I first became aware of Amanda Fortini and her work while at Elizabeth Ellen’s house. There was a tall stack of newspapers on Elizabeth’s kitchen counter, which turned out to be County Highway, the paper founded and published by Amanda’s husband, the writer Walter Kirn. Amanda had sent over a box of them from her home in Livingston, Montana, for Elizabeth to read and to hand out to friends. “Amanda’s the sweetest,” Elizabeth told me. I took a copy home, and devoured it, relishing the feeling of the physical paper in my hands – an experience I rarely had anymore, in the year 2024.
I met Amanda in person about a year later at Quimby’s – the Chicago bookstore – on a stop for the County Highway 2025 summer tour. I had recently moved to the city, Amanda’s hometown, and by then I had read her work – essays on class, beauty, celebrity profiles, and more – all of which really resonated with me. In particular, I was aware Amanda had come up in the magazine world of New York City in the 90s, much like my late mother, who had been a writer and editor at Sports Illustrated. In that sense, Amanda’s work and her voice felt very familiar and homey to me. Her formative years as a writer were spent in a time and a place that I felt deeply tapped into, on a spiritual level.
Apart from being a writer, Amanda is also, I recently learned, a certified flower essence practitioner, something I had heard of but didn’t know anything about. It intrigued me though, in the same way that so much of that which is esoteric intrigued me. I wasn’t sure how firmly, exactly, I believed in metaphysical healing modalities, but I wanted so badly to be convinced that they worked. What a salve, they might be then, for modern life. Imagine my delight, then, on learning that Amanda would be co-hosting a flower essence workshop alongside Shoko Ra, a New York-based sound healing guide, in Brooklyn, the same weekend I was already scheduled to be in my hometown for several events, including a literary reading I was to be part of in Bushwick, a comedy show my sister was hosting at Union Hall, and a Father’s Day brunch. The timing was perfect.
“I’m taking a flower essence workshop this weekend,” I told a few people. “What does that entail?” They sounded skeptical. “I have no idea, but I’ll tell you after the event,” I promised.
Early Saturday afternoon, I took the Q from Tribeca to Prospect Lefferts Garden, where the workshop was being held. As soon as I got out of the subway, I noticed several storefronts in the immediate neighborhood that seemed on theme – health food stores, yoga studios, an apothecary – clearly, I was in the right place. I took the elevator up to the third floor of the building where the workshop was being held and was greeted by a young woman in parachute pants. She ushered me into the studio, which was light-filled and airy. Amanda was at the front of the room, talking to some other participants. She looked elegant, in a chic blue patterned blouse and black slacks. She emanated a certain warmth that made the studio feel relaxed and welcoming. Shoko, our sound guide, brought out trays of homemade vegan sugar-free treats – chocolate chip cookies and some kind of strawberry-studded pudding – which she placed on a table next to two big jugs of minty ice water. At the front of the room were all the sound bowls and tuning forks that Shoko would use to lead our meditation. There was also a table set up with dozens of small tincture bottles, which I presumed we would be using to make our flower essence blends.
Fifteen yoga mats were set out evenly across the studio floor. I scanned the mats for availability, and OMG, there was Emma Glenn Baker in the second row – host of the podcast Stargirl. I’d been following her on Instagram for years. “Are you Emma?” I asked, “and is this mat taken?” She was incredibly friendly and open, her in-person presence matching hers on the podcast. Her show, Stargirl, centers on the it girls who become objects of obsession, fascination, projection – cultural myths: Emily Ratajkowski, Lena Dunham, Alex Cooper. She did exactly the type of anthropological deep dive on these women that I found so fascinating. And it was with Amanda as guest, that she had recently made an episode about Carolyn Bassette-Kennedy, whose time in magazines in 90s New York also reminded me of my mother.
As the clock struck 2:00, Amanda gathered the attention of the room. We would start with the flower essences, she explained, and move on to the sound meditation for the second half of the workshop. I should mention here that this class was taking place on the summer solstice, which, she explained, was a very powerful day for making flower essences. It was considered the height of the sun’s power – peak daylight and solar energy – which are thought to capture the fullest expression of the flowers’ healing and light-bearing qualities. These essences are made, we learned, by steeping fresh flowers in pure spring water, and exposing them to light – either from the sun or the moon – which then captures the flower’s energetic vibration.
