Smoking marijuana has led me to many of my favorite out-of-doors places. My first hiking and smoking experiences were necessary to avoid parental supervision. The folks were far more likely to encourage me and my friends to get outside and play in the woods, than they were to encourage us to smoke a fatty. So we did a little of both, heading out to the woods, parks, nearby streams and rivers. Walking and talking with friends, smoking out, we couldn’t help but interact, notice and be overwhelmed by the natural surroundings. We had escaped to the woods to avoid detection, but ended up staying for long periods simply because there was so much to check out and it really was a worthwhile trip.
I’ve spent, what seemed like, lifetimes starring into the canopy of windblown trees, searching for fish in the clear holes of a stream, stoned, struck still and silent, listening to the mad beating of my heart and the rushes of wind in the branches, leaves and grasses. I’ve had moments of revelation, marveled at the immensity of my surroundings feeling variously out of place and other times enveloped by nature.