#what if it's an anomaly caused by all the stoners sparking up at once

[samurai-kohaku]

There are people in this world that naturally would have and should have died and or be somewhere else geographically, and most of them know it, they know they're out of place. Not at all unusually out of place, but actually more normal than the majority since they have reverted to primal instincts. The unusual ones are the masses, the 90% are the freaks of nature, the ones that don't belong, and the ten percent are the ones being smothered to very near death, the ones that rightfully deserve what the shitstains get easily, too easily. We have to fight much much harder for our amenities and necessities, we have to dig through scum too get what's ours.

Government and society have made it so that we live the most unnatural lives possible, forcing us to revert to the animals we were, fighting for bits and pieces we wouldn't normally have to fight for. NORMALLY, things we need come so naturally that it's not a problem, but it is very well a problem now, ripping food from the mouths of starving children on the streets. Through history the poor had to feed from the greedy rich to survive, now the rich are eating the poor. We're feeding the demons by sitting idly by, the masses need to stand up and speak their word, and not just any word, but one they've thought their whole life about, perfected, for the good of the people. We need a cyborg Robin Hood.

[castlehead]

and she no priestess, human. [w/ tribute to mnemosyne] [work in progress]

"It rains across the country I remember."           ^^Trumbull Stickney. Mnemosyne

