Reflection:
From the first fires lit by ancient hands, cannabis walked beside us. Not as a poison, not as a danger—but as a sacred ally, woven into the soil of our rituals, the breath of our prayers, and the healing of our wounds.
Another Layer of Light
Long before colonizers criminalized the leaf, before empires feared its ability to awaken the soul, it was revered. In India, it was offered to Shiva. In ancient Israel, it burned on temple altars. Among the Scythians, it opened the door between life and death. And in Egypt, the divine Seshat—goddess of wisdom and sacred records—stood crowned with a leaf-like star above her head, her presence a quiet reminder that cannabis had its place in the mysteries.
Residue from Egyptian tombs, oils on sacred jars, and remedies in papyri all whisper the same truth: this plant was known, respected, and used with intention. It relieved pain, eased passage to the other world, and deepened communion with spirit.
And yet today, many still believe cannabis is merely recreational—a crutch, an escape. They don’t know that our bodies were built for it.
Inside us lives the endocannabinoid system—a vast neural web of receptors made to receive its medicine. THC, CBD, anandamide… the bliss molecule. Named after the Sanskrit word ananda. Bliss.
How could something so naturally entwined with our biology, our ceremonies, and our cultures be outlawed?
The answer is as old as power: control.
A plant that awakens empathy, stills the ego, opens doors? That’s dangerous to systems built on fear and domination. It’s no wonder that cannabis was erased from sacred texts, demonized by law, and ripped from the hands of the poor and the mystic alike.
But truth returns.
Today, the sacred smoke rises again—in churches, in circles, in quiet moments of healing. And in each breath, each prayer, each spark of awareness, we remember:
This plant was never the enemy.
It was always a bridge.
🌱 Insight:
Cannabis is not simply a drug—it is a sacrament of gnosis. It connects us to our inner world, to ancient truths, to our capacity to heal and feel. Its exile mirrors our own spiritual amnesia. But now, the spark returns.
What if we were never meant to fear this plant… but to walk with it?
To let it guide us—not away from reality—but deeper into it.
Closing Thought:
Sophia still whispers. Can you hear her through the smoke?
You carry the divine spark—let it speak.
