The pipe, that is...
I am, admittedly, not the most patient of men. When I first witnessed a microwave oven in action back in the early '70's, I exclaimed, "now we're cookin'!" No more waiting 20-30 minutes to fill my belly; I could have what I wanted when I wanted it. I've always wanted things done NOW. My adage has often been, if at first you don't succeed, move the hell on to something else!
Then one day last November I purchased a cob and tin. I packed a bowl with a bit of tobacco and lit the baby up... I really liked the way it felt in my hand, the way the smoke curled up before my eyes, the aroma that wafted through my nostrils and the awesome flavors that flooded across my tongue. I loved it and I wanted more of it.
But, alas, the glorious experience was short-lived. I drew another breath and there was nothing... no smoke, no aroma, no flavor, no anything except a piece of plastic held between my teeth. So, I lit her up again and there again was that awesome curl of smoke, that beautiful aroma, those exotic flavors. And then, they were gone again. I repeated the steps for who knows how many times or how many minutes.
When I finally had burned all that would burn I put the pipe and tobacco in a box and wondered if it was worth the effort.
I thought little more of it for a few days but then my mind drew back to the wonder of that experience. I wanted it again. So I tried it again but that time I searched the internet for some advice for surely others do not have this much difficulty. My father never seemed to struggle when he smoked. My mentor never seemed to struggle when he smoked. In fact, quite the opposite. They always appeared very much relaxed and in total control. Not only did I want the sensory pleasures associated with the experience but I also wanted to be like those men I admired so much in my youth. I wanted to feel relaxed and in control.
This, I decided, may be worth the time, effort and, yes, patience required so I stuck with it. That said, I didn't change my ways immediately. I still wanted to just pack, light and puff but that simply wasn't to be. I have learned that the pipe... that glorious lady... is not one to be rushed and certainly not one to be controlled. She must be treated as she desires and only as she desires if she is to give me what I want from her.
Gradually, I am learning to treat her right. I'm learning to take time to clean her... caress her if you will; to gently and methodically fill her oh so carefully with the tobacco she wants before applying the flame that produces that which I desire. When treated like the lady she is, she reciprocates by giving far more to me than I to her.
She's is, indeed, a damn fine teacher.
I am, admittedly, not the most patient of men. When I first witnessed a microwave oven in action back in the early '70's, I exclaimed, "now we're cookin'!" No more waiting 20-30 minutes to fill my belly; I could have what I wanted when I wanted it. I've always wanted things done NOW. My adage has often been, if at first you don't succeed, move the hell on to something else!
Then one day last November I purchased a cob and tin. I packed a bowl with a bit of tobacco and lit the baby up... I really liked the way it felt in my hand, the way the smoke curled up before my eyes, the aroma that wafted through my nostrils and the awesome flavors that flooded across my tongue. I loved it and I wanted more of it.
But, alas, the glorious experience was short-lived. I drew another breath and there was nothing... no smoke, no aroma, no flavor, no anything except a piece of plastic held between my teeth. So, I lit her up again and there again was that awesome curl of smoke, that beautiful aroma, those exotic flavors. And then, they were gone again. I repeated the steps for who knows how many times or how many minutes.
When I finally had burned all that would burn I put the pipe and tobacco in a box and wondered if it was worth the effort.
I thought little more of it for a few days but then my mind drew back to the wonder of that experience. I wanted it again. So I tried it again but that time I searched the internet for some advice for surely others do not have this much difficulty. My father never seemed to struggle when he smoked. My mentor never seemed to struggle when he smoked. In fact, quite the opposite. They always appeared very much relaxed and in total control. Not only did I want the sensory pleasures associated with the experience but I also wanted to be like those men I admired so much in my youth. I wanted to feel relaxed and in control.
This, I decided, may be worth the time, effort and, yes, patience required so I stuck with it. That said, I didn't change my ways immediately. I still wanted to just pack, light and puff but that simply wasn't to be. I have learned that the pipe... that glorious lady... is not one to be rushed and certainly not one to be controlled. She must be treated as she desires and only as she desires if she is to give me what I want from her.
Gradually, I am learning to treat her right. I'm learning to take time to clean her... caress her if you will; to gently and methodically fill her oh so carefully with the tobacco she wants before applying the flame that produces that which I desire. When treated like the lady she is, she reciprocates by giving far more to me than I to her.
She's is, indeed, a damn fine teacher.