01/06/2026
Yarrow embodies the energy of both the wounded healer and the wounded warrior. 🌿✨
Yarrow’s Latin name, Achillea millefolium, is dedicated to Achilles, the great warrior of the Greek army during the Trojan War and the central figure of Homer’s Iliad. According to ancient legend, Achilles used Yarrow to staunch his soldiers’ bleeding wounds on the battlefield. This is where Yarrow gets its reputation as the herb of the wounded warrior.
In Greco-Roman lore, it was Chiron – the wise centaur and master healer – who taught Achilles the art of medicine and introduced him to Yarrow. Chiron’s fate in folklore is quite sad… One tragic day, as Heracles fought a band of wild centaurs using arrows poisoned with Hydra’s venom, Chiron was struck by mistake. As a centaur, Chiron was immortal and unable to die; so he was condemned to unending agony from his wounds.
Even with all his knowledge, he couldn’t heal himself from such poison. His suffering became his greatest teacher, shaping his ability to tend the wounds of others with profound compassion. This is why Yarrow is also known as the herb of the wounded healer.
Many of us find our way to the plants because we’re searching for healing, because other avenues of conventional medicine have failed us. Through moments where we’ve felt abandoned, dismissed, gaslit, or ignored.
When we’ve felt lost, confused, or unseen by the medical systems meant to care for us, we turn to the plants, often because we have no other choice. We seek healing for ourselves and our lives. And the plants are there, waiting, ready to hold us up.
As an aromatic medicine practitioner, I’m constantly reminded that my ability to support others depends on how deeply I’m willing to tend to myself. To remain a safe, grounded, and trusted practitioner, we must keep doing our own inner work – meeting our wounds, walking stronger with old pain, and following our own healing path with honesty and compassion… just as Chiron did.
It’s through that personal journey that we become better guides for others. Not because we “heal” them, but because we understand the inner work that was required to tend to our own wounds.