Green Rush Interview 2: Mihael’s 49 year Observation Overview

February 19th 2026, Trinidad, CA: I sat in Mihael’s home, which he has rented for the past 20 years, where he has observed the animal life in Humboldt County both in the ocean and on land. Mihael has another home named Fairwind that is off-grid in Honeydew, CA that he built for the ground up, housing his family and his community. It is now used as a spiritual retreat. Mihael has always worked in town as a carpenter, driving from his home in Honeydew to Trinidad and working for the residents inbetween. Through his work, life, and family he has observed the sweeping changes in Humboldt from the beginning of the Cannabis revolution until it’s ultimate down fall after legalization. This interview goes into great detail about the observations that Miheaal hasa madae, from the good to the bad. Focusing on the economy, the cannabis industry and the local environment. Thank you, Mihael and our readers for your time and interest in the stories of Humboldt County. 

Natascha: Hello and welcome to the Little Lost Forest blog, where we are documenting an oral history of Humboldt County and examining the economic shifts that followed the legalization of cannabis. Today, we’re speaking with Mihael Kavanaugh, creator and steward of Fairwind, a healing retreat in Honeydew, California. As a longtime resident of Humboldt County, Michal built his dream from the ground up, living off grid and creating a space dedicated to healing, safety and community care. When he purchased Fairwind, it had nothing to do with marijuana, but the collapse of the local cannabis economy has deeply affected his ability to sustain Fairwind and the life he created there. His story reflects the broader ripple effects felt across Humboldt, raising important questions about what happens to rural communities when their foundational economy disappears and how those shifts reshape livelihood, land and collective identity. 

Hi, Mihael. How are you doing today?

Mihael: I’m doing pretty good, all things considered.

Natascha: Yeah. Thank you for meeting with me. How long have you lived in Humboldt?

Mihael: Oh, 49 years.

Natascha: And what is your history as a resident in this area?

Mihael: When I first came, I was doing tree planting in the winter and construction in the summer. I started going to college at College of the Redwoods, where I opted to not rent and just put a wiki up in the mountains and hike to school.

Natascha: Well that’s creative. What is your history as a resident in this area?

Mihael: Well, going to school was definitely a start and I was very involved with the aspects of preserving nature and environmental concerns. Being a tree planter, I saw the direct effects of logging, I planted trees in Washington, Oregon, California, Idaho, and Montana. So I had a very good perspective of the effects of logging.

Natascha: You also read poetry on a radio station. What radio station was that?

Mihael: That is Kmud radio, the second Wednesday of every month at 8 p.m.

Natascha: That’s lovely. 

How would you define cannabis culture prior to legalization?

Mihael: Well, people were growing in the hills in the early 70s, and a lot of the back-to-the-land movement, people from the 60s found little niches. There were certain communities that they found strongholds, in the Mattole was one of them. I was a little bit younger than some of those people, but the back to land movement was part of the reason I bought property in the mountains, to raise my family, in a close way to nature, and try to grow as much food as we could. And I didn’t have anything to do with marijuana, but it was already in the hills, but not a dominant force; police weren’t doing raids, and there wasn’t much being grown. It was definitely a different era. 

Natascha: And you’re talking about your property in Fairwind?

Mihael: Yeah, it’s out in the Mattole. I witnessed it go through many transformations; almost every decade, there was something new. I mean, it was almost 20 years before medical marijuana came into effect, which was a huge dynamic. Probably the biggest in the early years, CAMP, campaign against marijuana planting started in 1984, primarily 83, they did a couple of things, but not really. By 84, it was full-on military. They were dropping crews of 16 fully armed military-type people, combing the hills. And that created the whole guerrilla culture of people growing in the woods, hiding things. I never grew on the property in the early years. For the sake of having children there. So I didn’t, you know, we could stand there and wave at them, and neighbors would come to my place because they knew it was a safe place. And, um, it entailed hiking many miles in the woods. So that suited me because I loved nature and hiking. But at that time, the price also fluctuated greatly. People said, ” Oh, it went up so much.”

Mihael: Yeah, but you could only grow two ounces as compared to growing a 1 or 2lb plant because you had to hide it. I mean, it’s extremely hide it or risk getting it all taken. So I saw many helicopters during those years. I think the biggest years were 84 through probably 94 or 5. Um, and they really, uh, they had a thing about honeydew. It was one of the first places they ever hit, and they would come there every year for a couple of weeks. And, um, so that created a whole different culture. In that same time when it started going up in price, then people started moving there solely for the green rush quote – of they could grow 100lbs and leave at the end of the year and make a small fortune. I was still doing construction and raising my family, and that wasn’t me. Although there were people, and unfortunately, with that, it changed the community. I think you have a question later about that, but I could go on right now and address those things.

Natascha: Yeah. I mean, go ahead. Keep talking and we’ll go through the questions.

Mihael: The way it affected the community was that a lot of the people who originally moved there, especially before the marijuana boom, we’re moving there because they love the land. They had a relationship with the land. They wanted to grow their food. They wanted to kind of step out of the system of society and live simply off the land. So there was a sense of community that was really strong, and you knew your neighbors, their children knew your children. On the community at Fairwind, we even built our own school. I allowed 4 or 5 other families to live there so we wouldn’t have to go for social. We were mostly on the land all the time with goats, sheep, donkeys, horses, chickens growing our food, then it was a really unique relationship with one another, but with the animals and the land. There was a certain kind of utopian element about it, especially growing up in San Francisco, where the whole back to the land movement thing was something that drove me as a youth. I was listening to Alan Watts when I was 12 years old and just having those influences. Stephen Gaskin, who started the Tennessee farm he used to teach at San Francisco State College and did a radio show. So I was hearing that stuff. The element of living off the land changed because then people started making big money when some of the neighbors who started making more money than… it was almost too much money.

Mihael: So then lots of drugs started coming in. Unsavory people started coming in, people started getting greedy. It changed the dynamics, except for the people who wanted to just keep it simple. That was a big change in that mid 80s era where I saw a lot of people shift their focus, and there was a certain abundance to it that allowed people to build their house to buy their solar panels too. I almost paid off the land just doing tree planting and construction and, and that was adequate. Land was a lot less expensive. Then, of course, once the boom started happening, the price of land started going up. And then it became a cultural kind of phenomena that when CAMP became so heavy and so oppressive because– they were– people started growing indoors with generators. So that was a whole ‘nother culture that I didn’t adhere to because then they were growing in these bunkers and houses, running diesel generators all the time so that they couldn’t be seen from the helicopters. So that was then another like a layer to the evolution of the grossing. A lot more people started moving up from the city going, oh, I don’t care about the lifestyle, but I can come here and make money.

Mihael: It changed the dynamics of some of the people that were moving there because they weren’t moving there, because of the love of the place and a relationship with the land. They were moving there with the hope of making some big bucks. And so that that was like, and like I say, almost every decade, there was another wave of that where it changed again. That happened again in the late 90s when the medical scripting happened, where then people could grow in a greenhouse and they couldn’t just come and take it because it was potentially legal. So the whole helicopter days of them being so oppressive shifted. In some ways good, because people were not so stressed out. They weren’t having to run around underneath the military M-16s. It kind of simplified things and for a time it didn’t get out of control. But then because that happened, then people started taking advantage of that. And that’s when people started bulldozing tops of mountains and growing way too much. And then that brought in a whole ‘nother energy of people from other countries, you know, and Bulgarians moved in, the cartels moved in. Although some of those people came even in the early 80s but just a little bit, It became much more. 

Mihael: The more they realized how much money– you know, when people start floating millions– then other people are like, oh, here, I’m going to be the big dog and run this thing and then that eroded the sense of community because it was so based on money and not caring about the environment. I remember, you know, because I listen to the radio, how many times they would find a grow way out in the woods on a national forest or whatever, and there’d be pallets of poison, you know? Because they were just trying to grow so many thousands of pounds, they didn’t care about the environment. We used to have a ton of great horned owls. Over time, they just disappeared, probably because of people using rat poison. And so those kinds of effects are definitely the negative of people, quote, going for it and going, not caring. I would say that in the early years, most of the original back-to-the-landers and mom-and-pop people were super conscious. They would not use poison. They kept it much more simple. They were stewards of the land. They were taking care of the land. They were the ones trying to defend the land. That culture is, unfortunately, kind of just got overrun by the bigger scenes, and then, hence the kickback from the authorities, because then the authorities are like, oh, we got to go after these environmental people, ruining the environment, and bulldozing and cutting down all the trees and damming creeks.

Mihael: and because some of that stuff, that’s where they were crossing the line. Then making it harder for the people who are living in a good way. There was an in-between time where the schools were thriving, and the children were thriving. The small businesses were doing good and there was rich music, the festivals were happening. 

I remember one of the firemen’s Hall burnt down in Garberville and then, you know, a little while later they were like, oh, let’s do this fundraiser to build a new community center, you know, so that’s when the Mateel formed. The fire company, even in Honeydew, we used to do a food booth at Reggae on the River as a fundraiser for our own fire company. But then that evolved into the Roll on the Mattole like, let’s do our own little music thing. And so a lot of the non-profits, schools, fire companies, they all benefited from those bigger events because it was like, hey, we’re bringing in all this people, this culture, and this is a way to help nurture those fundamental parts of our own culture. At the same time, I think there were some of the government agencies that were like, oh, we can’t let them have solar panels and not be on the grid.

Mihael: The whole Say No Reagan-era was actually, they called it a War-on-Drugs. So the government didn’t like the counterculture getting a foothold in becoming self-sustaining. And a lot of these people, a lot of my friends and people that moved in, you know, were Vietnam vets, who didn’t fit well in society, but fit well into the mountain culture. There were a lot of them who might have been called misfits, yet they were just artists. They were people who wanted to live differently and were culturally, actually adjusted to that lifestyle, and people honored that. If there was a certain neighbor that really wanted to be like a hermit, if there was someone who wanted to be plugged in to the school system and helping with the different events, then there was room for that too. I worked at the Petrolia Community Center the very first summer I was there, and you know, straight away, these are your people. They’re in your valley. So you get to know the families. You get to know the elders. You can get to know the youth. And then as you have children, and then, you know, I’m part of the fire company. I was part of the coaching the basketball.

Mihael: You evolve in the ways that you can plug in and be a part. At least that’s my nature. And like I said, some just stayed quiet and just wanted to make money. You know, for me, that wasn’t why I moved there. So that was never a big priority. In the mid to late 90s, when the whole Prop 215, they call it medical marijuana, it allowed people a little more freedom and a little less anxiety because of the anxiety of the oppression of the helicopters and them driving down the roads and convoys coming in and turning people’s lives upside down. It was heartbreaking sometimes. Not always in a just way, you know, they weren’t just going after the big growers, they were going after some of the mom and pa growers, people who were barely making it, you know? And so that’s when it’s like, come on, let it be. That became even more apparent when it became legalized, because then the people who just were making enough to get by and take care of things, they were spending their money in the restaurants, they were spending their money to go see music. They were buying clothes. Even the trimmers, you know, people always, oh, trim-igrants, blah, blah, blah.

Mihael: But they were staying in the motels sometimes, too. They were buying food. They were buying clothes. That money was being totally cycled right back into the county. And in a good way. And unfortunately, when they shut that down, that’s when a ton of businesses shut down because they took away the very foundation of what was helping things thrive. And that element of– let me interject here. When it became legal, there was Prop 19, was the first one to be voted for. It was geared towards small growers and medical, and written by some of the founders of the people who were kind of at the forefront of things. I think I remember hearing that some corporation in Utah spent almost $40 million with advertisements against 19, saying, “We don’t want this in our schools. We don’t want kids to have access to this.” You know, portraying it as a terrible, bad thing we weren’t ready for. It would have been much more well-rounded for the economy in Northern California, and a better situation for all the growers. But most of the voters are in Southern California and San Francisco. So they were swayed to think, Oh, this isn’t good. So then when prop 64, which was written by corporations for corporations, was presented just two years later, the same $40 million was portraying how good it was, like, oh, finally we have this thing.

Mihael: And so that’s an $80 million spread of swaying by propaganda, people’s voting and. And of course, when they first wrote it, it was supposed to only be an acre with all these guidelines. And within a matter of months, they changed that because the stockholders said, we’re not going to be able to make much money if we can only have an acre. And of course, all the growers in the hills, the only stocks they held were the herb stocks, not anything having to do with Wall Street and investment firms. So that was a huge shift in economic status that then limited a lot of the people that could even afford to get a permit. Uh, you know, I knew some people very close to me who, you know, spent $100-200,000 jumping through the hoops, not even being able to grow for a while to get their permits. They were losing money some years, busting their butt growing, growing, growing with all the stipulations, everything and still losing money. So a number, a lot of them just stopped. They said, this isn’t worth it. Why am I working to fail? And I think the county did some things in the beginning. A lot of it was state regulated, and that was beyond the county’s control. But there were other counties that were much more lenient.

