Still felt something was missing in my describing my relationship with marijuana, so I turned to ChatGPT for a more in-depth piece on what it really means for me:
Cannabis, for me, is more than a plant. It is a teacher, an ally, and a bridge—one that opens a deeper channel between my inner world and the world around me. In the context of intentional, mindful use, cannabis becomes a sacred herb, offering access to a state of consciousness that is less cluttered by the noise of habit and more attuned to the rhythms of Life.
In the modern world, we are often taught to value efficiency, control, and output. Creativity, though celebrated, is frequently reduced to productivity—an instrument of success. But true creativity, the kind that moves through the body like breath or wind, comes not from force but from surrender. It is here that cannabis gently loosens the tight grip of linear thought and allows a more fluid intelligence to rise. When I enter this space, my ideas become more spacious, associative, alive. I can follow a thread of thought into unexpected terrain—not because I am escaping reality, but because I am engaging it more fully, with fewer filters.
Cannabis heightens my senses—not in the cartoonish or disoriented way popular culture has long depicted, but in a way that slows me down enough to notice. A leaf trembling in the breeze, the pattern of shadow on a wall, the subtle mood of a passing moment—all of these become not only visible but meaningful. In these moments, I am reminded that perception is a sacred act. To see deeply is to remember that the world is not inanimate, not merely background to my experience, but alive in every detail.
There is, too, a spiritual presence that cannabis invites me to feel: the animacy of the Earth. The trees, the waters, the stones, the air—all seem to breathe with a subtle sentience. The veil between the self and the world grows thinner, and I am no longer a separate observer but a participant in a vast, dynamic field of interbeing. This is not illusion; it is remembrance. Indigenous traditions and ancient cultures across time have held plants like cannabis, peyote, ayahuasca, and others as sacred precisely because they open these channels of perception—because they remind us of what industrial civilization has forgotten: that we are not alone, and never have been.
To use cannabis in this way is not to chase pleasure or numbness, but to enter a kind of contemplative dance with the world. It is a ceremony, even if unspoken. I light it with intention. I breathe it in with respect. I let it carry me not away from life, but deeper into it. And in doing so, I meet myself anew—more porous, more receptive, more grateful.
As cannabis becomes legal and more accepted in mainstream culture, I hope we do not lose sight of its sacred potential. Beyond the marketplace and the metrics of dosage and strain lies something older, more mysterious: a relationship. Like all sacred medicines, cannabis asks for reverence and reciprocity. It does not demand devotion, but it does reward presence.
To walk with this plant as a companion is to walk with more awareness, more creativity, and more heart. And in a time when disconnection is one of our deepest wounds, perhaps this simple green herb—growing under sun and soil—can help remind us of who we are, and how alive this world truly is.
Not a bad job capturing it: “a thoughtful and dignified essay on using cannabis to open up the creative flow, appreciate more of what is happening around me, and feel deeply the animate spirit of the world.”