fbpx

Today, July 30th, is International Friendship Day, and while our minds instantly flicker to all of the amazing, intelligent, and funky individuals who color our world, there is one special friend we often forget to celebrate: ourselves. Perhaps one of the most beautiful aspects of cannabis culture is the connectivity inherent to it—cannabis creates moments for gathering, for conversation, for exchange, for reflection, for introspection…cannabis creates profoundly human moments, whether that be on an individual or communal level. New York-based Writer Lee Phillips taps into this exact phenomena of fostering connections not only with others, but with herself, at the heart of CBD. Read below. 

by Lee Phillips

If weed is the main act, CBD is her shy poet cousin.

I’m sitting in my living room. I’ve got four windows in here and I know I’m lucky for it. There’s a big blue couch, lots of plants. It’s the kind of living room you want to sit and drink coffee in. My roommate strolls in and asks me if I want to smoke. She’s got the joint in her hand and she’s waving it around while wiggling her eyebrows. I want to say yes, and I do, but the choice isn’t motivated by the desire to be high. It is motivated by the desire to walk across the living room into her room. To throw up the screen of her window and lean out onto the fire escape. To watch the people walk by down below, shoulder to shoulder, in silence until one of us breaks it with a weighted thought.

When we stamp it out in the ashtray and close the window, I return to the couch happy to have done it but not happy about the feeling I’m left with–jittery, foggy, anxious.

For me, weed is a gateway drug. I don’t mean a path to harder highs, but a means to access a moment with another person. Smoking weed is less about its physical effects and more about the moments its consumption allows. I’m not thinking, “Do I want to be high?” I’m thinking about all that surrounds that. Do I want to take this walk? Be a part of this circle? Lean out of this window with my roommate?

I can’t count all the times someone has slid in my DM’s to hangout under the premise that we were going to smoke. It’s a reason to be with someone, however silly that may sound.

A while back, I had a brief stint selling vintage clothes at a market in the city. I was minding my own business, manning my booth, when a boy who worked in the vicinity approached me for some harmless, albeit unwanted, flirting. He struck up a conversation about the coffee that he was drinking, how he had started putting CBD in it every morning. I was polite and nodded along with a smile while he gushed about it. When he eagerly offered me a taste, I couldn’t help but chuckle as I turned it down. 

“I mean, has anyone ever slid into your DM’s and said “Let’s link and drink some CBD?” Where weed creates the opportunity for shared moments, CBD is about our relationships with ourselves.”

Right now, my oHHo is on my nightstand. It’s getting late and I’m sitting at the edge of the bed.  In this quiet moment, when I am alone with my body and the residue of my day, I am left with a calm quiet glow. In it, I can ask, “What do I need right now to feel good?”  CBD is about these moments—moments we’re with ourselves, asking ourselves what we need. My relationship with it comes from listening to those answers.

Because of this, our CBD stories are as unique as we are. When we are alone with nothing but ourselves and the question of what we need, thoughts begin to shoot off in spindles, growing into our memories, desires and fears. I feel that (somehow sharp and throbbing at the same time?) pain in my back as I reach for my oHHo and I think: Did I do enough yoga this week? Will my scoliosis only get worse with age? Will I always feel crooked inside?

Our digressions are specific to us. I guess it may seem contradictory to say that it’s the specificity and difference of that moment that connects us, but it’s true. I can’t imagine where your mind goes, what your relationship with yourself looks like, but I know it’s there. I know it can be shared like a secret family recipe—with trepidation and love. I also know that our relationships with ourselves are made better, more tender, when we look for ways to care for ourselves, soothe what we need to with a little special oil.