The Sacred Smoke
My Quest for a Conscious Cannabis High
Written By: GREG GILMAN
A woman sobbing through a macro dose of psilocybin saturates my ears while the pungent odor of well-worn shoes sneaks up my nostrils.
I’m not bothered by the emotional breakdown in the background as much as I am the foot funk in the fore. My shoes, I realize, are the source of the stink, and now I’m worrying that dozens of others huddled around me for the cannabis meditation portion of this psychedelic conference may also be catching a whiff.
But these are just THC-soaked clouds of paranoia drifting through my personal sky of awareness, so I close my eyes, straighten my posture, and recall the eternal wisdom of the Buddha: drop it.
As anxiety clears and a pathway to my true Self nears, I tune in to the swell of energy we call breath cycling through my body with each exhalation.
The subtle, rarely recognized flow feels good. Like, really good. And unlike my previous bungled attempts at meditation, I’m too busy feeling that goodness circulating throughout my nervous system to notice the usual waves of thought constantly crashing in my mind.
This is my introduction to conscious cannabis use, a modality I’m just waking up to at the Psychedelic Institute of Los Angeles’ annual Awakening conference, which blends panels, vendors, and experiences like this one for three delirious days of human connection in Highland Park.
In my two decades of adulthood, I’ve dropped acid, eaten magic mushrooms, partied on MDMA, and even smoked the elusive secretions of the Colorado River toad for several mind-melting trips on 5-MeO-DMT. But it turns out, I’ve been wasting the psychedelic potential of my good bud cannabis.
“In terms of the pure psychedelic issue, the way to do cannabis is once a week in silent darkness, alone, with the best stuff you can get,” advised legendary psychonaut, philosopher, and ethnobotanist Terrence McKenna in one of his many lectures immortalized on the internet.
But even McKenna, one of the Western world’s most famous stoners, used it mainly recreationally instead of consciously. “The problem is that people get into it, myself included, for other reasons than that hallucinogenic flash.”
Smoking weed isn’t really a problem, until it’s a problem. And for me, smoking daily with a newborn baby in a house ruled by the majesty of my social worker wife would be a problem. So, I gave it up to be more present for my family, wandering through vivid, exhausting dreamscapes for six months until finally settling into an unmedicated sleep cycle for the first time in 15 years.
I do miss it, though.
Perhaps treating cannabis as a conduit for a weekly religious experience is a more conscious use for a folk singer settling into his dad era.
There is magic to be harvested from this plant, a gift from the gods that was once considered a holy sacrament in ancient cultures and is now a candy-coated commodity cashing in billions for our modern world of industry, a capitalistic way of life that has steamrolled the sacred subtleties floating in every mindful inhalation.
Long before people were ripping bongs to get baked, the chief aim was to wake. Legend has it Hindu god Shiva and Egyptian god Thoth smoked cannabis as a source of divine power, leading their followers to do the same. It’s also a central sacrament in the Rastafarian religion, and has roots in Chinese Taoism, too.
Perhaps treating cannabis as a conduit for a weekly religious experience is a more conscious use for a folk singer settling into his dad era.
I reach out to my local neo-shaman medicine man, who is intertwined with the city’s ayahuasca scene and has guided me through several DMT ceremonies. Surely, he must have dabbled in the spiritual depths of dank-ass weed or at least knows people who have.
“I used to go to an ayahuasca church here, and the guy who ran it really frowned upon smoking cannabis,” he says.
Apparently, there is a rift between followers of Mother Aya and those who channel the spirit of cannabis, which is often described as feminine as well. When I inquire if he’s ever gotten high for meditation purposes, he says, “Weed is a really sticky mistress. It makes me feel cloudy. Ultimately, I’m probably better without it.”
Sticky icky, indeed. My experimentation is yielding mixed results, alternating between borderline mystical experiences and mundane cravings for junk food and porn, two old habits I don’t want to invite back into my life. Mary Jane, it turns out, is a temptress as much as she is a teacher. But perhaps her temptations are the lessons.
I’m also running into roaring thoughts that overwhelm my focus and distract me from my intention to just sit with it and settle into the vibration. WhenI do, however, that vibration is more pronounced than I’ve ever felt meditating sober.
While listening to a guided meditation in my backyard on a cool November night, I experience near complete dissociation with the body, transported by the hum of the spoken word to an inner world. The mind’s eye witnesses my body disintegrate into sand, watching layers upon layers being blown away by a Force of Nature flowing through me.
A commercial break in the YouTube video snaps me back to 3D existence, revealing a major flaw in my dependence on devices for this exploration. Then, I remember a few words of wisdom from the facilitator who guided me through my initial cannabis meditation:
“The container is everything.”
Set and setting are conditions that determine the quality of a magic mushroom trip—and life, in general—so why would a conscious cannabis experience be any different?
“Some people can do this on their own,” says transformational artist Monique Benabou, a singer who also works in the sound healing space and leads cannabis ceremonies. “I think that if you're going to go into deep psychology and parts work, that it’s best to have someone who can anchor you.”
Mary Jane, it turns out, is a temptress as much as she is a teacher. But perhaps her temptations are the lessons.
