Dandelion: Sun, Moon, Stars and Shadow

Meet Dr. Dandelion! Taraxacum officinale. 

Her latin name sounds stern, clinical, official. It translates to “the official remedy for all disorders!" What a name to live up to, and indeed, for centuries she has been recorded in European pharmacopeias as the remedy for disorders of the liver, digestion, skin, and more. But the name says something deeper too. It tells us she was not just another weed in the eyes of our ancestors. She was recognized as medicine worthy of the highest regard. She is an official star ally in the healing arts.

And yet she is so much more than an entry in a textbook.

Some say she represents the Sun, the Moon and the Stars. Her open yellow flowers are the sun, radiating joy and warmth. Her puffball spheres are the moon, round and silvery, glowing softly in the night. And when her seeds take flight, scattering across the sky, they become the stars, carrying wishes, dreams, and the breath of freedom.

Her flower radiates pure sunlight. She says, “Let me reawaken your inner child.” Seeing her, dancing with the sun, the birds, and the bees, does she not want to make you laugh, buzz, and sing? She reminds you of the ecstasy of being alive. She whispers of unity, joy, and radical self-love. She is the golden glow that cracks open the walls we have all built around our hearts. Just as you see her, growing in the cracks in the pavements of big cities. She is unstoppable!!!

The moon is in her too, as she honors cycles. Her flowers open with the light of day and close at night. She knows the rhythm of hiding and returning, the ebb and flow, the pull inward and the reaching outward. The moon is her sister in cycles of shining and retreating.

And her seeds. They are the stars. Each tiny parachute is a galaxy of its own, a dream borne on the breath of the wind. To blow a puffball is to send a prayer into the universe. How many times did we do that as children? Seeing the magic in her, sending her off with our wishes and our dreams. Wishes, hope, freedom, new beginnings, surrender. Where will they land? She never knows. She does not cling. She trusts. Just as we must too.

Her brilliance is not her whole story though. 

Dandelion is also a creature of shadows. When the storm clouds gather or night falls, she folds her face inward and closes up tight. She refuses to shine in the gloom. She teaches us it is sacred to rest, to close ourselves off when needed, to keep our light safe. She dives deep into the soil with her taproot, disappearing from view. Her root stretches as far into the darkness as her flowers stretch into the light.

I see myself so strongly in her. Sometimes bright and singing, sometimes withdrawn and heavy. Sometimes radiant with joy, sometimes sinking deep in silence. Visiting the darker aspects of my being. She embodies the whole of being human, holding contradictions without apology. She is both dazzling and dark. She is both playful and solemn. 

I hear some say she is bitter? Oh yes. She is the one who teaches that the bitter always comes with the sweet in life, and that both are necessary.

Her feet reach so deeply into the earth that she stays cool even under the hottest sun. She is grounded, unshakable. Yet she is also the one who takes flight, scattering herself on the wind without resistance. Anchored and free. Quiet and radiant. Bitter and sweet.

How many of us dare to live like that? To be at once fully rooted and utterly free.

Dandelion activates the solar plexus. She charges the seat of willpower, selfhood, and shining confidence. She reminds us that joy is strength. That bitterness can clear the way for sweetness. That freedom is born from trust in the wind.

She is the symbol of my work, my business, my devotion. For all of the reasons above. 

My Dandelion medicine is a tincture as well as an essence. I could buy a percolator and churn out extracts in 24 hours. It would be faster and way more cost-effective. But when I created Amor Mederi...... I wanted it to be about soul. About a fusion, of ancient techniques and modern scientific knowledge. I prepare my products over many weeks. I invite the spirit of the plant ally to dance with me, and later, to dance with you. I work with intent, presence, and respect. I believe that there is a big difference between remedies produced with heart and soul and those made by machines, and pressed into tablets. They may contain the same plants, but they are missing part of the puzzle.

If you decide to take one of my tinctures as an essence, you do not need a full dropperful of such medicine. Three drops, taken with reverence, are enough. This is not about dosing but about relating. About ceremony. About consent.

To take Dandelion as an essence is to pause, breathe, and ask:

“Dandelion, will you let me know you? Will you show me how to hold both my brilliance and my shadows? Will you root me and free me all at once?”

And then you wait. You listen. You let her answer in the way only she can.

Dandelion is no weed. She is an elder. She is sun, moon, and stars. She is joy and melancholy. She is bitter and sweet. She is the grounded root and the flying seed. She is laughter and silence. She is the medicine of every contradiction, the one who honors every face of life and teaches us to do the same.

And in every bottle of tincture, in every sip of her decoction, she offers us not just her compounds but her story, her spirit, her essence. If we meet her with reverence, she will remind us that we too can shine, hide, and fly.