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The Courage to Surrender
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“Free the Weed"       The Medical Marijuana and Ayahuasca Controversy

As a 21st Century outlaw, I feel the pressure to tackle a government that is selfishly misusing its powers. For States to subjectively define which health problems and who qualifies to receive Medical Marijuana continues to feed a nation of discontent. To deny Mother Nature’s plants for general use is a perception of plant ownership, which runs across the grain of our country’s charter – freedom.

Honesty and common sense are the only weapons I use to weave a path of truth through the myths and lies that continue to fester from decades of false information. In 1930, Harry Jacob Anslinger, the commissioner of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics and architect of national prohibition, is responsible for using scare tactics to discourage marijuana use. Today, we can easily see his hype as ridiculous ideas that marijuana causes insanity and pushes people toward horrendous crimes.

In the 1930s, the benefits of marijuana lay hidden behind such propaganda as the 1936 classic film “Reefer Madness”. Today’s generations aren’t as naïve and only rent the movie for its humor. But a grain of fear lingers in older seniors after decades of lies.The purpose of my underground dispensary is to provide Mother Nature’s plants in any form to anyone with life altering health problems. My business functions without regulations or qualifications that define suffering and restrict usage. People don’t need to relocate for the illegal plant-medicine. They can be home to enjoy a better quality of life.

I’m not Robin Hood, but I know the difference between want and need. I know that money flows from people who want to spend it for recreation. I believe it is not a crime, when my business uses that money to buy Medical Marijuana to dispense as medication for people who need it. Because the government deems our medication as illegal, that does not make it less effective, nor does it conflict with a person’s choice to use God’s plants.

My only failure in achieving my goal can be to have no impact on a nation that is needlessly in turmoil.  In my view, holding back medication for any reason from those who need it is a form of torture and fails all of humanity. My business practices dodge legal implications with a secrecy that is driven by a need to succeed where existing systems fail.

In a Gallup Poll on Oct. 28, 2015 - 58% of the county’s citizenry favor legal marijuana. It is the 3rd year in a row that the country’s majority opinion has been in favor or legal marijuana. Clearly, this is what the country wants, so why is it people continue to needlessly suffer? It makes me think that political egos are ignoring the voting public.

When trusting constituents elect a person to protect them, and that person passes laws making their medicine illegal their trust is lost. On my “To Do” list are cultivation and possession issues that remain as provocative today as during the Great Depression.


I am anxious but unafraid, as I travel to interior Peru to attend an Ayahuasca ceremony. I am well read about the reports by those who have “tripped” on the Ayahuasca concoctions. I need to “trip” for my personal experience and to validate what I’ve read.

Before I leave I am convinced there is no exaggeration of its powers to heal, the depth of its spiritual exploration and the terror it deploys for self-evaluation.

To compliment the Medical Marijuana impact on a person’s physical wellbeing Ayahuasca claims to cure mental health problems like alcoholism and anxiety. Together they can change a person’s life.

As I sit with an international group in a ritualistic circle surrounding a shaman, I offer my shot glass for the shaman to fill with the Ayahuasca liquid. The psychedelics soon take me. I am a teenager again at home confronting my parents with unresolved problems. I say things without fear of repercussions. I am confident, ready to start a new life.

The next morning I compare my trip experiences with Beth, a pretty girl sitting next to me in the circle. Turns out each of us feel slightly different. Our time together is too short, but the chemistry can’t be denied. I promise to call her, when we are home.

I invite Terry, an old college buddy, to travel with me to Peru for the Ayahuasca experience and to check his interest in my start-up venture. He is eager to take a leave-of-absence from teaching, to pack-up his life, and begin a new challenge.

On our flight back to the States, I hear about the police arrests of people who carry Medical Marijuana. The pot-police confiscate the person’s illegal drug and issue a $100 fine. My quick Internet research describes Ayahuasca as a Schedule 1 drug, which makes it also illegal in the U.S.

I believe most businesses can be run the same way regardless of the product for sale. To that end, I create a business plan with an accountant, marketing manager, distribution runners and an international manager for my Vietnam operations.