Benabou partners on events with VAYA, a brand of cannabis committed to organic cultivation and conscious consumption, founded by Grammy winning musician Salvadore Santana and filmmaker Vincenzo Carrano.
“VAYA comes from a relationship with the plant that tells us conscious cannabis is about a way of living; it's a way of consuming the plant, using it as a tool for personal development,” Carrano says in the same conversation. “It’s not about escaping; it’s about entering more fully into reality. On a psychological and physiological level, cannabis opens, softens, calms and dissolves boundaries.”
A common complaint about cannabis from the uninitiated is intense anxiety or paranoia, but those who consciously sit with it have come to understand the amplified waves of emotion as an invitation to examine their source.
“Call it a house of mirrors,” Benabou says. “That’s something that presents in cannabis ceremony: shadow aspects around desire, attraction, lust, and addiction. It’s an incredible opportunity to dive into each of those doors, each of those portals, and through the energy of the feminine, do some really loving inner child parenting and nurturing.”
What strain is smoked and how it is grown are also important ingredients to consider for the ideal container.
“What I’ve studied with natural cannabis,” she explains, “is that there is a particular geometry that blooms within one’s experience. It has its own arc and its own alchemy.”
“With chemically engineered, enhanced or modified cannabis,” she continues, “the completion element of the bloom is missing. And so, what happens is, it actually activates lack and scarcity in the system.”
Jordan Wolan, a Los Angeles-based psychedelic therapist who specializes in cannabis, guides individuals through 5-hour journeys of inner work with the strain of their choice.
“It’s not for everyone, but for those who are healthy and have an intention, it’s a very special, safe container for them,” she tells me when I call to inquire about a session.
Her therapeutic process begins with a health screening, preparatory sessions to talk through intention, and then integration sessions after the intimate one-on-one ceremony.
“It’s a lot different than just, like, getting high on the couch with your friends,” she says. “People feel like there's a release of something. There's shaking—literal shaking—out of things that have been stuck: emotions or traumas or various old patterns. People feel very light, very peaceful, and things just feel better. So, it’s like an energy reset.”
But her reset costs more money than this stay-at-home dad can give to the cause. As my quest for a quintessential conscious cannabis experience stretches into the year-end holiday season, my options are dwindling. It's looking like I’ll be settling for the McKenna method, an approach VAYA co-founder Carrano fully endorses.
“You don’t need the guide. You don’t need anything. You need direct experience,” he says. “Go into the night and connect with that realm of the Gaia matrix. It’s there, and the more you’re aware and open to it, the more you can engage in dialogue with it.”
Maybe the matrix is already listening, though, because Santa drops an early gift: Marijuana Meditations, a conscious cannabis event company founded by Darrien Divinity, announces one last guided sound bath smoke sesh before Christmas.
The entrepreneur is among a new wave of pioneers bridging modern cannabis consumption with an archaic revival of ancient wisdom practices. “When we approach it with reverence and intention,” claims the marijuana mystic on her website, “it reveals profound truths about ourselves and our connection to all that is.”
So, a day after the dawn of a new moon cycle coincides with interstellar object 3I/ATLAS making its closest approach to Earth, the stars align for a chance at my deepest dance with Mother Mary yet.
"When we approach it with reverence and intention,” she says, “it reveals profound truths about ourselves and our connection to all that is."
Back in the container.
This time, my shoes don’t stink. And after inhaling half a joint of sun-grown cannabis rolled with blue lotus flower, an ancient Egyptian herb known for euphoric and mildly psychoactive effects, I’m vibrating significantly higher in this cushioned container. But there is another anxiety swirling around in my mind: I forgot to take a leak before sitting. The theme of this marijuana meditation is “release,” and I’m worried I may get so relaxed in this state of euphoria, I will release my bladder.
After a few minutes of sitting with a heightened sensation of urinary urgency, I release the concern and shift my attention higher up the chakra chain, alternating between the head and the heart, which are in conflict at the moment. Or always have been. Either way, their war for dominance has been amplified, and I’m caught in the crossfire.
A deep ding from one of the singing bowls blasts a vibration that connects with my chest and invites my awareness into a diamond-shaped tunnel of cosmic bliss. This is it, I think, the bloom. But to think is to error, because one thought triggers another, and the trip toward the edge of paradise is interrupted by an avalanche of mentation.
Shadow assumes control in this house of mirrors. Now I’m a man in a box, arguing with a cellmate who can morph into any enemy I can imagine. One confrontation leads to another, and it’s exhausting.
Ding.
Another powerful vibration travels through sound waves, kissing my forehead with a gentle reminder that I’m arguing with myself, in a prison of my own limitations, and I can leap out into the vast infinity surrounding these walls if I just let go of the thoughts constructing them.
Easier said than done, though. Infinity is out of reach for this meditation. My high is fading and gravity is gripping. I’m called to open my eyes, survey the room filled with other seekers, and reconnect with my body while our host wraps up with an invitation to share.
A man to my left, who I noticed visibly shaking throughout the sound bath, says his journey was reminiscent of a 5-MeO-DMT experience. To my right, another man chimes in that he’s never experienced anything like this while stoned.
“I think I’ve been smoking cannabis wrong my whole life,” he says, and I couldn’t agree more.
