We Tried Our Level Best

It was Tuesday, November 8, 2016… and several cannabis farmers were gathered at AREA 101 in Mendocino County to watch the election results.

If Proposition 64 passed, recreational cannabis would at last be legal in California. We all knew the proposition had some serious flaws, yet the fact that people would get out of prison and medical patients could get their medicine made it worth it.

There was excitement in the air as we hung around, smoking joints, watching the big TV. Yet, as it became apparent that Donald Trump would win the presidential race over Hillary Clinton, the mood in the room changed from eager anticipation to general confusion.

Wait, how did that happen?

Yet, here we are 8 years later, and again we are befuddled. Trump is back and cannabis is recreationally legal in several more states since 2016, yet none of this has worked out as predicted.

To fight off the depression, I decided to spend the day cleaning up my office.

A few months back, Swami and I decided it was time to not renew our cannabis cultivation license and be done with it.

We had such big dreams for the industry and small craft farmers who could finally get their fine flowers to consumers legally.

But wait, the taxes are how high?

For customers, retailers and cultivators?

How many permits and government agencies do we need to deal with?

We signed up to be farmers, not businesspeople with the skills necessary to unravel the many requirements, rules and regulations ahead.

So here I am in my office, going through files of old contracts, stickers and labels, rack cards and pamphlets we had printed. What a colossal waste of money!

I am finding piles of labels that were designed and printed, only to be told a month later that the font was slightly too small or another word needed to be added to the cancer warning on the packaging.

We began to wonder if this was a plan to just get rid of us all, and honestly, that question still haunts us today.

We tried our level best.

We worked harder than ever before in our lives, me in the office screaming at all the paperwork, and Swami in the garden with farmers, doing it all just right and up to code.

He took his OSHA training, we got all the correct water and wildlife permits, and hired more surveyors than I can remember, each at an average of $1500.

After a while, that really mounts up.

We had to take on investors as we were not wealthy, yet we had a brand that was catching on and had real potential.

Well, about 8 years later and numerous investors, we spent over 2 million dollars to just go in circles.

“It will all be better when it gets Federally legal” we used to think. Until we realized that the taxes would only be higher when that happens.

Meanwhile, “traditional” farmers (what we used to call Black Market in the old days) carried on and large cartels moved in, too. The punishments were minimal for them now, so why not?

Over time, as we worked so hard, we only saw the prices continue to fall. It was hard to believe that we used to regularly get $3500/lb. and recently we heard of people, both traditional and licensed, getting closer to $500 a pound.

As of this writing, the price has even dipped to $250-$300.

Even if you are one of those giant growers who has lots to sell, everyone was losing money. The difference with the BIG guys is that they could afford to include a 5-year loss in their business plans.

I never signed up to be a CEO, yet here I was, and I hated it. I would call myself a spiritually creative person – but now I was on the computer all day filling out forms, paying bills and on lengthy Zoom calls.

Swami kept up his daily meditation, but I barely had time to take a walk with the dog.

For being a couple of old hippies, we were getting way off track.

And so we have dropped out again and it feels so right. Swami is 81, I am almost 70, and it’s time to enjoy the beauty of our ranch, the companionship of our friends, and the simple life that provides pure joy.

Hippies are good at dropping out.

While we are very much in debt after closing the business, we are blessed with a beautiful place to live in nature where we can grow food and our personal cannabis plants.

The work around the ranch keeps us plenty busy, but we are working for ourselves, not the government. Because that is what being a licensed grower was all about. We made nothing, the government made it all. That is never sustainable.

We pray for our fellow small craft farmers and I will still work on their behalf to spread the news that the best cannabis in the world is grown here in the Emerald Triangle, in full sun and living soil.

Considering that the Trump administration may not be the fast path to Federal legalization, I wonder if we will even see that in our lifetimes. But we know we did our bit, we fought for the cause and the patients and prisoners.

So I return to sorting through labels and stickers. I figure I should save a bit of everything, just in case the Smithsonian wants it all someday.

“The Life of the Original Licensed Cannabis Growers in California” would be the name of the show.

We will all go down in history, for making a difference. Hopefully by then, everyone, anywhere, can grow their medicinal herbs freely, as God, Goddess, and the Hippies intended.