After my return, I accept an invitation from Rita, a girl in my office, to house-sit a cabin on a far-away lake. My lust for her isn’t obvious, until she surprises me admitting she feels the same about me. In the morning, as I walk to find a newspaper, I notice a naked man mowing his lawn, and feel shock as the receptionist greets people in only flip-flops.

We think it is funny being duped into the situation. It takes some encouragement to convince her to go with me to the Nudist Colony pool party. When we leave, our cheeks are sore from laughing at the pool etiquette. What a surprise it is to meet the couple who are vacationing. They expect to find a lonely naked house-sitter, but I’m there with her.

After a tiring day at the pool, and the crash from an evening smoke of “Chicken Coop” weed and “killer hash” we decide to forget the orgy and quickly hit the road to Boston. Neither of us is awake enough to risk driving, so I suggest we take the “bullet Tube” back to Boston. The Tube speed is about 300 mph so it’s only about an hour ride.

Our ride is enjoyable until we realize we are on a Tube to Detroit. We are traveling in the wrong direction at airplane speed. To stop the bleeding we decide to literally jump from our cabin to the passenger queue at the next station.

Sally, is a girl in our cabin with her mother, but asks to leave with us to avoid a summer home with Mom and Dad. It doesn’t seem to be a good excuse, but she convinces us she isn’t going to be a drag.

Out of desperation we steal a Tubetron from a spur behind the station. It looks to be pointing east toward Boston. We find it is a fully computerized single unit that takes us to an experimental city. It is the City of Spurs, which means all of the buildings, walkways, and streets are exactly 50 feet off the ground, which is the height of all Tube rails.

When the front desk calls to describe a few men in suits are looking for us, we assume the Tube police want us for jumping ship. But Sally opens a new “can of worms”, when she explains that the time between jumping and leaving, she’s able to log onto the Internet to withdraw her college funds along with the family’s emergency money. Now I’m sure the suits aren’t police they’re probably thugs her Dad is paying to return his money.

Immediately, we are fugitives just being with her. In my mind we are also vulnerable to her claiming kidnap.

Since the thugs are at all the Tube exits, we need to think outside-of-the-box. We can’t fly out of here, so the ground is our only escape. Sally gathers us to listen to a City local she knows from her short time at a ground level bar. He describes the only land based exit, but warns us of a legend that no one who leaves this way ever returns.

I believe this is our only way out, and we don’t want to return, so let’s go. Forget the legend, the obstacle course has real explosions going off with some liquid spraying us   each time. Although we crawl quickly through the barriers, we discover the paint like substance is impossible to remove. Is this some type of time delayed poison that kills?   Possibly death comes at some future time after we are far from the City.

We split up for to hide for two days to be sure no one follows us. The girls do not show for our flight back to Boston, so I leave them because my back pain is severe.

When I return to Boston, the pain from my three back surgeries forces me to look for help immediately. I leave to find a local Medical Marijuana retail store where I meet a pretty business woman, named Jill, who is waiting in line at the door.  I offer to buy her a drink to discuss the procedure for me to get a Medical Card. She is very friendly and asks if I care to sample the marijuana strain she just bought.

With her college background I decide she has knowledge my business needs. Since I continue to buy my monthly supply of Oxycodone and Morphine from the Pain Clinic, she questions the street value of my drugs, as a quick way to raise capital.

Before my flight to Peru I put a deposit down on an old three warehouse complex on a beach near Provincetown on Cape Cod. No one is likely to visit us as the buildings look dangerous. At my personal expense, I put a contract together for a significant upgrade to the inside by adding a main room and living suites. My new living and business warehouse made me feel safe with easy access to Boston, Nantucket, Martha’s Vineyard and the open Atlantic. To live in a beach environment is a dream come true.   

The purpose of my initial conference call is to introduce the people who are going to operate parts of my business. In addition to Beth, Terry and Rita is Phil who owns a Medical Marijuana farm with a government contract. Jack, my former boss, is a major marijuana distributor for New England and lastly, John, who is a person-in-need on the today’s public arrest listing.

My business plan is a reality through the work of people I trust. Since I feel good that they are working on the right projects, I’m able to address the Ayahuasca part of the business. First I need to convince people to spend $200 for one ceremony that causes each to purge all their negative forces by vomiting.

