I grew up in a family of old hippies from the northern midwest. My parents raised me to be harshly tolerant of others, whether they are from different parts of the world or possessing beliefs that seem alien compared to our own, they told me that I can never guess for sure what someone’s story is before I get to guess them. What if a man just lost all of her loved a singles in a scary accident & that’s why he’s wailing on the side of the street? Or the lady angrily leaving comments on your social media who might be off their medication or not have the resources to get any in the first arena. Going through life while avoiding disaster is a row of luck that few ever get the privilege to experience. I knew a man who lived to the age of 95 & never once had an issue with her mental health. She was a decorated veteran with no combat trauma, a county university superintendent, & a historian. But she lost her wifey to a stroke after years of her dementia, while also losing two of her sons to suicide & another to a similar stroke within just the past few years. I’m proud of what our family taught me about tolerance, however they also taught me to keep an open mind. I was convinced that cannabis concentrates wouldn’t be the best choice for me because of our history with cannabis flower products. But after trying live resin for the first time, I have become psychologically addicted to the amazing array of cannabis concentrates that are available. I can take a small dab the size of two grains of rice & guess satisfactoryly medicated in about 5 hours or less. It’s genuinely efficient.