What does it mean to you? So often, we forget that each of us sees the world through a unique lens. While we may share an experience, our exact perspective is ours alone.
Many of us discovered High Times during different chapters of our lives. For me, it started in childhood. I grew up reading the magazine, drawn to its bold voice and rebellious energy. It inspired me. It offered a sense of freedom—and more than anything, it reassured me that I wasn’t alone in believing this plant made life better. Whether cannabis helped us feel balanced, feel whole, or simply feel good, High Times was a beacon for those of us who saw it as more than just a vice.
Today, cannabis is often framed as a safer alternative to alcohol or tobacco. While that may be true, that narrative feels incomplete. For those of us who came up in the culture, the plant was never just about harm reduction. Our early experiences weren’t driven by taste, branding, or appearance. They were about how it made us feel.
We smoked what we could get our hands on. Brown buds with stems and seeds—sometimes green, sometimes dry and dusty, sometimes damp and moldy. The names were basic or nonexistent. We called it green, brown, dirt, chronic, bammer. No one was posting nug photos or comparing flavor profiles to candy. We were in it for the high, for the relief, and for the connection.
For me, cannabis was a constant. Before school, at lunch, after school. We masked the smell with gum, sprays, and excuses. Everyone around me smoked. My friends, the dealers, the heads at shows, the random adults who still had a foot in the underground. Often, people sold just to afford their own habit. The culture grew organically from the lifestyle. And while we were getting high, we were also medicating—whether we called it that or not.
Cannabis is the most diverse cultivated plant on the planet. No other species has been shaped and selected into as many distinct types. It’s an adaptogen, and our bodies are equipped with cannabinoid receptors that allow the plant to affect us in complex and deeply personal ways. This is part of what makes it so difficult for doctors to prescribe in a conventional sense. One cultivar might energize one person and sedate another. Some feel calm, others paranoid. Its effects are influenced by body chemistry, food, mood, stress, time of day—even the weather. It is not one-size-fits-all.
High Times helped us make sense of that variability in the plant and the culture around it. It was the most influential publication of my life. I still have my collection from the early 1990s, each issue stacked with care and reverence. The article that captivated me most growing up was the “Million Dollar Grow Room.” Years later, I was honored to be featured in the second edition of that same article. That moment of reflection and recognition remains one of the defining highlights of my career.
Over the years, I’ve built lasting friendships with former High Times editors, writers, and photographers. These were true believers who helped shape the voice of the movement. Now, a new generation carries that legacy forward. And it is not a light burden.
High Times is more than a brand. It is a cultural institution. It carries the stories of survivors, visionaries, and revolutionaries. From Jack Herer to Michael Kennedy—from legalization architects to counterculture icons like Steven Hager—the magazine has always served as a platform for voices pushing against the mainstream. And we can’t forget the countless unnamed contributors, those who submitted stories and photos without credit or compensation, simply for the love of the plant and the mission.
The groundwork has been laid. But the story is still being written. The cannabis industry continues to evolve, and with it, our responsibilities. We owe everything to those who came before us. This plant has traveled across continents, passed from hand to hand, seed to seed. In the past seventy years alone, we’ve witnessed an explosion of cross selection and hybridization unlike anything else in agriculture.
High Times was a catalyst throughout that process. From the 1970s through the later part of the 2010s, it helped shape what the cannabis community would become. Much of what we see now in newer publications and across social media can be traced back to the culture that High Times helped nurture and protect.
I’m an optimist. I believe the best chapters are still ahead. The High Times name still matters. It still carries weight. It still represents something sacred. And if stewarded with care, it can continue to be a voice for the culture and a champion of the plant. The impact the brand has already made is immeasurable—but its potential is even greater. Our passion is real. Our connection is deep. And we are fortunate to be part of something larger than ourselves—part of a movement, part of a legacy, part of a plant that makes the world better, one person at a time.
This article is from an external, unpaid contributor. It does not represent High Times’ reporting and has not been edited for content or accuracy.