With only a memory, you that I equip there at my side, like a beaten sword, a sword, tho tamed and                tried--tamed awhile, by some tracts of years off into distance--with this, I only try at                offering fighting words still one more chance- To have all of it down--pleasingly enough,--tho risking an obdurate, bleak response, from whatever                center, existing for the welfare of my soul, of memories mine, folded fetal, quivering in                paroxysms in eagerness: eager for its treasure, then, ye soul quits chrysalis again to sniff                diligently after its final purpose, for life and living it at last, sniff its obdurate shape, and                after all the toil of those heaved years!, years, barely made of strength to push cog: soul,                ye see, ye want to tell nobody how ye feel so that only they know, ye desire to quench                desires, taper them to understand it all, no need to prep antique response, when ye get all                thrust in th harlequin light, again the deviant modest limy corpuscle, there, true as any,                nonetheless: itself tho after some anomaly, lichen-gray manner-matter, attempted                language: an attempt to green the friendly lichen fresh and sing universes out of-                comatose, once again, a once persuasive tongue- For at least a time. If it was romance--then I--was young:- If it stung, way before I was prepared, I’d still distill the poem later, more, to shift my novice, sheer                devotion back, enjoy some righteous footing, with the new deliberations hungering a                cinch to arguments based best and stalwart in some iota's maturity--felt--on that                persuasive ground as dignity again--and, harrowing as an orator, lawyer, I would no longer                dance- Around the issue with my words, with words issued uselessly to nothing: of no consequence: without                bothering to and reeling, introduce- My own sour leaves of torment, unremarkable though state- In living blood, in blood seated to a boil and drenched with a hate- Left dormant for so long: entrenched, in me: and as to who that was: what lies destroyed now at those                feet, I did and readily produce:- And they were things of love, of love once had for one not much to me- When she should have been all: she who flowered budding in that novice soul- A tender, for its frantic muscle beating out its toll- Of pride, incorruptible, and held to hustle free,- In her soft hands: but where to start, what is it there in her that- Mocks me still in being so lovely, to no point: aporia:- That is what rings true in this distant heart: this story’s a- Wound fattest at the middle-mind of art: faithless rat,- Thief, grumbling his sorrows to the girl now out of life, his life,- And I no better for it despite liquor: well, we met in February:- I had just gotten kicked out of school: any form of sanctuary- Was alien to me: my demons: a rattled skeleton: cruelty: strife- Had been my mistress, acute in its exercising torments sordid and- Mysterious: I had no sympathy for myself: rarely courted- By some blithe female-other, if at all: I thought myself worthless: forded- No byways: scoffed at functionality: I confess my hand- Shakes as I write, and if I did not feel it then I sure do now:- That is, I feel--the welter of such a thing--to coast,- Dull--beating out in rhythms, inconsistent yet verbose- To coast a spark: from out the socket: in some visitant kerpow!:- Like all things excitable: perhaps I am not one for love:- And if I were, why does it always happen . . .- Happen that things go wrong in every single way: no satin- For these sheets, no roses on them, none to stay: but, above,- Beyond my so-long-stunted condition: what is there: to reflect on how it went: yeah: perhaps, , ,-                  Perhaps those things--beyond--need voices too: and if I were- To explain the bare-bones of it--of I the heartless cur- Well then, I’d always thought, why spit your lapse- Merely to lessen the being of u both: o catatonia: why make things alive, electrical:- Why, besides to bring hurt, a hurt as this, back again:- I told her I wished her to remain as she had called me partner---friend: endless friend:- While she repeated that I did not love her: piece this spectacle- Of a perdition together, slowly, if you will: road, ruinous: could- I live it out, this WORLD, could I live this- WORLD out to the end without her answering rough kiss,- Without her whispering stuff to me: as I sleep: should- I answer back to her that I always will: will always as some bleeding idol--sacrosanct--hold-                     All that she was to me then close: but there is some like- Disdain: causing conflict, in me: and which will spike- A nerve to turn the flicked switch on, to illuminate the bold- Feeling: in and of this haunted room: this psychic box that I am in: awhile, housing terrible the                sentiment- More darksome, till the light is shed: best not to dwell on those events: however- My mind wants me to go there, do that, flick the switch, out of panic more than ever:- Wants me to sift through these rough relics for a precedent- Remembrance: of that time which will in turn shift all- My psyche: but, this cannot happen: dysfunction- Is of many pathways--and--ain’t of a source, a core, a plan: yet again: coward-corruption- That does not exist, even if I were to go way back to that pivotal fucking hour: that fucking                shenanigan: yes, oh, the impossible gall:- That was the hour, come to a head: that afternoon, the one to shape my goddamned double-character:-                     And from that misshapen point forth: I like some crazy seraphim- Hopped up on blow set myself dirigible beyond the rim- Of a window, three stories: incorrigible: foul paramour, foul comedy, foul actor:- And a surgeon of the self I verily hid: with little progress nor a surmounting to success-                      In either: fair actor, beautiful myth, you: you voice:- To the bone of a word: speak your dumb, intrinsic, choice:- Intrinsic at the time at least: joking, yet not coy: airs from out an idle throat, blessed- With a conviction to your, my sabotage: yeah, to nearly die and make of you, me, a jabberer: fool,-                     Ungrateful for the rights of life: the many voices of a literate- Delirium: spent ways: to nearly die and so then murder all thems nifty gifts, ideas: the passionate- Qualms I had once for space and time: perjured, yes, by doubt, the quartered-out rule- Of doubt over this my, his, the fool’s rendering of himself- As swerving between epiphany and collapse: but if-                        A chart of his collapse--a nimble though inordinate, stiff,- Meter-making-argument--is called for might a mumble taken timid off the shelf,- Might I the fool take a muttered meaning subtly off the shelf and leave a void a nullity a vacancy- There: place there instead a good, good thought: and to remain-                               So: or will this all string out into disorder, or will all of it arraign- With many points myself, yet make no honest composite, yes, of contorted wires, electric voices in a                darker style: some sort of risky symphony:- And rather, be the socket fried by her, an atom of her laughter all, now, that’s left- To keep her memory cradled warm and soft in my hard hands: shit’s still to be talked about and never,                Ever reconciled:- Again to say it, there’re things recalled but not affirmed: like an amateur, a  child . . .