Grass, the Herb Yielding Seed
Greetings my cosmic contemplators. Let’s spark one up and time-travel back to Genesis 1:11 with the Stoic Stoner state of mind — where ancient scripture meets memories of vinyl grooves and business cards from dudes we didn’t vote for.
🌱 “Grass, the Herb Yielding Seed”
A Stoic Stoner Reflection on Genesis 1:11
In the beginning…
Before the seeds were sifted out,
before we tried to perfect what was already sacred,
before the dispensary and the label and the lab results—
there was just herb yielding seed.
And it was good.
As the Stoic Stoner, I hold the Word with reverence—but I don’t wear a tie to church. I light up and listen. And Genesis 1:1? That’s the Big Bang before the bang. That's the cosmic opening riff, the downbeat of divine intention:
“In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.”
Right off the bat, before man builds, before man edits, before man even names—God creates.
And He doesn’t go for monuments or monuments to man. He makes light. He separates. He lets things be.
And then, verse 11 rolls around like a hazy afternoon in 1979 Mesa, Arizona:
“…and herb yielding seed…”
Yo. Not just “herb.” Not just “seed.”
Herb yielding seed.
Before Sensimilla
Nowadays, you hear “seedless” and folks nod approvingly, like that’s progress. But there was something sacred in the old-school sacks, wasn’t there?
You’d score a bag, sit cross-legged on the carpet with a double-folded album cover—maybe Sticky Fingers or Band of Gypsys—tilt it just right, and flick the seeds down into a little pile. Tap, tap. Shuffle. Clear the shake. You knew the ritual. It was part of the experience.
And those seeds? They weren’t waste. They were promise.
They whispered of continuation. Of potential. They yielded.
Sacred Simplicity
God didn’t say, “Let there be 34% THC, perfectly manicured nugs, or terpene profiles.” Nah. He just said: Let the earth bring forth.
There’s stoicism in that. No hype, no ego. Just being.
In our rush to perfect, purify, and patent, we sometimes miss the point. Maybe the herb with seeds was more aligned with the Source than we realized. Less engineered, more Eden.
Trays, Seeds, and Politicians
Let’s be real. If you weren’t using a record jacket, you probably used a high school folder or—like me—those business cards from local politicians. You know the ones. Smiling faces and hollow promises. The irony? We used their cards to sort out the real truth.
Their message went in the trash. The herb went into our lungs.
The seeds? Into the ashtray… or maybe the backyard. Just in case.
Conclusion:
Maybe the first joint was lit with the fire of creation itself.
Maybe every seed flicked into an album groove was an unconscious prayer to the green spirit.
Maybe, just maybe, God looked down on a stoner in 1979 Mesa, separating seeds with care and a Bic lighter in hand, and said,
“It is good.”
Stay grounded, stay elevated. The Stoic Stoner knows: all things in balance, even the herb yielding seed. 🌿🔥 😎
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