
IMO No.13: Smoking With Intention: A Lost Art?
Disclaimer: For Legal, Medical, and Aunt-Related Reasons
The following article is a work of opinion and definitely not a recommendation to inhale, ingest, or otherwise commune with cannabis—especially if you’re underage, allergic to joy, operating heavy machinery, or the kind of person who once called the cops because someone was “laughing too loud.” Please consult a doctor, a lawyer, your local shaman, and probably your mom before trying cannabis. And if you end up emotionally unraveling during a Bon Iver album—don’t blame me. You were warned.
Somewhere between the first time someone hotboxed a carriage and the modern race to have 40% THC bud that could tranquilize a yak, we lost something. Something sacred. Something slow.
I'm talking about the ancient, once-revered act of mindfully consuming cannabis.
You remember mindfulness, right? That thing your meditation app yells at you about? Well, it turns out it applies to more than breathing and pretending not to hate your coworkers. It also applies to cannabis. And honestly? It should.
Because here’s the thing:
It’s not just how much you use.
It’s how, why, and with whom.
The Ritual Used to Matter
Cannabis wasn’t always about cranking a dab rig like you’re defusing a bomb. It used to be ritualistic. Intentional. Even… respectful. Not respectful like “please pass the joint, sir,” but like “hey, this is a moment, let’s not ruin it with TikTok.”
We’re talking circle-ups, careful grind sessions, and a pre-smoke playlist that had emotional arcs. Lighters were borrowed like sacred objects. Eye contact was made. People said things like, “What are we grateful for tonight?” And no one gagged when you said “this moment.”
It wasn’t about getting wrecked. It was about tuning in.
We’re Consuming More, But Feeling Less
“I took a 150mg edible and still went to Costco.”
Cool. I once microdosed and had a life-altering conversation with a lamp.
We’re hitting harder, faster, and higher—but are we even there for it?
Being high isn’t a badge of honor. It’s an experience. And like any good experience, the intention behind it changes everything.
Are you unwinding from the day?
Trying to be more creative?
Connecting with someone you love?
Or are you just trying to not feel anything for 3–5 hours while you doomscroll in your sweats?
No judgment (okay, light judgment)—but awareness matters.
Intention: The Difference Between Elevation and Escapism
Let’s get honest. Most of us know the difference between using cannabis to elevate a moment versus using it to numb one.
The former looks like:
- A quiet night on the porch, deep in thought.
- Laughing until you cry with a friend.
- Cooking something weird but inspired.
- Listening to music like your life depends on it.
The latter? That looks like:
- Mindlessly ripping a pen until your short-term memory clocks out.
- Watching six hours of reality TV and calling it “self-care.”
- Sitting in a room full of people and still feeling alone.
When you pause and ask, “Why am I reaching for this?” you give yourself a chance to choose presence over autopilot.
And yes, sometimes you do just need a break from reality. That’s fine. But name it. Own it. Be intentional.
Rituals Over Routines
Let’s talk ritual again—because it’s not about being fancy. It’s about meaning.
Here are a few ways to bring ritual back:
1. Set a vibe.
Lighting. Music. Smells. People. Your environment influences your experience more than your strain. If your “smoke spot” is a crusty couch under a flickering ceiling fan—reconsider.
2. Dose with purpose.
Start low. Go slow. Know the goal. “I want to feel a little more relaxed” hits different than “I want to disassociate like a Victorian child seeing an iPad.”
3. Choose your tools.
Rolling a joint can be meditative. Packing a bowl with intention feels different than slapping a cartridge on a battery like you’re assembling IKEA furniture. Even the act of choosing your favorite glass piece says something. (And no, your crusty one-hitter from college doesn’t count.)
4. Smoke with people who get it.
If your consumption circle is full of folks who just want to one-up each other or make fart jokes, that’s fine—but maybe not every night. Try finding the kind of people who can get high and talk about the moon.
Potency ≠ Purpose
Ever been too high? Not fun. You end up time-traveling through a CVS, buying adult gummy vitamins and a pool noodle you didn’t need, or thinking your dog is judging your life choices with unnerving eye contact.
Sometimes a 5mg edible and the right sunset can change your life. Meanwhile, dabbing diamonds in your garage might just change your blood pressure.
Mindful smoking isn’t about strength—it’s about alignment.
Ask yourself:
- What do I need right now?
- What’s going on in my body?
- How do I want to feel after this?
Then choose accordingly. That’s real power.
Intention Can Save You From the Weird Stuff
Let’s face it—cannabis isn’t always predictable. Sometimes you find your keys in the freezer. Sometimes you get into an argument with yourself. Sometimes you cry at a commercial about waffles.
Mindful smoking gives you context:
“Oh yeah, I chose this. I’m not lost. I’m exploring.”
Let’s Make It Cool Again
The truth is, smoking with intention might be the most rebellious thing we can do in a world obsessed with speed, numbness, and distraction.
Instead of zoning out, we zone in.
Instead of just getting high, we get grounded, open, aware.
Call it woo-woo. Call it hippie. Call it whatever. But also try it.
Light your joint with presence.
Take a breath before you inhale.
Look around.
Feel the moment.
That’s the good stuff. That’s the lost art.
Let’s bring it back.
PS: If you do end up having a profound epiphany mid-smoke and decide to quit your job, buy a van, and start a tofu-based streetwear line—don’t blame the weed. Blame your newfound clarity.
Coming Up Next…
IMO No.14: Hey Hippie, Stop Scaring the MAGA Crowd
A friendly plea to tone down the cosmic vibrations long enough to find common ground with your fiscally conservative uncle who owns three American flags and a Traeger grill. Cannabis could be the bridge—if you stop yelling about Mercury retrograde.