Sundays w/Mary Jane

"...And the Lord said to Moses, "I am going to come to you in a dense cloud..." (Exodus 19:9). Seriously.

What if I told you, there is a hidden place amidst the bustling city streets of downtown Toronto and that it exists only for the chosen, and lucky, few? I promise you'll miss it in broad daylight, even though it sits on one of the busiest streets in the GTA. And even if by some miracle you spot it, you'll be denied entrance without a security code and access key. What's more, the only way to join is through someone who is already involved, and they have to sponsor your membership. Furthermore, if ever you DO find yourself a member one day, stop what you're doing, take a deep breath, and assume your karma is good because the universe is looking out for you. Seriously, what the fuck am I talking about? Would you believe me if I told you? A place to pray, to congregate, to find peace and dare I say it, enlightenment. I'm talking about a space to find God... of sorts.

Ok. Suspense: Built.

They call this fantastically secretive place, The Church of The Universe. It's a lot like Fight Club only there's no fighting, Brad Pitt is an aging hippy reverend with dreads, and everyone who attends joins in smoking from the Holy Tree of Life... ahem, Mary Jane Watson, Sticky Purple Punch, The Devil's Lettuce, whatever you want to call it. Like a pound of weed butter reduced from a mountain of shake, left over from a bag of bud, reduced and recycled into a THC baked cookie, The Church of The Universe is exactly what it says: a religion of religions, boiled down to their most basic tenets and offered freely to anyone who wants a taste.

Yes. The Church of the Universe embraces all faiths, has but two rules to live by and believes very seriously (as seriously as a religious pothead can be) that marijuana is the key to a happy, fulfilling and valuable existence.

Rule 1: Do not hurt yourself.

Rule 2: Do not hurt anyone else.

I've never seen a single unhappy member. Men and women of all ages, of every ethnicity, saunter in with sheepish grins plastered across their faces. (I wonder why?) Heed Aristotle's words, "everything in moderation", and you'll have nothing to worry about. But wait, it gets better.

Imagine a simple, elongated room with white walls, couches surrounding a coffee table and chairs lined in rows facing a simple pulpit. From the walls hang the Star of David, a golden Buddha statue, a massive poster of Bob Marley smoking a joint in black and white; "One Love" it reads. From Monday to Saturday the Church operates at regular hours where members can come to "pray" anytime they wish. On Sunday there is a service at... you guessed it, because how could it have been at any other time: 4:20PM. (Don't forget, it's important to maintain a sense of play even in the most serious of matters). The Reverend passes out two-bite weed brownies that will knock you out an hour later, and discusses the burgeoning community of political activists pushing for the legalization of marijuana nationwide. Each member listens, passing joints every which way, smiling and fidgeting quietly in their seats looking exactly what you would expect a group of stoner's to look like. But wait, it gets better still.

A smaller room in the back holds the office of business. The engine of the machine. The belly of the beast. One at a time, members enter, scan the whiteboard for the daily choice of plants, their respective prices, and hope for strains with a 7 gram limit (that means it's good shit and you cannot buy more than 7 grams at a time). In blue indelible marker: God's Breath: $10/g, OG Kush: $10/g, Chernobyl $10/g, Thai Rain $8/g, etc. You ask for whatever you want and they weigh it out in front of you, ironically, in a plastic Starbucks coffee cup coated in crystallized dust. They ask you for your membership number, the money and your signature. Done. Go play and be merry. Rejoice in the Lords presence... or whatever.

Sound sketchy? Probably. Personally, I think it's hilariously clever.

If you're offended by it's religious context, you don't get religion; or a good joke. If you're skeptical of it's legality, may I remind you of the speakeasies in the roaring 1920's prohibition era and the result they produced. If you're afraid of the gateway effects of drug use in general, I question your cultural acceptance of alcohol use in North America, and the pills proscribed by doctors for every ailment under the Sun. If you like to smoke weed but are afraid to associate yourself with such an organization for fear of reprisal, keep buying from your local dealer. Just remember Gandhi's words, perhaps grossly taken out of context, but nevertheless, "be the change you wish to see in the world". Thanks for that one Gandhi.

There's no such thing as a "good drug" that people CAN handle, and a "bad drug" that people cannot. There are however people with strong self-discipline, and people who lack it entirely. Anything in excess will inevitably harm you, in one way or another, but that would be breaking the first rule of the Church. Marijuana is entirely a psychological choice that no one should make for you, except you. The Church merely provides a platform, under the vague social guidelines, demanded of formally recognized institutions: in other words, you can't fuck with a religion nearly as easily as a club. Haha, oh how the tool of language breaks down in ambiguity when "clubs, cults, religions and societies" all start becoming each other like the confounded variables they are.

My friend Robot made an excellent observation worth mentioning: pick any busy night club district at 2AM and observe the public drunks our laws permit to exist. Puking, yelling, fighting, strung out on an irrational, emotional bender that will end in a 5 to 7 hour hangover the next morning. Not only is this tolerated, but if taken too far, they are sent to REHAB. Contrast them with a group of peaceful, quiet, over-analytical, albeit lethargic burn-outs with great ideas that will most likely never come to fruition. That is illegal. If taken too far, they go to JAIL. For fucks sake, the Catholic Church turned red wine into the Blood of Christ and unapologetically serves its members every week. Do I even have to make the analogous argument? Thank you for sparing me the act of insulting your intelligence.

Ok. In conclusion, a reality-check. I'll be honest. Smoking weed, in the end, is probably not the path to enlightenment. But I would rather find that out through trial and error myself, than blindly accept an outdated law made for a time when people lacked the stones... to get stoned. The novelty of the Church wears off; not unlike the high from too much smoke. It's not glamorous and some of the people who attend are in chronic pain. The religious aspect is more of a loophole, or social mirror, to avoid punishment, but it does help put things in perspective. Finally, buying drugs should be done as safely, and reliably as possible: The Church supplies a demand, pushes a cause and unites a community. Not bad for a group of people who are best known for their lack of ambition and follow through. Besides, it's not like we're going away.

So, you can judge from a far, drink till you're unconscious, laugh at the world, or sigh with indifference, but in the words of Tyler Durden, "do not, fuck with us".

Just, I would hasten to add, "...please and thank you and have a nice day".

Thanks for reading. D.