What Happened to Love & Peace?

If the world is watching our cannabis community, what are we showing them?

I was born eight years too late.

Not too late for disco. Not too late for the mullet. And thankfully, not too late to avoid having to explain to my children why I ever thought certain fashion choices were a good idea.

I was born eight years too late for Woodstock.

The original Woodstock in 1969 has become almost mythical. Hundreds of thousands of people gathered together for music, freedom, self-expression, and a whole lot of marijuana and other substances.

But when you watch the footage and listen to the stories from that historic weekend, one thing seems to stand out above everything else:

Love and peace.

People were packed together by the thousands, yet somehow the idea was that everyone was there together.

Different people. Different backgrounds. Different opinions.

One community.

Now fast-forward thirty years.

Woodstock ’99 was supposed to be a celebration of music and culture—a modern continuation of the original spirit.

Instead, the festival in Rome, New York became infamous for violence, destruction, sexual assaults, fires and chaos.

By the end, parts of the festival grounds were literally burning.

That’s quite a departure from peace and love.

And lately, I can’t help but wonder:

Are we watching a smaller version of that transformation happen inside our own cannabis community?

Before anybody gets defensive, hear me out.

I’m not talking about one person.

I’m not writing this because of one argument, one disagreement, one bad interaction, or one individual who pissed me off.

If this were about one person, this wouldn’t be an article.

This is about a pattern I’ve seen often enough, involving enough people, that I believe it’s worth stopping and talking about.

I’m talking about a large enough percentage of our community displaying enough negativity, hostility, personal attacks, jealousy, arguing and disrespect that it deserves our attention.

And I want to be very clear about something else:

I’m not saying this is the majority.

Not even close.

There are some absolutely incredible people in this community.

People with huge hearts.

People who genuinely care about other people.

People who help without expecting anything in return.

People who celebrate somebody else’s success instead of becoming jealous of it.

People who reach out when somebody is struggling.

People who donate their time, their money, their products and their energy because they genuinely believe in this plant and the people surrounding it.

Those people are the reason I’m still here.

They’re the reason I continue writing.

They’re the reason I continue creating.

They’re the reason I continue putting my own time and money into this community.

And they’re the reason I don’t plan on quitting.

But I’m going to be honest with you.

Lately, I’m scared.

I’ve spent the last couple of years becoming invested in this community. I’ve met people I genuinely care about. I’ve made friendships I never expected to make. I’ve discovered incredible growers, breeders, artists, entrepreneurs, advocates and patients.

I’ve also seen something I wasn’t expecting.

A level of nastiness, hostility, personal attacks, jealousy, arguing and downright disrespect that has made me stop and ask myself:

What the hell are we doing?

At one point, I honestly believed that the overwhelming majority of people involved in this community were good-hearted people.

Ninety-something percent.

Maybe I’m naïve.

Maybe I was wearing cannabis-colored glasses.

But lately, I’m not so sure.

And again, I’m not talking about one person.

I’m talking about enough people and enough behavior that it has actually made me question whether I want to continue participating.

That’s a scary thought for me because I love this community.

And that’s exactly why I’m writing this.

Because if I didn’t care, I’d just leave.

I’d shut down the keyboard, put away the camera, stop writing for The Plug’s Pages, and say, “Good luck, everybody. I’m going home.”

But I’m not doing that.

At least not yet.

Because there are still too many good people here worth fighting for.

And if even half of this community—or something close to it—is made up of decent, caring, genuine people who actually want to see one another succeed, then we still have something worth saving.

We’re Representing More Than Ourselves

Here’s something I think every person involved in cannabis needs to remember:

The world is watching us.

Not just cannabis consumers.

Everybody.

Our posts are public.

Our arguments are public.

Our comments are public.

Our behavior is public.

And whether we like it or not, people who aren’t part of this community are forming opinions about cannabis by watching the people who use it.

That’s a pretty big responsibility.