- Like as a child I sent a letter to the girl: after we broke it off: wormed-out                lies, mostly, dumb, bereft- --Unfortunately--of catharsis, nay feeling: I know no form at all of closure, and I could not say how-                          Much this human once had meant to me, can guess there is indeed- Some inmost part not ever to reveal itself: despite---does not---does not ever need to, does not heed- The psychic fatalities endured enough to prove a lack of reconcilement an eternity to wait for: oh my:                oh wowy, wow:- I’m fucked up: remember sitting on the ground, drinking, writing about imperfections: nonsense:- Poetry, elliptical, mendacious, most of the time, and I regarding precious time to light the day a                precious waste- Of ink and energy: yet most of what I write’s in some good taste,- However incendiary I try to be: smoking blunts in hood, for example, ranges in taste, depending on                the person you are talking to, or about; but I don't look down on stoners for liking good                weed, and myself could use some weed, something subtle yet intense: Stealing meds: groping through the cabinet of a dying man: gaining-  Weight, and losing friends: freaking out acquaintances with- A telling of my many exploits on the ward: obsessed with numbness and the pith-                                     Of pits, of being in a pit: never courteous to guests: staining- A nice shirt with wine in an overfed glass: cigarette graveyards: turning blue:- Burns on my arm, on my mattress, on the soiled rug: of course,- That bum is still in me, will be, forever--and--the measures taken to acquaint myself with simple                chores- Of daily life, difficultly perceived: as for therapy: or pills taken for being                unable to ‘normal’: I feel a new self sap me of motive for that madness once treasured                with amativeness, without a need for all that--honest love, though once I was tethered,                malnourished: ultimately, deluded: stew,- Stew in your own radioactive funk, find it actually poisonous: people seem- To possess themselves well, better than I feel I can: but,- Each one of us is as powerful crazy as that fair actor, surgeon: make the cut- And find you were and are the one who holds the knife: that as you cut,                burgeons forth the beam- Of a flash of judgment, yet who do I go speaking to: to her: the girl,- The one most well-possessed, without an issue: and yet not so complacent:- Perhaps she’ll whisper and I’ll whisper back this tune: nascent- Love: the beauty and the wonder of a life in a croon, waiting to unfurl:- . .  .   . .     .   .    . Waken from this dream: wake up naked, your mother embarrassed- At my naked self: when she opens the door to witness the bedsheets on the floor: from my kicking                them in slumber: hot-to-trot:- I remember this: I remember walking in KINGSTON with you, smoking pot--:- How we stumbled onto houses long abandoned, joking: the dead, cement slab of a lot’s crumbling:                crevasse:- Feeding the beast: she was a virtual pharmacy, and I took- Advantage of that: woke up early to steal her ADDERALL:- She slept in, usually: what a stupid thing: matter falls- From out my brain in a mess: I wanted her to bring it: I look- For it in her purse while she’s in the bathroom: she gets-                    Used to me asking for pills, she thinks I only love her for- The pills: she called me while I was in the hospital: you’ll get what’s in store, be ready for- It, I told myself: she was furious at me: the one obstacle to her existence: told me since we met- That I had been a ruin: a weird time in my life, sorry, I said: she said- That didn’t mean a thing, and I should stop saying sorry:- It loses meaning: I had just wanted to go to my old class's grad party- And see old friends from boarding school: I was nearly dead:- Before that day was through, sad: we met in February: it was snowing:- We embraced in the elevator, kissed ourselves through the door:-                          I read her my work on the couch, each in the other’s form,- Understanding: in this melding, seeming meddling: crouched in a veritableness: knowing- However, that--in that moment--we were both of a body electric, dosed-     With heated ecstasy, nearly painless: till she left:-                      Beforehand I had told her chattering that yeah the deft- Wind blowing was too much, the snow was old, the frost hurt the tip of my nose: we arose- From a tunnel where the both of us had lain in the powder to embrace:- Later on in the relationship she would ask me if that was- Magical: I said it wasn’t, but it had been: because-            I was too much a skeptic of my own feelings: a sin: what a waste:- Let’s go look at zebras in the museum on the other side of the park, I entreaty:- That was at the beginning, when we first met, so long ago, it makes me feel old:-                  Yet I am still too young to be but dross chipping off in the corrosive cold . . .- Chipping paint, toys of some bizarre playhouse: unmanned, lost: with dark, small, lifeless, beady- Eyes: on the other hand, her eyes were brown and deep: I remember clutching her soft accepting                hand- And looking at her in this restaurant: it was this joint or more like a café called FRENCH ROAST,- A block away from my parents’ apartment in NYC: we split the tip: I felt liable to boast- The still-imploring flame of the relationship: I was still getting the lay of the land,- But it was new, new, yes, and exciting: when we got to the museum- We realized it was the MET, not, as we thought,- The MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY, and were caught- In line, people-watching: fatuous mystery: clues, see ‘em:- We looked at the paintings, sat outside on the wide stone stairs- Afterwards: I was kind of cold and started to shiver:- She took her arms around me and I stopped: just a sliver- Of affection: still, my WORLD dropped: somebody cares:- At least, someone did, did care: my parents had been fighting- A lot, and I was in the middle of it, having gotten- Kicked out of school, as I said, and sent back home: really, of how volatile living in that apartment                had been I had forgotten:- I spent most of my time, before we met, just feeling: writing- Down my thoughts: for fun, but also because I believed- I had a thing or two to say: now not sure if I’ve got-                  Even one thing, at this point: one thing to prevent the rot- Of this brain: the death of me: as long as I can sing as I have, nay, as long as I have breathed- I have not lived in vain: have not dropped out of the race:- Perhaps, the other needs a walloping: needs to be bullied:-                                     Perhaps the other was her, is her, and her image, sullied- By examination, now seems to me an utterance of the lineage of all grand whopping space- And time: the first three months were fucking divine:- Some of the happiest times of my life: hard to let her know- That, though: could not: a foreign feeling of inspiration was, yes, close at hand, and the flow-                       Of the WORLD near-electric: and grand, so grand as to align- The planets: I remember saying how easy it was to visit her:- I took the METRO NORTH to POUGHKEEPSIE and she’d pick- Me up after work: she was a waitress: her boss, a prick- Who was always hitting on her: it was a toss up: spur- Of the moment sometimes, sometimes we’d plan shit out in advance- And go for drives in her car: a compartment under the radio- Filled with butts: her hair reminded me of beautiful, slick crow-feathers: holding her was like holding                a little bird: eyes all worried and sick with askance- You’d say to me: don’t talk about my boyfriend like that: whenever                            I badmouthed myself: I guess I thought I was being, in a self- degrading way, a young man of more interest to her: how I would delve, articulately!, delve- Into attractive pessimism: particularly the shit about hiding from my mom when she was pissed off,                under a table--fucking clever, DAN: I said, I still remembered seeing the string from her stockings Hanging, as she was looking for me: and I naught but a child, Five years old, I said: a pack of lies, all of it: sort of: mild, The actual experience is, compared to how we are affected by it: pretty                brown eyes: hawking Shitty emotional wares--pulling the ‘damaged’ card---the soft spot for to                defend oneself--embittered argument-- I don’t see myself being more manipulative towards anyone else: More manipulative than I was to her: love in its weird spells Grows wary in a wary mind of some feared alteration after altercation,                some negative tourniquet: And makes to spoil the whole damn thing, before it can blossom Properly: this’s, I guess, a give-and-take sort of deal In that the pattern’s between two axes: helps me heal: For I reckon I am split in two: it helps to know how I seize from language                as this a sort of masochistic delight: awesome