(part 5) pro’s of using recreational Marijuana

This part will contain the pro’s (cons to follow) of using weed as a recreational drug. First, at the top of my list: you should NOT need to get high on ANY drug in order to have fun. . . but many people do, they get drunk, they use coke, ecstasy, speed, all sorts of stuff I don’t even know about, and they smoke weed.

Weed is probably the least damaging of the list and alcohol the most. Yet why do you think it is that people who have no problem getting drunk at the party and making a fool of themselves, many times are the same people who scream the loudest when you tell them, “I smoke pot.”

Pot smoking is a sin . . . it’s against the law . . . it makes you stupid . . . turns you into an addict . . . on and on it goes, foolish talk from foolish, self justifying folks. I’ve heard it so many times over the years I don’t even listen any more. I really don’t care what people or their god thinks about me and my pot smoking, but I do care what I think about myself.


Before I moved to Portland, joined the counter culture movement and started using pot, I was a drinker. In Ohio we all drank. We partied hard and the night many times ended up in a fist fight, or in the back of a paddy wagon, or wrapped around a toilet puking our guts out.

When I moved to Portland I couldn’t believe at first how nobody got into fights. It wasn’t all because of the weed of course, but the whole time I was in Portland living in the streets most of it, I never saw a fist fight.

Maybe we were all just too stoned to fight. I mean, wow, man why would I want to hit anybody in the first place? That kind of behavior has no place in a highly incensed room full of laid back people digging on each other as well as the Rolling Stones.

Pot is the most non aggressive drug on the entire list . . . and yet it has this horrible reputation. How come? You tell me.

Anyway as I aged a bit I mostly quit partying and started using weed to help me explore within myself. I would get high in a darkened room and think . . . and think some more. I was meditating, but didn’t realize it. It just seemed to me that I could see things that I had never seen before when I was stoned.

It was at that time that I found (for me) a higher purpose to smoke weed than just having a good time. I also took LSD (but that’s another story) and through it all, my nature quite honestly turned over night from passive aggressive tough guy to a guy who began to take interest in music, and art, and poetry. . . I was born again! Really, I was.

That was the gift I had given myself. I had dropped all the bullshit and allowed ME to emerge from it. Not saying I have arrived anywhere, but I know without a doubt I had found the pathway to beginning the journey . . . and pot helped me find it. It didn’t do it for me, it just allowed me to enter a zone where I could do it for myself.

So during the last 25 years or so, since I’ve remarried, I smoked privately with my wife and close friends not caring much what anybody else thought about it. (I still raise eyebrows though if I begin to talk about weed to certain people.) After a hard day building houses, ‘happy hour’ was a toke or two on the old pipe. It relaxed me and put me to sleep like a baby in his crib.

On weekends the second floor of our lakefront cottage became a dance hall where my wife and I would get stoned and dance to the oldies, Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, but always we ended up making love on the dance hall floor, or in a chair, or on the staircase . . . or . . . you get the picture, weed creates the environment for GREAT sex between two people who know and are at ease and comfortable with each other.

It’s fun. It helps one to see through the glass clearly (instead of darkly like Paul said) It feels good to get high. It’s relaxing. It causes non violent behavior in people like myself.

Today I’m a retired old guy and my wife has many health problems so we don’t smoke much and the dance halls gone, but when we do, it still brings that certain sparkle into her eyes . . . and we laugh about it . . . and reminisce.


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