My time with Spirulina

What started as self-nurturing unfolded into something much larger.

Cannabis opened the door back into my body. Mushrooms widened my sense of intelligence in nature. And mushrooms, inevitably, led me to spirulina.

As I dove deeper into mushroom research, I found William Padilla-Brown, author of Guide to Cordyceps, along with his work on phycology. I could feel immediately that this wasn’t casual science. Cordyceps had already shown me what intelligent nutrition looks like, so when I saw spirulina enter the conversation, I paid attention. I bought the book. Then another. Then started experimenting.

I tried a lot of powdered mushroom supplements. Eventually I landed on powdered spirulina. I already knew enough to be curious, but I didn’t yet understand the difference between powdered spirulina and living spirulina.

Years later, I finally expanded a culture wide enough to harvest and consume. That’s when it clicked. Fresh or frozen spirulina has so much to offer when it comes to nourishment. Real nourishment. The kind that feels cellular, not conceptual.

Fresh spirulina is a nourishment powerhouse. Powdered spirulina is… fine. But it isn’t the same. Powder has a distinct taste and texture. Fresh spirulina, when grown and handled well, has almost no flavor and a smooth, soft texture that feels alive in the body. The difference is not subtle.

Cultivating spirulina is not easy for me. It was experimental, demanding, and humbling. And honestly, it was wonderful. Watching the cultures respond to light, temperature, and movement felt like collaborating with a living intelligence. Some of you found me on TikTok during that time, watching the cultures rise to the surface, shift in different environments, and glow that unmistakable green. It felt like true green peace. I loved sharing it.

Eventually, after looking more closely under a microscope, I noticed other microorganisms present in my cultures. Nothing dramatic, nothing catastrophic, but enough for me to stop consuming them. I slowly let those cultures go. That felt right. Respectful.

I fully intend to grow spirulina again in this lifetime. Just not right now.

Recently, I found a new source of fresh spirulina grown at a much larger, more controlled scale. Yesterday, I placed an order for 120 packets of fresh frozen spirulina and started a subscription that gives me enough to nourish myself as if I were genuinely depleted. Because sometimes… that’s the honest place to start.

It hasn’t arrived yet. It’s being harvested fresh tomorrow and shipped out right after. And I’ll be real, I’m excited in a way that feels almost childlike. Knowing that level of nutrition is on its way to my doorstep feels grounding, hopeful, and deeply practical.

When it comes to consolidating what spirulina actually provides, the clearest, most comprehensive resource I’ve ever found is a book by Marianne Erika Myers. Her work doesn’t just list nutrients. It tells stories.

Marianne traveled extensively, using spirulina to address malnourishment in developing countries and in underserved communities within the United States. She taught women how to cultivate spirulina not just for themselves, but for their families, their neighbors, and even their animals. Spirulina as community infrastructure. Spirulina as empowerment. Spirulina as something alive, practical, and generous.

That framing changed me.

This isn’t about chasing superfoods. It’s about remembering that nourishment can be simple, intelligent, and collaborative with nature. Spirulina showed me that once. It’s about to remind me again.