The 3,000-Year-Old Secret Weapon for Anxiety, Inflammation, and Modern Mayhem
Boswellia is the tree behind frankincense, which is surprisingly relevant to your inflamed joints, anxious brain, or slightly dodgy bowel.
This squat little tree is found in dry, dramatic places like Oman, Ethiopia, and Somalia. The tree oozes a resin when cut, like sap.
People have been scraping, sniffing, and slathering this stuff on everything from bruises to bad moods for thousands of years. And I do mean everything.
The ancient Egyptians called it the 'tears of Horus' (emotional much?) and used it in embalming and in incense burned during religious rituals. The Greeks burned it in temples. The Romans traded it like it was sandalwood-scented Bitcoin.
By the time the Wise Men were loading it onto a camel for a celestial baby shower, Boswellia resin was worth more than gold.
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But here's where it gets juicy.
It wasn't just for incense and embalming and vaguely spiritual vibes. Boswellia was medicine.
The Original Multitasker
According to every historical source who ever wielded a quill or wore a toga, it treated bleeding, bruising, infections, lunacy (their word, not mine), and, if you mixed it with leek juice, internal haemorrhaging, which sounds like a medieval smoothie from a dungeon cookbook.
Avicenna, an 11th-century Persian genius, swore Boswellia helped with urinary infections, amnesia, and madness, the three pillars of most hen's weekends.
Meanwhile, in India's Ayurvedic tradition, Boswellia was used for arthritis, asthma, ulcers, and presumably general family drama.
Chinese medicine slathered it on wounds and used it in potions that make modern pharmaceuticals look lazy.
In Ethiopia, it was a tranquilliser. In Kenya, it stopped internal bleeding.
Modern Science Being Late as Usual
After centuries of writing off anything with a plant in it as 'alternative' or 'a bit hippy,' the lab coats finally caught up. And what they found is that Boswellia is basically a botanical overachiever.
Its most famous ingredient is boswellic acid, which sounds terrifying but actually behaves like a tiny anti-inflammatory ninja.
It blocks a molecule called 5-lipoxygenase (try saying that while drinking wine), which causes inflammation in things like asthma, arthritis, Crohn's, and that general state of being emotionally crispy.
But boswellic acid is the tip of the resin iceberg.
There's also incensole acetate, which means it has calming, anti-anxiety, and anti-depressant effects. In mice, at least. (Humans aren't usually asked to run through mazes for cheese, but I'd wager it works on us too, especially the anxious cheese-loving ones.)
And yes, it's been tested. Inflammation markers? Down. Joint mobility? Up. Anxiety? Lower. Tumour cells? Confused and retreating. Brain trauma? Better outcomes.
In one mouse study, incensole acetate reduced inflammation, soothed brain injury, and generally behaved like a very competent nurse with a divine scent.
Which begs the question, why aren't we all bathing in this stuff?
Boswellia Has Been Branded as Frankincense
Probably because it's been branded as frankincense, which sounds like something your mum bought in the '90s from a shop with wind chimes. But Boswellia, now that has gravitas.
And Boswellia's not just in dusty scrolls or vague-smelling candles anymore. It's in capsules, creams, and experimental brain trauma treatments.
It's being studied for cancer, asthma, arthritis, anxiety, and irritable bowel, which, when you think about it, covers most of the Western population over 35.
Better yet, whole-resin extracts often work better than purified boswellic acid. Translation: the messy, gooey, unfiltered version is more effective than the tidied-up one.
And let's not ignore the side hustle: Boswellia is still burned in churches, waved about at High Mass, and sold in boutique apothecaries for sums that make your wallet clench.
The Magi Brought Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh
So here's the summary, in case you dozed off:
Boswellia, AKA frankincense, isn't just for Christmas cards, incense cones, or historical re-enactments. It's a plant-based power player, with thousands of years of street cred, a CV that includes anti-inflammatory, anti-depressant, and possibly anti-everything properties, and a scent that smells like you've finally got your life together.
It's spiritual. It's medicinal. It's got a whiff of ancient wisdom and middle-class smugness.
So yes, the Magi brought gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But if they'd been on Instagram, frankincense would have its own grid, three affiliate codes, and a paid partnership with a Jerusalem wellness brand.
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Serin Quinn does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