At each of our mats, there was a small gift bag with a card, a pen, and an empty cobalt blue tincture bottle that we would be filling with our custom blend. In addition to the bags, Amanda circulated two handouts – one a stapled packet with information about flower essences that she would be going over with the class, and another, a list of flowers selected by Amanda specifically for the Sacred Sound Summer Solstice with Flower Essences. Flower essences, the packet explained “are liquid tinctures, or remedies, that are taken to address ‘profound issues of emotional well-being, soul development and mind-body health’”
Amanda stood at the front of the studio, explaining not only what they were but where they came from, who invented them (Dr. Edward Bach), how they’re taken, and more. She was careful to draw the distinction between flower essences and aromatherapy or essential oils. “Though they are frequently confused… flower essences are odorless and don’t contain any part of the plant,” the packet explained. “Only its vibrational residue or energetic imprint.” The principle is that each plant has its own emotional quality or energy, and that the water it’s steeped in retains an energetic “memory” even once the plant is removed. In order for the essence to work, you really had to believe – which again, I wanted very badly wished to. As a result, it was less an herbal medicine in the conventional sense, and more of a spiritual practice.
They’re taken, Amanda explained, as four drops under the tongue, four times daily. Or less! If you’re highly sensitive and four times per day gets emotionally overwhelming. I couldn’t imagine a world in which the diluted essence of a flower would flood my nervous system and overwhelm me, but maybe it would, if I truly believed in their magic. “If you are sensitive, as I am,” Amanda writes, “I recommend starting by taking your essence twice daily and getting a feel for it before going up.” I could definitely be sensitive – I imagined myself starting with a low dose and slowly titrating up – building a tolerance for it, as if it were a drug.
After reviewing the entire packet, we took out the list of essences that Amanda had chosen for the day. As she went through each one and its healing properties, I starred the ones I thought I needed for my blend. Specifically, I included:
- Buttercup for radiant inner light unattached to outer recognition/fame
- Cerato for trusting one’s inner knowing
- Larch for lack of confidence and fear of public speaking
- Star of Bethlehem for shock/trauma and healing/comfort from the spiritual world
That last one I should’ve put three stars next to. That was what I was in need of most. According to the Bach Centre website, star of Bethelehem is “the remedy for the after-effects of shock, such as is caused by unexpected bad news or any unexpected and unwelcome event.”
A couple years ago, I found myself deep in the throes of a situation with a sociopathic stalker, resulting in a family intervention and my being put on a plane and transported to a tiny rehab in rural Ohio for thirty-five days.
Since then, or shortly thereafter, I believed this man to be gone from my life. I moved, he moved, I blocked him. I thought he was in my past. And then a few days before my trip to New York, he resurfaced, calling me from a new number while I was at work and stalking me on a social media site. Instantly, my nervous system was again dysregulated. I had little hope that the legal system would protect me, and yet, somehow, I was hopeful the flower essence would serve as a soul protectant. Maybe it was insane – to think that the flowers, rather than the law, would help me – but it was worth a shot. The problem was, he didn’t fear the law, this person I’m referring to. The spiritual realm, he actually might.
Once we’d gone through the list of essences, making note of the specific benefits of each, Amanda had us write our intentions on the cards that had been waiting for us in our gift bags. I wrote that I’d like to be released from the bondage of self – self-obsession, self-consciousness. That I would like to let those go. Particularly when I was home in New York – when I was performing, as I had been that weekend at the Bushwick reading – I found myself caught in compulsive cycles of self-doubt, which I believed to be the negative manifestation of egocentrism. The entire world, I needed to remind myself, wasn’t thinking about me – either in a positive or a negative light.
She then explained how we’d be preparing our dosage bottles – using brandy for most, or apple cider vinegar for the sober among us, myself included. It was so little alcohol that was being used – not nearly enough to even get tipsy – but still, I was relieved by the vinegar option. I’d ignore the bottle of Hennessy in favor of the Whole Foods brand ACV. When the explanation was finished, those in the first row of yoga mats began to line up to create their blends, following Amanda’s careful instructions. While we waited our turn, I struck up conversation with the woman on my left, also introducing her to Emma. Her name was Kelly, I learned, and she had taken Amtrak up from Philadelphia for the event. She too, was incredibly kind and easy to talk to – she was a painter. Later, we exchanged Instagrams, and I was enamored with her minimalist portrait style – my favorite being her recreation of Liz Phair’s Exile in Guyville album cover. As we sat and chatted the three of us – me, Kelly and Emma – Amanda came up to us “I love that the three of you are meeting,” she said. “My millennial women friends.” I felt flattered to be grouped in with them. To be considered a friend, millennial or otherwise.
