Love is… Natural | This is the Story of Sasha Botanica

by Jenny Wonderling

INSIDE+OUT had the pleasure of spending time with Sasha Botanica, a Hudson Valley herbalist, artist, and teacher of traditional wisdom, as part of our ongoing series: Love in the Valley. Sasha has the natural beauty, sweetness, and grace of someone who would live in a storybook. Her connection to the Earth and ancient ways inspires visions of thatched roofs, primeval forests, and flower-laden meandering paths. Yet she is more complex than a character suspended between pages or the past. While Sasha holds a rich knowledge of herbalism and traditional processes that harken back to simpler times, she is no sheltered Luddite or traditionalist and has yet to live off-grid. She lives in modernity’s confusing embrace while relishing the tranquility and generous and wild nature of the Hudson Valley. She admits, though, that she feels like she is between worlds and born in the wrong era.

“It’s not that I resent modernization but am disenchanted by it. I once had the opportunity to live with a sheep-herding family on the Navajo reservation without electricity or running water. It was the most profoundly peaceful and meaningful time of my life. I find that much of modernity serves as a distraction and a hindrance to what truly matters to me. The flashy and bright aspects of modern life often feel overwhelming and painful. Something about pace and rhythm is missing for me and it’s like a bruise.”

Still, she has traveled extensively, markets her hand-harvested and locally made, absolutely divine, small-batch line of organic tinctures and body products, and fluffs her gorgeous Instagram account, like most American 30-somethings. After attaining a B.S. in Cultural Anthropology, her circuitous journey would also lead her to become a certified herbalist, doula, and artist. This is a woman who keeps it real, shares honestly about her life, and is happy to go deep. She also peppers sentences with big laughter and some cursing thrown in now and then for good measure.

The list of timeless ways she expresses herself in the world is long, including those mentioned, as well as weaving, baking, sewing, cross-stitching, ceramic ware and more. As with all her mediums, each creation has her unique imprint, very much informed by the past but not confined by it. Her work and these processes invoke nurturing, healing, and joy- for others and herself, not only because she embodies these qualities but because there is a powerful magic of craft. Cloaked in simple processes, too long discarded as “women’s work” or Indigenous or immigrant “backwardness,” the importance of these technologies and knowledge is finally being recognized.

Craft brings myriad benefits. Unique creative expression, intricacies, and healing ways invite pride in workmanship, the ability to connect more deeply with others, and a visceral awareness of how the past informs the present. Endless studies confirm how craft improves hand-eye coordination and reduces anxiety and depression, loneliness, dementia, eating disorders, PTSD, and more. Additionally, these meditative, repetitive, slow practices seem to slow time, dropping the maker into a calm sense of stillness and appreciation for the present moment.

Through the making of craft and as carriers of earth-based wisdom, we end up with unique beauty that is gentle on the planet while inspiring community and deepening relationships. It encourages the sharing of ideas and techniques. And creations are legacy-making, leaving things for the future that carry potent intentions and skill while connecting each maker to the human past, one’s family, teachers, and lineage.  There is also the practical potentiality that these traditional ways hold to help us survive without reliance on systems and materials that contribute to our collective demise.

A longing to create and heal one another has persisted because such ways have ensured our survival and evolution. Our hands (according to Chinese medicine) on the meridian line of our extraordinary hearts can express our longings in accessible yet impactful ways.

Things can hold meaning and memory. Or they can be mass-produced, corporatized, and meaningless, only to eventually or swiftly clog our overflowing landfills and harm our waterways and bodies.

Take fidget spinners, squeeze, and stress balls, created en masse to reduce anxiety disorders. According to NAMI.org, anxiety disorders are a soaring problem currently affecting some 19% or 40 million U.S. Americans. Those small plastic gadgets contribute to more pollution and do little to create meaning, purpose, rare beauty, actual healing, or community.

In Alexander Langlands’ book CRAEFT, the author writes about how craft invites and proliferates, “Not just a knowledge of making, but a knowledge of being [that] has a spiritual element to it that fits into a wider understanding of who we are and where we are going.” For those who may feel orphaned from the power of traditional ways or creativity—craft and traditional healing offer forgiving paths to reclaim and reconnect.

Sasha knows all this well. Through her classes and many forms of creative expression and healing ways, she reminds us that we don’t have to disassociate from the Earth’s powerful rhythms and beauty and can navigate more joyously. One stitch, one healing balm, one delectable cake made with wild harvested ingredients at a time, she invites more wonder, curiosity and gratitude into our lives. Maybe, too, with these small acts, items, and explorations, we might find and inspire peace within and in others, remembering we are indeed still connected to the natural world, here to support the Earth.

Ready to learn more about this fascinating local in her own words? Keep reading…

INSIDE+OUT: Does your connection to plants, the natural world, and traditional processes come from a family tradition/heritage?

Sasha Botanica: My connection to plants and the natural world did not come from a family tradition or heritage. Instead, it grew alongside me throughout my life out of necessity. I did not grow up in a household with rich cultural traditions being honored and passed down. If anything, the absence of these traditions pushed me to find and create them on my own.

