Sen Botanical Works
The Spirit of SEN
泉 — SEN
泉 – SEN – , alos known as Izumi in Japanese, means spring water.
Rain and snowmelt seep into the earth,
filtered gently through ancient layers of rock,
and eventually rise again to the surface –
pure, clear, and life-giving.
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Within this sacred cycle,
there is only a quiet, continuous flow –
one that nourishes all living things
and returns to itself, again and again.
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Spring water embodies both softness and strength.
It is breathtakingly pure, endlessly generous,
and tender in its giving –
yet it flows with unwavering force,
offering life without hesitation or rest.
SEN Botanical Works was inspired by this way of being.
It arises from the belief that each of us
carries our own Izumi within –
and perhaps that, in essence,
we are the spring itself.
No matter how high we climb
or how deeply we fall,
this source – the wellspring of all that is –
continues to flow inside us,
quietly, faithfully,
and without judgment.
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Through SEN Botanical Works,
gentle remedies shaped by the essence of plants –
not to fix or change,
but to remind.
To remind us that there is something within ourselves
waiting to be remembered.
A quiet place where we may touch the
essence within,
and where our prayers for humanity's
homecoming
meet the grace of the Universe.
Hi, I'm Yui.
I'm the person behind this ever-evolving space where humans and plants meet.
Like many people, I have worn many identities
in my lifetime:
A daughter and sister.
A traveler between cultures.
A student, a worker, a partner, a mother, a seeker.
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For much of my life, I believed that somewhere among these roles I would discover the one that truly defined me.
But the search for that definition led me somewhere unexpected.
I eventually pursued formal training and received a diploma in Practical Herbalism.
Yet somewhere along that path – in the quiet company of plants and trees –
I began to recognize something I had been searching for all along—
not who I should become,
but who I already was.
And I came to realize that this journey did not begin with herbalism.
It began the moment I arrived here on Earth, unfolding through many seasons of life—
the valley of quiet ache,
the mountain I believed I should climb,
the shadow I hid behind to protect myself,
and the quiet light of the hearth that had been burning all along.
Herbalism helped gather the scattered moments of my life into a single thread.
What once felt like separate pieces revealed themselves as part of the same living tapestry —
a relationship not only with plants,
but with the greater web of life that hold us all.
Once I began to see myself through that lens, plants became more than subjects of study.
They became companions, teachers, and quiet mirrors—guiding the way I now listen, learn, and work with them.
Working with Plants
“What do you do?”
— the question that made me shrink all those times.
Now I can simply say, with an honest heart:
“I work with plants.”
Though this may mean different things to different people in this field,
to me it means holding a space — not as someone
who “uses” plants to make products, but as a listener and participant in a much quieter, slower, and older conversation.
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My practice is shaped – and sustained – by the plants and trees I meet each season.
Working with them asks for a different kind of rhythm.
There is no expectation of consistency or replication.
Instead, the work is guided by attention, shaped by gratitude, and carried by devotion.
It requires care and patience –
and in return, I get to witness:
a touch of the unexpected,
a playful kind of whimsy,
and at times, something that can only be called magic.
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From this place of listening, the work takes simple forms.
Plants are grown, gathered, thoughtfully sourced, then prepared slowly into teas, oils, tinctures.
Tea
The teas are created through a relational way of formulation.
Each blend carries something of its own —
Sometimes a message,
sometimes a prayer.
The plants come together as if in quiet council.
No plant is there by accident.
Each one arrives with its own presence within the whole.
Oil
The oils are prepared differently,
yet with the same spirit of care.
The plants are gathered with attention to sun, moon, and seasonal atmosphere, then infused slowly over time —
sometimes in sunlight, sometimes within the quiet rhythm of the moon, guided by the intention each oil carries.
If This Found You
I am often asked how I first stumbled upon herbalism and came to do what I do today.
The answer is difficult to summarize in a single sentence, yet simple in essence.
When I first learned about herbalism and the people who walk this path as herbalists, I wondered the same thing myself:
How did they arrive here?
Maybe they were fortunate to have teachers from a young age.
Maybe they had always been walking the path of plants.
Maybe they've always had a special ability to communicate with plants.
These were the stories I told myself.
But the truth, for me — and perhaps for some of you reading this now — is something simpler.
Sometimes there is simply a calling.
A deep sense of knowing.
A path of return.
A path of remembering where we have always belonged.
And perhaps the same quiet thread that once led me here is also what brought you to this page.
Perhaps the plants are always there, patiently waiting for us to remember how to truly listen — to the mother tongue of Nature.