In an effort to follow the trend, I think having an Ayahuasca ceremony is a good idea. One of my favorite places is the country’s most eastern tip which is a beach off Race Point. The botanist on our team who works on creating Ayahuasca gardens in the States and Peru has the experience of several Ayahuasca trips, so I pick him to be the shaman for my beach ceremony.

It seems like two big beach fires are enough for everyone to see. I scatter candles and incense around in the sand so people relax in a party like atmosphere. With the gentle waves crashing the beach was conducive to diminishing stress and ideal for spiritual exploration, emotional healing and other personal expectations.

For my Ayahuasca ceremony, the invitation suggests anyone without an LSD or Peyote experience needs to question their ability to handle the intensity of the Ayahuasca plant-medicine.  Some drinkers are unable to describe the terrifying trips they slowly travel through as they feel stuck in the worst situations of their lives. But it is generally agreed there is a sense of relief at the end with some claims by drinkers that their life is different.

The next week the dreaded phone call arrives from Rita, who explains she is recovering from a two month meth addiction she blames on Sally. Rita lost her job and needs a place to stay, so I pick her up from the Boston Ferry at the Provincetown wharf. Terry and I nurse her through withdrawal, after which I give her the Ayahuasca marketing job.

When Sally calls a few days later I listen to her story with shock and give her a place to stay. Turns out the woman with her in our cabin on the Tube isn’t her mother. Sally confesses the woman is a Private Investigator who she believes works with the FBI.

Sally suspects her relatively easy escape is a setup for the FBI to follow her to find us. I doubt they are after a particular person. Instead, they want to shut my business down as we are taking their revenue from fines away and discouraging people-in-need from using the government dispensaries.

Although Sally is sure she lost the FBI, I ask the girls to strip Sally to look for possible FBI GPS bugs. Sure enough they find three.

As another “Sandy size” hurricane brews at sea and it points to a landfall on top of us. It is likely a similar storm-surge is going to inundate my beach bunker, so we pack our important papers, CDs and PCs into our Humvee in about a half hour.

With the FBI racing to get us I put Sally in the Humvee and tell her to distribute each GPS device on a different vehicle. I hope the vehicles go in different directions.

A couple weeks earlier we hear on the streets a rumor of another situation. Either the Mafia or a local gang know of our business success. They know about our drug inventory to replace confiscated drugs, and the cash we use to pay their fines.

On Beth’s drive of the Hummer to safety she sees what appears to be a gang with guns running toward us. Without any hesitation she places a call to warn me of the trouble heading in our direction.

I prepare a mock escape by starting and leave our Tubetron running in full view of anyone entering our main room. We left an identical Tubetron sitting behind ours. We left it for them to follow us.

As we accelerate into the cave, the bad guys, whoever they are, try desperately to catch us. However, there is a switch that directs the Tube’s rail ever so slightly to the left, when our Tubetron passes over it. According to our plan, they take the rail to the left, which heads straight to a hole we created in the cave wall. At full speed they are airborne in seconds and exit the cave at about 25 feet above the beach.  

When we hear more uninvited company, I surmise the FBI are here to find us. If they enter the main room while the gang ransack our offices a single shot from either group is enough to start a gun fight.

In seconds, we hear the first shot from somewhere as the FBI move into the bunker. While they think we are caught in a trap, we are outside in a van on the road away from the gun fire.

We decide to stay at our safe house until the remnants of the hurricane are gone. Rita and I fly to Oahu. Terry and Beth take off to Florida and Jill with her new boyfriend head out to California. We are ready for a little vacation, so we rest as we prepare for the final project. With everyone in place we open a Florida business and a California business using the same infrastructure design as the business we just left. Using lessons-learned each business operates within parameters to gauge its success before phase two.

Moving forward, as a business meets its goals of taking down the area’s government arrest program, they are to spawn a new business a few hundred miles away depending on the landscape and volume of people-in-need. This spawn methodology will continue across the country until Medical Marijuana and Ayahuasca are free and available to all who need them.

It may take more than a year to take control from the government. When that happens, I plan to hand control over to John and his networks. I expect they are eager to run the businesses and feel free to walk down the street carrying illegal plant-medicine.

"the courage to surrender is a baby boomer story of recovery from alcohol and drug addiction"