T
The420Guy
Guest
My improbable cannabis enlightenment began in 1967. I was concerned that so
many young people were using the terribly dangerous drug marijuana, so I
decided to review the medical and scientific literature on the substance
and write a reasonably objective and scientifically sound paper on its
dangers. Young people were ignoring the warnings of the government, but
perhaps some would seriously consider a well-documented review of the
available data.
As I began to explore the literature, I discovered, to my astonishment,
that I had to seriously question my own understanding. What I thought I
knew was based largely on myths, old and new. I realized how little my
training in science and medicine had protected me against this
misinformation. I had become not just a victim of a disinformation
campaign, but because I am a physician, one of its agents as well.
To share my new skepticism, I wrote a book, Marijuana Reconsidered, which
was published in 1971 by Harvard University Press. While writing the book I
considered trying marijuana, not because I thought it would inform my work,
but because it appeared to be an interesting recreational experience. I
decided against it in order to avoid compromising my objectivity.
After publication, I began to explore marijuana as a drug for relaxation
and recreation, and I was not disappointed. In fact, it soon displaced
alcohol altogether. I was 44 years old in 1972, when I experienced my first
marijuana high. I have found cannabis so useful and so benign that I have
used it ever since-as a recreational drug, as a medicine and as an enhancer
of some capacities.
I am one of more than 12 million Americans who use it regularly. We smoke
marijuana not because we are driven by uncontrollable "Reefer Madness"
cravings, as some propaganda would have others believe, but because we have
learned its value from experience. Yet almost all of the research, writing,
political activity and legislation devoted to marijuana has been concerned
only with the question of whether it is harmful and how much harm it does.
The only exception is the growing interest in the exploration of cannabis
as a medicine, but as encouraging as that development is, it represents
only one category of marijuana use. The others are sometimes grouped under
the general heading of "recreational," but that is hardly an adequate
description of, say, marijuana's capacity to heighten the appreciation of
music and art or to strengthen the sense of connection to the natural
world. It can deepen emotional and sexual intimacy, crystallize new ideas
and insights, and expand one's capacity to appreciate new aspects of life.
Experienced users know that ideas flow more readily under its influence.
Some of these ideas are good, some are bad; sorting them out is best done
while straight. Now, whenever I have a difficult problem to solve or
decision to make, I try to think about it both stoned and straight.
I often wonder whether, if I had begun to use cannabis earlier, I would
have avoided making some choices I now regret. The worst career choice I
ever made was to enter psychoanalytic training. Although I became skeptical
about some aspects of psychoanalytic theory during that time, my qualms
were not sufficient to dull the enthusiasm with which I began treating
patients psychoanalytically in 1967. It was not until the mid-'70s, shortly
after I began to smoke marijuana, that my emerging doubts about the
therapeutic effectiveness of psychoanalysis began to make me uncomfortable.
The evenings when I smoke marijuana provide, among other things, an
opportunity to review ideas, events and interactions of the day. This
cannabis review-of-the-day is almost always self-critical, often harshly
so, and its scope is broad. In 1980, the cumulative effect of these stoned
self-critiques finally made me decide not to accept new psychoanalytic
patients and then to resign from the Boston Psychoanalytic Institute.
I had been puzzled for many years over one aspect of another bad decision I
made, this time as an adolescent. In later years it was not difficult for
me to understand why I made the decision to leave high school early in my
senior year to enter the Merchant Marine. What I could not understand was
why my loving father (since deceased) so readily acquiesced to this plan;
he never lifted a finger to try to prevent his promising high school
student son from abandoning our shared dream of my going to college. One
evening while stoned many years later it came to me, and I now understand
what had seemed so inexplicable about his behavior. Would I have eventually
figured it out without the subtle alteration of consciousness that cannabis
provides? Perhaps.
There is no denying that many people, especially young people, use
marijuana mainly for "partying and hanging out". And most non-users (at
least until they learn of its medical value) believe that is all cannabis
is useful for. This stereotype is so powerful that reactions ranging from
puzzlement to outrage greet claims to the contrary. Anyone who attributes
more than recreational and medicinal value to marijuana runs the risk of
being derided as a vestigial hippie. So it is not surprising that many
people who use cannabis do so behind drawn curtains.
If more people in the business, academic and professional worlds were known
to be marijuana users, the government would not find it so easy to pursue
its harmful and wasteful disinformation campaign. That campaign continues
partly because of the widespread false belief that cannabis smokers are
either irresponsible and socially marginal people or adolescents who
"experiment" and "learn their lesson." These lies are perpetuated when
those who know better remain silent. The gay and lesbian out-of-the-closet
movement has done much to reduce homophobia in this country. It may be
difficult in the current climate where dissenters are intimidated and
profiled, but if the many people of substance and accomplishment who use
cannabis could find the courage to "come out" in the same way, they could
contribute greatly to the diminution of "cannabinophobia" and help to end
the harassment, persecution and prosecution of innocent marijuana users.
Dr. Lester Grinspoon is an emeritus professor of psychiatry at Harvard
Medical School. He is the author of Marijuana Reconsidered and a co-author
of Marijuana, the Forbidden Medicine. He currently manages the website
www.marijuana-uses.com.
