Pressure and Peace
A gentle conversation about blood pressure in unsettling times
These are charged times.
You can feel it in the air—in the tension of conversations, in the ache behind the eyes, in the way the body holds its breath without even realizing. Lately, I’ve had more than a few calls from dear ones—worried, weary—asking what they can do holistically about rising blood pressure. And not just theirs. Their partners, their parents, their children.
And I get it. Our nervous systems weren’t built for the constant noise, the headlines, the unrelenting hum of stress.
But here’s the thing: we are not powerless.
There are gentle, grounded ways to support the heart. To invite the body—kindly—back into balance. We’ll talk about them here: the food that calms, the herbs that support, the practices that help the body remember safety.
But first, a word from the wise…
Medicinal Disclaimer
This is not a substitute for medical advice. Always talk with your Doctor about any issue with your blood pressure. Herbs are powerful medicine, just like pharmaceuticals. If you are currently taking blood pressure medication—or any other prescription medications—please do not begin herbal supplementation without consulting a qualified practitioner. Herbs are often blamed when something goes wrong, but more often than not, it’s the unacknowledged interaction between plant and pharmaceutical that causes the trouble. Herbs deserve our respect. Let’s work with them wisely.
Now, let’s begin where all good healing begins: with presence.
High blood pressure doesn’t simply appear out of nowhere. It is a signal—a flare sent up by the body when the burdens it has been carrying grow too heavy.
In truth, high blood pressure is often the end result of a long, layered conversation happening inside the body. It begins much earlier: with stressed adrenals, with rising cortisol, with a nervous system caught too long in the patterns of fight and flight. Over time, the messages of urgency, vigilance, and survival become woven into the very tissues of our being. The gut tightens. The heart quickens. The vessels harden. The body, in its deep loyalty to life, tries to adapt. Until even it must ask for help.
When we tend to high blood pressure, we are not simply treating a number. We are tending to the whole landscape of the body—the gut that first felt the fear, the lungs that learned to breathe shallowly under pressure, the heart that beat faster for too long. We are tending to the soil beneath the symptom.
And this isn’t just something I’ve read about—it’s something I’ve lived.
I still remember the day I sat in my office and slipped my arm into a blood pressure cuff. The numbers blinked back at me: triple digits, up and down. I’d been running a high-pressure business, holding so much for so long, convincing myself I was fine. But in that moment, I knew. The stress was going to kill me if I didn’t listen. That was the turning point—the moment I began to understand that healing would mean more than slowing down. It would mean living differently. Eating differently. Being in relationship with the earth again. And, most of all, choosing peace.
And this is where our real work begins.
One of the most powerful medicines we have is also the simplest: the act of slowing down. Not forever. Not in some perfect, idealized routine. But in little moments. Breathing before we speak. Watching the way the trees move. Taking the long way home, just to see the light change across the fields. These are medicines too.
Food as Prayer
Food, too, can be a prayer.
Our grandmothers knew this. They cooked with garlic and greens not just because they were nourishing, but because they knew what it was to feed a weary body with care. There is medicine in that kind of love.
Magnesium-rich foods like leafy greens, beets, lentils, and even a square of dark chocolate can help soothe the nervous system and support vascular health. Sweet potatoes, avocados, bananas—all rich in potassium, the mineral that eases the heart’s load. And water, simple water, kissed with a pinch of sea salt, to nourish the vessels and the spirit.
But food doesn’t just heal through nutrients. It heals through intention.
There is medicine in preparing a pot of soup with your hands, in choosing the herbs, in stirring with attention, in letting the scent fill the house. There is healing in setting the table—even if it’s just for you. In lighting a candle, in placing a cloth napkin beside your plate, in giving thanks for what’s warm and good and here now.
To feed someone you love is to say: you matter. You are worth the time and care it takes to prepare this.
To feed yourself with that same tenderness is to say: I am worthy of nourishment, too.
Even one beautifully cooked meal—made slowly, served with intention, eaten in silence or with soft music—can become a turning point.
A ritual of return.
A moment when the body begins to believe that it’s safe to let go.
And then there are the plants who work more subtly, who whisper to the heart.
Hawthorn is one of those. Long associated with the physical and emotional heart, hawthorn nourishes, strengthens, and opens. It doesn’t push. It partners. I often think of it as a grandmother herb—loving, steady, a little fierce when needed.
Passionflower is another dear ally—particularly when tension builds in the mind and spirals through the body. It is a weaver of calm, a tamer of restless nights. It softens the tangled places within us where worry takes root.
And Linden—oh, Linden. Sweet, linden-scented breezes that once drifted like the scent of honey across ancient village greens. Linden holds the nervous system like a warm hand at the small of your back. Comforting. Calming. Reminding the body it can, at last, let go.
Sometimes, the most healing thing we can do is to sit with these herbs not as patients looking for a fix, but as old friends returning home.
A Cup of Calm: A Tea and a Breath
Bring a small pot of water to a soft boil, and add a handful of dried linden blossoms, a spoonful of hawthorn berries, and a few leaves of passionflower if you have them. Let them steep, covered, for about ten minutes, as the fragrance unfurls into the room.
While you wait, place one hand over your heart and one hand over your belly. Feel your breath, however it comes.
On the inhale, imagine drawing up the cool, grounding energy of the earth.
On the exhale, soften your chest, your shoulders, your jaw.
Let yourself be breathed for a while, instead of doing the breathing.
When the tea is ready, sweeten it with a bit of honey or maple syrup, pour it into your favorite cup—the one that feels good in your hands—and drink it slowly. Sip by sip, let it remind your body of an older, quieter way of being.
There is no rush here.
There never was.
If this speaks to something stirring in you, stay close. I’m tending something beautiful behind the scenes—a gentle, grounded coaching experience that weaves herbal wisdom, seasonal rhythm, and functional nourishment into real-life healing.
This article is the first in a series I’ll be sharing about the ways our bodies respond to the pressures of the world around us. High blood pressure is one visible signal, but underneath runs the deeper current of inflammation—a pattern I’ll be exploring with you soon. Healing isn’t about fighting the body; it’s about listening, tending, and returning home to the wisdom within.
And if you would like to help support this growing work, I hope you’ll consider becoming a paid subscriber. Your presence here is already a blessing—and your support helps keep this garden open for others who are longing to remember the slower medicine of the earth.
A Blessing for the Heart
May the burdens you have carried for so long
begin to lighten.
May the rivers within you find their flow.
May your heart remember its own quiet rhythm.
And may you know, in the marrow of your bones,
that peace is your birthright—
not something to earn, but something to welcome home.
With affection always,
Beth
Herbal Resources
A note to my readers:
Whenever possible, I encourage you to support small herbal farms and local growers—those who tend their plants with deep hands-on care. That said, I am also deeply grateful for the larger cooperatives who make high-quality herbs more accessible to so many. Trust your instincts. Fresh, well-sourced herbs carry the spirit of the land no matter where you find them.
Here are a few places I trust and love:
(Always check for freshness and sustainability, and trust your instincts when sourcing herbs. If a place feels good, it usually is.)
P.S.
If this piece touched your heart, I hope you’ll consider sharing it with a friend, a family member, or anyone who might be carrying more than they realize. Sometimes a quiet word, a warm cup, or a small kindness can begin to change everything.
