Something I love about herbalism is how plants weave relationships between people, places, stories, and traditions. Much like mycelium, one connection leads to another, and sometimes we don’t realize where those threads will take us.

In 2025, I decided to apply to teach at the International Herb Symposium (IHS). I was nervous because my path hasn’t been as long as that of many of the teachers there, but I decided to trust that if I was accepted, perhaps I was ready for it.

A few weeks later, I received a message from Susan Leopold: “We would like to invite you to teach the class on coca.”

Yes, coca. A plant that can be controversial for some, but one that I believe is so important to talk about.

As a Colombian, I felt a responsibility to share about plants from the territory I inhabit, the Andes. In recent years, there has been a strong movement in Colombia to re-signify the coca plant and bring attention back to her ancestral wisdom. A plant deeply stigmatized by some, yet deeply valued and respected by many.

I arrived at IHS in Cincinnati for the first day of the program, and Kat Maier was at the entrance promoting her book. I was too shy to talk to her. The following day, I taught my class, “Coca: Returning to the Ancestral Wisdom of the Coca Leaf.” And there, sitting in the front row, was Kat.

I shared my experience with this plant from the heart. I talked about her history, the ways in which the misuse and criminalization of coca have affected many families in Colombia, and why it is so important to reconnect with the plant beyond the stories we have been told about her.

At the end of IHS, I traveled with Helen Low to United Plant Savers, where I found myself sharing space with Kat, Helen, Susan, Theresa Boardwine, David Winston, Ed Smith, Christopher Hobbs, and Jonathan Miller. I felt incredibly fortunate to be surrounded by people whose work I had read about and learned from for years.

The following day, Kat, Theresa, and I walked together through the sanctuary. We shared songs and stories about the places we came from, and somewhere along that walk, we planted a little seed: perhaps one day, we would meet again in Colombia.

At the beginning of this year, I met Susan again at Floresta in Costa Rica. This time we were speaking more Spanish, eating pejibaye, swimming in hot springs, and dreaming again about a gathering in Colombia.

Not long after, we set up an online meeting with Kat to see if we could make that seed sprout. I’m convinced that plants help us weave relationships. They give us the courage to pursue our dreams, to honor our territories and ancestors, and to share with confidence the wisdom we have learned through spending time with plants.

And now, that little seed has become real.