The three of us lined up and followed the guidance we’d been given, quickly reviewing our blends one-on-one with Amanda beforehand to make sure the essences we’d chosen wouldn’t counteract each other. “What did you pick?” We asked each other. Mine and Kelly’s were quite similar, which led me to wonder whether we were going through some of the same experiences. Or whether this workshop attracted a certain type of person, which it most certainly did. We were mostly wealthy-ish white women, from what I could tell. There was a middle aged man in the back row sporting a County Highway T-shirt who was evidently a huge fan of the newspaper. Aside from him, though, the crowd was fairly uniform, though we ranged in age from early 30s to 70s, probably. In any case, the group resembled a yoga class in an affluent neighborhood of [insert any major American city here]. Spiritual seekers, perhaps, but specifically seekers who had the privilege of dropping $100 or so on a three hour-long workshop on a random Saturday afternoon.
Careful not to spill, I poured a tablespoon of vinegar into my bottle, filling the rest up with spring water. Then, I went down my list of essences, adding four drops of each of the ones I’d starred to my bottle. Finally, I tapped hard on the base of the bottle with my palm, allowing the essences to mix with the suspension. Succussion, that part of the process was called, Amanda explained. I wrote on a label what was included in my blend: “Made with buttercup, cerato, larch, star of Bethlehem, and love.”
I took four drops under my tongue, and lay down on my mat, ready to be bathed in sound. As we lay there, eyes closed, meditating, Shoko came around with singing bowls and tuning forks. As she came close to me, I felt the vibrations deep within my body and melted into the mat. It was profoundly peaceful. My consciousness wandered as I lay there, for twenty, then thirty, then forty minutes. It surprised me how quickly my mind drifted from scene to scene without any external stimulation beyond the simple thrum of the bowls. The only other time I’d meditated for so long was at the Zen Buddhist temple in Ann Arbor in the aftermath of my aforementioned stalking experience. Then too, I remember watching my thoughts play out as if I were watching a movie – non-stop and immersive. From time to time, throughout the meditation, I opened my eyes and glanced at the clock. My sister’s comedy show started promptly at 5:00 and was a ten minute Uber ride away, so I knew I’d have to sneak out early, careful not to disrupt anyone else’s meditation. I did, at 4:30, and left feeling clearer, more optimistic, more settled in my skin. Was grateful that I’d had a chance to see Amanda – to learn from her. To meet Emma and Kelly, who I hoped would stay in touch.
My Uber quickly ushered me out of the metaphysical realm and back into the material world. I was en route to watch my sister, Cameron Burger, perform, alongside her Tik Tok famous friend Alvaro Chavez, a few other standups, and a couple literary It Girls of Substack fame – Mackenzie Thomas and K Irving. I was thrilled for Cam, as Union Hall was a huge venue to book. Ziwe, Cris Gethard, Josh Gondelman, etc. all played shows there. These were the big leagues, and she deserved it! I wondered what the comedians on her lineup would say onstage if they knew about the flower essences class. Whether they’d roast me for believing – for wanting to believe – in the power of the flower! I held the information of my whereabouts close to my chest, being selective about who to share it with – I didn’t want anyone else’s cynicism rubbing off on me and diminishing the essences’ effects. I knew, I had to believe.
On the flight back to Chicago, I ordered a bottle of pure star of Bethelehem from Feel Bach! Natural Remedies. I wanted the essence in its purest form, not diluted by any other essences with their own respective healing properties. I would take it diligently, provided I felt like it was working… provided I felt some relief from the nervous system dysregulation I felt throughout my body when it came to my stalker.
I had high hopes. That it might offer psychic protection against those who might desire to harm me. To invade my psychological personal space. I didn’t feel physically threatened by my stalker’s reemergence, but I did feel spiritually challenged. My heart pounded out of my chest now, every time I got a phone call or a notification popped up on social media. My body was constantly triggered, out of fear of his virtual presence.
When the bottle arrived, I set it on my bathroom sink so I would remember to take it morning and night. I could indeed be sensitive, so decided to start with twice a day and would go up in dose if I felt called to do so. Would pay attention to my mood, the pattern of my thoughts, my heartrate as my phone pinged. As I held the dropper between my thumb and forefinger, I asked for relief from the bondage of self, for protection from this traumatic thing that had reemerged in my life, put four drops under my tongue, and prayed.
