Smoking
(Dedicated to all smokers and ...)
I celebrate the unwinding that occurs as I breathe in the first puff of smoke. If breathing has ever been a pleasure, it was while smoking. Each puff that you inhale in a relaxed state is a unit of satisfaction. Well, four thousand chemicals contribute to your joy of smoking. And, once addicted, you admire your ready loyalty to it. It is a very subtle love affair that you strike when cigarette starts obsessively intruding your thoughts. And, this devotion thrives over all opposition.
Neither the fear of being calumniated by society nor being put under oath nor the pinching of the purse nor a terrible denture nor the blackening of lips nor the statutory warning can derail you from reaching out to those 'coffin nails'.
I am not undermining the harmful effects of cigarette. They are all there and every smoker is aware of its dangers. I am only referring to the sense of belonging one feels to the butt and how it carves a place for itself in our lives.
I am indebted to cigarette for being my unfailing companion. A heightened awareness of the problems without causing stress, is a distinct quality of this liberating smoke. The cloud of smoke that surrounds me in the loneliness of my room seems to be an expansion of myself. A puff of smoke goes up and brings before me a flimsy representative of the inner world. I have often addressed this gathering of multitudes that arose from within. In that haze, I glimpse an inner response that cannot be sufficiently articulated.
At times, I had almost unravelled the mystery of creation but couldn't transport those truths to the waking consciousness. They have stamped my consciousness, though, in a unique way. Now the flights to the higher sense are so effortless and without any external inducement; the unknown peeps out of the known often; an uncaused happiness spurts in the humdrum of daily existence. I owe it all to the holy smoke!
It also liberated me from the cringing idea that places fear of bad name at the foundation of morality. If smoking cigarette is a peek into my moral person, then I give a damn. It is better to be consumed by smoke than by anger and better be burnt by the smoldering tobacco than out of jealousy. Also, the process of internalizing smoke triggers introversion. If you are unable to cultivate inwardness through meditation, then smoke.
Have you ever waited for someone on the roadside with arms dangling impatiently? How does it feel? I find it very awkward. I need a positive engagement in the form of cigarette to blow off my restlessness. It lends purpose to my wait and saves me from being a loafer.
Such a dear companion as cigarette has rightly found her place at the lips. This makes our women jealous. It would have made sense to ask for the moon rather than asking men to quit smoking. They never realise what a man craves for - a high!
(506 words)
I celebrate the unwinding that occurs as I breathe in the first puff of smoke. If breathing has ever been a pleasure, it was while smoking. Each puff that you inhale in a relaxed state is a unit of satisfaction. Well, four thousand chemicals contribute to your joy of smoking. And, once addicted, you admire your ready loyalty to it. It is a very subtle love affair that you strike when cigarette starts obsessively intruding your thoughts. And, this devotion thrives over all opposition.
Neither the fear of being calumniated by society nor being put under oath nor the pinching of the purse nor a terrible denture nor the blackening of lips nor the statutory warning can derail you from reaching out to those 'coffin nails'.
I am not undermining the harmful effects of cigarette. They are all there and every smoker is aware of its dangers. I am only referring to the sense of belonging one feels to the butt and how it carves a place for itself in our lives.
I am indebted to cigarette for being my unfailing companion. A heightened awareness of the problems without causing stress, is a distinct quality of this liberating smoke. The cloud of smoke that surrounds me in the loneliness of my room seems to be an expansion of myself. A puff of smoke goes up and brings before me a flimsy representative of the inner world. I have often addressed this gathering of multitudes that arose from within. In that haze, I glimpse an inner response that cannot be sufficiently articulated.
At times, I had almost unravelled the mystery of creation but couldn't transport those truths to the waking consciousness. They have stamped my consciousness, though, in a unique way. Now the flights to the higher sense are so effortless and without any external inducement; the unknown peeps out of the known often; an uncaused happiness spurts in the humdrum of daily existence. I owe it all to the holy smoke!
It also liberated me from the cringing idea that places fear of bad name at the foundation of morality. If smoking cigarette is a peek into my moral person, then I give a damn. It is better to be consumed by smoke than by anger and better be burnt by the smoldering tobacco than out of jealousy. Also, the process of internalizing smoke triggers introversion. If you are unable to cultivate inwardness through meditation, then smoke.
Have you ever waited for someone on the roadside with arms dangling impatiently? How does it feel? I find it very awkward. I need a positive engagement in the form of cigarette to blow off my restlessness. It lends purpose to my wait and saves me from being a loafer.
Such a dear companion as cigarette has rightly found her place at the lips. This makes our women jealous. It would have made sense to ask for the moon rather than asking men to quit smoking. They never realise what a man craves for - a high!
(506 words)
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