Please describe your early days of courtship. Was it gradual or instant love?

Nature has been my most constant and steadfast companion through all the challenges I’ve faced. It is probably my healthiest relationship and certainly a lifelong love affair. Working with plants has allowed a shift in perception, a remembrance of something essential. This shift was not a sudden transformation but a slow progression that deepened with each season, helping to reframe everything in my life.

What is your cultural/ familial heritage?

I’m Eastern European, Northern European and Italian.

Did you grow up immersed in Nature’s wild?

For the most part, yes, I grew up in a house in the woods in Connecticut.

Top favorite plant ally and why?

What a difficult question! It’s like asking a parent to choose their favorite child. People often ask, “What is this herb good for?” That’s like asking what your friend or grandma is good for? Working with plants depends on what I’m going through in my life at the time and the season, “who” is growing at the time, offering their medicine. For instance, I wouldn’t feel called to work with a rose in the middle of winter unless I had preserved its medicine or dried petals from the summer. I enjoy working with what’s available and getting creative with it.

Have you ever had moments when you feared Nature or an aspect of it?

I used to be very scared of thunder when I was little. During nighttime thunderstorms, I always wished my family could sleep in one room so we could be together and I’d feel safer. Another scary experience was being dragged down by a wave in the ocean, feeling my body being tossed around like a rag doll, unable to tell which way was up or down. I didn’t return to the ocean for a few years after that. I’ve walked barefoot all my life, even through patches of poison ivy, without a problem. But last summer, I got poison ivy and had such a bad reaction that my ankle swelled up and I couldn’t walk. A few weeks later, I got it again, this time covering my whole body. Managing it was a specific and lengthy process and was not what I expected.

Experiences like these, where things felt out of my control, instilled a certain fear in me. It wasn’t necessarily a fear of Nature but of being unable to care for my body. Those moments of powerlessness offer important lessons in respect and reverence. Arrogance and Nature do not bode well together. Humble pie is best served fresh, so you have to watch your attitude, hehe!

Now, I love thunderstorms, enjoy being in the ocean, and still walk barefoot through the woods, mindful and respectful of where I step.

You have written about your relationship to herbalism as a “creative practice.” Can you explain what that means?

After spending a year at the Colorado School for Clinical Herbalism in Boulder, I realized that becoming a certified clinical herbalist wasn’t for me. While the program was excellent, I didn’t want to work with plants and people in a structured setting. It felt too pressured; I just wanted to explore and play.

Take nettle, for example. I was more curious to learn how to create cordage or a dye bath from it. I wanted to understand how its medicinal uses varied across different cultures, both historically and today. I was curious about the folk tales that mention nettle, its symbolism in those stories, and people’s childhood memories associated with it. What does it feel like to walk barefoot through a patch of it? What does it taste like if I powder it, bake it into cakes, and add it to frostings?

I want to experience plants with all my senses. I want to wear them, taste them, create colors from them, sit beside them in the field and listen to what they have to say. I want to make medicine with them and create herbal products to give as gifts or sell at markets.

Creating herbal products from foraged plants offers incredible freedom and commitment simultaneously. The seasonal nature of working with plants suits my flighty nature while keeping me connected to this region because I feel such loyalty to it. The intimacy born from working with and consuming the plants from the area where I’ve made my home becomes a part of me—it’s literally in my blood. This, to me, is the essence of magic—an art of creative exploration.

What do you love most about teaching these traditional crafts and ways?

What an honor it would be to inspire others to open their hearts to wonder. There is no greater gift than that. When people encounter something they never knew was possible, they become more curious and excited about what else might be possible. My hope is that they will begin to see the world as more enchanted than they previously believed.

Connecting with plants is so different for each person; it’s an incredibly intimate experience. The way I truly feel comfortable working with plants and people is to share my own experiences and experiments. I love to see the light of recognition in someone’s eyes when their curiosity is sparked, which is why I want to share what I know with others. And the one thing I do know is that I don’t know. And I am not particularly keen to rub up against anyone claiming they do.

Do you feel we hold some knowledge of the Earth and/or traditional ways in our DNA?

Yes, definitely. Even when I went to herb school, my teacher had said, “You’ve definitely done this work before, so it’s just a remembering, a waking up. If you’re called to this work, it’s for a reason.” For me personally, a lot of it comes through dreams.

Why do you feel sharing and preserving these ways is important?

There is such an honor and beauty to preserving the old ways because time is at the root of it – something we feel we have very little of these days. We want to do things quicker so we “have more time.”

