City Of God 19

Today, pot becomes legal in my country. Uruguay is the only other country that has beat us to it. By the way, for all you English-speakers, it is not pronounced Yoorugway, but Oo-roo-gwai. This is a historic date. Nothing is really going to change, except that marijuana, as of today, loses its rebel cred. I phoned in a comment last week on the morning CBC Radio show, the Early Edition about pot. I said, more or less: "Now that pot is legal, it's no longer fun, like when I was smoking it, and for a while selling it in Toronto, back in the seventies, or when large animals were still roaming the planet." They broadcast my comment, and on hearing it played back I can't remember ever laughing so long and hard, with the hope that it was at least half as entertaining for other listeners. But seriously, folks, I lived in Toronto in 1975 and was trying to finish smoking a huge dime bag of pot I had purchased, and it was really too much for me and my partner. So, I would hole up in a back table in a chic little coffee shop on Isabella off Yonge street, called the Ritz. Staff and management knew what was going on, but the odd free doobie helped keep them quiet, and I would sit there discreetly rolling reefers, me a slim, gentle and very pretty teenage boy (which helped add to my appeal, and immunity), selling them for a buck a pop (in today's rates, more like between five and ten dollars). I made a nice bit of mad money off this little venture, and then promptly retired from the pot business. Then I experienced a spiritual reawakening, returned to Jesus and gave up drugs altogether. It's not going to be the end of the world, nor the world as we know it. Are we going to see a sudden increase of potheads, now that it's legit? Who knows, but maybe a little bit. Which for me begs the question of our relationship with drugs, addiction, and intoxication. I have to admit, smoking pot was fun. I loved it. I would get silly and giddy, and getting stoned with friends was more than half the fun, then we'd all get super hungry and go out and eat like pigs. Do I think I'd enjoy it as much now, should I start smoking it again after more than forty years of abstinence? That is hard to say. There are extenuating factors here. I am much older now. I enjoy having both clear lungs and a clear mind. Marijuana is also going to be a bit expensive, given my tight budget, and my aversion towards spending on silly vanities. I budget strictly every year in order to take those month long trips in Latin America, and getting high on my precious dime would make that difficult. I also don't feel the need to get high. I'm already happy. Pot is also a lot stronger than the stuff I was smoking, at least four times as potent with a much higher THC content. This could be problematic, especially for young users, and there is always the risk of addiction, however minor. Still, to quote the late folk-singer, Phil Ochs, smoking marijuana is more fun than drinking beer. (Too bad he died so young, just twenty-seven in 1970. The talent the world has lost!) The science is also basically in that smoking pot is less harmful than either alcohol, or tobacco, two substances that have never been illegal (apart from a brief and ill-conceived period of prohibition of alcohol), two vastly more harmful substances, and the hypocrisy of straight-laced nay-sayers condemning reefer-madness between sips of their martinis is absolutely obscene. On the other hand, why do we need to get high? There are clear medical benefits to smoking pot, but for me, the fact that there will always be a lot of people so sad, miserable, unfulfilled and empty who will need some kind of drug to make their dark grey lives a little more bearable fills me with sadness and concern. I do not want to deny them their enjoyment, but still wish and hope that they will find in themselves the resources of touching the hem of Christ's garment and find the healing and sweet release that a few tokes alone cannot really emulate. I am also concerned about arable land being wasted on yet another cash crop, land that is going to be required for feeding the hungry masses, especially as climate change from global warming makes large tracks of this planet unliveable. I could go on. Somehow, as we become more aware of the incipient and implicit City of God in our midst, I also wonder and hope, however feebly, that this acceptance of our weakness and frailty as imperfect humans, can also inspire us to judge less and love a little bit more. If only we can get past all the hungry sharks that are salivating over the huge cash grab that is going to be theirs as they morph from sidewalk dealers to legitimate entrepreneurs.