Mihael: You know, like Mendocino, you could have 25 plants with no problem. You didn’t have to jump through a million hoops. So a lot of the people were still able to do okay. Humboldt, I think shot themselves in the foot and then the other foot and then the– and not knowing that they were really crippling their own county by having way too many regulations, making it way too hard, making people literally suffer. People were committing suicide because they couldn’t meet all the regulations and and then they were watching their families hurt. And to me, that’s tragic. That’s a system that has failed miserably. When people are doing everything in their power for years and then committing suicide because they’re failing. And some of that was due to, unfortunately, to some of the programs that the county had and too many strict things. It’s one thing to shut down the big dogs who are trying to grow a thousand plants or bulldozing but a lot of the smaller growers who were just one of the small things, they should have just let it be and our economy wouldn’t have just taken a nosedive. It’s sad, I go to Garberville every month for acupuncture and my radio show and half the stores are empty. It’s like a ghost town. The ones that are still there are not thriving. They’re barely making it. There used to be a ton of restaurants and clothing stores and gift shops and– How are they going to cater to tourists, which is what they’re hoping to do again, because tourists are always come here but if someone stays near there and there’s no restaurants and there’s no stores to shop and nothing catering to, then they’re probably not going to stay long. 

Obviously, now that the redwoods aren’t going to go anywhere. That was a battle in the 80s and 90s, um, to save them. What degree we could. Corporations had their heyday with that. Again, with junk bonds, and just that’s another story. Now, a lot of people are trying to reinvent themselves. Those that are still in the permit realm of marketing, branding, and developing their science behind some of it.

Mihael: I’m always a little sad that there isn’t more emphasis on the spiritual part and the prayers that are in the plant because people feel that, at least people I sold to way back in the 80s, people came back to me and say, oh, does the guy who grows this actually say prayers over marijuana? So it’s not just about the nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium; many people emphasize the fertilizer, but how you treat the plant and how it affects the feeling that comes forth from it.

Mihael: There are people though, that are fostering better ways to work with it. With some of the regulations, there are people who are still using chemicals. It’s supposed to be organic, it’s supposed to be tested against that. They’ve even proven that some of the labs are fudging the numbers to make it sound like the plants are better than it is. And that’s just counter if you want to view the plant as a sacred healing medicine plant, that’s where the business part always twists things, because then it’s about money. It’s not about medicine. Hopefully, in the future, it’s hard to say how it’s going to go. People tell me that some of what’s in the dispensaries isn’t actually even that good quality. Sometimes it’s old, and to me, that’s just sad. I think a lot of people have gone back to buying stuff on the black market because it’s just better. That’s the backfiring of all the regulations and rules where for decades, people didn’t have that. And so they always found it. Growing up and in school, it was always there and from all over the world, that was the beauty of it.

Mihael: You know, it’s a very cultural thing to a lot of countries that and it has been growing in a lot of countries for a long time. It’s not just a modern thing. There’s a certain beauty to that, and I don’t think people emphasize enough that different strains create different feelings, that there’s stuff that’ll keep you up. There’s stuff that’s more of an uplifting high, and other stuff that’s more like you’re tired at the end of the day and you want to sit on the couch. So there are different types for those different things, and not enough is spoken about that. And even each plant: if you harvest it on a given day, two weeks later, it’s going to be a different feeling, a different flavor, a different high. Two weeks later, that same plant will be different again. People are starting to learn about that. But, you know, a lot of us knew that stuff 40 years ago. I think there should be more emphasis on that, because it opens the door to it being more beneficial in other ways. And I’m glad that now, like many elderly people, I’m finding such benefits and dropping other pharmaceuticals. I know a couple of people who used to take six different medicines that now,  a little cannabis is all they need and they’re actually better off for it and spending less, and having a better quality of life. Of course, the pharmaceutical companies are like that’s why they’ve resisted it all along.

Mihael: Because they don’t have control over it. It’s a plant grown in the hills, and they want to synthesize it into something you buy in a pill bottle. They’ve done some of that, too, because that’s the way big pharma is. That’s the way money corporations are. How do we make a buck? It’s not about providing a service to people. And I think in the early years, it was more about a relationship with it. It was your friends and smaller circles of people you worked with. There was an inherent beauty in that; you had a relationship not only with the plant but also with the people who received it and what they wanted. My musician friends were always like, ” Hey, we want this one because they stay up at night practicing.” Do you have any other questions? I went off on a number of tangents there.

Natascha: Yeah. While you were gorilla growing, which is when you grow off-grid, right?

Mihael: Well, like a mile away from your home in Timberland or forest land, nowhere near anybody’s house, you know, in the trees.

Natascha: Carrying all, all your supplies.

Mihael: I used to hike up to two miles sometimes to go to some of my spots.

Natascha: What was your connection to the plant? Why did you do that?

Mihael: Primarily because of the helicopters, you had to hide it. In the summer, it’s hot and dry.So you have to find a place where there’s a spring. So sometimes that mile and a half or two miles was because that’s where the spring was. Then I would set up simple garbage cans with a drip system from the spring and servicing just eight plants, or maybe 15. Just small, small plots enough to grow, maybe a couple pounds.

Natascha: Why did you grow cannabis? What was important to you to do so?

Mihael: Because I was doing the homesteading thing of raising my kids. We were even homeschooling, growing as much food as we could. It was another infusion of some money that allowed me to still have that lifestyle; of being there, helping raise my children, helping build on the house, tending the fruit trees- it’s 65 fruit trees. When you’re doing farming like that of gardens and that it takes a lot of energy. Heck, I knew people who had huge organic food farms and they’d sell $150,000 worth of produce, but they’d still break even. So even they, after selling $150,000 worth of produce, would have a few plants by the river to help them have a decent quality of life.

Natascha: So what I’m hearing from you is that there is a connection between sustainable living, living off the land and cannabis.

Mihael: Definitely. For me, when you’re doing it in the right way, it’s a right livelihood thing too, because you’re working with a plant and you’re not harming nature, you’re not harming anything. Then it’s something of benefit for people. It’s helping people deal with their pain or dealing with their anxiety, so it’s a win-win that way. It’s not easy work by any means. People think you just put a couple seeds in the ground and no, you got to tend to it for eight months. It’s a lot of work.

Natascha: How did you protect your farm and your business?

Mihael: So in the early years, like I say, just didn’t even grow on the land. So that there was no risk to our well-being and being threatened by the authorities. Even when Prop 215 got passed, I waited two years until I heard the state attorney general, state that as the top law enforcement person in the state, that he had to protect my right to be able to grow. And I was like, cool. So that was the first year I grew something closer to my house and it was just a tiny little 10 x 20. Neighbors teased me and said, what, build yourself a real greenhouse because they had bigger greenhouses. So for me, a 10 x 20 was like way bigger than a cold frame. But for them, it was like, no, you’re still in a cold frame.

Natascha: I mean, your house is the most immaculate, detailed, built home I’ve ever seen. So you had the skills and chose to remain small and humble, it sounds like. When you sold your product, it sounds like you mostly sold to friends and family. Were there any other primary clients, maybe from out of town or–

Mihael: Well, you know, some of my friends from my youth would say bring it to San Francisco, and I’m talking again, 2 to 4 units. Nothing big, you know. And then they would provide some of that to some of their friends. So again, it was just small. You know, friends helping friends kind of thing.

Natascha: When you reflect on the upbringing of your family, was that lifestyle desirable?

Mihael: For the most part. We didn’t have a phone for 20 years because we were out on the mountain. It wasn’t even a possibility. We didn’t have television or the media. We had a little tiny radio, but the children grew up playing in nature. So they made things all the time. They rode their bikes and built tree forts. They created skits and acted. Their imaginations were very fertile. The downside was that when the helicopters came around, they still felt that tension. Even though the helicopter couldn’t land, there was an element of them feeling threatened by it. In part because a couple of times I ran down to the woods to save my crop, so they had this anxiety about that, but also the element of growing up in nature, and, like I say, I made a point of having other children on the land. So they also had friends they could play with. It made it more complete for them. And as they got older and learned that some of their kids, their friends, had video games and stuff like that, of course, they wanted to go stay at that person’s house and hang out and play because they had devices we didn’t have, and that was okay. Of course, they wanted me and I said, no, you get enough of it, you know? So it was all right.

Natascha: What was the crime rate like prior to legalization in Humboldt?

Mihael: Right. Well, so, you know, of course, that’s a remote mountain part. I think it was pretty minimal back then. In the early years, of course, there were always people, but there were a lot of other drugs besides marijuana. I think that’s where a lot of the crime came from. Twas ever thus. It still is that way because I think that some of that stuff. Oh, it just conjures up a whole ‘nother level. Although there were definitely some instances where people, because there was so much money involved with the marijuana deals, there were some very shady stuff that happened. Like that Murder Mountain, I think I didn’t even watch one whole series, but that kind of glorified that part of it. Unfortunately, again, because there was just so much money that then people coming from the city, who maybe were part of gangs and a whole nother kind of thing took advantage of people who were just living on the hill. As far as now, I think we’re in a whole nother era now because money is so tight everywhere. Homelessness has increased. That’s not solely related to marijuana. It’s an influence, but I think that’s more a political agenda of the billionaire class and the ultra rich to suffocate the little people. I think there’s a whole nother level of crime now that didn’t exist before that.

Mihael: Um, I don’t think that can be correlated to the marijuana industry as much as to the bigger picture. Like I say with the ultra rich and corporations and taking away people’s, making the cost of living so extreme when the wages are still the same. For a lot of the people they just up and moved away. Some people went to Oregon, others to Montana, and they found they could live more comfortably outside California. I mean, a lot of people who live in Humboldt are here because it’s just beautiful and they don’t make as much money as they the Bay area, but they just seem to live here rather than there. I left San Francisco as soon as I graduated high school. I’m grateful for having grown up there. It’s so the crime, unfortunately, there’s an undercurrent of young people into meth or heroin or, nowadays, God-awful fentanyl. I think those things drive some of the crime in a whole different way. And people who smoke pot usually are not out in the bars, getting in fights, and even that, alcohol is a whole nother thing compared to marijuana.

Natascha: Do you think the community expected the economic downfall after legalization?

Mihael: I think a lot of people braced themselves for it and knew that that would be a flip side. I know I did. I saw the writing on the wall. Especially with 64 as compared to 19. I think if 19 had passed, it wouldn’t have been such a dramatic nosedive off a cliff. I’ll have to point to the corporations, that’s cold, hard facts.

Natascha: What was the change in Fairwind after legalization?

Mihael: At that point, most of my kids had already moved away, so things were different. Anyway after 20 years of having a community there, I reached a little point of like, I’d rather have no people than the wrong people. So it just became very simplified. I built the temple to create the retreat center. Anticipating that kind of shift. That was again, right when my youngest daughter went to university. So it was like embracing a new stage in my own life. It was going pretty good up until, well, Covid was one thing that happened. In 2019, I only had 17 plants on my land,  medical prescription, which was totally in the parameters of what I could have. And they came and raided and tore everything down, went through my house with warrants, totally turned my life upside down. Threatened me with $65,000 a day, fines for a water tank that was leaning two degrees, and they said it was ready to fall down the hill. I’m like, did you actually see it? I had an environmental hazard thing that was double A, C and D batteries in a bucket in my recycling, they were threatening with $10,000 a day.

Mihael: I mean, the list of things that they were trying to find me for were so redundant. They were so pissed off that they thought they were going to find some kind of big grow with guns and they didn’t find any of that. And they found someone who’s taking care of the land and living simply. I think that they were probably just totally ashamed of themselves. 

It really tormented me emotionally for months. It was just really tragic because there was no, I wasn’t there, if I was there, I would have said, hey, come on in, have some tea, have some coffee. How can I help you? 

And they probably wouldn’t have cut down a single thing, uh, because I was in the parameters of legally. Okay. Uh, one of my elders in Ireland was, um, ill and I went back to visit them before they passed away. So, uh, but that was disheartening. They had come, they had sent me a notice three years before. With what, what how did they term it? Code enforcement. There was a name for the violation and I just went right in the office and talked to the main guy.

Mihael: I was like excuse me, you made a mistake. I shouldn’t even get this letter because again, I hardly had anything grown. Oh, I’ve been in the military 26 years, and I’ve been in this field. Oh, and he does an aerial view with his computer of my house, garden, and orchard. Oh, what’s this? And then he scrolls across the meadow to my lavender field. And he goes, What about this big outdoor cultivation site?” And I laughed, and I said, uh, you mean my lavender field? And he goes, Oh. These were six-foot bushes, lavender that had been in 20 years, big, healthy, several rows, not fenced or anything, because you don’t have to fence lavender. I said, Hey, if you look at those pictures, it’s there year-round. I don’t just plant it every year. Well, can you get me some pictures? I said, Sure. I have tons of pictures of my lavender field. And then he scrolls over to the temple space and goes, well, what about this big building that you built? How do I know you’re not growing in there? And I said, uh, excuse me.

Mihael: We use it for yoga and meditation. I can give you pictures of the inside of it, too. And who in their right mind would build a big, beautiful, sacred geometry-type space to grow pot in? Then he said, Well, are you? I’m going to be really frank. Are you growing anything on the land other than your medical? And I just straight up said, No. I was being honest. I just had a tiny little patch. He wrote it off. He excused it. So the crazy thing was, three years later, when they came with the warrants, I had even less. And I, you know, people said they’d probably been wanting to get me for a long time because I lived there on the hill so long. I’m still in debt because I never did grow much; I was still doing carpentry. I was still doing tile work and building houses for people. And, you know, I mean, I never stopped working for other people and doing things. So that was that.

Natascha: What do you think this says about our government and sustainable living?