We want to slap a bandaid on it and call it good. We want a magic pill to fix our problems. Healing takes time, and slowing down forces us to be present and connected to the entire process. It’s like walking into any experience—we can be with it and breathe deeply into the beauty and majesty of what is here, or we can get spun out and rush into things and miss the beauty growing beneath our feet. This is actual magic. We become embedded in every step of creating and healing. Consider the depth of connection and respect you would have for a scarf you naturally dyed with foraged flowers and wove on a loom compared to one you bought at Target. You’ve slowed down to appreciate the entire process in a profoundly meaningful way, shifting your perception of how you value time. You learn a lot about yourself when you experience lessons of patience. The process humbles you.

Can you describe a particularly potent moment when you genuinely communed with Nature or a particular plant? Did it surprise you?

The first time I connected with a plant, I was sitting next to a patch of mugwort. I was nearly asleep when I visualized my neck and head extending upward toward the clouds. I remember laughing at how bizarre it would look if it were actually happening while silvery, rainbow colors swirled around my head in the clouds. Years later, I was distilling wormwood (another Artemisia, like mugwort) with my friend Dan. As the hydrosol began to flow from the still, we noticed a colorful rainbow sheen on the top layer from the concentrated essential oils floating on the water. Dan taught me that this rainbow sheen is known in alchemical tradition as the “peacock’s tail,” symbolizing rebirth after death, the liminal state between sleeping and waking, and the “eyes” of the tail representing spiritual sight and visions. I laughed in amazement when I learned this, as it reminded me of my initial experience with my strange mugwort head floating in the clouds. This revelation marked the beginning of my journey into the magical world of Artemisia and taught me that teachers appear in the most unexpected ways.

Why do you think “weeds” get such a bad rap in our modern world?

Overall, modern landscaping and gardening prioritize neat and controlled appearances because of an accepted cultural narrative and lack of knowledge. Whoever pops up to disrupt that uniformity must go, even if that plant is colorful and beautiful, offers pollen to the bees and holds strong medicine like the incredible dandelion. So much of our modern lifestyle prioritizes convenience and control over natural processes; that is where the need for more knowledge comes in.

Tell us about the magic of hydrosols? Do you also create essential oils or focus more on hydrosols and why?

Hydrosols are gentle, aromatic waters obtained through the distillation of plants. They contain the water-soluble components of the plant material, along with trace amounts of essential oils. While some people separate the essential oils from the hydrosol, I have yet to do this myself. Instead, I enjoy exploring what I can create from my hydrosols, such as facial toners and incorporating them into herbal body care products.

Alchemical traditions often viewed distillation as a process of purification and transformation, literally and symbolically. This concept inspires me most about creating hydrosols—capturing the essence of the plant in a pure, liquid form. It is both a practical method of creating valuable substances and a profoundly symbolic act representing the plant’s distilled spiritual and medicinal properties.

In alchemical thought, materials (and humans) are composed of the body (physical form), soul (emotions and psyche), and spirit (divine essence). Distillation can be seen as an allegory for refining these aspects within oneself, which is what fascinates me the most.

Do you have a greatest love in terms of a place or element in Nature and why?

My greatest love has always been the woods of the Northeast. I spent seven years living out west in Montana and Colorado, feeling homesick for this landscape the entire time. While the mountains were beautiful, I couldn’t connect with them on a deeper level beyond basic admiration. Here, there is a depth to the landscape that resonates with me more than anywhere else. It’s the trees, the moist, dark soil, and the water in the air. The distinct four seasons I grew up with have provided a structure or frame that holds me together and keeps me balanced. Being able to honor and move through each season is one of my greatest joys of being human.

If you could choose any time in history to drop into, when would it be and where?

This is one of my favorite questions! My answer changes based on my current interests. Right now, I’d choose Iron Age Scandinavia because I’m fascinated by the practice of Seiðr, which significantly declined after the Christianization of the region. I’d love to go back in time to experience ancient practices firsthand, as so much has been lost, forgotten, and demonized.

Do you feel like you’re between worlds? Are you resentful of modernization?

It’s not that I’m resentful of modernization but disenchanted by it. I once had the opportunity to live with a sheep-herding family on the Navajo reservation without electricity or running water. It was the most profoundly peaceful and meaningful time of my life. Much of modernity serves as a distraction and a hindrance to what truly matters to me. The flashy and bright aspects of modern life often feel overwhelming and painful. Something about pace and rhythm is missing for me and it’s like a bruise. It aches when pressed against.

If you could impart a few of your top “important lessons” about connecting more with Nature, traditional ways, and the urgency of that connection, what would you share?

The first thought that came to mind is that you are allowed to want so much more than whatever your current social/cultural structures are. For myself and many others, those structures often fall flat, and what they offer tends to feel hollow. You can feel so alone when those structures dissolve when you start questioning yourself and your values. But in the natural world, you are never alone. Nature is always there, waiting if you lean into it. If you do, you can cultivate a deeper appreciation and respect for the Earth and inspire positive change in others and our environment. Ask yourself what inspires the most deviation and start there. It likely won’t make any sense, but that’s what makes mysteries exciting.

Photos courtesy of Sasha Botanica

To find out more, take a class, order her products or book Sasha for your private event:
Follow/Connect with Sasha Botanica > Website | Instagram

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