From Stoner to Sovereign and Elevating the Cannabis Conversation
- Jun 2, 2025
- 6 min read
Updated: Jun 3, 2025
Kasturbai Azcona is a traveling photographer and movement facilitator raising her young kids in the farmlands of Guadalajara, Mexico. She specializes in mobility training and the nervous system, intuitive and creative sequencing, arm balancing, inversions, contortion & more!
Cannabis has been many things to me. A drug. A distraction. A crutch. A medicine. A mirror. A guide. In different seasons of my life, it has offered both comfort and clarity, sometimes at the same time. It helped me out of addiction, and at times, became something I had to step back from. This path has never been perfect, but it’s been real. And through it all, my relationship with the plant has evolved into something sacred.
This article is a reflection on that evolution. On how intention shifts everything. On how cannabis, when used with awareness, can move from coping to ceremony, from autopilot to presence. It’s a personal story, but also a wider invitation to rethink the narratives we carry, especially as women, mothers, teachers, and leaders reclaim sovereignty over our own rituals, rhythms, and healing.
Conscious use Vs. Recreational habits
I started using cannabis at 21 while trying to detox from hard drugs, including opiates, morphine, and even heroin. It was my self-guided rehab, and cannabis became a tool for survival. Back then, I wasn’t thinking about wellness or sovereignty. I was just trying to get clean. I guess you could’ve called me a stoner, but the truth is, cannabis helped save my life.
Over the years, especially after becoming a mother, my relationship with the plant evolved. It shifted from coping to conscious use, becoming part of my yoga practice, my rituals, and my nervous system care. Cannabis became a teacher. I’ve used it to escape, and I’ve also used it to return to myself. That’s the difference intention makes. When I approach it with reverence, it opens doors to sensation, breath, emotion, and presence. It’s not a gateway drug. For me, it’s been a gateway to sovereignty and to a conversation worth elevating.
The sensory shift: Tuning in through cannabis and movement
One of the most powerful things cannabis has taught me is how to slow down. Not just physically, but internally. Instead of focusing on what’s happening in the external world, cannabis draws me into my inner senses, my breath, my fascia, my feelings, my flow. It heightens body awareness, proprioception, and subtle energy. It invites me to listen deeper, move slower, and connect more intentionally.
Movement under the influence of cannabis isn’t about performance. It’s about presence. I often pair it with music, letting my headphones carry me into a more intuitive rhythm, a natural unfolding of motion and sensation. Other times, I keep it simple. I listen to the birds outside. Their song signals safety to the nervous system and reminds me that I am held. Whether I’m doing spinal waves, breathing exercises, or sun salutations, cannabis brings me into each layer, from muscles to fascia to energy.
Even basic sequences like sun A or sun B feel different when I’m attuned. I notice the space between my inhale and exhale, the pull of the breath across my spine, the anchoring of my hips. Cannabis turns movement into a dialogue with my own body. It’s not about getting somewhere. It’s about being here.
And yes, it slows you down. That’s one of its greatest gifts. It asks you to pay attention. To move with intention. I joke sometimes that no one gets a speeding ticket while high, and there’s truth in that. When you slow down, you feel more. You move more honestly. Sometimes that looks like rolling out your spine on the floor. Sometimes it’s twerking, or putting on socks like a ceremony. Sometimes it’s breathing in stillness. The beauty of it is, cannabis doesn’t dictate how you move. It just helps you hear what your body is really asking for.
The stigma and the sovereignty
There’s a long-standing cultural myth about what a “good” woman looks like. The calm, smiling housewife with a pie in the oven at 6 a.m., a clean home, well-behaved kids, and a satisfied husband. She’s curvy, fit, polished, and productive. And if she isn’t naturally that way, she’s prescribed something to help: antidepressants, Adderall, sedatives. For generations, women have been expected to hold everything together without ever showing the cracks. We’ve been told to perform calmness, even if it means chemically silencing our truth.
But real women are holding a thousand roles at once. We are creators, nurturers, leaders, lovers, caretakers, artists, and teachers. We are home builders and world shapers. And we also have vices, rituals, and medicines that help us move through the intensity of it all. The truth is, modern women are expected to do more than ever before, but with far less support. In earlier generations, we lived in tribes and tight-knit communities. We had grandmothers, aunts, cousins, neighbors, people who stepped in to care for children, to cook, to nurture, to hold us when we were tired. Wet nurses fed babies that weren’t their own.
Healing and caregiving were shared. Today, most mothers are expected to do it all, alone, and still look put together. We are not held the way we used to be.
And without time to rest or recover, how are we expected to thrive?
As I’ve shifted from maiden to mother, from student to teacher, from someone unnoticed to someone seen, I’ve felt the weight of the stigma that surrounds cannabis. Especially as a mother. Especially as a teacher. Especially as a leader. We’re told that cannabis makes us lazy when in truth, it helps us listen, create, slow down, and show up fully. And yet alcohol, a known depressant, is socially celebrated while cannabis remains hidden and judged. I believe in sovereignty. The right to choose your medicine. The right to create your ritual. The right to set your own pace. I’m not here to shame anyone for their choices. I’m here to help reframe cannabis not as a detour, but as a path to presence.
A living practice
It’s been well over a decade since I first integrated cannabis into my life. At this point, it’s hard to separate where my practice ends and the plant begins. She’s been a steady presence through my healing, my growth, my motherhood, and my movement, not just as a medicine but as a teacher. She shows me how to slow down, how to listen deeper, and how to question myself when I lose intention or overindulge. Our relationship is always evolving, and I imagine it always will be.
I don’t know what my connection to cannabis will look like in ten years. I’ve heard stories of people who eventually let it go completely, and maybe that will be my path too. Or maybe not. What I do know is that right now, she continues to offer lessons in presence, in patience, and in power. Cannabis has helped me understand my body in ways I never expected. She’s helped me fine-tune my breath, connect with my bandhas, and access a deeper layer of strength in my asana practice. She’s been there in ceremony, in celebration, in stillness, and in flow.
This path is not fixed. It’s living. And that’s what I want to explore more deeply as I co-host a Conscious Cannabis and Movement Retreat this October in San Pancho, Mexico, a space where the jungle meets the sea, and where presence, movement, and plant medicine can weave together in sacred practice. My hope is that more people begin to reconsider their relationship with this plant, not from a place of shame or stigma, but from a place of sovereignty, awareness, and curiosity. Because when used with intention, cannabis doesn’t take us away from ourselves. It brings us home.
Read more from Kasturbai L Azcona
Kasturbai L Azcona, Movement Instructor & Photographer
Kasturbai is a certified yoga teacher and fitness instructor for English and Spanish speakers around the world. She teaches with intention for hypermobile yogis and advocates for strength within flexibility. She is also a traveling photographer who documents retreats and events of all kinds!