Mihael: They are afraid of people who are off-grid and growing their own food and unplugged from the system, because that is what they want to have control over. They want to have a grip on people and their lifestyle. And so when people are living self-sustaining, they’ve shut down almost all the small farms, now it’s industrial-sized farms, even for our food. Small farms, all those people for generations took care of themselves. Ranchers took care of themselves. People used to portray ranchers and growers as two distinct groups. And over time, many people in the community realized: no, you’re growing your own food, you’re doing a lot of the same. There’s actually more in common than not with a lot of the back-to-landers and the ranchers, seeing that. Maybe they dress a little differently, but when their kids are all in school together, and you’re doing school events, and you’re all hanging out, or you’re going to different community events there, you’re all friends, you’re all neighbors, you’re all the same community. I think there are powers that want to create that division; the same goes for environmentalists compared to loggers. A lot of times, those environmentalists were trying to protect the loggers’ jobs, and that came to light in lieu of all the Maxxam stuff and all that, because when Maxxam shut it down, they were taking their pensions.

Mihael: They were screwing the whole community of the logging. And a lot of those environmentalists were trying to preserve the method of their operations because, in the early years, it was more like a family-run business. And they wanted their child to be able to go into that business; they wanted the grandchild to be able to go into that business. The only way that could happen is if even the logging was done sustainably. But once the corporation came in, totally unsustainable, they tried to cut everything as fast as they could rape and destroy. So it was interesting because then even then, a lot of them saw you were actually trying to stand up for us, even though the powers that be were saying, Oh, they’re trying to take your jobs. But that’s the old story. The corporations are always trying to divide. They’ll twist the story to make it sound like you’re against each other. When, even though, it’s not that way. They’re the ones with the big pile of cookies, while the two other people are sitting there with their one cookie, going, ‘they’re trying to take your cookie, not them with their massive pile.’ I just saw a whale by the way.

Natascha: Yeah. I’ve never seen a whale in my life. I’m so happy they’re still here. I’ve heard that the whales are not singing as much as they used to. Have you heard this?

Mihael: They’re not singing. Mm. I haven’t heard that.

Natascha: Okay. It’s really worrisome for me. I’ve been thinking about it.

Mihael: I know.

Mihael: Their migration periods are all messed up because I’ve been watching them for 20, 21 years very closely. For some of them to still be going south, while others in Baja are birthing their babies and heading north soon. I’ve never seen that. I’ve never seen an overlap. Never.

Natascha: What do you think that’s from?

Mihael: The oceans are warming and just the climate changing. Global weirding.

Natascha: I’ll interview you again on the whales.

Mihael: That island there normally has 10,000 murres on it. Right now, there’s not a single one and they usually come in December. But that’s another story.

Natascha: So what changes did you notice in land ownership, housing or access to property after legalization?

Mihael: Well one of the biggest ones is property value has plummeted. Because so many people couldn’t afford to make their land payments and weren’t growing anymore. Then they were forced to sell. Then when you got a thousand parcels on the market, when there used to only be 100, people are desperate. Unfortunately then, say for me, I’m still trying to do carpentry and whatnot to make my payments. I’ve always done okay, but because of injuries and such, it’s harder. But my property value 25 years ago was said to be about 25,000. Okay. I put $200,000 into building the temple and other improvements, and it’s not even appraised at $200k now. So 25 years later, my property is worth less than it was, even though I sunk a ton of money into it. So that’s tragic. The people that are holding on are creating, more people are going back to fishing, more people are going back to logging. I looked into logging myself and was told I would have to cut so many trees and would only make like $5,000. I was like, forget that. Economically people are struggling. But again, the people who have been there a long time, they’re hanging in there. Although I know a few people down in the valley who want to sell their home that’s very dear to them just because they have mega grows right next to them. You have to hear the beeping of forklifts and trucks and fans and their homestead that used to be so dear to them– now, it’s not the same place.

Natascha: So how did these changes affect relationships and community cohesion?

Mihael: A lot more isolation. A lot less community stuff. It seems much more separate. Except for the people with young children who meet up because of school. Those people maybe have a little more and then like in the middle, there’s a pancake breakfast or there’s the cabaret every so many months. So that gets people out of the hills or The Roll on the Mattole, where once a year you see all these people that you only see once a year. It’s changed dramatically for many people. They do their town run, they go up north to get supplies, and don’t even go to the local store as much.

Natascha: So, what do you feel the long-term effects of cannabis legalization are on Humboldt County?

Mihael: Unfortunately, I would say that it’ll take a long time for things to restructure to come out of it economically. There are still some people who are hanging in there with pretty big grows and they’re doing okay. They’re not doing great. And of course, you don’t have to hire trimmers and stuff like that who are getting paid, a third of what they used to get. So even the farm help doesn’t make much because the growers are not making much. It’s sad, I know some people who work on vegetable farms who get paid more than people who grow pot on farms. That’s how bad that is. As far as where it’s going to go in the long term, I think it’s reaching a point where people are trying to recreate it and brand it because a lot of people who do grow here know that its got a reputation because the climate here is one of the best in the world. And so people can grow some of the best herbs in the world. So they have to market it in such a way that they’re not competing with the big grower that grows thousands of pounds. Because once you do that, then you’re losing the touch. I always grew my own seedlings and still do. Then you have a personal relationship with it. So some of the farmers who are still growing sun-grown, that is, well, the best word I can use is consort.

Mihael: So people are growing consort quality, and there’s always a niche for that. I always said that even before the legalization, there would always be a niche for consort quality. It’s harder for them to have a market for it. People have to work harder to get it out and get a dispensary to say, oh, okay, I will pay a little more for this because it’s top shelf. I’ll make that analogy with the top shelf. People will pay a lot more for a fine tequila because of how it is. And so it’s similar with herb. You can buy something that is on sale at the dispensary, but it’s not going to have the flavor. It’s not going to have the same high. There will always be a niche for that. And people just have to work at it. That also requires branding and making a point. I had someone years ago telling me that I should patent some of my strains because I’m the only one in the world who has them, but because I’m only growing my six plants recreationally and I’m not supposed to sell it, then I can’t. What’s the point of doing that? Oh, well. Nice thought.

Natascha: What hopes or concerns do you have for the future of Humboldt County?

Mihael: Irregardless of marijuana, you mean?

Natascha: Yes.

Mihael: Well, Humboldt, how do they say, it’s behind the redwood curtain? I think that, climate-wise, Humboldt is a very, very unique place. Environmentally, it has one of the most diverse ranges of birds in the world. Because there are so many local farmers and industries. Even if all the highways collapsed, Humboldt would still be fine and take care of itself. Some of those elements are something that we can hold on to and know to be true. The concerns are that there are still corporate entities trying to, uh, finagle their way in and change things. They’re still trying to, or they actually even started cutting some of the redwoods in Richardson Grove. Amazon’s now building a big facility here in Mckinleyville and oh, yeah, it’s going to be 167 jobs. But then it’s like, because in my own personal belief system, Amazon is one of the very things that eroded the nature of our country. Just like Walmart, it came to town and destroyed almost every small business thriving in Old Town Eureka. And people fought it for years. Walmart was not able to build here for a long time, and then they found a backdoor way to get into the old coal place. And, you know, and sure enough, you know, you saw all the other K-marts all failed. A lot of the small stores all failed and that’s the eroding of the American dream.

Mihael: To me, the American dream was where individuals could make things happen and make their life a reality. And when the corporations stomp on it and stomp on it and stomp on it and make it impossible to compete, then people just, you know– I think the Humboldt’s really strong in that element of still clinging to a different way. Things like Arcata not letting fast food places build anywhere near downtown, [instead] we’ll give you up there by Giuntoli and Valley West.When Walmart moved into Eureka, you saw the direct effect. I don’t think the Amazon thing is going to change too much, because anyone who wants something from Amazon will buy it anyway. It’ll just make their job easier. It’ll change trucking and maybe even airline stuff that deliver things to get that next-day package. I think that the culture between people wanting to come here for redwoods, people wanting to come here for the ocean, for fishing, those are always going to be points that people from other places will come here and hopefully everybody thinks about that. It’s too foggy and the weather’s not good and they don’t want to move here. Because that would change things.

Natascha: On the topic of hope. After visiting Fairwinds, I decided Arcata has a community that is a healing mecca. Do you have any thoughts on that?

Mihael: I think that Arcata. In the region, the whole region has loaned itself for that. There’s probably more healers per capita here than most places. Just as there are more artists and musicians and instrument makers who are world renowned in this. However many 150,000 people or whatever live in Humboldt and Arcata because of the university. So many people that went to university there back in say, the 60s and 70s fell in love with the place and stayed. And so then we started having the alternative food stores. I mean, the co-op was just in a tiny little thing on the plaza back in the day and they moved, I think one… two… then where Wild Berries is, they were there for a time before building the other place. Things like natural food stores, herb stores, moonrise herbs and HumboldtHerbals, massage schools, places like heartwood that taught alternative healing. All those elements kind of came out of that same era. Kind of going along with the back to the land movement thing of people learning the alternative ways and people having gone to say, India or other cultures where they studied some of those practices. That was also a whole movement out of the 60s and 70s of learning about Buddhism or Hinduism or Ayurvedic or Rastafari. So the spiritual element was also integrated into that healing element. And that I think is their kind of hand in hand because people who are usually leaning into the healing modality, a lot of them have that spiritual foundation. Yeah, so I think, I do believe that there is an element of that one Native American elder I studied with like over 40 years ago spoke about ley lines, which are like energy fields in the earth.

Natascha: Mhm.

Mihael: And she said that there was one going from up near Montana that went through Mount Shasta and then cut over to the coast here near Trinidad. And then it triangulated with the four corners Hopi region. I think that some of that goes way past this generation or that generation that’s pure earth energy. I think that is an undercurrent also of why people are drawn here.

Natascha: Is there anything else you’d like to share that you think is important in understanding this history?

Mihael: I do believe that marijuana herb is a sacred plant and has been used in cultures for thousands of years. I think it has influenced many aspects of our culture in this region. They talk about the Emerald Triangle of Trinity, Mendocino, Humboldt, because that’s where, in the 70s and maybe even late 60s, that’s where people were, first taking the seeds from these other foreign places and bringing them here and developing them. Because of that, some of those pioneers who really had a firm grasp on developing really good quality, it became kind of a mecca of the sort. I think that will continue on in some form; there are people here who are third-generation herb growers. So that’s saying something, you know. And hopefully it integrates in a good way. I wish that legalization, sadly, now everything’s wrapped in plastic and has to be packaged this way and that way; it’s almost contradictory to the whole environmental part. Again, they have to meet safety protocols and things like that.

Natascha: Thank you for sharing your time, your honesty, and your lived experiences with us. Your story reflects the resilience, creativity, and vulnerability that define so many lives in Humboldt County, shaped by its shifting economy. By speaking about your work, your land, and the challenges of sustaining Fairwind, in the wake of these changes, you help illuminate the broader human impact of economic transformation. Your voice contributes to preserving the memory of a community in transition, one built on independence, mutual care, and deep connection to place. We are grateful for your willingness to share your journey and to help ensure that these stories remain part of Humboldt County’s living history. Thank you for being part of this archive.

Mihael: It is an honor. 

Please donate to Mihael to keep Fairwind!

https://gofund.me/7d512babf

Teachings of The Earth

March 18th 2026- I met up with Andia in Arcata, CA at her studio for an Energy Healing. I had a wonderful experience. I’ll post my experience below along with my intentions! Here is Andia’s interview about her intuitive energy-healing practice, Teachings of the Earth.

Natascha: All right, thank you for tuning in to the little Lost Forest blog. Today I’m sitting here with Andrea in her studio in Arcata. I just had a healing session. This is my first session of this kind. Andia, how are you doing today?

Andia: I’m good. How are you?

Natascha: I’m great. Thank you so much for giving me this offering. What brought you to ask me to come here today?

Andia: Well, I know we talked a long time ago about doing an energy healing session, and I needed to get my window fixed because it was leaking. I’m just getting back into energy healing and wanting to lean into that more, build more clientele, and just practice more. You’re definitely one of the first people I thought of because you’re one of my good friends, and also because we had talked about that. I just wanted to circle back and share this with you.

Natascha: I had a really amazing experience, which I’ll share in the blog post after the interview. What is energy healing?

Andia: Energy healing is. It’s, I would explain it like we all have an energetic body. There is energy that exists, you know, like there’s a type of energy healing called Reiki or that there’s Qi and there’s different things that we call this energy. And it’s a healing frequency that we’re all connected to. Anyone could have the ability to channel it. It’s like setting the intention for this energy to facilitate healing and cleansing, stagnant energy, transmuting the energy into whatever we want to create, into whatever healing we’re calling in. And basically, I would say it’s when a person has received attunements to be able to channel energy healing, they are able to channel natural healing energy that exists through them. They’re just a channel, you know, they’re not exactly doing anything. They’re channeling it. But the energy is what’s coming through, and it’s a healing energy that knows where to go and just exists in this reality.

Natascha: Where is that energy source from?

Andia: I think it’s just the existence, like I personally believe in a spirit world. I believe we’re in the physical realm and that a spirit world exists simultaneously with us. And I believe that energy healing is coming from there.

Natascha: What keeps the positive energy and not the negative energy?

Andia: It’s all intention. It’s like every time you give energy healing, you set the space before. I always ground myself to the earth, cleanse my energy of what no longer serves me, what I don’t want to be sharing or transmuting, just letting that go. And then I always put a bubble of protection of energetic light around me. When I’m going into  channel the energy healing for someone– First I talk with them, and check with them, what their intentions are, and what they want to get out of it. Then I can set intentions. And for me, I set, you know, positive, loving, healing intentions and use that energy in a good way, and then also go off what the person says about what their intentions are and calling that in as well.