Duality, funny wavering: there’s two narratives, two wires Snapping in their channels without shorting, yet: I bet You’d understand, for you inspired it: this sorted set: This theory of a conflict, spinning in chaotic, sordid spires Of ramification: what’s there to lose to write: just write it down: But there’s a line I crossed: I remember: the commerce Of our tongues, wiling in heat on that humid day: we nursed A popsicle--corny enough--together: coquettish: tumid’s the memory in my                mind: moving bits from mouth To mouth: I could never show you this, you’d have too little To say about it, really: perhaps this is the letter I was supposed to send you: I don’t want it to be dumb, it better Not be dumb, this time around: if so, I’ll suck my thumb and maybe fiddle- -My finger up my nose, pick out a winner: I can’t hold it all, Can’t begin to begin: begin to know which narrative Follows which: which anticipating, which receding, which to give More elaborate ideas to: and of course, before the season, fall, It was done: you found out I snatched your meds: personal, this- -Is a personal poem: this is going to be a personal poem, I’ve decided: damned if I’m not writing honestly: open, Of course, to feedback: compliments I cannot implement: fallacy: oops:                well, with my left fist In my mouth I’ll start from the aporia: the clouded mind’s more A muse than what I could write with one clear ghost of a thought up in my                narrow noodle: Mirage: every thought’s a flaw: thought is a flaw, futile, Incorrect---a translation: it is an awe of what I can’t get and is then sore With wanting, needing: not getting, not having: zero pleasure In my life, since then: wow, that’s fucking depressing: Well, put it in: keep in all this: scattered . . . high as killing-voltage: this                letter’s more and more an oath: as it quickens: And, regarding the point it makes, somewhat, about love: well, here’s the                lesson: it’s both her, I’m very sure--am deadly sure-- Both her and me I’m chasing, and chasing away: that’s the story Of my life I tell myself and thus the WORLD: perhaps mishaps Will always befall me, and perhaps passion’s electric as it snaps Will finally short out: at least for now I’ve come across one thing: a dismal,                crucial action’s core: see, The clues deny what it is of power they own and want what they don’t: I’ll                drink My tears, and hers, and call both anguish, equal- -In intensity: the tenacity of this poem has no sequel: No palinode to harbor: the narrative gets darker--in the loam--as I think                myself alive, drift towards the brink, And fall: crucial decision: I remember seeing my feet in the air As I fell: remember how loud that fucking evac-helicopter Was: it was graduation day for the school I used to attend: the pain and                slightest rapture Of seeing friends who had hazed me to the point of, by the end, laying                bare My veins: I bled on my shirt, once: that’s how they found out, then- -They stopped it all: hazing, bullying, whatnot: I don’t blame anyone but                myself: let’s make- -That clear: stupidest thing I’ve ever done: take This thunderous word, suicide, no fun--and know that I have myself taken,                wagging, a certain drastic spin On the lightning-bolts of its proverb: meaning: have seen despite the other                side, the relieving side Of such a horribleness, thus know it horrible: rumors about me throughout                that school, more than anything shook- -Me to the bone: I felt naked, and the energy booked For the center of my mind like an itch: a malady: when I hit the ground a                great, elaborate sigh Escaped from my lungs, and then I cried out in agony: busted my back: I said: wasn’t high enough: the medics saw my arm and said: this Kid’s got problems: I had gone off into the woods to do the deed:                something in the WORLD was dead: amiss: That morning her mother had called her a basket-case: I seem to recall                that she, retaliating, keyed her mom’s car after the attack: Or maybe I just wish she had: memory is bias, solely bias: This is all subjective, nothing more than one view Of the subject: of this beauty: crow-feather girl: could the clue That tortures itself into existence pound upon the dais And call himself a man of reason, a man with some conviction To his name: it’s all absurd: life is absurd: she is, indeed, In this rendering, not more real than if she landed in the words that feed- -My infant sorrow as a visitor: now mature and yet still branded delicate:                schisms: . .  .   . . .   .    . Here is my soul, this is where it lieth: schisms lift Me up, tell me: across the wide WORLD round there might Be things that, divisive, divide more in the fight To wreak it all whole: why not as a mark of assiduousness sift Through the rest of what you said, before, DAN: tell the other other,                bickering--continuity--off: Give her, me, the both of us--naught--but voids to wheedle through:                deconstruct- -This text to nonsense, you will see her face for just one moment: then will,                agape, see that mug destruct: lucked Out, I did: always told myself, later on, after the failures to win her back,                that hope is my enemy: I like a knee-jerk ape now scoff At all the waiting for her to come back: all that wasted time: how benign:                how benign, how trivial: The only time I rubbed the nape of her neck--shit--was while she was                driving: She sent me an email once that listed the things she loved about me:                outright fifing- -Through the village: to get all the goddamned rats out--I guess--however                that fucking parable goes: hail, mystical One: between us there is a whole person, still: recognize That, maybe you do: I often wonder where in the somewhere You are: talked of living in BELIZE, HAWAII--heck--taking care To not tell me too much: I said I wanted to visit: bet that gave the hairs on                that neck--your neck a rise: Bet there was something in you didn’t want to see me: cloistered In some prescience of THANATOS: EROS gone: among The things she listed--apologizing for a phoned-in attitude as to whatever                description of my attributes she stated before--were as I read them after the disaster                enough for me to cough up a lung . . . Oh, the smoke blown: I thought: the both of us doubtful, pitying ourselves                and our compliments: yet, rough, uppity, boisterous, were- -Without parallel regarding loving banter: quick with response: That quickness would transmute: after awhile: to a loveless Cancer: an erosion: codependence, arguments: the stuff less Charming about the both of us--mostly, me: this still, like some lone                pendant--memento mori--haunts Me: I remember, the girl: you put little bits of paper with sweet Stuff in my pockets---like, I love you, or, You’re a dream, or, We’re made                for each other: You always talked about how crazy she was, your mother: And now I seem to recall when you thought in the heat Of the moment that I’d hit you: so: you barricaded yourself in the                bathroom- -And cut your thigh with a razor: So many times, including this, that last:                though we were, are doomed: that last, That last in my mind: we embraced, electric-hateful, and cried: I told you, I                would not ever do that: oh, the past: It fucking sucks: from the moment you smiled at me on that snowy day--no                matter what--we had to have been doomed: You referred, in your letters to me, to an idea of the relationship between                us making you sad: I remember little anymore: I am my past: I resign: But maybe there’s not much in it to examine: no, I’m fine: I’ll be alright: fatuous, fatuous mystery: it wasn’t that good: then again--to                belabor the electric-repetition that                she was, is to me--this appropriation of duality I’m plagued                with--was not bad, not bad, not satin-covered and yet it was                                                         not bad: and                so the muse, she dies, I am rid of her: am rid of her, not her: the muse, not her: not bad:

