I’ve always been fascinated and infatuated by the story in the anti-lesson.
What greater anti-lesson out there in the world today than the history of pot.
Deemed problematic, marijuana received rough notoriety over the last 100 years. Which is difficult to conceptualize for a few reasons.
The first one being that I was raised to think that smoking a fatty was sin worthy and an illegal offense.
But for something to be illegal, doesn’t it have to be a crime? Which means there has to be a victim, right? So, if I smoke a doink before I go for a walk in the woods, or before I cook dinner for my significant other, who is the victim there? If there is no victim, there is no crime taking place, right?
Secondly, how does something used as a medicine by doctors end up as a narcotic?
Was it the stigma invented around Mary Jane that has prompted us to abandon the struggle and clutch our pearls in fear? Perhaps it was a gang of hypocritical dramatics created by insecure, unreasonable prima donnas in an appalling moment of greed?
There are three things that occur in a good moment: marijuana, food, and music.
Have you ever smoked a joint while cooking a wonderful feast and listening to your favorite song simultaneously? It’s extremely cathartic.
We have to understand by now that it’s no longer about where you’re headed. Instead, it’s about how far you’ve come after they said you couldn’t. Let’s look back to the return of normalcy. Which just so happens to be around the same period that our five fingered friends were made illegal. Ironic how the same thing is occurring in the world right now.
Maybe it IS time for a revolution.
It’s time we revive the passion for both cooking and cannabis through appreciation. Enough with a lack of nuanced dynamics and lack of data some people hide behind. We have to muster up the courage to stand up for something that is healing us. Courage can sustain beyond a broken body.
And I’m already more than battle worn.
Then again, that’s a bit too dramatic. I say we stick some Hindu Kush into a homemade cassoulet. Not only will the aromas make you think back to simpler times. You know, the ones where you stood eye level to the stove and watched in awe as you finally figured out where the smell came from.
Who would have thought that a tattooed low life such as myself, would help others heal from within using weed?
At this point in my career and life, I am no longer searching for an ashtray for my bad habits and a shot glass for my sins. Very few get the chance to outrun the devil.
Utilizing jazz cabbage, we can help shepherd the generations to come away from the demented, depraved, dystopian ways we used to believe would work. There are no surprises here.