the healing power of dirt.

Have you ever covered yourself in dirt? I mean, really rubbed dirt all over your body from head to toe - in your hair, on your face, across your chest, down your arms and legs, covering every inch of skin? Have you ever eaten dirt - and, I don't mean when you were three, but as an adult, intentionally, because it's good for you? Well, I just did.

Recently, I was given the gift of a heilerde dampfbad experience (literally translated: healing dirt steam bath) at a glorious spa located on the River Nahe (one of the rivers ending in the Rhine).  I really had no idea what a dirt steambath looks like. And honestly, I didn’t know why dirt needed to be involved in a spa experience at all. But, part of moving to a new place and beginning to feel comfortable means saying yes to people and places and experiences, even if you’re not sure what to expect. So, I said, "bring on the dirt!"

At this particular spa, and many others I soon found out, dirt plays a very important role in all-around wellness. It is one of the oldest pharmaceuticals in the world! Using dirt in and outside of the body has been prescribed for thousands of years as a kind of homeopathic cleanser because of its full spectrum of minerals and ultra-fine crystals. The German translation of dirt's consistency is 'mineral dust' which I like to think must be closely akin to 'fairy dust'.

As early as 3000 BC Egyptians were using dirt to draw out poison from insect bites and to heal open wounds. Throughout the centuries, doctors have given dirt to pregnant women by the spoonfuls to hinder mineral deficiencies or to people dealing with all types of digestion issues. It is also used on the skin to decrease swollen joints, increase circulation and metabolism, ease symptoms of rheumatism and arthritis and to tighten skin and lessen cellulite. Dirt, it turns out really is magical.

To truly reap the benefits, dirt purists will book a week of dirt therapy au naturelle. That means, every morning going outside and burrowing yourself in a freshly-dug-for-you mud pit; rubbing mud into every skin cell, slowly and meticulously, almost meditatively. This is done in constant rhythm ensuring that you keep the dirt and your skin warm. Just think: sitting in a wet hole, outside on the shores of a river, isn’t exactly warm – it's not like we’re in Hawaii.

Source: Bild Zeitung

Many dirt lovers also use the convenience of natural mud holes that occur along beaches, as the tide rolls out. On my holiday in southern Spain, I desperately wanted to take photos of all the dirty people I saw strolling or jogging along the beach in the morning hours. But, at least I managed to capture one of the holes.

After the process of rubbing dirt into the skin, the next step is to get out of your hole and let the sun and air slowly work their magic. The drying mud sucks impurities out of the skin, cleansing it just like a sucker fish cleaning aquarium glass – I love those handy little guys (I hate cleaning windows!).

Earth and water can't get away from each other, so the next step is no surprise. At Bollants Spa im Park, the dirt worshipers wander into the Nahe River to clean off, while the sun worshipers on the beach, well, just take a step or two into the waves. Followed by a relaxing and rejuvenating swim in your water hole of choice, every skin cell feels invigorated and alive. Just make sure to moisturize afterwards.

Ingesting dirt might seem like an unpleasant thought, but here in Germany it is a very old, very effective homeopathic solution to acid reflux, indigestion, constipation, stomach ache, diarrhea, and heartburn. Needless to say, the clay or loam used for these purposes has been dug from deep quarries where it is free from chemicals and other impurities. Luvos, the finest of pure dirt, is what I have in my home - it's gritty, but it works better than any Tums!

In the Middle Ages, Hildegard von Bingen was one of the true believers of dirt therapy, but she went one step further. She wrote tomes on the effectiveness of the mineral-rich dirt found at the roots of plants and trees. She went as far as noticing that the dirt at the root of Apple trees is especially potent in easing shoulder and stomach aches when applied directly to that part of the body. And that people suffering from gout should bathe in a mixture of hot water and the dirt surrounding Linden tree roots in order to ease discomfort. 

As for me, my healing dirt steam bath used good old dirt from the edges of the Nahe River. Luckily, I was paired with an elderly woman as I had absolutely no idea what to do with the bowl of mud I was handed. We rubbed ourselves in from head to toe - the strangest feeling was massaging mud through my hair and all over my scalp. After sitting and chit-chatting in the herb-enfused steam, all covered in mud for about 20 minutes, soft water started pouring down from the ceiling like a warm, summer's rain. We then meticulously rinsed ourselves off, and while still damp were given grape seed oil (also courtesy of the Nahe River's vineyards) to moisturize with from head to toe.

But, the most interesting dirt experience I’ve had in Germany, was landing unexpectedly at the Kristall Therme in the Alp village of Schwangau. Nestled below the fairytale castle of Neuschwanstein, this spa has various outdoor terraces to lounge on, hot and cold mineral pools, a café where each table is set in a warm foot pool (sounds strange, but is actually very lovely), and a bavarian-themed outdoor sauna.

As I opened the steamed-up glass doors to head outside onto the sauna terrace, I was immediately greeted by streaming sunshine and a whole bunch of nakedness. Such is Deutschland. I know this and I’m used to it, but I wasn’t used to seeing a whole outdoor pool full of naked people - with mountains and a castle in the background - it actually looked kind of funny.

Like wandering into a beer commercial set in the Swiss Alps people were steadily streaming in and out of seven small chalets each with its own theme: the Eisnebelgrotto (ice fog grotto – a cold sauna!), the Berg (Mountain) sauna at 100°C (super hot), or the Crystal sauna with a mountain crystal the size of a turkey seeping good energy into your every pore.