[medicalmarijuana-news]

CBD: The Cinderella Molecule

“This changes everything!”

That was the immediate reaction of Bay Area journalist Fred Gardner as he stood in the office of Steep Hill Laboratory in Oakland and eyed a chromatogram showing the unusual cannabinoid content of a hitherto unknown marijuana strain. The year was 2009, and the strain of interest, an oddity called Soma A-Plus, didn’t top the charts for THC (tetrahydrocannabinol), a.k.a. the high-causer, unlike the several thousand other bud samples that Steep Hill had previously tested for California’s medical marijuana dispensaries and growers.

Soma A-Plus was the first of a handful of soon-to-be-discovered strains imbued with a significant amount of cannabidiol (CBD), a compound with intriguing medical properties. One of these strains, Women’s Collective Stinky Purple, tipped the scales at over 10 percent CBD by dry weight, with little THC. This genetic anomaly wasn’t hemp—it was a drug plant, a high-resin, CBD-rich marijuana strain brimming with medicated goo. But anyone who smoked it or consumed it as an edible wouldn’t get high, because CBD isn’t psychoactive. In fact, CBD can actually lessen or neutralize the THC high, depending on how much of each compound is in a given strain or product.

Traditionally, cannabis grown for hashish contained roughly equal amounts of THC and CBD. Starting in the late 1970s, however, cannabis genetics changed as renegade breeders in Northern California catered to the consumer demand for stonier THC-dominant varietals. Consequently, CBD nearly vanished from the grassroots gene pool in the Emerald Triangle, America’s cannabis breadbasket.

When Californians passed Proposition 215, the 1996 ballot measure that legalized cannabis for medical use statewide, few people knew about CBD. It wasn’t on anyone’s radar, except for a small group of scientific pioneers who were probing marijuana’s molecular mechanisms and healing potential. Early studies indicated that CBD had noteworthy anti-inflammatory, anti-tumoral, antipsychotic and anticonvulsant properties, with no known adverse side effects.

Fred Gardner had been covering the CBD science story in O��Shaughnessy’s, the journal of cannabis in clinical practice. In 2010, he and I launched Project CBD, an educational nonprofit that reported on the entire CBD phenomenon: the research, the patients, the doctors, the new strains and products, and the business angles. From the start, we sensed that CBD could be a game-changer for the medical marijuana movement, that it might be the key to liberating marijuana from the confines of the drug-abuse paradigm. How could the pretzel logicians in the Drug Czar’s office justify the ongoing prohibition of CBD-rich cannabis, a safe medicinal substance with no adverse side effects and that doesn’t even get you high?

The advent of CBD-infused products meant that a lot more people—including those who aren’t into getting stoned—would be open to using marijuana for health reasons. Not everyone enjoys the THC high; some folks get edgy and anxious on weed. CBD-rich cannabis could be the answer for those who want to experience marijuana’s health benefits without the buzz. We referred to it as “CBD-rich” (rather than “high-CBD”) cannabis to get away from the stoner connotation. That designation has since been adopted by medical scientists in peer-reviewed publications.

