10/21/2026
The Healerās Healer šæ
There is something I have observed in the way Devilās Club grows that has profoundly shaped my understanding of this plant.
To spend time in a mature patch is to sit among a community of fierce warriors in slow motion. Their great spiny stems reach upward and outward, sometimes twice my height, while enormous palmate leaves form a luminous green canopy overhead.
Everything about Devilās Club seems to say: hold the space.
Its boundaries are unmistakable. Every stem, every petiole, even the veins beneath its leaves are armed with spines. It takes up space unapologetically.
And yet, when I began paying closer attention to how these plants grow over the course of their long lives, I noticed something that completely changed the way I understood them.
After years of reaching upward, the tall arching stems eventually become too heavy to support themselves and begin to bend toward the forest floor.
And finally, the warrior rests.
Surrender and transformation begin.
The stem settles into the damp moss and soil, slowly becoming covered by the forest floor. And something extraordinary happens.
It begins to lose its spines.
The old stem becomes smooth where it rests against the earth. It sends down roots. What had spent years fiercely holding itself upright now allows itself to be held.
And from that surrender comes transformation.
This is what I have come to think of as the secret medicine of Devilās Club.
The fierce warrior eventually has to surrender. Not because its strength has failed, but because strength cannot exist indefinitely without nourishment.
There is a time to stand tall.
A time to protect.
A time to hold the space.
And there is a time to lay down your spines and allow yourself to be held.
For me, this is why the spirit of Devilās Club embodies the healerās healer.
Those of us who spend our lives caring for others can become very good at holding space. We learn to sit with pain without being undone by it. We learn boundaries. We become strong enough to support the people around us.
But Devilās Club reminds me that the healer must also know how to surrender.
To return to the earth.
To receive nourishment.
To become vulnerable enough to be cared for.
Because it is from that place of replenishment that we become capable of rising again and holding space for others.
Devilās Club has taught me that boundaries and vulnerability are not opposites. Neither are strength and surrender.
Perhaps the strongest boundaries are the ones that protect our ability to remain tender.
And perhaps surrender is not the abandonment of strength at all, but the place where strength is renewed.
This understanding has come slowly, through years of sitting with and observing this plant. And I know I have barely begun to understand it.
I am grateful to know Devilās Club as an ally, and humbled to remain its student. šæ