Natascha: Super cool. What brought you to this kind of healing?

Andia: It was like 11 years ago. It was just a deep calling for me. It’s really interesting because I, I don’t know, it’s like that kind of feeling, like I kept going to festivals and transformational festivals and just finding different healers. And I kept connecting to different energy healers.

And it was this, really deep calling, like, I might as well not exist if I don’t become a healer.

It was just so strong. I need to do this, and also, just my family lineage on my mom’s side comes from healers, and my grandpa did energy work, like in his older years, and just different ancestors of mine on that side have. So I felt very deeply connected to it because, I mean, I was taught to meditate and do energy. I received energy healing and was taught to meditate when I was little. And so yeah, about 11 years ago, I don’t know what year that would be, 2015, I really felt called to that. And then someone gave me my first energy healing session. And I just remember I felt this blockage or this weird energy in my left shoulder while they were doing it. And at the end I was asking them what their experience was, without telling them what mine was.

Andia: And they were saying, um, yeah, you know, everything was really good, except there was this blockage in your left shoulder and I was just like, whoa, like, so mind blown because I felt that. And then at that time, I started leaning into learning how to receive energy, which brought me to Reiki initially. I got my first attunement from someone. And then I was trying to find someone to teach me my second attunement. And I met this woman, Victoria Luna, whom I wanted to get another attunement from. And she was like, ” Oh, actually, I meditated on it, and I wanted to take you from your first attunement all the way through your Reiki mastership. So she taught me everything that I know, but she did an interesting way because she taught me traditional Usui Reiki, but she also taught me to really lean into my intuition and just do it in a different way.

And now I no longer practice Reiki because for me, it’s a more intuitive practice— that’s deeply connected with the earth, that’s what I do now.

Natascha: If you don’t mind me asking, what is your lineage heritage?

Andia: Like my ethnicity.

Natascha: The culture that your family came from.

Andia: On my mom’s side, it’s, it’s interesting. They’re all from Mexico, but a lot of them came from Europe before that. Then they lived for hundreds and hundreds of years in Mexico. So they are blond-haired, blue-eyed Mexicans. So I have a lot of French, Italian, German and Polish. And then, I do have some indigenous Mexican in me, indigenous from Mexico. Then on my dad’s side, I’m Ashkenazi Jewish. So it’s 50% of my lineage. Yeah.

Natascha: It’s so interesting. I do not come from a lineage of healers. I come from a lineage of war vets and journalists. So that’s why I was just interested in where they draw their form of healing from culturally. That’s beautiful, thank you for sharing. Anything else that you want to share? Maybe, how could people find you if they’re interested in a session?

Andia: Yeah, definitely. I’m getting my website up and running right now, and my business is called Teachings of the Earth. So when that’s ready, it’ll be Teachings of the Earth. But right now, you can find me on my Linktree. It’s Teachings of the Earth just following the Linktree. Yeah. Awesome.

Natascha: I’ll tag that. And after a session, what can somebody expect to come out of it with?

Andia: I would say it depends on what your intentions are, but most of the time I find people are very much relaxed, and that a lot of processing is going to continue happening. So I always tell people, make sure you rest and drink a lot of water. But I think what you come out of it really depends on your intentions. Like, obviously, people are coming for healing. So I would say like that continues to unfold and things continue to deepen, but it just really for specifics, I think it depends where you put your energy into.

Natascha: Awesome. Well, thank you so much for your time.

Andia: Thank you.

Teachings of the Earth gave me a two-hour energy-healing session. It was my first time, and I received incredible benefits from it. I set clear intentions and spoke them aloud. While I was on the table, I could feel where the energy was being exchanged as she moved around my body. There was no doubt that energy is a quantifiable source and that the practitioner could channel it. Toward the middle of the session, I felt myself wanting to transcend, lifting inches beyond my physical realm. I had thoughts of my first love, of giving birth, and of my father’s influence on me. After the session, I felt relaxed and rejuvenated. We discussed my experience, and she shared that much of the healing energy had been focused on the womb. We also talked about how the energy process works. Afterwards, I rested and drank lots of water. Thank you so much for this experience, and I can’t wait to do it again!

My Intentions:

Make Room to become the author and writer I always dreamed of.

Secure a positive dynamic with my husband.

Be an uplifting and child-first mom

Not to offer unsolicited advice, but to hold boundaries and be mindful of community and world struggles.

Live Healthy

Do what’s right.

Honor my ancestors.

CannaClaus: The Green Rush Interviews pt.1

Images shown for historical documentation purposes.

The story of Humboldt County’s cannabis economy is not a single narrative but a collection of lived experiences shaped by land, labor, community, survival, and change. For decades, small family farms, intergenerational growers, and informal networks built what many came to know as the backbone of Northern California’s underground economy. Legalization promised safety, stability, and opportunity, yet the transition also brought unexpected challenges: regulatory barriers, corporate expansion, displacement of small farmers, and shifting cultural meaning.

“The Green Rush” oral history series, hosted by Little Lost Forest, documents these personal histories so they are not lost to policy debates or economic statistics. Through conversations with growers, workers, and community members, this project explores how legalization transformed livelihoods, local identity, and the broader economic landscape of Humboldt County.

This interview offers one perspective from someone who grew up in a multigenerational cannabis family, witnessing both the era of small-farm prosperity and the dramatic restructuring that followed legalization. Their reflections highlight the resilience of Humboldt communities while also raising difficult questions about who benefits—and who is left behind—when an informal economy becomes regulated and industrialized.

As you read, consider this interview not only as a personal story, but as part of a larger collective archive documenting the rise, transformation, and ongoing evolution of the region’s cannabis culture.

Natascha: Hello. And thank you for participating in the Little Lost Forest interview focused on Humboldt County’s economic growth and decline surrounding the legalization of cannabis. My name is Natascha, and today I’m sitting with CannaClaus.  CannaClaus, where are you calling from? 

CannaClaus: Arcata, California. 

Natascha: How are you doing today? 

CannaClaus: I’m doing great, relaxing day. 

Natascha: Sweet. How would you define the cannabis culture prior to legalization? 

CannaClaus: Prior to legalization was the black market, and it was small families and  small farms. There was my great-grandfather and grandfather grew hemp for World War II and Vietnam or something like that. Then there was a huge struggle and the 70s and  80s between northern and southern Humble and Mendocino and the Emerald triangle, there’s a lot of fights and a lot of back-alley deals, and a lot of people died and things  happened. And then we got into the 80s and 90s, and it was more like what I was just explaining at the beginning. Small farms, small families. It became the grandmas and grandpas. And then pretty soon, the industry was legalized, and the big guys came in. 

Natascha: What would you say your first job in the cannabis industry was? 

CannaClaus: My first job. Let me see. I started making clones for my family farm when I was about 11. 

Natascha: Wow, that’s super young. What was the economy like during that time? 

CannaClaus: Oh, for Humboldt, it was booming. Fisheries were booming; the logging  was booming. And then marijuana was our third big– How do you say just big profession out here, that Humboldt County. Everywhere. Everybody was killing it.

Natascha: How would you describe community relationships and even mutual support during these early years? 

CannaClaus: Oh, during the early years, you had, it wasn’t black ops, but it was, God,  I forget what they camped. They used to have camp that rolled around in black helicopters and went around with the police forces and tried to get everybody and catch everybody and get these families, even though they label us as drug dealers or bad people. But it was really just families trying to make a living and get a little extra on the side to have a nice vacation or something. It was really nice because the community  understood that, like when the cops in camp would come to town, they would go meet  somewhere, like in a big parking lot or a restaurant, and all the farmers and everybody  everywhere would start getting the phone calls. Hey, they’re on this mountain on this side. They’re coming up these roads. And so we would all get ready for them. And it wasn’t get ready for them, like get your guns or nothing. It was get ready for them and lock your gates, lock down. Get, you know, kids out of there if there’s kids there and so  forth, and get ready for these helicopters, because they used to come into our  greenhouses and fly as close as they could to them to bust the top of the greenhouse  off. So, if they can visualize and see inside there and see actual marijuana, even if you want or not. You had a farm in the greenhouse. They’re going to try it. If they blew that top off and see marijuana, they can come down and rope down into your property with their big AKs. They’re mean people. So. 

Natascha: Why do you think people kept growing after that? 

CannaClaus: I know that I kept growing after that just because the money was good. I  had more time to spend with my family. We made good money. We were able to donate and share in the community. My family, along with many other families, always donated our extras to people that couldn’t spend the money for it or that needed it. We also would set up fundraisers for the veterans, and it was called Weed for Veterans. And we  would go around and make big meals and hand them out to the homeless in different  places and the community. I mean, with all the money we’re getting in and all the taxes and everything. I mean, the city was doing really well and doing really good for itself and  starting to clean itself up because we all know in the 80s and 90s around here that it  was pretty trashed. And then the city started cleaning up.

Images shown for historical documentation purposes.

Natascha: What do you mean, literally trashed? 

CannaClaus: Or pretty much. I mean, all the downtowns, all the parks. I mean, we just started getting new parks like this last ten years. 

CannaClaus: The homeless rate went skyrocketed when I was a kid. It was just you went; you walked from the mall up to like the bay or whatever. The back parts over there, you’d always see like 2 or 3 little homeless camps. And now with the fentanyl and heroin and meth and all that stuff, those homeless camps have grown to hundreds,  hundreds, and hundreds. The community lately has gotten them to where they’re  compacted in certain areas. They move in and clean up after them and then move them  back out. A lot of community members are finding ways to come together to help them  and get them off the streets in different ways and stuff. The drugs made it so bad, and everybody always blames pot or pot’s a gateway drug or blah blah. No, that’s not true at all. I don’t believe it. I believe alcohol is more of a gateway drug than anything, but I  think I got off topic there. Sorry about that. 

Natascha: No. It’s good. I want to dig into this. Just one more question. Do you feel like the cannabis industry brought in a lot of traveling folks or homeless people? 

CannaClaus: I definitely think it brought in a lot of traveling people, because every summer we call them trim-igrants, and they would come in usually around August,  September, and you would just see them hanging out at Murphy’s or Safeways or  Winco’s or, grow stores or different places like that, finding work because they can come here and get a visa, like a student visa or like a visiting visa and trim for three months from September to November, or mattering how big the farm was. And they  would make anywhere from like 10 to 20 grand trimming because they can make  around 200 to 300 a pound. And then it went down to last, or ten years ago; it went down to 100 a pound. And then five years ago, it went down to 60 a pound. And then the machine trimmers started coming out. Then they would just pay them, you know, 15 or  20 bucks an hour to run the machine trim, and then they would give them 40 bucks a pound to clean it up. And so, then those people are slowing down and not coming out here as much. I believe the homeless rate around here is due to these, I forget what it’s  called, it’s not like asylum cities or whatever, but they we have buses that literally pick up homeless people from different cities and places of the state and just drop them off here. 

Natascha: Right. Would you say that trim-igrants were bringing money into the economy in Humboldt? 

CannaClaus: No, no, they took it out. 

Natascha: Okay. 

CannaClaus: Because they would make their 15-20 grand and go back home to their families. And I know a lot of them that would make around 20 grand or whatever, and 20 American US dollars. They would go back home and go to school or learn a trade or do whatever, and just live the whole year off of that, and then come back and do it again. 

Natascha: How big was your family farm? 

CannaClaus: We had three farms, I think, at the most. My farm was an acre and a  half. My two sisters, I have three sisters: two of them grew. The other one had a two-acre farm. And the oldest sister, she had a 40-acre farm. 

Natascha: Did any of them stay in business? 

CannaClaus: My sister [Heather] was the last one to go out of business. And this was this last year. They came out to the property. Our permits weren’t all aligned, and we were still going through paperwork and getting everything ready with the state, the city, the county, and da da da. And every loophole that they make you jump through  and every paper they have, you triplicate and sign and bring back and take here and  spend this. I mean, literally just trying to get legal or legalized was costing around 100 to  $150,000. And these farmers are now, with outdoor farmers anyways, are now only making, 200 to 400 max on a pound. And when you put in your time, energy, food,  water, hourly wage, you’re making like 20 bucks an hour. It’s just not worth it anymore. Everybody thinks marijuana is like it grows on trees, like money grows on trees, and that’s marijuana. That was when we were getting indoor for 3000. That’s when we were  getting outdoor for 1500, you know. Now indoors 1000 and outdoors 200 to 400. And light deps are like 500 to 600 max. You know, you can’t make a living wage off of that anymore. You might as well just go get a regular job. 

Natascha: What was the furthest license that you got on your farm? 

CannaClaus: Mine was medical. I’ve always done medical. I never got permitted. I just always did my 99 plants. And I would donate half of my crop to different people that needed it. Every ounce I sold, every pound I sold; I would donate an ounce or donate a pound. And everything I got to people was people that had medical cannabis cards and actually needed it. I never was for the legalization of it, just for anybody over 18 to smoke marijuana. I don’t think it’s for everybody. I believe marijuana can really make a person way dumber and just do idiotic things and become slow and not learn trades or learn skills and just become a slug. But when it’s medically grown and it’s for medical reasons for people that actually need it. They use it in the right way. I believe it’s a miracle drug. And I love it. Love it to death. 