A Tipping Point

The serendipitous rediscovery of CBD in Northern California would eventually upset everyone’s applecart—cops and stoners alike—and usher in a new era of cannabis therapeutics. The crucial tipping point came in the summer of 2013, when CNN broadcast Dr. Sanjay Gupta’s special on medical marijuana, which featured the now-famous case of Charlotte Figi, a young girl from Colorado who suffered from Dravet’s syndrome.

Little Charlotte was having hundreds of epileptic seizures a week, and pharmaceutical medications weren’t helping. Her parents thought they had run out of options, but then they heard about a boy with Dravet’s syndrome in California who responded well to CBD-rich cannabis oil. They found a high-CBD/low-THC strain at a Colorado cannabis dispensary, and it worked like a charm for their daughter, reducing her seizures to a couple a month. That strain is now called Charlotte’s Web in her honor.

Suddenly, the CBD genie was out of the bottle. A national television audience was stunned by what they saw and heard: Marijuana, once slandered as the “assassin of youth,” could save the lives of desperately ill children. And what’s more, kids and grownups didn’t have to get stoned to get better. The idea that it might be possible to access the therapeutic upside of marijuana sans the euphoria or dysphoria produced by THC would prove irresistible to a lot of people after the CNN special.

But along with a growing awareness of cannabidiol as a potential medicine, there has also been a proliferation of misconceptions about CBD-rich cannabis, a remarkable botanical that has befriended humankind since before the written word. Cannabis has a rich history as a source of fiber, food and medicine in many countries going back thousands of years. But our ancient connection with this plant, and our knowledge of its utility as a versatile folk medicine, was broken by marijuana prohibition. Thus, we’ve had to recreate a rapport with cannabis and relearn how to use it for maximum therapeutic benefit.

Some might wonder: Why not just spark a phatty and inhale? That seems to do the trick for a lot of people. Actually, it’s gotten a lot more complicated now that there are potent cannabis-oil extracts with different ratios of THC and CBD to choose from, as well as various ways to administer them. Figuring out how to harness the curative qualities of cannabis is still a work in progress. It’s the driving force behind the great laboratory experiment in democracy known as medical marijuana that’s been unfolding state by state in recent years.

The Big Breakthrough

For a long time, the illegality of marijuana has acted as a deterrent to scientific research in the United States. Ironically, it was President Ronald Reagan who advanced our understanding of the scientific basis of cannabis therapeutics when he escalated and militarized the War on Drugs in the 1980s. The Reagan administration poured tens of millions of dollars into research that would prove once and for all that marijuana damages the brain—or so they thought. After all, this was the “evil weed,” and it was an article of faith within the Drug War establishment that smoking marijuana causes brain damage.

But rather than showing how marijuana harms the brain, the Reagan administration ended up subsidizing a series of studies that culminated in the discovery of the endocannabinoid system, which actually protects the brain when activated by plant cannabinoids like THC and CBD. This major scientific breakthrough opened up whole new vistas in the understanding of human biology and went a long way toward explaining how and why cannabis is such a multifaceted medicine—and why it’s the most popular illicit herb on the planet.

By the mid-1990s, the endocannabinoid system had emerged as a hot topic among scientists around the world, who shared their findings in highly technical, peer-reviewed journals and at annual meetings of the recently formed International Cannabinoid Research Society. There ensued an avalanche of scientific data attesting to the jaw-dropping therapeutic potential of CBD and other cannabis compounds.

A 1998 preclinical study funded by the National Institutes of Health became the basis for a US government patent on the antioxidant and neuroprotective properties of CBD and THC, which were found to limit “neurological damage following ischemic insults, such as stroke and trauma.” Both compounds were described as having “particular application … in the treatment of neurodegenerative diseases, such as Alzheimer’s disease, Parkinson’s disease and HIV dementia.”

And that’s just for starters when it comes to cannabidiol. Some highlights from the exploding field of cannabis therapeutics:

Cancer: Scientists at the California Pacific Medical Center showed that CBD reduces breast-cancer-cell proliferation, invasion and metastasis in human-cell-line experiments.

Diabetes: Israeli researchers reported that CBD “lowers incidence of diabetes in non-obese diabetic mice.”

Epilepsy: British scientists noted that CBD exerts anticonvulsant effects in animal models of epilepsy.

Mood disorders: Brazilian investigators explored CBD’s potent antipsychotic and anti-anxiety properties.

Acne: The Journal of Clinical Investigation reported in 2014 that “CBD has potential as a promising therapeutic agent for the treatment of acne vulgaris.”

Irregular heartbeat: The British Journal of Pharmacology disclosed in 2010 that CBD suppresses stroke-induced cardiac arrhythmia in animals and reduces the extent of brain damage.

Stem-cell neurogenesis: German scientists discovered that CBD stimulates the growth of new brain cells in adult mammals.