We’ve spent decades trying to convince society that cannabis doesn’t turn people into lazy, irresponsible, unproductive stereotypes.

We’ve fought for legalization.

We’ve fought for medical access.

We’ve fought for criminal justice reform.

We’ve fought to prove that cannabis users can be successful business owners, parents, professionals, artists, caregivers, entrepreneurs and productive members of society.

We’ve said that cannabis can help people.

So let’s show them.

If someone takes a peek inside the cannabis community and the first thing they see is people screaming at each other, tearing each other down, spreading negativity and publicly fighting over every little disagreement, what exactly do you think they’re going to conclude?

They’re probably not going to say:

“Wow! What a warm and welcoming community. I want to be part of that!”

They’re more likely going to say:

“Holy crap. Maybe Reefer Madness had a sequel.”

And that’s the problem.

We cannot complain about stereotypes while simultaneously giving people ammunition to reinforce them.

We Don’t Have to Like Everybody

Here’s another revolutionary concept:

You don’t have to like everybody.

Seriously.

You don’t.

There are people in this community I probably wouldn’t invite over for Thanksgiving.

And that’s okay.

There are people who annoy me.

There are people who disagree with me.

There are people whose opinions make me want to stare at my phone for five minutes wondering, “Did this person really just type that?”

But disagreement doesn’t have to become war.

We can disagree without becoming enemies.

We can compete without trying to destroy one another.

We can criticize something without attacking the person behind it.

And we can simply decide:

“You know what? I don’t really care for that person.”

Then keep scrolling.

It’s free.

Facebook doesn’t charge extra for it.

The Domino Effect

One of the biggest things we don’t think about enough is the ripple effect of our words.

Let’s say somebody posts something you don’t like.

You leave a nasty comment.

Maybe you think it’s funny.

Maybe you think it’s justified.

Maybe you hit “Post” and forget about it thirty seconds later.

But the person on the other side of that screen may not forget.

Maybe they’re already having a horrible day.

Maybe they’re dealing with problems at home.

Maybe they’re struggling financially.

Maybe they’re questioning themselves.

Maybe they’re simply exhausted.

Now your comment becomes one more negative thing they have to carry.

They get angry.

They take that anger home.

They snap at their spouse.

Their spouse gets angry.

Now they’re arguing.

The kids hear it.

Someone goes to bed upset.

And all of it started with a comment from a stranger on Facebook.

That’s the domino effect.

You may never know what your words set in motion.

But here’s the beautiful part:

The domino effect works in the other direction too.

Maybe somebody is having the worst day they’ve had in months.

And then they open Facebook.

They see your comment.

“Hey, hope you’re doing okay. Keep your head up.”

Maybe somebody sends them a funny meme.

Maybe someone compliments their work.

Maybe somebody simply says:

“Great post!”

That tiny moment of kindness might be exactly what they needed.

Maybe it changes their entire day.

Maybe it gives them enough encouragement to keep going.

Maybe they go home and treat their family better because somebody treated them better.

You may never know.

That’s the crazy thing about kindness.

You don’t always get to see where it goes.

And Yes… I’m Guilty Too

Before anybody starts thinking OG Strain is standing on some imaginary cannabis-community mountaintop handing out commandments:

Nope.

I’m guilty too.

I’ve said things I shouldn’t have said.

I’ve reacted when I should have ignored something.

I’ve allowed frustration to influence my words.

I’ve made mistakes.

I’m human.

And that’s actually part of the point.

This isn’t an article telling everyone else how they need to behave.

It’s a reminder to all of us—including me.

Before we hit send…

Before we hit post…

Before we leave that comment…

Maybe we should take five seconds and ask ourselves:

“Do I really need to say this?”

And if the answer is no?

Congratulations.

You just saved yourself an argument.

You’re welcome.

Forgiveness Isn’t Weakness

I’m probably in the minority in this community when it comes to how openly I talk about my Christian beliefs.