Natascha: Well, that’s great that you were able to donate to people because that would help boost economic growth. Let’s say there’s somebody that is not working in their career path or maybe somebody struggling to pay rent. They could utilize the cannabis to also help them financially into a better financial situation. I would assume. 

CannaClaus: That’s why we helped a lot of the vets because it’s, you know, it’s still a class one. All these years, every summer we get together, and we get all the farmers  together and do a bit of weed for vets. They come around and we give them their dabs and their flowers and things and utensils to work with it and different meditations. And just like every booth has something different. If everything was free, everything was free. If you’re a vet, everything was free. So that was super cool. And I mean, if you can’t give back and you can’t get good karma in this life, then it’s not worth doing. 

Natascha: Yeah. Super green work. Uh, how did you protect your farm? 

CannaClaus: Back in the early days in the 90s and stuff. I mean, we protect it with our dogs and our guns. It’s not, you know, the ideal suit for having a family around it and stuff. But my dad was in his early days a very hardcore mountain man. And he felt like what came from the earth is what we’re allowed to. And then we can do what we need to do what we want with it. And the actual human laws only follow the ones that do right and do good. And the ones that don’t make any sense or that are about government, taking your money, or blah, blah, blah, don’t follow those ones. Stay true to your mountain, your mountain heart, and everything. And then once we got older and we didn’t have to have the guns anymore and, well, besides for bears and mountain lions and stuff, and the dogs became more of family pets, other than the protections of the farm, even though they still were out there for rattlesnakes, mountain lions, bears,  different stuff like that. It got a lot more chill. And then in the 2010s, we started getting a lot of people coming from like Hurricane Katrina and different people coming up from  Oakland and Richmond and stuff like that, and coming up and lobbying everybody. 

CannaClaus: And so then we had to bring back out the protection and come back as a community and make phone calls. And then we had social media by that time to be able to share people’s pictures or videos or different stuff with these thieves coming through town, or fake money, or fake this, or fake cops or whatever it is. Then the  legalization or recreation, I mean, it dropped the price tremendously. Nobody really cares about robbing you anymore because it’s not worth it. I just seen a post the other day. A cop pulled me over and got 60 lbs of marijuana, and they’re like, we’re keeping our Trinity County safe. And every single comment on there along with mine is, oh my  God, you got 60lbs. Like, oh, it’s like six grand worth of money. And you just hurt a family that was struggling to make ends meet this year. And you guys think you’re keeping the community safe from these pot dwellers. You know, everybody’s just laughing at them. It’s just dumb. Like, get this meth and get this fentanyl off these streets. And that’s how I lost my little sister this year, a couple months ago was from fentanyl. I just wish the cops paid more attention to that and just still paying attention to pot, like, come on, dude, get out of here, guys. 

Natascha: Yeah. I’m so sorry to hear that. 

CannaClaus: Yeah. It sucks. 

Natascha: How did you sell your product? 

CannaClaus: Before I got medically licensed, I did black market or through family and friends. And, I mean, I started early. I used to roll joints in seventh and eighth grade,  and I would sell them, uh, two for 5 or 1 for three. Okay. And then when I got to high school, we got our first house, a little tiny house my dad got. And we lived in trailers and projects and stuff before that. We got our first house, and he needed help with paying the mortgage and different things. And so, I started selling bud and to friends and people in school. And then I got really entwined in the marijuana community because of my family name and everything. I started growing my sophomore year outdoors, and then I started growing indoors after I left high school and went to college. I started doing my indoor scene, and everything was still really going black market. Then I became medically legal when I was twenty-eight, I believe, which was 13 years ago. And then I  because from 2020-28 I worked for an oil change place, and just went straight and  narrow for a while, just to see the other side of life, and just not be around 

CannaClaus: The price was dropping then, too, but not like it is now. And I just wanted  to do something different. Um, then I went back at 28, and at 30, um, I had a medical  delivery service in Eureka in Humboldt County. And then I started another one in New  Jersey. And to get product out there for my medical patients, which, again, I was a  straight medical, I had to drive it out there, and I had a friend or a partner that would  drive it out there for me, but he ended up breaking down, in Sacramento. And so, I went  and got a rental car and put it in the back and tried to make it myself and got pulled over  in Ohio, about four hours away from where I was, and ended up doing almost two years  in the Ohio prison system. So. 

Natascha: Is there anything else you would like to add to that? Maybe, the way that  they treat cannabis growers and the jail system or the way that the judge 

CannaClaus: They acted like we were the biggest drug dealers. I actually had a lot of seniority or like, higher up, mentality in that prison because I only had 100lbs on me when I got caught. And 100lbs out here is like, like a medium to average guy out there,  100lbs they acted like I was some kind of mafia boss. They pulled me into a back room and tried to get me to, like, say some names, and we’ll let you go, or we’ll give you a lighter sentence. And I was like, what do you mean? I was like, I grew it. It’s my company. I packaged it, and I drove it. So, if you want a name, here’s the name CannaClaus, motherfucker. And then when I got to the police station, they had the news station out there, and they were laughing at me and pointing at me in the car.  When I got to prison, the actual inmates treated me very well. Actually, a lot of inmates and a lot of society inside of prison is very respectable. You respect others, you respect your place, you respect your space, their space. And everybody has their hierarchy. 

Then there’s the CEO, the correctional officers, which are just the biggest dicks I’ve ever met in life. That anybody or anywhere they have a seniority or like a senior complex, but like a bully, like they were either bullied in school, or they bullied people in school, and they get to do it again. They would make fun of me and call me a California fag. 

CannaClaus: Why can’t- and I had another correctional officer ask me, well, why can’t you guys just make pills? Just make pills like all the other doctors do? And I was like, we do make pills. I was like, I got pulled over with pills. I was like, I had CBD pills, and I  had THC pills, and I had a THC, CBD, hybrid pill. And I was like- and they were for specific patients. And everybody is different. Every patient is different. You can smoke,  one patient can smoke flower all day, and just have a great life. Another patient smokes flower and has an allergic reaction. One patient like me, I- I cannot eat edibles. I can smoke dabs and marijuana all day. Be completely normal. Fine. You know, do everything I can in a normal day. But if I eat an edible, I am shaking, I am paranoid, I am sitting on the couch. I am trying to figure out how to get this to stop. So, everybody’s body is different. And I was trying to explain that to him. And then, you know, just says a bunch of messed-up racist and sexist things to me because I’m a California boy, I must be a surfer or stuff like that. You don’t even know what you’re talking about. 

Natascha: Right. 

CannaClaus: When I got pulled over, and they were making fun of me and talking to me about being a drug dealer, I was like, that’s funny, because in your state, marijuana is illegal, but you can fuck your dog. I was like, you guys, bestiality in Ohio right now is legal, and marijuana is illegal. And I go, so you guys are completely backwards over here, dude. And they would say a bunch of, you know, mean stuff to me, drugs, blah,  blah, blah, blah. And I go, go fuck your German Shepherd motherfucker. We talked a lot of shit back and forth, and I didn’t get along with the correction officers, but the inmates treated me really nicely and respectfully. And a lot of movies, a lot of working out, and a lot of books. That’s about it on that one. 

Natascha: Yeah. When you reflect on your upbringing, was the lifestyle desirable? 

CannaClaus: When I was a kid, to make a long story short, my parents divorced when  I was two, and the courts back then always gave the kids to the mother. My mother was a heroin addict for 28 years, and so we lived a really bad childhood for about 4 or 5 years. I ended up going to the hospital for malnutrition and passing away for a little bit,  but they brought me back, and I was bedridden for a year. 

Natascha: Oh. 

CannaClaus: My sisters and my grandma raised me. And then my dad finally got us back from the court system, and then he raised us all the way until we were adults. And then my mom came back into the picture once we were- I’m the youngest. So, once I turned 18, she came back, and she cleaned up everything. She stopped drugs, she stopped drinking. She stopped smoking cigarettes. And she’s been the best grandma and just an amazing person. These last years. But after that childhood with the badness, and us going with my father, and my father being a pot grower. We spent a lot of time in the woods, fishing, hunting, hiking, cracking, and doing all that fun stuff these Humboldt kids do. It was very nice at that point, and I did love it a lot, but we were wary of out-of-towners coming in or people trying to rob the farm or bears, mountain lions, and snakes, and so forth. You know what you have to worry about out in the mountains. But other than that, it wasn’t. It was a good childhood. 

Natascha: Was it worth it in your adult years, going to jail over cannabis? 

CannaClaus: No, because my son was nine months old when I went. When I got back out, he was two years old , and I missed his first steps. I missed a lot of his first- a lot of things. [Voice strains] When I was in prison, I used to watch the sunset every night and know that my son was almost 2000 miles away, and there’s nothing I can do about it.  Constantly looking at fences, barbed wire, razor wire, and guards with guns.  Even though prisoners were respectful of each other, they were still, you know, people on drugs or gangs or stuff that, those fights or different kinds of crazy things that happened. I would definitely change it. And that’s what I did when I got back out. When I got out of prison, I just got a normal job and didn’t care if I made good money or not. And if we were poor or rich or not. As long as I had time with my son every day. There was never a chance of him being taken from me again. I’ll live that life  over odds or money or anything. So that’s when I made that choice. 

Natascha: Beautiful. What was the hope in legalization? Did you see hope in the community?

CannaClaus: I did. When we finally got medical, it was awesome. It was so cool. We could finally come out of the woodworks and out of the shadows, and we all did anyway, but we couldn’t do it in front of cops. And then it was like all of a sudden, like,  we can actually be stoned and not worry or be paranoid of these cops coming in and robbing us, just stealing from us. And this still happens, especially with Camp and Officer *******. That guy robbed me quite a few times. And there were other crooked cops, but that was the one that messed with me. And a lot of people around here ended up passing away on 36. There was a landslide that ended up killing them last year, I  believe. And I’m sorry for the family and everything, but that guy was a piece of crap,  and he would rob a lot of us. Take our money, take our pot, and take our hash. No write-ups, no tickets, no nothing. See you later. You know. And I’m sorry. What was the question again on that one? 

Natascha: We were talking about the hopes of legalization, that things would continue to thrive. 

CannaClaus: When it became medically legal, it was awesome. And we were all super stoked. And then we thought the legalization of recreational, which I didn’t vote for, but the thought of everybody else in the talk around town and through our small knit groups and everything, was that we can finally be free of the police and free of the FBI  and different places coming in and robbing us and taking us and taking our kids away from us, or taking our properties away from us or our, um, annual income for the year to feed us or pay our bills or whatever. And then what it did was when recreational became legal. These bigger companies came in, and they still shut down our smaller farms with all the processes, paperwork, and permits, and you gotta pay taxes on every single acre. You got to pay taxes on every single square foot. You’ve got to pay taxes on how many plants you grow, even though they don’t understand that plants, just like any other crop, you’re going to have pests, you’re going to have molds, you’re going to have bears, deer, all sorts of things that happen. And no matter what, you still got to pay the taxes on that square foot. And for that plant. And they made it impossible for us small guys to go through. 

CannaClaus: So, they shut down about 90% of our small farms out here. And all the big guys came through, and they’re buying these big chunks of the mountain. And another big one, I forget what it’s called- it’s a greenhouse world, the greenhouse something. And it was a bunch of old police officers that got together, and they were the ones that drove a bunch of us out, got together and bought a big parcels of these mountains, and now they’re doing all these legal grows that provide to all these little shops and everything everywhere. But most of it goes down to LA and San Francisco,  and they just completely- we thought it was going to be a good thing, but most people didn’t. I didn’t, but most people did. They ended up biting us in the ass to where all these families and home grows and family-oriented and family this and grandma and grandpa and small farms, they’re pretty much all gone. You rarely see any of them out here anymore. And it’s just these big farmer grows now, and it’s just going to get worse.  I think I’ve heard Philip Morris was coming in and buying some of the mountains up here. 

Natascha: Where do you think these small farms went? Where did those families go?  What happened to them? 

CannaClaus: I knew about between 50 and 60 different families and farms here, and most of them went to Oregon to try their hand up there because it was cheaper land,  still beautiful land. A lot more wet. So, you have a little bit of a different season up there  due to mold and snow. A lot of them went up there with the last bit of money they had; some went to Washington. Same thing. Then others sold their farms at a high price or  sold their stuff at a high price. But, you know, back in the day and got out of it real fast and started up little shops or things around the town, either a Mexican restaurant or a nail salon or a barber and they just started their own little businesses or food trucks.  God, we have like 30 food trucks now. It’s ridiculous. They tried their hand at something different. What I did was I had my little indoor, my little greenhouse out in the backyard for my own little personal and my own family personal. But other than that, I went and got a job with a big lumber company. That’s one of our big things out here is lumber and fish. It used to be lumber fish, and pot, but now it’s just- now the fishing is dying too.  Pacific seafood or whatever, shut down, and lumber is basically the only thing we have left out here. And it’s getting hard. 

Natascha: Would you say there’s more or less crime now than before legalization?

CannaClaus: There was more crime prior, for pot and people coming up from  Richmond and Oakland and stuff, and robbing us. But there’s more crime now due to fentanyl and hard drugs that are up here, eating all of our kids. Crime in all genres,  there’s more crime now. But if you’re looking at crime for just marijuana, crime now for marijuana is down, and crime back then was up. 

Natascha: How would you say legalization has affected labor, jobs, wages, and housing in this area? 

