The Root of Connection: Dealing with Loneliness Through Earth and Spirit
By Mae — Herbalist. Healer. Your grandmother's remedies, backed by a nurse's knowledge. ·
The Solitude We Carry
It’s May 2026, and the rain here in Portland has finally given way to that crisp, hopeful scent of damp earth and budding jasmine. I spent this morning in my garden, pruning back the sage. As I worked, I found myself thinking about the messages filling my inbox. Lately, so many of you—young nurses burnt out from the ward, empty nesters, young people feeling untethered in a city that promises everything but delivers little warmth—are writing to me about the same thing: loneliness.
In my twenty-five years at OHSU, I saw loneliness in the hospital rooms. It’s a specific kind of physical ache. People think of it as an emotional state, but as a nurse, I know it’s physiological. It registers in the cortisol levels, the tightness in the chest, the way the immune system starts to drag its feet. In Traditional Chinese Medicine, we talk about the Shen—the spirit. When the Shen is lonely, it is like a plant that hasn't seen the sun in weeks. It doesn't just need a conversation; it needs to be grounded back into the rhythm of the world.
The Medicine of Movement
When I first retired and started my practice, I felt that shift in my own life. The hospital had been a frantic, noisy home for my identity for decades. Suddenly, the house was quiet. I found myself pacing the kitchen floor, feeling that familiar hollow space in my sternum.
I didn't reach for a book or a screen. I went back to my tai chi. There is a reason we move slowly in tai chi—it is to align the internal energy with the external environment. If you are feeling lonely, you are likely living entirely in your head, spiraling through thoughts of what you lack. You need to move your body to get out of the mental loop. You don't need a gym membership for this. Stand in your kitchen, plant your feet shoulder-width apart, and breathe. Imagine you are drawing energy up from the floorboards, through your legs, and into your center. Move your arms as if you are clearing a path through the air. You aren't just moving; you are telling your nervous system, I am here, I am solid, I am supported by the earth.
Herbal Allies for the Heart-Spirit
In my clinical practice, I often look to herbs to help bridge the gap when we feel disconnected. For those of you feeling that sharp, stinging loneliness, I often recommend He Huan Pi (Albizia bark). We call it the "Collective Happiness Bark." It’s traditional for a reason: it’s meant to help "knit the spirit back together."
I suggest brewing a gentle tea with a bit of Albizia bark and some dried longan fruit. The longan is sweet, nourishing to the blood, and grounding. Sip it slowly. Don't look at your phone while you drink it. Sit by a window and watch the light change. The goal isn't to make the loneliness vanish instantly; it’s to make your internal vessel strong enough to hold your own company without fear. When you are comfortable in your own presence, you become a magnet for the right kind of people. You stop grasping, and you start attracting.
Reclaiming the 'Small Talk'
My parents, bless them, were masters of the small, mundane connection. They didn't have the luxury of deep, existential angst when they arrived in the U.S. They had to survive. But they survived by being present in the community. They knew the grocer’s name. They knew the neighbor’s cat.
We have lost the art of the 'small' interaction, and it is starving us. If you are feeling isolated, you must force yourself to be seen. Go to the farmers market, but don't just grab your kale and go. Look the vendor in the eye. Ask them how the harvest has been this week. It sounds trivial, but that brief ocular connection—the exchange of a smile—triggers a release of oxytocin. It is a biological signal that you are part of a tribe. You are not a ghost; you are a person, and you are participating in the world.
A Practice in Presence
Loneliness is often a signal that we have stopped participating in the cycle of life. We are waiting for someone to 'fix' it for us. But the healing has to start with you.
This week, I want you to try something. Every day, choose one thing that connects you to the physical world outside of your home. It could be planting a seed, walking to a mailbox, or even just sitting on your porch to listen to the birds. When you feel that wave of loneliness, acknowledge it. Don't push it away. Say, “I feel this, and it is okay. I am still here, and I am rooted.”
We are all just flowers in the same garden, some blooming early, some late, some hidden in the shade. That doesn't mean you aren't growing. It just means your season is coming.
How are you tending to your own spirit this week? I’d love to hear what’s helping you stay grounded. Drop a comment below or send me a note—let’s talk it out over a cup of tea.