But there’s something from my faith that I believe could solve a whole lot of problems around here:

Love.

And I’m not talking about the Hallmark-card version of love.

Real love is difficult.

Real love means forgiveness.

It means giving somebody another chance.

It means trying to understand that someone may be going through something you know absolutely nothing about.

It means recognizing that a person who hurt you may not be proud of what they did.

And sometimes, love means accepting an apology.

On the other side of that coin, if you are the one who screwed up, there’s nothing wrong with saying:

“I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

Those three words can be incredibly difficult to say.

Our pride gets in the way.

We convince ourselves that apologizing makes us weak.

It doesn’t.

Sometimes the strongest thing a person can do is admit they screwed up.

And if you believe, as I do, that pride can become destructive, then maybe we should stop treating pride like it’s some kind of superpower.

Being too proud to apologize isn’t strength.

Sometimes it’s simply a refusal to grow.

So Where Do We Go From Here?

I don’t want to leave this community.

I don’t want to stop writing.

I don’t want to stop creating.

I don’t want to stop supporting the people who are doing incredible things.

And I certainly don’t want to abandon the people I’ve come to genuinely love and respect.

Because those people matter to me.

You matter to me.

If you’re one of the people who shows up for others…

If you’re the person who congratulates somebody instead of competing with them…

If you’re the person who helps somebody who is struggling…

If you’re the person who chooses kindness when negativity would be easier…

Thank you.

You’re the reason people like me keep fighting for this community.

But we need more of you.

And maybe that’s where we all come in.

Let’s think about what we say.

Let’s think about what we post.

Let’s think about the people on the other side of the screen.

Let’s remember that every person we interact with is carrying something we may know absolutely nothing about.

Let’s stop treating every disagreement like we’re entering the final round of the Cannabis Community Super Bowl.

Let’s stop tearing each other down.

Let’s stop assuming the worst about one another.

Let’s forgive more.

Let’s apologize more.

Let’s encourage more.

Let’s laugh more.

Let’s help more.

Let’s remember why we’re here in the first place.

Because despite all of our differences, there’s something that brought us together:

We love this plant.

We believe in its potential.

We believe in its benefits.

We believe people should be able to use it responsibly without being treated like criminals or stereotyped as worthless stoners.

But if that’s what we believe, then we have to prove it.

Not with arguments.

With our actions.

The cannabis community shouldn’t be known for who can yell the loudest.

It shouldn’t be known for who can destroy somebody’s reputation the fastest.

It shouldn’t be known for jealousy, bullying, infighting and endless online drama.

It should be known for compassion.

Creativity.

Entrepreneurship.

Healing.

Friendship.

Community.

And yes…

Love and peace.

Because maybe that’s the greatest thing we can do for cannabis itself.

Show the world that people who use this plant aren’t the stereotypes they’ve been told to fear.

Show them that we can build businesses.

Create art.

Raise families.

Help our neighbors.

Support one another.

Laugh together.

Disagree respectfully.

Forgive each other.

And still get shit done.

We are the cannabis community.

Whether we like it or not, we’re also part of cannabis’s public face.

So the next time you’re about to fire off that nasty comment…

Pause.

Take a breath.

Ask yourself whether it’s really worth it.

Because you never know what kind of domino you’re about to knock over.

And you never know what kind of domino you could knock over by doing the opposite.

Maybe instead of being the person who starts the next fire…

Be the person who puts one out.

Maybe instead of adding fuel…

Be the person who brings the water.

I was born eight years too late for Woodstock ’69.

But maybe we don’t have to be too late to bring back what it represented.

Maybe we can still choose love.

Maybe we can still choose peace.

Maybe we can still choose community.

Because at the end of the day, the world isn’t going to judge our cannabis community by what we say cannabis does for us.

They’re going to judge us by what they see us do.

So let’s give them something worth seeing.

Let the next thing this community catches fire for be LOVE—not each other.