CannaClaus: Housing went way up. Jobs, because I think when COVID hit and everything, we were all able to get jobs and go back to work and do stuff. When I  was younger, I used to have to hit, you know, 20 different places with a resume and an application to get one job. And now there are 30 to 40 places hitting you up to get a job. So I  think there’s plenty of more jobs out there. I don’t know if it’s just this younger generation doesn’t want to work, or they’re going to school and buying into crypto or whatever the hell they’re doing. They’re not having to work as much. And so there’s a lot more jobs,  but I just believe it’s for different reasons than the legalization. Legalization and the pot market trimming jobs went down, trim-igrants coming in went down, Money coming into the county went down, because now all the people from the East Coast that used to come out here and buy our pot because we have the best pot growing in the triangle,  and then bring it back out to the rest of the country. Now they have all these farms in these middle states, and it’s all this really fast-growing weed. It’s called autoflower. And they made a hybrid of a flower that can; it grows to a certain height, and then it just automatically flowers no matter what season it is, no matter how much sun or light it gets; it grows to a certain height and then flowers. They have these massive- where it used to be cornfields- it’s just pot fields. It’s the pot that looks really nice and really pretty. 

CannaClaus: But they spray them with pesticides. They have tons of chemicals in them. And now these East Coast people, they don’t care that the pot’s not Humboldt,  grown. And it’s this beautiful, amazing pot. The more care, distance, time, money, and it still looks and smells good. I don’t give a fuck if it has chemicals or bad things in it for my clients, I don’t care. I’m here to make money. So, all these East Coast people used to bring us money, but that’s gone. All the trim-igrants coming in used to take our money, but they helped us thrive. They helped us trim our product. So it wasn’t horrible to let that money go. They were helpful. The trimming jobs for just your sisters and brothers or cousins and nephews or whatever, that’s gone. There’s no more trimming jobs. All the places that were doing really good and the farms were expanding. Once the location hit,  boom, they hit us with all these taxes and these permits and these paperworks, and then they can legally know, because all these farms tried; they really tried, and they put up all these fences and made it so hard that we couldn’t. And then they knew where we were. So, we just put ourselves on the map, and they came in and started busting everybody that way. ‘Like, oh, we see that you tried and failed. So now I’m going to take your farm. Now we know where you’re at. Now we know where to get you.’ The realization medical was good, but recreational just destroyed the community. 

Natascha: Did you witness economic stress, displacement, or loss within the community? 

CannaClaus: Yeah. Yeah, a lot of people, like I said, a lot of people moved to Oregon  and Washington. A lot of people left. They were fleeing where? Humboldt County and  California, people usually fleeing to. 

Natascha: Mhm. 

CannaClaus: Nowadays, I see people fleeing from. Rents too high, mortgages too high, rates are too high, foods too high, gas too high, fires. There’s no more money in pot anymore. So, everybody’s just like there’s no reason to live here anymore. Why  can’t I just go to Texas or go to these other states and buy a mansion for a hundred  grand? When out here, a hundred grand gets you a one-bedroom shack. So, it ruined it. 

Natascha: What do you think the long-term effects of cannabis legalization are going to  be on Humboldt County? 

CannaClaus: Oh, it’s just going to be sold at Walmart, Target, and everywhere else.  You pick up alcohol and cigarettes behind the counter. You’re going to have your pre rolled swishers, your pre-rolled joints and, all these dispensaries around here, they’re going to pretty soon they’re going to be gone. It’s going to be in the classification of it- goes from class one to class three. And they can start studying it inside of the colleges, and it becomes recreational legal around the country. Walmart and Amazon, and all that. It’s going to take over, and there’s going to be big farms and big farmers, but it’s going to be from big pharma, like it’s going to be the one percenters that own it.  Then we work it for them, and then they sell it through Walmart and Amazon for that stuff. It’s going to be delivered right to the house. Most of it’s going to be crap. I believe it’s going to be like wine; you got your $5 bottles of wine you can get at Costco or  WinCo, but then you have your thousand-dollar bottles of wine that are amazing and tasteful and age and so forth. So, I believe there will still be small farmers, like real petite small farmers, like you would have at a farmer’s market. But other than that,  there’s not going to be anything like we do right now. It’s all going to be gone. 

Natascha: What hopes do you have for the future of Humboldt County? 

CannaClaus: Well, if we can become sustainable in the logging community and keep doing what we’re doing, like Sierra Pacific and the other guys, North Fork and stuff that they’re doing. Every time they go and cut down a bunch of trees, they’re replanting and reforming and going forth. And so that’s been awesome. And now that we’ve got these dams out of the Klamath and so forth in different places. The fish is starting to come back. So, I have hopes, hope the fishery markets come back, and then we can provide  and supply our county off of that, and the logging, and we won’t have to worry about pot  anymore. Everybody will have their small homebrews and stuff like that. But other than that, there is no money anymore. There’s no making a company out of it anymore. It’s going to be Amazon and Walmart and so forth that will have that corner of the market.  Fishing and logging stay sustainable, and as a county, we can make it through that. But other than that, there’s nothing else we have up here. Maybe solar, maybe some kind of hydro from ocean waves, or something like that. But I don’t see anything else coming from up here. 

Natascha: Can you describe the local cannabis culture today? 

CannaClaus: It’s like where you used to go out to the plaza and give nugs to the homeless guys around there and stuff, and be really proud of it and be really happy that they get this really nice medical tasty, you know, strain. And now you go out there to give it to them, and they give you some back. And there’s so much of it everywhere.  And everybody has it that it’s not a present anymore. It’s not special anymore. It used to be like you go and get a coffee ,and you give a nice tip. Now you have to give a bud to somebody, and they just say, nah I don’t need it or I don’t want it. It’s not special anymore. Cannabis up here has changed to just basically taking your medicine at night.  Everybody takes their gummies at night, or everybody smokes a joint on a road trip or something, you know? But it’s nothing. It’s not like it was. It’s not nostalgic anymore.  And I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’m getting older, but that’s how I see it. 

Natascha: No, I think that’s very true. I can think of instances when I was a trimmer, and I gave people a jar of weed, and they’d be so excited. You’re right, now everyone’s kind  of got their own boutique stuff from the dispensaries that they’re paying $50 for an  eighth or whatever.  

CannaClaus: Yeah. It’s ridiculous. Mine’s always been organic, so it’s always just  fucking tasty and beautiful and white ash and just the best of the best. But then, you know, if I’m out or can’t get any, then they go to dispensaries and get a, you know, an ounce of indoor for 60 bucks or 80 bucks, but it’s just crap, you know? Like, it’s pretty,  but it’s old or stinks, or it’s chemical-bound or so forth. 

CannaClaus: It’s crazy. 

Natascha: My last question for you is: Can you detail how the cannabis farms prior to legalization helped the Humboldt community? 

CannaClaus: To the legalization of recreational. 

Natascha: Yes. 

CannaClaus: How did they help the community? 

Natascha: Yeah, the economy in Humboldt. 

CannaClaus: Well, I mean, that’s how they brought in so much money because we’re still black market and medical. It went from 4000 to 3000 to 2000 a pound, but it was still  2,000lb, still good money. We were still bringing in a lot of money into this economy up there. The roads are getting fixed. The schools are getting fixed. More shops were  opening up, where you have your pot farm and husband or your pot-farming family. You had a cousin, a nephew, a niece, a wife, or somebody who was starting a business in town. And so, there were a lot of businesses started off of the pot community and the medical and black market. But once it became recreationally legal and you had to get these permits and licenses, everybody spent their money trying to do that, or trying to get away from it, or trying to hide from it, or trying to go with it. And it was pretty much a loss. There’s abandoned farms, there’s thieves that came through and stole the good and left those people that have molded, hundreds or thousands of pounds of mold-weed just sitting in a basement somewhere because it couldn’t sell. It’s optimal utilization. The economy definitely took a huge hit, and it happened right when COVID hit and all that stuff too. This whole community has been struggling so hard. I’m not for any of these presidents, liking neither Trump nor Biden. And yet they’re all crap. All rich white men that are pedophiles and pieces of shit. I’m not for any of them. I’m not a Democrat, a Republican, a leftist, or a rightist. I’m for doing what’s right, being part of the community, and living life to be as happy as you can before your last day comes. And with COVID, the politics, and the realization of this community, the prices of everything are going up.  We are struggling so badly out there, it’s ridiculous. 

Natascha: Yeah, I hear you on that. Well, thank you so much for sharing your story and your time. Your experiences are an important part of Humboldt County’s living history.

Images shown for historical documentation purposes.

The story shared here is one voice among many that together form the living history of Humboldt County’s cannabis era. Behind policy changes and market statistics are families, workers, and communities whose livelihoods, identities, and landscapes were shaped by the rise—and transformation—of this industry. Listening to these experiences reminds us that economic shifts are never abstract; they are deeply personal, carried in memories of land worked, risks taken, communities built, and futures reimagined.

Little Lost Forest continues to collect these stories to ensure that the cultural, social, and economic legacy of the Green Rush is preserved in the words of those who lived it. If you or someone you know would like to share your experience, we invite you to contribute—because the history of Humboldt County is still being written, and every story helps illuminate the full picture.

Photo Disclaimer: The photographs accompanying this article are presented for journalistic, historical, and educational documentation purposes only. They are intended to reflect the lived experiences, cultural history, and economic realities discussed within the oral-history project “The Green Rush: NorCal — The Rise and Fall of Humboldt County’s Cannabis Economy.”

Little Lost Forest does not promote illegal activity or the sale, distribution, or misuse of cannabis. All content is shared to preserve regional history, community narratives, and research-based storytelling. Viewers are encouraged to follow all local, state, and federal laws regarding cannabis in their area.

Participation in this project is voluntary, and identifying details may be altered or anonymized when requested to protect the privacy and safety of contributors.

Call of the Four Directions: An Imbolc Blessing for Renewal

I was invited to an Imbolc ceremony last weekend. Imbolc is the midpoint between the winter and the spring solstice. It is associated with the Celtic goddess Brigid. This is a time when we should come together to abolish darkness and share light. Cleansing our hearts of what doesn’t benefit us and considering which seeds we want to plant in the spring. When we move with intention, we can take this time to consider what we want to manifest in our lives before calling it in. This is a time to finish reflections on past lessons and appreciate the people who stick by us, who appreciate and love us.

This is a call on the four directions. Welcoming the elementals into the circle in a time of darkness, calling for resistance, change, and guidance.

Call of the Four Directions

We gather at the threshold of winter and spring,
in the quiet moment where the soil stirs beneath frost.
Imbolc hums softly now—
a promise of the light to come and green growth

not yet visible, but undeniably there.

We call the Four Directions,
The elements within us and outside
the forces that remind us who we are
To rise, again, and again,
above fear, above silence, above tyranny of spirit.

It’s the elements that cause change but always foster internal growth. 

May this circle be a place of remembering—
our resilience, our community,
and our sacred power.

Spirits of the East, Guardians of Air, we welcome you.

Breath of dawn and birdsong,
you arrive like the first crack of light
after a long, unyielding night.
You are the wind that carries seeds across frozen fields,
the idea that sparks before action,
the thought that refuses to be caged.

We honor the Air,
of new beginnings and sharpened intellect,
of clear vision and truth spoken aloud.
Teach us the resilience of the raven and the crow,
wise messengers who adapt, remember, and endure.

Move through us like pollen on the breeze,
stirring dormant dreams,
lifting us above imposed limits,
reminding us that thought itself is an act of freedom.

As the stars shift and the days grow longer,
may we listen to the whispers of the cosmos—
That change is already in motion.

Spirits of the East, be welcome.

Spirits of the South, Guardians of Fire, we welcome you.

Flame of hearth and heartbeat,
You are the returning warmth beneath the snow,
The spark Imbolc hides in candlelight
and in Brigid’s forge.

You are passion reclaimed—
not solitary flame, but shared warmth.
The courage to stand is found shoulder to shoulder,
the courage to act in voices raised together,
the courage to transform in community, refusing to freeze.

We honor the fire of people gathering in the cold—
kitchens, streets, homes, and hearts—
tending one another when systems fail.

This is the fire burning across this land now,
not given by the government,
not extinguished by power,
but carried by the people

Teach us the power of the stag and the phoenix,
symbols of vitality, rebirth, and fierce presence.
Burn away what was imposed upon us—
fear, control, smallness—
and temper us instead into something true.

Like the sun fusing elements in distant stars,
remind us that creation is born of heat and pressure,
And that transformation is sacred.

Spirits of the South, be welcome.

Spirits of the West, Guardians of Water, we welcome you.

Tide, rain, river, and tears
You carry us into the deep—
where memory is stored,
and truth awaits, passed down by our ancestors. 

Yet here we meet you with waters warming too quickly,
The currents altered,
The silence grows where songs once traveled for miles.
You are the grief of the oceans
and the endurance still pulsing beneath it.

We call now upon the ancestral waters,
and upon the whales,
keepers of ancient songs,
migratory wisdom older than nations,
voices that have taught this planet how to remember itself.

Their songs are thinning.
Their paths are breaking.
Extinction depleting. 

Teach us how to listen again.
Teach us how to grieve without turning away,
to feel without drowning,
to mourn without surrendering

May the wisdom of the whales move through us—
slow, vast, and communal—
reminding us that survival has always been collective,
that life endures through relationships, 

not domination.

