I read today this today:
“Weed gave me a way to slow down and be present with my body and allowed me some space to better be able to sit down and write. It meant a lot—and still means a lot today—as somebody who has ever-racing thoughts."
Annika Hansteen-Izora said it and I couldn’t agree more.
I was waiting until I quit my job at a company to be more open about my experience with weed. Now that I’ve quit, I know that to continue pushing off my responsibility to live in truth would be succumbing to a stigma assigned to the plant’s usage by a power structure obsessed with control over subversive cultures. I am proud to be a part of a culture of disobedience, because I know it poses a threat to a series of false systems we’re afraid to admit are actually harmful, racist, greedy, etc.
I love my relationship with weed. I have to tell myself all the time that it’s okay to feel how I feel about it. Because I didn’t even expect to like it, let alone be passionate about something I was always told was not worth trying, or in love with a group of people I was told I shouldn’t hang around with, or so saddened by the effects of its illegality, which is now pretty much universally recognized as a smoke screen for detaining black and brown people for decades. No one should be in jail for weed.
I’ve met a lot of people here in Europe that I’ve watched carefully conceal their judgement when I tell them I smoke every day (under normal, non-traveling circumstances). I’m glad they don’t come right out and tell me it’s stupid or whatever, but the look in their eyes changes, and the corner of their mouth tightens, and I watch the gears in their brains try to reframe my existence into a new category of person that frankly I’ll never quite fit into. I can tell they think just the slightest bit less of me until I can win them back with a joke or two at my own expense.
That’s the problem, though.
Cannabis is a plant that, when used properly, I’ve only ever seen turn people into healthier, happier and more understanding people. It’s a better depression medicine than any pill, a better muscle relaxer than any sedative, a better life-supplement than any vitamin. It helps with pain and loss of appetite, it’s helped me work through grief and sadness without numbing my feelings, and it stems some really excellent ideas, as well as some rather incoherent ones. It’s a beautiful and useful plant that doesn’t deserve to be treated with a wink and a nod every time we talk about it.
And as long as black and brown people are still being disproportionately locked up for using it while the data shows they are no more likely than white people to use it, making nervous jokes or dismissing stoners as second-class citizens will just be thinly-veiled ways of avoiding our responsibility to safeguard each other’s well-being.
That’s what I think about it.
I’m no longer ashamed of myself or worried about my habit.
No longer scared of people thinking less of me, because I understand where the fear comes from and it’s not real.
No longer scared of authority because I know they’re scared of me.
And I’m no longer quiet about it because I hope you are not quiet about the things that you love and the things you feel are important.
But that’s just me, so here’s this:
A couple notes on safe/suggested usage:
Everyone that has told me that they tried weed once and will never ever do it again has told me almost the exact same story. That’s about twenty to thirty people in my life and about five people since I’ve arrived in Europe three weeks ago.
Generally the story starts either in Amsterdam or at a party, and it includes a group of friends, a full night of drinking, and eating a whole edible. Or 30 edibles at once in one outlying case (you know who you are). I believe every single person who tells me this was a terrible experience. I know from experience that edibles are very powerful (I once ate a whole edible on my birthday and got so high in the shower that the bathroom fan started to sound like a fire engine, which meant obviously my apartment was on fire, which meant I had no time to rinse the shampoo out of my hair and I needed to run half-naked and sudsy into the living room where my friend was staying on my couch), and that drinking usually adds a creeping, uncomfortable nausea to a powerful high.
Please, for your own sake, be safe, careful and intelligent, especially when trying weed for the first time. Here are a some guidelines I am happy to give you.
Split your edible in half. Then wait an hour for it to kick in. If it’s been an hour and you don’t feel anything, wait another 20 minutes just to be safe. It will hit you like a freight train (it may hit you slowly, but it is still a train).
If it’s a joint, take ONE hit from the joint, then wait at least 5 minutes until letting your friend peer-pressure you into taking a second. Same deal here. “I don’t feel anything.” -> “Wait, do I feel something?” -> “Oh, here it comes.”
Speaking of peer-pressure, make sure you are with people you are very comfortable with, because cannabis is a mind-bending substance that will turn a group of loud and apish boys into an enemy horde that is out to get you.
To those who got high one time and started crying uncontrollably, I am sorry. Weed can be known to bring repressed or unspoken thoughts and feelings to the surface. It’s best to work through them rather than against them. Ultimately the process is probably good for you, but this is why comfort is key. Get high with your best friend, or someone kind and understanding, just in case you have to confront something you wouldn’t want to share with anyone else.
Try it in nature, not somewhere busy and public. Like, definitely opt for a sunset rather than a concert when you’re getting used to the effects. A concert will become an excellent place to get high, but start with something you can just let your perspective rest on, like a movie or a lakefront.
Eat something. Pretty much anything. Something fresh ideally, but after like 40 minutes, a cake with mayonnaise frosting may start to make sense. Experiment freely, but don’t be gross.
Lastly, just be yourself. Do something you usually do, for another layer of comfort. Listen to music. Create something. Write down all your highdeas. Some of them will be great, some of them will make zero sense. I mean, “cars are cows with windows?” What does that even mean?! Just don’t judge yourself, or take yourself too seriously. Don’t be embarrassed when you say something silly and people laugh. Enjoy the moment and the laughter and the kinship. You are here on earth to enjoy nature and food and company, and weed is my favorite vessel for keeping me present.