Images by Baron Joestar
Cannabis is usually talked about in terms of individual experience. How it relaxes, sharpens things, or shifts perception. But for a lot of consumers, that’s not what stands out most.
What tends to linger is something less measurable: who was there, where everyone was sitting, what was being talked about, and how the moment unfolded as it moved through the group.
A Shared Structure
Passing a joint is a familiar routine. Someone rolls, someone lights it, and then it starts moving through the group. No one really explains the rules, but everyone seems to follow them. Take a hit, pass it along, and somewhere in between, the conversation settles into place. Things slow down a little, people talk over each other less, and stories stretch out. Someone loses their train of thought halfway through and either circles back or lets it go. No one really minds either way.
As it moves from hand to hand, so does the focus. No one holds the spotlight for long, and the dynamic shifts without much effort. Conversations feel less transactional and more open-ended. Points do not need to be fully resolved, and pauses are not immediately filled. There is room to circle back, to drift, or to leave something unfinished.
It’s not a huge shift, but it’s certainly a consistent one—especially when people are sharing instead of smoking solo (or even just sitting together with no real agenda).
What Happens When the Experience is Shared
For Rusty Wilenkin, founder of Old Pal, a company built around the idea of shareable, accessible cannabis, it’s a dynamic that reflects how he first came to understand the plant.
“I’ve worked in and sold cannabis for most of my adult life,” he says. “From my earliest times using, my favorite part about the plant was how it brought people together.”
What stands out, he explains, isn’t just the effect, but what happens between people when the experience is shared.
“The simple experience of sharing a joint with someone can lead to so many amazing conversations, experiences, and perspectives,” he explains.
There’s something specific about the ritual itself. Not just that it happens, but how it happens. “That experience of sharing something with your friends, passing it to one another, almost feels sacred,” he says. “You stand in a circle, or sit together, and share more than a joint. You share that conversation, the music you’re enjoying, the location you’re in.”
The format encourages a kind of low-pressure presence, or a collective slowing down that’s increasingly rare.
“I find people tend to become a bit closer,” he adds. “They tend to open up to one another a bit more, and everything becomes just a wee bit funnier.”
Observed in Practice
“Cannabis is definitely a source of connection and a way to meet new people,” says Camilla Collins, assistant general manager at Zen Leaf Dispensary in New Jersey. While she values smoking alone as a way to reflect—journaling, reading, or just taking a walk—she sees shared consumption as something distinct: a setting where connection tends to come a little easier, and conversation follows naturally.
“I think it lets us let our walls down because there’s already something shared between us. We’re enjoying a plant that still carries a lot of stigma, and it becomes easier to feel comfortable with the people around you, whether the session was planned or not. I’ve met so many people through using and working with cannabis, it’s truly amazing.”
Staying in the Conversation
Wilenkin sees this as part of cannabis’s broader social function.
“Cannabis has taken me to so many different places—from California to Oklahoma, to New Jersey and Philly—and I’ve always found like-minded people who enjoy what I enjoy,” he says. “We’re not always aligned 100%. But that shared enjoyment allows us to have harder conversations and find more middle ground.”
That ability to stay in conversation without full agreement gives these moments their staying power. The act itself does not resolve differences, but it can make them easier to navigate. It creates conditions where listening lasts a little longer and responses feel less immediate.
When Wilenkin imagines someone opening a bag of Old Pal, he imagines the setting to be intentionally unstructured: outdoors, with other people, and without too much planning.
“I hope they turn off their phones and sit with people that make them smile,” he says. “When we think about people using our products, I always come back to a bunch of people around a campfire (…) usually one or two dogs running around, and some good food going on a grill somewhere.”
The goal is not to define the experience, but to support it.
“Our products aren’t meant to be taken too seriously,” he adds. “They’re supposed to enhance the good time you’re having, and to turn new friends into Old Pals.”
What Gets Passed Along
In that sense, cannabis functions less as a centerpiece and more as a conduit that moves between people and takes on meaning through that movement.
The experience is not held by one person or one moment. It is distributed across a group, shaped in real time by attention, timing, and exchange. Each pass shifts the dynamic slightly, redistributing focus and extending the interaction.
That structure, however informal, is what gives shared smoke its consistency. Not just as a habit, but as a social mechanism that organizes conversation without directing it.
What remains is not only the effect, but the pattern it leaves behind: a moment built collectively, carried briefly, and then passed on.
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