We ask the waters to carry our vow:
to resist forgetting,
to fight erasure,
To live once again with the Earth, bound with care—

and to offer that same care

to every human life entwined with our own.

Spirits of the West, Waters of Memory and Life, be welcome.

Spirits of the North, Guardians of Earth, we welcome you.

Stone, root, bone, and soil,
You are the deep memory of the land,
the quiet strength beneath winter’s stillness.
You teach us that rest is not weakness,

and endurance is not loud,

but strengthened by return—

by lives folded back into the Earth,

becoming ground.

We honor the wisdom of the earth
the patience of mountains,
The resilience of evergreens and moss
that thrive in shadow and cold.

Teach us the grounding of the bear and the tortoise,
keepers of ancient knowing,
Anchor us in our bodies,
in our boundaries,
in the unshakeable truth of who we are.

As planets turn and time stretches vast and slow,
remind us that liberation is not always swift—
but it is inevitable.

Spirits of the North, be welcome.

Air, Fire, Water, Earth—
within us, around us, and beyond us.
At Imbolc’s threshold,
We rise from the winter

May we walk forward inspired,
act with passion,
trust our inner tides,
and stand rooted in our power.

The circle is cast.
The path is opening.
We remember who we are.

Blessed be the elements for their presence.

Mean: The Power of Reclamation

Gurba, Myriam. Mean. Coffee House Press, 2017.

Mean is a creative autobiography and true-crime narrative that follows Myriam Gurba from childhood to adulthood as she confronts rape, racism, cultural identity, and personal transformation. Haunted—literally and figuratively—by the ghost of Sophia, a raped and murdered woman, Myriam is compelled to visit the place where Sophia died. Through this haunting, she faces her own trauma and survivor’s guilt. Gurba’s voice is sharp, defiant, and self-aware, blending humor and horror in equal measure as she examines cruelty, injustice, and the survival mechanisms women develop to exist within them.

The title Mean becomes a lens through which Gurba explores power and pain. The book opens with Sophia’s death:

“Wrecking her makes him feel like she belongs to him” (2).

By beginning with this act of violence, Gurba forces readers to confront the brutality often silenced in stories of women—especially women of color. The murder of Sophia, a Spanish woman killed by a Hispanic man, mirrors Gurba’s own experience with sexual assault and raises questions of ownership, violence, and cultural complicity. Through this, Gurba links her trauma to a collective experience, a bridge between the living and the dead—between victimhood and survival.

When Gurba talks about being “mean,” she often invokes the cattiness of girlhood, but her real subject is cruelty in all its forms—social, racial, and systemic. The word “mean” becomes elastic, stretching from playground gossip to the most profound violations of humanity. She illustrates this concept through humor and absurdity, such as her discussion of the “Michael Jackson donut,” which sparks a debate about whether the pastry—half chocolate, half powdered sugar—is racist. Gurba observes:

“What I found most interesting was that everybody dominating this debate was white” (163).

Her point lands sharply: conversations about racism are often dominated by white voices, leaving people of color excluded from their own narratives. Gurba writes that the opinions of the two “mud people” in the room were never solicited—a darkly humorous yet devastating critique of white-centered discourse on race.

Another central motif in the book is the phrase “white girl,” which Gurba uses as both political and literary shorthand. It exposes the subtle hierarchies that shape American culture and classrooms:

“White girls from the English-only classes refused to socialize with girls from the bilingual classes” (19).

The term becomes layered—a symbol of privilege, separation, and the ways in which whiteness is normalized. Gurba’s repetition of “white girl” challenges readers to recognize how language itself can uphold systems of exclusion. She recalls moments of alienation and microaggression, from classmates to family acquaintances:

“‘What is this?’ in that supremely bitchy California-girl accent some white girls reserved for interrogating my mother’s hospitality” (19).

Through these moments, Gurba transforms “mean” from insult to insight—a way of naming the everyday cruelties that shape a person’s world.

As I read this novel, I found myself turning the question of “mean” inward. What does it mean to be “mean” as a woman, a survivor, a writer? Is meanness cruelty, or is it the courage to hold boundaries in a world that demands your silence? Gurba redefines the word as an act of reclamation: to be mean is to speak, to refuse apology, to survive.

In my own writing, I hope to evoke this same self-examination—to make readers question the norms we excuse, the systems we uphold, and the voices we choose to hear. Mean reminds me that storytelling is not just about empathy; it’s about confrontation. It’s about being brave enough to look directly at the discomfort—and to speak from it anyway.

People Collide: Opposing Wants in Each Other’s Bodies

McElroy, Isle. People Collide. HarperVia, 2023.

A blend of satire and queer fiction, People Collide by Isle McElroy takes readers by surprise with its sharp humor and emotional depth. The novel follows Eli and Elizabeth, a married couple who seem perfect together on the surface—Eli is sweet, funny, and attentive, while Elizabeth is ambitious, successful, and confident. Yet beneath their charm lies mutual dissatisfaction. Eli resents Elizabeth’s constant criticism and sexual demands, while Elizabeth grows tired of his lack of ambition and emotional availability. When an unexplained event causes them to switch bodies, they are forced to confront the very parts of each other they have avoided—and, in doing so, the unspoken distance between them.

At its core, the novel explores recognition and empathy within relationships: the desperate need to be seen, understood, and appreciated. Both Eli and Elizabeth fail to listen to one another, and their transformation becomes a metaphor for what happens when communication collapses. The reader is reminded that true connection comes only when we are comfortable within ourselves—and capable of hearing others.

Eli, insecure and self-critical, longs to be noticed by Elizabeth, the woman he adores but feels overshadowed by. His self-sabotaging behavior manifests through an eating disorder—

“Eli would throw up after meals while she was always at her desk writing” (75)—
and through infidelity, as if seeking pain in exchange for attention. Once trapped in Elizabeth’s body, Eli experiences an entirely new vulnerability. The physical form he once idealized now becomes a source of fear and insecurity. As the narrative deepens, McElroy cleverly shifts perspective, giving Eli’s internal voice more space than Elizabeth’s, symbolizing the emotional distance that defines their marriage.

From Eli’s point of view, readers gain an honest reflection of gendered experience and self-awareness:

“I always walked faster than everyone else like I didn’t care. It didn’t bother me until I was in her body” (112).

Now living as Elizabeth, Eli also encounters the world’s perception of himself:

“Is that what you think of him?” I asked. “That Eli was negligent?” (188).

Through this inversion, Eli gains insight into how others view his failures—a painful but transformative realization.

Elizabeth, in contrast, is ambitious and driven, yet emotionally distant. She perceives Eli as dependent and unmotivated. Her professional success and self-assuredness lead her to view Eli as an obstacle rather than a partner. After the body swap, however, Elizabeth experiences a new kind of freedom in living as Eli—a freedom that feels less confined by social expectations. Instead of nurturing Eli’s insecurities, she begins to relish autonomy and sexual exploration:

“This place is loaded with dicks,” she said. “There’s no better place to talk about dicks” (198).

McElroy uses humor and discomfort to illustrate gendered liberation and the ways in which societal conditioning shapes our desires.

Ultimately, the two remain trapped in a cycle of unmet needs—the woman seeking companionship, the man craving freedom. Even in their new bodies, their minds remain unchanged, unable to bridge the emotional gap between them. Eli reflects on this repeating pattern:

“There are things you won’t be able to plan for… You can plan for the towels and the flashlights and the recycling and the aunts, but at some point you’ll have to trust me, because all I can do is aspire to the version of you I find the most accurate, which is the version of you that I love, the kind and brilliant and generous person—someone who would, I truly believe, let her partner sleep through the night” (218).

This reflection captures the tragic irony of their relationship: love filtered through self-interest, intimacy blurred by projection.

By diving into dark psychology and relational imperfection, McElroy forces readers to confront the parts of love that society often avoids—jealousy, resentment, and incomplete listening. For me as a writer, this novel underscores the power of storytelling to reveal the truths we hide from ourselves. It reminds me to bring awareness to my own characters—to let them stumble, misunderstand, and grow. Through such honest portrayals, fiction becomes not just reflection, but revelation—of culture, of identity, and of the fragile art of being human.

Rehearsal for Dying by Ariel Gore

Gore, Ariel. Rehearsals for Dying: Digressions on Love and Cancer. Feminist Press, 2025.

Rehearsal for Dying is a work of creative nonfiction written from Ariel Gore’s perspective about her wife Deena’s Stage Four breast cancer and the profound effect it has on their relationship. When Deena is diagnosed, the disease is already terminal. Despite their efforts to fulfill Deena’s bucket list, their days are consumed by doctor visits, conflicting medical information, and the slow, visible process of dying. Gore’s narrative captures the tension between love and loss—the desire to hold on to moments of life while facing the inevitability of death.

Deena chooses to forgo both chemotherapy and a double mastectomy, understanding that survival is no longer possible. In her own writing, she captures this painful acceptance:

“Then what’s the point?” (179)

The line appears in Deena’s musical, spoken by Ariel, blurring the boundary between art and lived experience. Despite their effort to remain hopeful, Ariel’s grief grows unbearable as she confronts the truth that there is no recovery, only the process of letting go.

Throughout the book, the doctors’ language becomes its own kind of character—a reflection of authority, hope, and denial. Their diction shapes Deena’s emotions and Ariel’s mistrust. When the doctors speak positively, Deena clings to optimism; when they are blunt, she collapses into despair. Gore reveals how language—especially medical language—can wound even when meant to heal.

Early in the narrative, Dr. Ego tells Deena that she can help her, adding,

“If I’m the one to walk you over there, they’ll wait for the devil” (80).

The line reads almost metaphorically—the doctor as the devil guiding Deena deeper into her personal hell, toward the PET scan that confirms her suffering.

Soon after, Dr. Ego lays out a strict plan:

“Ms. Chafetz, you will have six months of IV chemo, and you will have a double mastectomy” (84).

The phrasing is directive rather than compassionate; Deena is given no choice, only instructions.

Later, Dr. Mushroom, the pain specialist, delivers the most brutal truth:

“This disease is going to take your life” (184).

Deena instantly rejects his bluntness, calling him an “asshole.” When another physician, Dr. Vogue, offers hope, Deena’s spirit brightens:

“I think your cancer will get better once we start the Enheru” (231).

Through these encounters, Gore exposes the contradiction between false hope and harsh honesty. The doctors’ attempts to be factual or encouraging often fail to consider the emotional timing and vulnerability of their patient. Deena’s reactions are not weakness—they are a valid response to the way information is delivered. Compassionate communication, Gore implies, requires not just accuracy but empathy, patience, and space for grief.

In my own writing, I often find myself drawn to characters like Deena—those who hold onto hope in moments of uncertainty. Like Gore, I want to give voice to resistance, to compassion, and to the quiet defiance of those who face authority and mortality with courage. In my novel Discordia, my protagonist Eris reflects:

“There is more than just human disaster. There are the mountains, the children, ancient knowledge that has not yet been destroyed.”

This spirit of perseverance mirrors the emotional depth Gore achieves through her storytelling.

Deena dies at the end of Rehearsal for Dying, but she reads and approves the manuscript before her death. Her act of signing off on the book becomes a final, poignant gesture—a conscious acknowledgment of her diagnosis and a symbolic acceptance of her fate. In doing so, Deena transforms her death into an act of authorship—her ultimate rehearsal for dying.

Guide to Beginner’s Yoga: Embracing the Sacred Flow 

The Season of Anya 

On Dec 21, 2025, I sat down with Anya, and we discussed her new book Embracing the Sacred Flow. You can find it at this Amazon affiliate link. Before we begin with the interview, I’d like to share with you the dedication: 

Dedication 

This book is dedicated to anyone who has ever felt broken beyond repair, lost without a sense of direction, or silently suffering through the chaos. I see you. It is never too late to reclaim your sense of self, to heal, to transform, and to set yourself free. Spirit is here to guide your soul back home where it’s warm and cozy. 

Let’s dive in:  

Natascha: Hello, this is Natascha with the Little Lost Forest blog. Today we will be interviewing Anya with the season of Anya and her new book, Embracing the Sacred Flow. We were sitting at the Revolution Roasters with a cup of coffee, and my son  Malakai. Anya and I are doing a cross-promotion. She interviewed Spellbound earlier this month and plans to share in the next few weeks I will link the podcast here once it’s available. Anya, how are you doing today? 

Anya: I’m doing so well. Just enjoying this beautiful sunny San Diego weather in December. And happy to see you, girlfriend. 

Natascha: Yeah, it’s really nice to see you, too. Years of friendship has brought us here to this point where we’re both working on our businesses and our brands, and we get to talk about the different art that we enjoy. And I just so appreciate doing this with you and being here with you today. 

Anya: Likewise. Likewise. 

Natascha: Can you tell me a little bit about The Season of Anya? 

Anya: Yeah. So basically, Season of Anya is an online community, a culmination of healing modalities that are for those of us who are looking to transform ourselves, to transform our personal identities, to maybe transform our physical, mental, spiritual health and finding ourselves. Typically, it’s a journey for those of us who are interested in spirituality. My main healing modalities with The Season of Anya are yoga, magick, and witchcraft. Yoga is for grounding. Magick is for finding that love for life. And then witchcraft is the ritual. It is the practice that ties it all together. Yoga grounds me, witchcraft elevates me and magick is everything else in between. Because life is ultimately what you make it. And so many of us just really don’t understand how much power we have to change and transform. And I am bringing everyone together to give them their own tools and create a positive community filled with individuals who wish to change themselves and the world for the better. 

