My place. Wednesday, 9.10am
I live on a community.
I hope it doesn’t get invaded. I hope it is never unlucky enough to have a resource under its fertile soil (like CSG). Or some religious nut with a book and corporate backing doesn’t decide that this land is his, given to him by God. I’ve always maintained that the safest place to be is on land that no-one wants, with people no-one cares about.
My community is not far from Nimbin.
Okay, I know what you’re thinking; you’re thinking I’m a dope-smoking tree hugger.
I love marijuana. It is an amazing plant. It is the burning bush that Moses found on top of Mount Sinai while he was leading his people out of Egypt. He inhaled and talked to God. Who hasn’t done that? He also lost all sense of direction and time, causing him to spend 40 years lost in a desert a Hi-Lux can cross in three hours.
Confused, he eventually stumbled into Palestine and called it home sweet home. Except the Canaanites were living there. Now that was a problem. Moses didn’t like sharing.
Unfortunately, Moses didn’t think to bring some burning bush with him from the mountain. A bit of bush at a time like that may have mitigated the inherent brutality that religious types display when others do not conform to their book. A bit of plant-based insight may have instilled in Moses a smoky compassion rather than a lethal viciousness. It may have shifted his hunger from death to chickpea.
Yeah, Moses should have brought some burning bush with him. He could have – cannabis wasn’t illegal then. This was well before pharmaceutical companies were spawned from the swollen corporate belly. People hadn’t considered the possibilty of plants being illegal. Plants were considered an example of God’s divine handiwork; they were considered natural, and valuable. Some were even useful.
Straight, footsore and angry at themselves for leaving the stash behind, Moses and his crew claimed the land of Canaan (or Palestine) as their own and slaughtered its inhabitants, including the children.
Maybe a joint would have helped the situation. It would certainly have done less harm than those white phosphorus bombs erupting in Gaza to the cheers of Israelis, beers in hand, watching from the relative safety of their wealth.
Instead of burning the skin off children, maybe the Palestinians and the Israelis could share a joint, realise that they both share the same God, both are destroying the land they profess to love, and, hell, ain’t hummus yummy?
So yes, I do love marijuana. But I don’t smoke it; I wear it.
So, I’m a dope-wearing tree hugger.
I’m not into God. I was raised a Christian. I read the book. I felt the horror.
Christian, Jewish, Muslim – all the same God, all the same violence towards children.
I like trees. You can safely hug a tree (and they don’t take advantage). A tree will not demand you kill for it. A tree accepts other trees. A tree is perfect for a child’s swing.
Yes, I’m a dope-wearing tree hugger.
On my community we care about the future. We care about the children; about what sort of world they will inherit.
I look in horror at what is done to children in the name of religion and I say…
Chuck the book. Have a joint. Hug a tree. Look after the kids.