By Danielle Simone Brand
Weed Mom was born of my love for cannabis and all it can do; it’s a guide for moms who may—like me just a few years ago—not know much about the legal marketplace. I wrote it to help smooth the learning curve for those mothers seeking to incorporate cannabis into their lives and encourage healthy conversations with kids, partners, parents, and more. I also wrote it hoping that cannamoms of all colors and backgrounds—especially those suffering under the stigmas of prohibition—will feel affirmed in their choice to partake of plant medicine.
Though I grew up on the periphery of rich cannabis culture in Hawai’i, it took a few decades and many life experiences to find my way back to the plant and claim the “weed mom” moniker. It didn’t become my thing—and certainly not my go-to for wellness and fun—until I found it again as a writer and mother of two in my late thirties. The polar opposite of canna-curious, I was, for many years, canna-closed off because I had seen my husband self-medicate with mixed results. (Pro-tip: knowing your cannabinoids and terpenes can help you tremendously if you’re looking to treat a condition, experiment with wellness, or simply relax and have fun.)
My first career was in academia and my second in health and wellness. And so it was through the dual doors of research, fueled by my academic background and in wellness, influenced by my years as a yoga and mindfulness teacher, that I found my sparkle in my third career as a writer focused on the cannabis space. Covering cannabis led me down several fascinating paths that intersect science, health, social issues, culture, policy, and so much more. As I say in Weed Mom, I legit fell in love with it.
I was living in California at the time, with its newly minted adult-use market. So, naturally, my intellectual interests in cannabis soon became more, errrr, down to earth. I ordered my first legal cannabis product with a bit of flutter in my belly: an all-in-one vape pen. Would cannabis, I wondered, help or hinder my efforts to live a whole life? Would it lend me the kind of boost to mood, sleep, sex, and creativity that it gave my cannabis-loving mom friends, along with many others whose stories I had recently been reporting? Or would adding cannabis to my life feel unskillful in some way? Would it help me tune in to myself and my family, or tune out? I needed to know.
For more than twenty years, I have rolled out my yoga mat most days. Whether my mood leans more toward joyfulness or despair—in sickness and in health—yoga is my ritual. My sanctity. My solace. I do not practice yoga to change the shape of my ass or to tone my abs or triceps. I practice yoga to access that deeper, quieter place inside me.
So it was on my yoga mat that I had my first meaningful encounter with cannabis. I puffed. I observed all the sensations. I moved my body with kindness and an ever-expanding sense of ease. It felt like meditation in motion, a profound window into personal alignment. The sheer goodness of what I experienced pushed me fully into my version of the weed mom lifestyle—a version that’s as unique to my family and me as any other.
It also propelled me toward advocacy for cannabis accessibility in all ways for women, moms, and women-identified folks. That means breaking down stigmas, normalizing responsible use, and using my platform and my privilege to bring awareness about the inequitable access to plant wellness for BIPOC folks. We all deserve the freedom to consume cannabis and participate in this industry if we choose—without threat to our freedom, livelihood, or relationship with our children. It’s incumbent upon people like me to say it over and over and over again until that vision is realized.
Inhalation and inspiration are related—both in yoga and in the realm of intentional cannabis use. So it probably comes as no surprise that I often infuse yoga into the ritual when I consume. And I begin with a breath.
Here’s how:
I sit on my yoga mat or, in mild weather, on a blanket in my backyard. I inhale expansively and let my belly rise on the in-breath. I feel the air as it passes through my nostrils: cool inhale, warm exhale. I sense the clothes on my skin, the ground beneath me. I check in with how my body’s doing—each day, each moment even, a bit different—an ache here, a sense of ease there. I may feel unwell or feel vibrant and content—in yoga, it’s all welcome.
Sometimes my eight-year-old daughter will wander over and sit with me for this part. She and I like to array a few vibrantly toned crystals on the mat or blanket and light a sliver of Palo Santo, fanning the fragrant smoke around ourselves and taking in its cleansing vibes. We may offer up a quick prayer to the Universe or the moon, and then I ask my daughter, if she’s still hanging around, to give me some moments alone with my plant medicine.
I place my flower in my glass pipe, light it, and inhale. Just as I did that handful of years ago on my yoga mat, I sit patiently and observe. Then, if I feel moved to move my body, I do. There are no rules to my elevated yoga experience, only the intention to stay present. Sometimes that translates to an intense standing yoga practice full of sweat and grit; other times, it means lying on my back in savasana (corpse pose) and just being. I also love a good elevated walk or hike to bring my senses alive and remind me that, even with all the suffering in this world, there is still—mercifully!—so much beauty.
If you’d like to try your own version of this ritual, I recommend keeping a journal handy to jot down ideas, epiphanies, or mental meanderings—big or small—that arise. Cannabis is good for that.
In closing, I bow deeply in gratitude to this plant, to the people who have long loved and tended it, and to the rituals that keep me sane amidst all my responsibilities to family, work, and self. Inhalation-inspiration. With cannabis in my life, I am inspired.
Danielle Simone Brand is the author of Weed Mom: The Canna-Curious Woman’s Guide to Healthier Relaxation, Happier Parenting, and Chilling TF Out. Find her book where most books are sold.
