How weed, music, and the mountains shaped my life—and put me in office.
I didn’t set out to become a mayor. If you had met me years ago—somewhere in a crowd at a Grateful Dead show, completely wrapped up in the music and the feeling of connection—you probably wouldn’t have guessed politics was anywhere in my future. What stayed with me from those early days wasn’t just the sound, it was the sense of community. Everyone was open, present, and connected. Cannabis was part of that space, but it wasn’t the headline. It just existed there, woven into the experience.
That was the beginning of my relationship with cannabis. It was social, tied to music, something shared. Over time, it became everything else.
Angry Peaches—The Mountain Orchid’s signature cut, known for loud terps and unmistakable character.
When Cannabis Became More Than Social
For a long time, cannabis stayed in that lane. Through college, it showed up in the same way—music, gatherings, traditions that revolved around community. It was light, fun, and familiar. But as I got older, my relationship with cannabis changed.
After I moved to Colorado, I developed Raynaud’s phenomenon, a condition that restricts blood flow and makes cold weather physically painful. If you’ve ever been to Colorado, you know it’s not exactly known for its lack of cold months. I was offered prescriptions, but I started noticing something on my own. When I used cannabis, my circulation improved. The pain eased. It wasn’t abstract; these were real, tangible results.
That realization shifted everything. Cannabis stopped being something I used occasionally and became something I depended on. And once it becomes medicine, you start asking different questions. You want to know how it’s grown, …
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Author: Lesley Davis / High Times