A Cannabis Odyssey
By LESTER S. GRINSPOON
Published on Monday, September 15, 2003
many young people were using the terribly dangerous drug marijuana, so I
decided to review the medical and scientific literature on the substance
and write a reasonably objective and scientifically sound paper on its
dangers. Young people were ignoring the warnings of the government, but
perhaps some would seriously consider a well-documented review of the
available data.
As I began to explore the literature, I discovered, to my astonishment,
that I had to seriously question my own understanding. What I thought I
knew was based largely on myths, old and new. I realized how little my
training in science and medicine had protected me against this
misinformation. I had become not just a victim of a disinformation
campaign, but because I am a physician, one of its agents as well.
To share my new skepticism, I wrote a book, Marijuana Reconsidered, which
was published in 1971 by Harvard University Press. While writing the book I
considered trying marijuana, not because I thought it would inform my work,
but because it appeared to be an interesting recreational experience. I
decided against it in order to avoid compromising my objectivity.
After publication, I began to explore marijuana as a drug for relaxation
and recreation, and I was not disappointed. In fact, it soon displaced
alcohol altogether. I was 44 years old in 1972, when I experienced my first
marijuana high. I have found cannabis so useful and so benign that I have
used it ever since-as a recreational drug, as a medicine and as an enhancer
of some capacities.
I am one of more than 12 million Americans who use it regularly. We smoke
marijuana not because we are driven by uncontrollable "Reefer Madness"
cravings, as some propaganda would have others believe, but because we have
learned its value from experience. Yet almost all of the research, writing,
political activity and legislation devoted to marijuana has been concerned
only with the question of whether it is harmful and how much harm it does.
The only exception is the growing interest in the exploration of cannabis
as a medicine, but as encouraging as that development is, it represents
only one category of marijuana use. The others are sometimes grouped under
the general heading of "recreational," but that is hardly an adequate
description of, say, marijuana's capacity to heighten the appreciation of
music and art or to strengthen the sense of connection to the natural
world. It can deepen emotional and sexual intimacy, crystallize new ideas
and insights, and expand one's capacity to appreciate new aspects of life.
Experienced users know that ideas flow more readily under its influence.
Some of these ideas are good, some are bad; sorting them out is best done
while straight. Now, whenever I have a difficult problem to solve or
decision to make, I try to think about it both stoned and straight.
I often wonder whether, if I had begun to use cannabis earlier, I would
have avoided making some choices I now regret. The worst career choice I
ever made was to enter psychoanalytic training. Although I became skeptical
about some aspects of psychoanalytic theory during that time, my qualms
were not sufficient to dull the enthusiasm with which I began treating
patients psychoanalytically in 1967. It was not until the mid-'70s, shortly
after I began to smoke marijuana, that my emerging doubts about the
therapeutic effectiveness of psychoanalysis began to make me uncomfortable.
The evenings when I smoke marijuana provide, among other things, an
opportunity to review ideas, events and interactions of the day. This
cannabis review-of-the-day is almost always self-critical, often harshly
so, and its scope is broad. In 1980, the cumulative effect of these stoned
self-critiques finally made me decide not to accept new psychoanalytic
patients and then to resign from the Boston Psychoanalytic Institute.
I had been puzzled for many years over one aspect of another bad decision I
made, this time as an adolescent. In later years it was not difficult for
me to understand why I made the decision to leave high school early in my
senior year to enter the Merchant Marine. What I could not understand was
why my loving father (since deceased) so readily acquiesced to this plan;
he never lifted a finger to try to prevent his promising high school
student son from abandoning our shared dream of my going to college. One
evening while stoned many years later it came to me, and I now understand
what had seemed so inexplicable about his behavior. Would I have eventually
figured it out without the subtle alteration of consciousness that cannabis
provides? Perhaps.
There is no denying that many people, especially young people, use
marijuana mainly for "partying and hanging out". And most non-users (at
least until they learn of its medical value) believe that is all cannabis
is useful for. This stereotype is so powerful that reactions ranging from
puzzlement to outrage greet claims to the contrary. Anyone who attributes
more than recreational and medicinal value to marijuana runs the risk of
being derided as a vestigial hippie. So it is not surprising that many
people who use cannabis do so behind drawn curtains.
If more people in the business, academic and professional worlds were known
to be marijuana users, the government would not find it so easy to pursue
its harmful and wasteful disinformation campaign. That campaign continues
partly because of the widespread false belief that cannabis smokers are
either irresponsible and socially marginal people or adolescents who
"experiment" and "learn their lesson." These lies are perpetuated when
those who know better remain silent. The gay and lesbian out-of-the-closet
movement has done much to reduce homophobia in this country. It may be
difficult in the current climate where dissenters are intimidated and
profiled, but if the many people of substance and accomplishment who use
cannabis could find the courage to "come out" in the same way, they could
contribute greatly to the diminution of "cannabinophobia" and help to end
the harassment, persecution and prosecution of innocent marijuana users.
Dr. Lester Grinspoon is an emeritus professor of psychiatry at Harvard
Medical School. He is the author of Marijuana Reconsidered and a co-author
of Marijuana, the Forbidden Medicine. He currently manages the website
www.marijuana-uses.com.
A Cannabis Odyssey
By LESTER S. GRINSPOON
Published on Monday, September 15, 2003