As I stood trying to decide where to go first, the wooden door of the Venus Grotto, which is set lower into the ground than the rest, swung open. Really dirty people, literally faces and bodies completely brown, started streaming out into the bright sun. I have never seen anything like it. They were covered in mud from the top of their heads to the bottom of their feet. They made their way, talking and laughing, towards nearby log benches to soak up the rays and let the mud dry, while others went straight to the rows of showerheads around the corner to rinse off. I really need to invest in a hidden camera to capture these kodak moments!

 

If you have the opportunity to pamper yourself with relaxing treatments at a spa, a trip to the beach or even just a hole in your backyard, try out the healing qualities of good, clean dirt-y fun. Let your kids play in the dirt, and heck, even eat it! Or if your stomach is in need of some TLC, then give dirt a try. Dirt, it does a body good.

hildegard immersion

Immersion. Two years ago I landed in a holy place, fully unintentionally. I hadn’t set out on a religious experience; wasn’t looking to eat, pray and love my way around the world. Although the eating part I have down now – Germans really know their bread. I have also perfected the art of praying - ‘Dear God, what am I doing here?’ But, trying to love, beginning with myself, is proving to be more challenging.

The convent, built like a fortress, rose on uneven cliffs high above the point where the Nahe river bumps into the mighty Rhine. The rocks morphed into rolling wine hills overlooking a river valley so spectacular tourists began flocking here, like geese flying north, even back then.

It was called Rupertsberg in honour of St. Rupertus who, along with his mother, Berta, was laid to rest in the dark crypt below the high altar of the church. The three-naved sanctuary was 30 metres long, with the main nave 7 metres wide and each side nave 4.35 metres. The choir faced the river and possessed a half-rounded apse with a crowned pediment. Two imposing towers flanked the naves like lighthouses protecting a ship.

Built in 1150, the curtained stone walls of the convent enveloped the gardens, a vineyard, servants’ quarters, a school, and the dormitory. Behind the farm buildings inside the wall was an arched gate leading to the town of Weiler. From the south nave down stone steps lay the sunken cloistered courtyard. And, nestled within the deep wall, accessible from both sides, was the Nikolaus chapel. This was a convent for the daughters of nobility.

When people hear my story, the first question from old friends is usually, “Where have you been?” and from new friends, “Why did you leave beautiful Canada to move here?” In response, words are tossed back at me like ‘brave’, ‘fearless’, ‘adventurous’, although I honestly feel none of those things. I am searching…hobbit-like (and if I continue the metaphor with a golden ring, the cheesiness will be too much) for meaning; for roots. Possibly, in the earth that Hildegard planted, I will find it all.

Hildegard von Bingen. Sage. Prophet. Naturalist. Healer. Composer. Pharmacist. Author. Witch. She has had many titles, the newest one: Saint. Hildegard was searching too. Her quest, though, was directed quite literally by God himself. She had the advantage of having heard His voice as clear as a bell, beginning when she was just three years old sitting on her mother’s lap. If only I had a Charlie-like speaker telling me what to do and where to go.

After achieving notoriety in 1147, when the pope read from her latest book; attention like Oprah reading from her newest favourite thing, Hildegard received another vision. She called her visions ‘living light’ and this time it told her to build a convent on the banks of the Nahe and Rhine rivers. So, against the wishes of the monks, together with twenty other nuns, she headed north (a seven hour walk according to google maps) and built up Kloster Rupertsberg above the castle and cathedral dotted town of Bingen. It is at this exact point where I now live.

Hildegard wrote about natural history, medicine, spirituality. She wrote the biographies of saints and composed music. She was involved in politics; becoming a trusted advisor of Kaiser Friedrich I Barbarossa. So unconventional for a woman, her opinions were sought out by clergy, emperors, princes; along with farmers, priests and the normal folk. But what she spent most of her time and energy on was building up her herb gardens and developing medicines to heal not only the body, but soul and spirit. After hearing a voice telling her to “write all that you see and hear!” she did that. Hildegard von Bingen has left behind tomes and treasures; directions for listening to God =  a healthy spirit, recipes for soups and salads = a healthy body, and herbal remedies = a healthy life. All to be found outside your front door. Or, to be exact, mine.

It all looks different now. That was almost 900 years ago. The cliffs are cut short now, chopped off, with a naked face but for the abundance of ivy hanging like much too-long bangs. Through various wars with Sweden, France, and who knows who else (Europe has quite the rocky history), the convent had become a shell of ruins and rubble. Unapologetically, and with only slight deference to history, the national railway bombed away the entire cliffside in 1857. What remains of the convent are six pillars now inside of an office building; and a portion of the crypt  excavated into a long, arched chapel open to visitors.

And where the imposing Rupertsberg once stood atop craggy cliffs, now a three storey stone house with gabled roof sits beside the riverbank; water in the front yard, railway and cliff wall in the backyard. Built in 1860 it had been home for rail workers and their families. Now other families fill it with laughter and the smells of apfelstrudel baking in the oven.

I like to think that the grasses, herbs, weeds and plants are still the same though. Possibly the same seeds nestling in the same dirt, waiting to inspire and nurture again. So, I tend. I cut. I search. I look. I write. I eat. With bread.

(a submission for my creative non-fiction class)

References:

Hirscher, P. Heilen und Kochen mit Hildegard von Bingen. 2011. TRIAS. Stuttgart
Know the Ways-Scivias Hildegard of Bingen. Rheinland-Pfalz Ministry for Education,
            Research, Youth and Culture. Bingen
www.landderhildegard.de

www.bingen.de, Abtei St. Hildegard