There is a love affair happening in my heart and it is covered in ghee. Ghee is butter, slowly boiled so that all the milk solids can be removed, and its great for boosting the metabolic fire. In fact, it is as important to Ayurveda as lubrication is to sex. You can think of ghee as “love oil for the body.” This oily love nectar, made from milk, is a medicine. It is also an excellent carrier (anupana) for herbs, in that it helps your body actually absorb what the medicine offers. Ghee lubricates your joints, tissues, muscles, hair, skin, nails, and your vagina. Its healing capacities may lie in the process one has to go through to make it “from scratch,” turning milk into its final golden essence. You can buy organic forms of ghee at your local healthy food store, but it is a sensual experience to connect to your ancient goddess-self by making it at home.
To enable you to truly understand the miracle of ghee and how it relates healing and our own Juicy Inner Feminine, I want to tell you a story. Imagine that once upon a time you were a hip mama living in 200 B.C. in India. There was no Ghee-Mart and there were no fitness centers. You got your Michelle Obama arms through the daily grind, a grind that involved you in the act of pulling the very essence out of life. As the sun rose and the cock crowed, you snuggled yourself up to milk Bessie, your cow. Afterward, you boiled her milk and allowed it to slowly cool. You then took a yogurt culture, added it to the milk, and let it sour into a clabber. After a few days, you skimmed off the milk fat that had risen to the top, and began the laborious task of agitating the fat in a huge wooden churn.
After several hours of diligent churning (perhaps you traded off with your sister or cousin while chatting about the latest village goings-on), you would have not only a small vat of butter to show for your efforts, but also your daily workout. Next, you took this precious vat of butter— filled with all your hard work and girl-secrets—and you simmered it over the wood fire until all of the water had boiled out and the milk solids had risen to the top. You strained the solids off and kept what remained:
A small pot of clear, golden, pure love.
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Katie Silcox 