Antibacterial: According to a 2008 report in the Journal of Natural Products, published by the American Chemical Society, CBD “showed potent activity against a variety of methicillin-resistant Staph (MRSA) strains.” The World Health Organization has identified antibiotic-resistant bacteria as a major global health crisis.

Mad-Cow Disease: There is no known cure for mad cow, a deadly infectious brain disease transmitted by misshaped proteins called “prions.” But French scientists reported in the Journal of Neuroscience that “CBD may protect neurons against the multiple molecular and cellular factors involved in the different steps of the neurodegenerative process, which takes place during prion infection.” 

Mad-fucking-cow disease??

And the list goes on and on: rheumatism, PTSD, depression, gut issues, obesity, alcoholism, liver disease …. Extensive preclinical research and mounting anecdotal reports suggest that these and many other conditions may be responsive to CBD-rich remedies.

The Power Couple: CBD and THC

There’s a lot of excitement about cannabidiol—with good reason. Thus far, however, clinical trials that could “prove” CBD’s therapeutic utility have gotten short shrift in the United States because of the War on Drugs. Consequently, most of what scientists know about CBD is based largely on preclinical lab research—animal studies, molecular probes, test-tube experiments and so on—rather than human studies. Some of this research has yielded important insights into the endocannabinoid system and its crucial role in health and disease. But data from animal models are not always applicable to human experience.

Outside the United States, CBD-rich remedies have been subjected to rigorous clinical trials and approved for therapeutic use in more than two dozen countries. Sativex, a sublingual cannabis spray that contains equal amounts of CBD and THC, is available by prescription (though not yet in the US) for treating the neuropathic pain and spasms associated with multiple sclerosis. GW Pharmaceuticals, the British firm that produces Sativex, determined that a combination of CBD and THC is more effective than either compound alone for pain management.

Simply put, CBD and THC are the power couple of cannabis therapeutics; they work best together. CBD and THC amplify each other’s curative qualities by activating different receptors in the brain. This synergistic dynamic is all-important for medical patients. It’s the reason why THC is key to maximizing the therapeutic potential of CBD, and vice versa.

Cannabis-oil concentrates with varying CBD/THC ratios are available in medical marijuana dispensaries, so patients can adjust or eliminate the psychoactive effects to suit their needs. When present in roughly equal amounts, CBD will prolong the THC buzz while lowering the ceiling on THC’s psychoactivity. These days, cannabis patients also have the option of healing without the high by using a CBD product with only a small amount of THC. But a low-THC oil or flower, while not intoxicating, isn’t necessarily the best treatment modality.

One’s sensitivity to THC is a major factor in determining the optimal ratio and dosage of CBD-rich medicine. There’s no single ratio or dose that’s right for everyone. Cannabis therapeutics is personalized medicine; patients may need to experiment, dial in and, if need be, adjust their treatment regimen until they find their own sweet spot with the right balance of CBD and THC. In essence, the goal is to administer consistent, measurable doses of a CBD-rich remedy that includes as much THC as a person is comfortable with.

If you’re lucky enough to live in a state with a robust medical marijuana program, there are lots of possibilities if you want to use CBD-rich cannabis without smoking it. CBD-rich cannabis—like the stony stuff—comes in many non-smokeable forms: edibles, lozenges, beverages, gel caps, sublingual sprays, tinctures, topical ointments, transdermal patches, suppositories and more. But all of these different choices can be confusing, especially for those who are newcomers to cannabis.

Product safety is also a major concern given that the marijuana industry is still largely unregulated. Unfortunately, many cannabis farmers use pesticides and dubious plant-hormone boosters to increase the cannabinoid content and crop yield. Patients should look for CBD-rich products that have been lab-tested and verified as free of mold, pesticides, solvent residues and other contaminants. It’s also better, if possible, to avoid cannabis oil that has been extracted with butane, hexane or other toxic solvents; opt for safer extraction methods, such as food-grade ethanol or supercritical CO2. A high-quality CBD-rich product should include only high-quality ingredients: no corn syrup, trans fats, preservatives or other artificial additives. Products should have clear labels showing the quantity of CBD and THC per dose. And keep in mind that the CBD/THC ratio is not an indication of how much of each compound is actually in the product.

Industrial Hemp

What about CBD oil extracted from industrial hemp? Internet storefronts are peddling unregulated hemp-derived CBD products to all 50 states, despite the fact that cannabidiol has not been approved by the Food and Drug Administration as a dietary supplement. For many people, particularly those living in states where medical marijuana is not yet legal, hemp-derived CBD may be their only practical option for now, even though it’s technically still a Schedule I controlled substance.

The federal government arbitrarily defines hemp—as distinct from marijuana—as a cannabis plant with 0.3 percent THC or less. However, what actually distinguishes hemp from marijuana is the resin content: Hemp is low-resin cannabis, while marijuana is high-resin cannabis. CBD and THC are both contained in the resin. High-resin drug plants include euphoric THC-rich plants and non-euphoric CBD-rich plants, as well as various combinations of both.