Natascha: Yeah, that really makes me want to self-reflect and see how I could change my life for the more positive. What got you to start this healing journey? 

Anya: What got me started? It all started, probably, I mean, well, I used to be 325lbs. That was not a result of just a girl who loved food, but a girl who was in a lot of pain, a lot of emotional pain. Didn’t know how to process her trauma, didn’t have the tools and resources to just feel normal. That resulted in my weight loss journey, which was my commitment to my physical health. Why physical health? Because the three of them are related; mind, body and Spirit. Right? They all interconnect, and with finding that discipline and with finding that balance within – Then yoga came into my life shortly after, and that taught me kind of how to embrace the physical practice of yoga and learning how to feel good in my body. Then shortly after that, my spiritual practice came into act, and that resulted in me learning how to live a spiritual life so I could transform, but also remain positive and free flowing and just feel better about the trajectory of my life. Because it’s been imperative for me to understand that it is me and only me who’s responsible for my trajectory, not the course that others have set for me my whole life. Same goes for those of you tuning into this today. 

Natascha: Yeah, I also started with yoga before I got into my witch practices. So that resonates with me as well. Were there mentors early on that helped you when you were most in pain, or did you find yoga and your spiritual practice on your own? 

Anya: Oh, absolutely. There are two groups of people that I find really keen that helped me on my journey. First of all, it was Mel and Kaleo from Rebel and Muse. My friend Kristan invited me to their yoga retreat back in 2018, and from there I realized…how messed up I was. If we’re being perfectly honest. Yoga retreats are so awesome and empowering because they remind you that you’re in a safe space to simply be yourself. That experience slowly started my self-awareness, self-reflection journey of, “oh boy, my normal, is not everybody else’s normal”. So, that kind of was an awakening for me. With that, especially with feeling comfortable in my body and just having kind of that mirror of reflection on me help set the stage for the inner work ahead. Then shortly after I met who would become a huge mentor of mine: Taren S with the House of Witchcraft. She opened the Witches Cottage out here in San Diego, and I got to dance around the bonfire with her and our coven out there for many moons. Through that, I learned spirituality, I learned accountability, I learned healing, I learned what it was to take care of myself and to empower myself, but also how important community is and how we are truly in it for one another. 

Natascha: Yeah. On the subject of community, how has your spiritual and health journey changed the way that you hold your friendships and your romantic relationships? 

Anya: Ooh. That’s a great question. I feel like it’s taken the people pleaser out of the scenario- for sure. I no longer wish to hold on to what’s not for me. And also with that, though, I do give all my friends the benefit of the doubt through open communication and through being vulnerable and being communicative. I mean, the ones who get it, get it. If I bring up an issue with a friend and be like, hey, what the heck? And they respond- that’s the kind of people I want in my life. I find that romantically, it’s been awful because I realize a lot of partners don’t want to do the work, and it’s hard, especially being at this point in my journey and single. Well, I need somebody who’s at least going to match where I’m at. 

Natascha: Well, that’s really important for young folks and for women of all ages to hear. We so easily will go along with what partners want from us because we want to appease them, or we don’t want to be by ourselves. By holding your energy and by being an empowered woman, you’re holding boundaries that maybe some of us put down just to get along with others. 

Anya: You know, for better or worse, I sometimes- I feel like I have nothing else to lose. I’ve had some pretty horrible life experiences and with that, you know, has come strength, especially my romantic relationships. And it’s like, ‘Hey, I’ve got nothing to lose,’ so why not walk in faith and see what happens and see if I can actually stop limiting myself and create the life I deserve. 

Natascha: Before we get into your book, did you want to tell us any more about The Season of Anya? What kind of content you put out, or products or things that people can engage in? 

Anya: Sure! So the Season of Anya is the main hub. I’m really passionate about my free monthly newsletter. So, to those of you tuning in to this, I highly recommend you check that out. That is the heart of my blog. Uh, I know that newsletters are so outdated, but that’s where I share my monthly tips, and not only just that, but also shine light about being in tune with the world around me. I have very cute little witchy stories, I share that are just true moments of surrendering to the flow, and I love sharing those stories, and they often bring a laugh out of my audience and give them opportunities to reflect and connect. So, definitely, definitely- check that out. Then I’m also working on YouTube and social medias and trying to figure out my flow and grind with that. But it all centers back to The Season of Anya community, where ultimately, I’d like to host witchcraft retreats. In fact, next year with my friends at House of Witchcraft, we are co-hosting a retreat in New Orleans in July because I want to give that experience of retreats to the rest of the community, so you too, can learn how to open up and feel safe and vulnerable in a protected environment, an empowering environment and find yourself again. 

Natascha: Yeah, that sounds like a great community experience. Does your lineage come into play with your practice? 

Anya: Ooh, Great question, actually. It has been for sure. So, I’m Italian, American, first generation, and with my lineage being Italian is so much there’s so much witchcraft actually associated with Italian culture. And it’s just so funny because it’s this interesting connection of witchcraft meets Catholicism. And that was actually understanding my Italian roots, even connecting through the Italian Goddess Aradia and other deities, but specifically, she has really just connected me to the essence of who I am as an Italian American witch. And it has been a really cool journey. 

Natascha: All right. Thank you so much for sharing that with us. Here I am looking at Embracing the Sacred Flow. What inspired this book? 

Anya: Well, you know, as somebody with really chronic anxiety and an addiction to over productivity and not learning how to just be present in my body, yoga has been a really crucial component for not only my healing journey, but also my life journey. This book kind of just goes over [that]. It’s going to be a multi-volume series. I wanted to give my audience something that’s really easy to read. I mean, honestly, you can read this in an hour or two, and it’s something reflective that gives you prompts for going inward and just kind of tips to get through your life. I talk about some breathing exercises in there. We talk about yoga philosophies, and I talk about learning how to be comfortable and being in tune with your body. Because especially if you are on the path of a witch, learning how to flow and just feel connected to yourself will always, always, always be your saving grace. It’s your anchor. It’s your life force. I’m really proud of it. I’m happy with this content. It’s a start of many, many books to come. I’m excited for you to check it out. 

Natascha: If somebody follows the practices in this book, how often do you recommend that they do the yoga, do the breathing? What kind of schedule does this look like in your everyday life? 

Anya: Well, yeah. Well, with everyday life, I try to make it very routine where it’s something that you can just tap into immediately. Yes, I do talk about creating an altar and the stretches and the flows, but really, I mean, it’s almost about like micro meditations because we don’t always have time for the big stuff, right? It’s learning on how to feel comfortable and not overwhelmed in any moment. As somebody who had been overwhelmed with literally everything my whole life, this is a new me, you know? But learning how to get rid of that overwhelm and just be here and learning how to release tension in your body and feel comfortable in every moment is life changing and I want to share that freedom with everyone.  

Natascha: Wow. That’s amazing. I mean, I feel like if you’re working in a cubicle or if you have children that drive you crazy, or if you’re just a student that’s trying to find their way, this book could really help create a positive routine in your life and a sacred flow that doesn’t only align with the mind and body, but with your higher consciousness and creating a healthy future for the person that’s tapping into this magic. Yes. So, what’s next? 

Anya: Ooh, well what’s next? Writing wise, I definitely have been sitting on a spell jars book: Spell Jars 101 book that I just need to kind of polish up a little bit. Just put my last little touches to it. And I really am excited for this upcoming book as well. You know, it’s like, okay, we learn how to tune in, we know how to stay sacred, we know how to stay connected and this book really talks about manifestation. And it demystifies the practice, a little bit of witchcraft, of spells and workings. Because it’s not about sitting at your altar, it’s about getting out there too and doing the work. You want a better life, you got to do the work…while adding a little witchy twist to it. That makes it my own. And I feel like Spell Jars 101 takes a fresh approach that you haven’t seen in your standard witchy books. 

Natascha: That’s wonderful. Thank you so much for being an outstanding witch, doing positive work, light work, spiritual work, tuning into the body, soul, and mind. Is there anything else you’d like to share with us before we end the interview? 

Anya: No, just go ahead and check me out on my website, subscribe to my free newsletter, and I promise your life will be forever changed. 

Natascha: All right. Thank you so much. 

Anya: Thanks, girl! 

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The Dispossessed: Travel of Sound through Time and Space


Le Guin, Ursula K. The Dispossessed. Harper & Row, 1974

Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Dispossessed uses literary activism to reflect on the social and political tensions of the United States during the 1970s. This anarchist utopian science fiction novel follows the journey of a physicist, Dr. Shevek, who travels from the anarchist planet Anarres to the capitalist world of Urras in an attempt to launch his theory of cross-planetary communication. Through his eyes, Le Guin examines the constructs of gender, corruption, human existence, and freedom—revealing that both utopia and dystopia are flawed systems. The resolution, Le Guin suggests, lies not in perfection but in open dialogue and exchange of ideas.

The people of Anarres—also referred to as Odonians—hold a distorted perception of Urras due to their near-total isolation. Anarres has no prisons, and its citizens’ understanding of punishment comes only from history books. Their concept of Urras is shaped by distant memory and political myth. As Shevek observes, “You heard it: detest Urras, hate Urras, fear Urras” (41). Their fear and contempt arise not from experience, but from alienation—a societal narrative built on inherited prejudice rather than truth.

Le Guin emphasizes this disconnect through the story of Odo, the prophet and ideological founder of Anarres. Shevek reflects on the irony of her legacy:

“Odo had never set foot on Anarres. She had lived and died and was buried in the shadow of green-leaved trees in unimaginable cities, among people speaking unknown languages, on another world. Odo was an alien: an exile.” (96)

Even on his home planet, Shevek shares this sense of exile. His desire to travel to Urras is not born of rebellion but of curiosity—of wanting to understand both worlds more deeply and to find common ground between them.

Despite minimal contact, the two planets depend on each other for trade and survival, yet their lack of communication perpetuates misunderstanding. When Shevek arrives on Urras, he is celebrated as a brilliant visitor, but his observations soon reveal the same inequalities that plague his own society. His experiences on Urras force him to question the political system of Anarres and the illusion of safety that its collective ideology provides. He begins to see how even an anarchist world can fall into subtle forms of control through conformity and fear.

On Urras, Shevek encounters the harsh realities of gender inequality, economic disparity, and human suffering—from the poor conditions of hospitals to the fragile survival of children. His invention of a communication device becomes a symbolic act: a bridge not only between worlds, but between ideologies. By reopening the flow of information, Shevek helps both planets see themselves more clearly.

Le Guin’s work continues to inspire me as both a reader and a writer. Her exploration of imperfect societies encourages me to build realistic worlds in my own fiction—worlds that mirror our own struggles between freedom and control, justice and comfort, idealism and survival. Like Shevek, I am drawn to explore communication across divides, and how connection—through art, science, or empathy—can dissolve the barriers we construct between “us” and “them.”

Language as World-Building: Redefining an Assigned Word

In my MFA class at Antioch University Los Angeles, The Uses of Invented Language, Redefined Language, and Foreign Language as Tools for World Building, taught by Rita Bullwinkel, we explored how writers can make language their own by inventing it, subtly altering familiar words to create emphasis, or redefining their meanings entirely.

For this exercise, each writer was assigned a familiar word and asked to redefine it within a fictional world—allowing its meaning to emerge through story rather than explanation. The goal was to let language quietly shape the rules of the world and the limits placed on its characters.

The word canoe was assigned to me.
(I offered the word triptych to my partner.)

In this piece, canoe is redefined as a place a woman goes alone to give birth—a space of autonomy, danger, and taboo. Once she enters, no one is meant to follow.

Below is an excerpt from that exercise.

This piece takes place in an imagined world and does not represent any real cultural practice.


Canoe (Excerpt)

My feet hit the ground, brush, and sticks, stabbing the soft cradles of my soles. Through the long grass, I saw the floating structure ahead—a long form with a narrow entrance. A fire burned inside it, smoke slipping upward through a small chimney at the back, surely lit by the swamp witch who knew the intentions of my arrival.

I could hear Agatha screaming from afar.

“Jefferson, Jefferson! Wait, my darling—please don’t do this alone.”

Her voice was desperate. This would be her twelfth delivery—four sons, seven grandchildren—and none of them had been born in the canoe. None of them until this one.

My body ached, and a cry escaped me. My stomach clenched in agony. My water had broken long ago, and I could feel the baby pressing downward.

Why didn’t I come sooner? Why didn’t I listen to my intuition? Now it was almost too late.

Agatha had fallen into a deep depression after my husband’s sudden death. She was weakened by grief and fatigue and could no longer keep pace with me.

The ground shifted to wood and rattled beneath my weight. When was the last time anyone crossed this bridge? Surely it was Jagara—the young nymph who once danced in the trees for play, until play led her into the shelter of the canoe.

“Don’t!” Agatha screamed.

I paused at the edge of Siskou Lake, breathing in the stillness, the warm yellow and inky sunset smeared across the water’s surface.

Inside, the canoe was dark and narrow. I followed the fire’s glow, forcing my body through the tight squeeze of mud and hay adobe. At the far end, the space opened into a wide chamber with a rounded ceiling. The hearth fumed softly, smoke slipping through a small vent toward the heavens.

Now the villagers will not choose how this baby enters the world.

I will birth my child here—despite the risk—and from this place, we will grow within our community without being controlled by a system.