I’M HERE FOR THE ALTERED STATE OF CONSCIOUSNESS
Growing up in Kentucky, the tobacco state, it seems like plant medicines have always had a seat at the table. Granted, I wasn’t using tobacco as a health remedy in the 1980s so much as a balm for my soul—one that happened to leave my lungs looking like a used ashtray.
Each puff may have been a small act of lung sabotage, but it had a way of muting the chaotic chorus of teenage troubles, hormones, and the constant soundtrack of family “discussions.” Rolling and smoking my own tobacco became a covert operation in independence, with me as both the rebel and the getaway driver, navigating the dense tobacco-scented clouds that lingered on my clothes, my car, my hair. This was my thing. I was a smoker, and I loved it.
Even now, I can smell the warm, heady scent of dried tobacco leaves drifting through the air as I rode my Honda minibike past endless fields of this glorious plant. Maybe it was that heady mix of countryside and carcinogens, but riding past those barns—where the leaves hung in rows like rows of elders nodding solemnly in the breeze—I felt something. A higher spirit, perhaps.
Looking back, I wonder if I was absorbing the remnants of the Cherokee, the Shawnee, and the Chickasaw who had once cared for this land. This was their plant, their land. I was just rolling through.
With each pack of Marlboro Lights I bought using babysitting money, I went through my own little ritual. There was a particular pleasure in packing those cigarettes, slapping the box against my palm—a ceremony I didn’t realize was one until years later. I was, after all, a Girl Scout and the leader of my church youth group. Apparently, one can tap into the divine with a cigarette or a Thin Mint.
Over the years, I attempted quitting multiple times: the patch, hypnosis, cold turkey. Each effort was as doomed as the last, because my only real reason for quitting was, “I shouldn’t.” And as any rebel smoker knows, “shouldn’t” is one of those words that vanishes with the first whiff of nicotine. Willpower doesn’t stand a chance against the hand motion that has become muscle memory.
It wasn’t until I moved to California at 25 that the urge to quit got serious. Suddenly, I had reasons: my voice, the thing I’d come to realize was my gift and my lifeline. Smoking wasn’t just bad for my lungs—it was insulting my vocal cords, like some form of vocal sabotage. I wanted to see if I could reach people, spirit, myself through my voice alone, without the aid of a cigarette to grease the wheels.
So, I devised a plan:
Go camping for three days.
Leave cigarettes behind.
Live on tangerines.
Smoke only marijuana—from a water bong, because that’s somehow “better.”
The tangerine idea appeared to me like a vision, and I didn’t question it. I quickly chose a cozy purple fleece pullover from REI as my reward for completing this journey to non-smoker status.
In the woods, beneath towering Redwoods, I pondered my 25 years, 12 of which were spent building a one-pack-a-day habit. I ate tangerines, ceremoniously puffed Mary Jane from a glass-blown pipe I’d picked up at a Dead show, and sat on the ground feeling like some kind of citrus-scented sage. The forest canopy, the sticky residue on my fingers, the life I’d lived, the dreams waiting ahead—everything was sacred in that moment.
I haven’t smoked a cigarette since.
Of course, back in the real world, the week that followed was less enchanted. There were headaches, vomiting, lethargy—the holy trinity of withdrawal. That’s when I embraced the AA mantra: one day at a time. Only for me, it was more like one minute at a time. If I could last a minute, maybe I’d make it to two. Minutes became hours, hours became days, and eventually, a full year went by.
I drove straight to REI and bought that pullover—the coziest fleece I’ve ever owned.
The real test came a year and a half later, when I found myself in a play, surrounded by theater folks, my people, who smoked like it was an Olympic event. Backstage, onstage, at the loading dock, in the parking lot, at cast parties. Cigarettes were props, rituals, social events. The cravings hit hard.
To combat this, I decided to re-enact my life as a smoker, only now as a non-smoker. I was going to do every single thing I’d ever done with a cigarette—without one.
This turned into a kind of sport: be in a play, direct a play, travel to Paris, flirt, drink coffee, write in a journal, go to concerts, sit around campfires, fall in love, have sex, go through a break up, stay up late, pay taxes, vote. I did all of it. Sans cigarette.
After I survived a trip to Paris with my best friend and zero cigarettes—I knew I’d made it. I was officially a non-smoker.
Fast-forward to today, at 52, and I’ve been off tobacco for 27 years.
Turns out goal setting when linked to extremely personalized intentions— works!
But I digress. Let’s talk about plant medicine and why I came here to this page in the first place.
As I settled into life as a non-smoker, I thought my relationship with “sacred plants” was behind me. Little did I know, it was just the beginning. Mushrooms and Ayahuasca had a whole new world waiting for me—a world that would challenge and open me in ways I never imagined.
I can’t wait to share Part Two with you, as we dive into these remarkable plants and the gifts they bring to a world in need of more clarity and connection.
After what we’ve all been through this past week, the idea of finding a path to higher awareness, collective healing, and courage feels more essential than ever.
Stay tuned—this journey has only just begun.
Here is an absolutely amazing little song about Tobacco as Medicine that simply moves me to my knees! Click here to hear on Apple Music.
Peace and Love Always,
Shannon
P.S. If you're working on a goal or just trying to stay grounded in these times, remember that even big changes are built step by step. Finding small rituals, creating soulful goals, and letting yourself celebrate small victories are what keep you moving forward. Whatever you’re working on, I’m here cheering you on. And if you’re even a little curious about plant medicine, I promise Part Two will be here soon…
P.S. Every day I am helping my clients set intentions and live a life they love!
If you are ready for THIS hop on a consult with me today!