This is why low-resin industrial hemp isn’t an optimal source of CBD oil. Hemp fiber is basically useless for extracting CBD, since there is hardly any resin on the stalk. The skimpy foliage of industrial hemp grown for nutritious seed oil (and other uses) maxes out at about 3.5 percent CBD by dry weight, but there’s no CBD or THC in the seeds themselves. Compare this to the ACDC strain, a non-euphoric, high-resin marijuana varietal widely grown in California, which contains 20 percent CBD by dry weight.

The 0.3 percent THC legal limit for industrial hemp is an impractical, scientifically baseless distinction designed to maintain marijuana prohibition. In an effort to circumvent the law, some farmers in Colorado and other states are growing high-resin, CBD-rich marijuana and calling it hemp; they harvest their crop early to minimize the THC content. Growing industrial hemp outside the parameters of strictly implemented, state-sanctioned pilot research is still forbidden by the federal government.

For hemp farmers abroad, CBD paste is typically a byproduct of industrial hemp grown for other purposes. Farmers sell this leftover hemp biomass to businesses that extract CBD oil. It’s not great starter material for making CBD products, because huge amounts of low-resin hemp refuse are required to extract a small amount of CBD. Also, the more plant material one extracts from, the greater the risk of contaminants, because hemp is a “bio-accumulator” that draws toxins from the soil. That’s a great feature for cleaning up poisoned environments—hemp was planted near Chernobyl after the nuclear disaster for this purpose—but it’s exactly what you don’t want in a medicine.

Thus far, CBD commerce proliferates online with little interference from the federal government, other than FDA warning letters that have been sent to several CBD hemp-oil retailers for mislabeling products and making unproven medical claims. (Some “CBD-oil” products tested by the FDA contained little or no CBD.) Even more disconcerting is what’s actually in these items. Many, if not most, CBD hemp-oil vape cartridges contain propylene glycol, a thinning agent that is carcinogenic when overheated and inhaled. Flavoring agents are also ubiquitous in CBD hemp-oil cartridges, yet few of these ingestible food additives have been safety-tested for inhalation. Some are known to be toxic.

You might find serviceable products marketed as CBD hemp oil if you’re willing to take a chance on the vagaries of online meds. It’s something of a crapshoot, but some of these products may provide health benefits. Low-THC cannabis-oil extracts have been a godsend for a number of children with intractable seizure disorders. There are accounts of epileptic kids who experience a near-complete cessation of seizures when they utilize CBD-oil products. But for many other seizure-disorder sufferers, adults as well as children, CBD doesn’t do the trick. It’s not a miracle cure for everyone.

The therapeutic range of CBD hemp oil is significantly limited by the small amount of THC and other cannabinoids contained therein. Many medical marijuana patients have learned through trial and error that augmenting CBD-rich oil by adding some THC—or THCA, the unheated, non-psychoactive form of THC that’s present in raw cannabis flowers and leaves—helps to keep seizures and other symptoms at bay. Low-THC cannabis-oil products don’t work for everyone; this is why people of all ages need access to the full spectrum of whole-plant cannabis remedies, not just low-THC oil.

Molecule Versus Plant

CBD will soon become a single-molecule pharmaceutical. When Epidiolex, an almost-pure CBD anti-seizure remedy developed by GW Pharmaceuticals, gets a green light from the FDA, cannabidiol will join single-molecule THC (Marinol) as a legally available prescription medication. But the cannabis plant itself will remain federally illegal for the foreseeable future. Go figure.

Project CBD recognizes that single-molecule CBD is not the same as whole-plant CBD-rich cannabis, which includes hundreds of medicinally active components. Whether synthesized in a lab or heavily refined from industrial hemp paste, “pure CBD” products lack the full array of medicinal terpenes and minor phytocannabinoids found in marijuana. These compounds interact with CBD and THC to create what scientists refer to as an “entourage” or “ensemble” effect, so that the therapeutic impact of the whole plant is greater than the sum of its parts.

It’s not that single-molecule CBD won’t work—pure CBD might be helpful in certain cases, but whole-plant CBD has a much wider therapeutic window than CBD as an isolate. This was underscored in a 2015 experiment by Israeli scientists, who found that single-molecule CBD required a much higher dose to be effective compared to whole-plant CBD-rich oil. Moreover, if one missed the mark slightly—either too high or too low—then single-molecule CBD had little impact on pain and inflammation, unlike whole-plant CBD-rich oil, which was effective at a much lower and broader dosage range. Problematic interactions with other drugs are also more likely with high doses of single-molecule CBD.

“The therapeutic synergy observed with plant extracts results in the requirement for a lower amount of active components, with consequent reduced adverse effects,” the Israeli researchers concluded. Other scientists have reported similar findings.

CBD is a mighty molecule, to be sure—but the whole plant is mightier.

Martin A. Lee is the director of Project CBD and the author of several books, including Smoke Signals: A Social History of Marijuana and Acid Dreams: The Complete Social History of LSD: The CIA, the Sixties, and Beyond.

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