plant. Sometimes the plant seems to choose us.

More often, I suspect, something deeper is happening.

Perhaps the plant is calling to us. Or perhaps our bodies are calling to the plant.

How to Begin Listening

If you're curious about finding a plant ally of your own, start by paying attention.

What plants keep appearing in your life?

Which herbs are you repeatedly drawn to, even when you aren't sure why?

What challenges are you facing right now?

What kind of support are you seeking?

What foods, flavors, scents, landscapes, seasons, or archetypes feel nourishing to you?

You don't need to force an answer or rush toward a remedy. Simply notice. Curiosity has a way of revealing what is asking for our attention.

Our bodies are already having the conversation. The question is whether we're willing to get curious and listen.

A Final Thought

In my experience, plant allies rarely arrive with fanfare.

More often, they begin as a quiet curiosity. A plant that keeps appearing. A flavor that calls to us. A tea we find ourselves reaching for again and again. A question we can't quite shake.

Whether we understand these moments as intuition, unconscious pattern recognition, divine timing, or simple coincidence matters less than we might think.

What matters is that we pay attention.

The body is intelligent. The world around us is alive with information. Somewhere between the two, a conversation is always unfolding.

Perhaps the work is not finding the right plant.

Perhaps the work is learning to listen.