My Journey With Southernwood

Author: Oil Dispersion Baths as Therapy
Issue: LILIPOH #44 - Summer 2006
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When I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia I felt both distressed and relieved. Distressed that I suffered from a chronic condition for which there was no cure, and relieved that I could finally put a name to the cluster of symptoms that had plagued me for most of my adult life.

Although there were good days when everything seemed to go well, I had far too many days when I ached all over. There is nothing more humbling than pain. It doesn’t matter what its duration, it stops time and puts your reality into a tight box that feels like a life sentence.

In addition, my relationship with food was tenuous. I slept poorly, had difficulty concentrating, and suffered from chronic indigestion. Despite a vigorous exercise routine I felt tired most of the time.

As a child I remembered feeling sudden, sharp pains in my body. Eating often resulted in heartburn, so I developed a love/hate relationship with food. Pain made it difficult to concentrate and do my schoolwork, but because it had no outward manifestation I was accused of being lazy. If the grown-ups around me said I wasn’t sick, then maybe I was making it up. I submitted to their authority and denied my pain. The result was a persistent lack of awareness in how I felt, both physically and emotionally. I cut myself off from my body and became depressed.

Early last winter I received an email from a friend, Christian Wessling, M.D., about an oil dispersion bath workshop in St. Louis (only a three-hour drive away). The workshop, led by Thomas von Rottenburg – a naturopath who maintains an active practice in Berlin and lectures internationally – would teach participants about this unique therapeutic modality.

I was intrigued and wrote back that I would be delighted to participate. When I told him about my fibromyalgia, Dr. Wessling suggested I could serve as a case study for the group. This put me in a tailspin. Did I want my personal issues aired before a group of strangers? Dr. Wessling assured me the participants would not be judgmental. I wasn’t convinced. Should I go? Should I not go? I continued to vacillate until the last minute, when some unseen force propelled me toward St. Louis.

It turned out to be a turning point in my life. The group was indeed open and warm and not the least bit judgmental. Besides, the focus of the workshop was not on me but initially on experiencing – or “proving” – the essential oils by inhaling a drop of oil on a cotton ball. After a couple of minutes we talked about our reactions. Only after we had created a “picture” of the oil’s essence were we given its name.

I was fascinated with the process, and with the similarity in many of the impressions. As each person spoke, it felt like we were helping a being emerge, a being who could guide us in our explorations toward balance and wholeness. We then discussed how each oil could be used for various illnesses.

On the second day we began the bath processes. In my “case study” role Dr. von Rottenburg took a medical history that not only addressed my physical symptoms but probed into painful childhood experiences. I could easily talk about my fibromyalgia pain, but telling him in front of a group that I had been physically abused as a child was like reopening a wound. I felt terribly vulnerable. Hesitantly, I talked about how I had never felt understood or accepted as a child.

When Dr. von Rottenburg asked what I wanted to accomplish, my first thought was, “freedom from pain, of course.” But then I realized what he was asking. What did I want to learn from my illness? What did I need to know in order to heal my pain? These were powerful questions, and I didn’t have an answer. I just wanted to retreat into the abstractions that separated me from my feelings. These well-known abstractions had been my principle survival tools. But now I was being asked to look into my soul and find out my needs. Was I ready to let go of the past? Did I really want healing or did I merely want to talk about it?

Dr. von Rottenburg determined that the best oil for me would be southernwood, an oil with strongly masculine qualities, chosen for its ability to break up stale and hardened emotional baggage from the past that hindered development.

After the consultation I had my first bath. The water felt comfortably warm as I eased myself into the tub. The bathing area was small, so it was a tight fit as the participants crowded around to watch the demonstration. I was too self-conscious to know what, if anything, I was feeling. Should I put my head under water? Was I allowed to talk?

Each participant was invited to express what he or she saw in and around me. I heard various observations such as “congestion in the chest,” and “little energy in the legs.” I wondered how much was actually “seen” and how much was guesswork.

After the bath I stood up and was wrapped in a sheet. Then I was taken to a darkened resting room where I was tucked up tightly in woolen blankets and left undisturbed for an hour.

I didn’t know what I should be thinking. Thoughts swirled. Should I be pondering the past? Taking an assessment of the present? Should I be feeling something new?

The workshop ended the next day. During the drive home I felt the southernwood’s power begin to emerge. Painful childhood memories surfaced, accompanied by familiar feelings of fear and abandonment. The southernwood’s lingering fragrance clung to my hair and clothes, and it felt like being in a sheltered embrace. Driving home alone in the dark, I felt an overwhelming urge to put my hand on my heart. As I did so I felt a deep warmth, as if I were being embraced by an angel. After I got home I went to bed in the clothes I was wearing because I didn’t want to lose that presence.

The story could have end