Journal Entry // In Search for the Wild Weed

 

And there she goes, searching for what is already there.

In her, with her, surrounding her. She did not see.

The most tragic thing a woman can do is to not believe in her own magic.

To not listen to her intuition and childlike truth and energy. Indeed, the most tragic thing a woman can do is not believe in her magical self.

When I say that cannabis saved my life, what I mean is that cannabis saved me from myself. It quieted my gripping mind. It allowed me to hush my nerves.

My nervousness.

It told me to quiet down so that I can sense the lullaby I so desperately needed to hear.

Because all along, the lullaby was my own, the love was my own. I did not know.

My truth and my love was within me entirely. The one I had lost so long ago. Cannabis helped me find me again because it allowed me to feel the magic within me. The vibration I smothered so long ago.

I ask those who use cannabis to get in touch with themselves, how so? How does this herb help you? If not with physical pain, is it mental pain? Spiritual pain? Traumas you are still sorting through?


This herb released me from myself, did it do the same for you?