Blessings upon Thee, Little Herb

No fewer than four angels visited to bestow “murder weed” on me.

Sweet, sweet murder weed.

Sweet, sweet murder weed.

Oh, sorry—that’s an old name for the stuff. How’s “loco weed”? Some pundits say it drives you crazy.

Well, if I’m crazier now than before the arrival of this green tea, I’d prefer to remain this kind of crazy. All I did was pour some hot water on enough green stuff to fill a tea ball in a water glass and then sip on the tea whenever the inclination hit me.

I’d been reading about cannabinoids and cancer, cannabinoids and every disease and disorder known to humanity, for months. I decided on some live investigation and visited the local expert, who is waiting for Canada to emerge from legal limbo and figure out how the distribution of herb is going to be done.

It was an education. I emerged all in favor of herb stores where clients—any client, sick or well—can choose from varieties of herb that differ in intensity of cannabinoids and THC, as well as choosing the modality best suited to one’s body, ailment, or lifestyle, whether it’s tea, oil, smoking, vaping, infusing, or what have you. Knowledge is control, and control is what I’m after in my search for health.

What I can’t support is Big Biz horning in on an industry that should be kept completely local. Small operators only! The stuff can grow everywhere, after all. Go ahead, government: regulate grass, credential sellers and growers and then take your pound of flesh in tax—but don’t let those greedy big corporations in the door. For centuries pot has been a free gift of nature and so it must stay.

Getting the form for the prescription of medical marijuana was the easy part. Finding a doctor sufficiently well seated in the current century to give me the prescription? That’s a lot harder.

So I made a glass of green tea. In three nights the terrible screaming nerve pain disappeared. Blessed sleep stretched itself out like a happy cat from six hours to eight. I stopped taking the Elavil and the acupuncture—this mild green tea still keeps me from The Horror. I sleep well. The arm has stopped yammering. Even the tingling and numbness is 98% gone.

It’s a green miracle. Free from Nature and these ministering community angels.

Repeat after me: me gusta mucho la mota. Me gusta mucho la chala. Me gusta mucho el pasto. Me gusta mucho el tobareto. Me gusta mucho la grifa. Me gusta mucho la hierba. Me gusta mucho la Maria (which does not mean what your Spanish text suggests). Me gusta el gallo (contrary to your Spanish text, this does not mean you want chicken for dinner, or an early wake-up call, or hot sex—but it might be taken that way; so maybe save the guy-o term for occasions when you’re absolutely sure of what you’re doing). J’aime Marie Jeanne (which might or might not mean what your French text suggests).

Such words will take you far in your travels to meccas of green, grassy tea. Just be sure it’s legal in each location.

In the US, the vernacular may still get you into legal trouble, although the times, they are a-changin’. Pot is still illegal in many areas. Even the mere possession of weed is a no-no in certain states. Dope has been criminalized for almost eighty years—it’s almost an American tradition, in spite of the fact that during the Dirty Thirties, “smoke” grew freely on every vacant lot and was used by everybody and his dog who needed a boost through those difficult times. To people like Harry Anslinger, grass was an invader from the south, along with immigrants from warmer climes, and he warned America, under oath, in 1937:

“Marijuana is the most violence-causing drug in the history of mankind. Most marijuana smokers are Negroes, Hispanics, Filipinos and entertainers. Their satanic music, jazz and swing, result from marijuana usage.”

Wow. I had no idea. Is that why my tan from Down Under refuses to fade? Why I’m now mercilessly swatting flies in my kitchen? No wonder my stiff fingers are itching to touch the piano keys again. It’s going to be a hot time in Powell River tonight! Bottoms up with that cup of green tea and let’s dance!

Blessings upon thee, little herb. You’re just a plant but…some plant!


Image is public domain.


This post and others made possible with help from generous contributors to the Wellness 4 Wolffy campaign. If you enjoy this blog and want to see more posts like this one, please help support Wolffy in her quest to get well.

An image saying "Wellness 4 Wolffy" in blue text. Two wolves stand howling on either side of the text, and the number 4 rests over a paw print.

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