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Ciggy Butt Brain

“Can I have a pack of cigarettes please” I asked the guy behind the counter of the liquor store.

“Sure” he responded, “which pack would you like?”

“What’s your cheapest?” I responded.

Not my finest moment, buying the cheapest packet of cigarettes in a disoriented panicked state at a dingy corner liquor store. But life, well, she was kicking my ass.

As I got into my car after leaving the store tears welled up in my eyes and the lump grew in my throat as I reasoned with myself about spending $30 of our precious money on stinking cigarettes. Being a newly single mum, money was precious as I found my feet.

“I’m not even a fucking smoker” I snarled at myself, my reasoning for buying the cigarettes was, that buying cigarettes is better than losing it completely as the crazy woman I found myself slipping into in my overwhelming circumstances, and worse, if these stinking cigarettes prevented me from topping myself its better than being a dead “healthy” and disciplined spiritual spokesperson that I wished I was right?

Life had got for real, and I had this sinking feeling that life, well the pain and suffering was never going to let up.

If anything, will the pain not just get worse as I get older, ya know once all of the people I know start dying etc, and life continues to throw lessons at me for the rest of eternity?!

And now, I have a little human to think about, I couldn’t just repeat the pattern of throwing my slutty pants back on and marching to the closest bar like I possibly would have pre baby.

Well of course I could have, but I had vowed to myself that I would do better for him, because I knew better no matter how desperately I just wanted to repeat the temporary easing of the pain I felt as I struggled with all my might to let go of the container of my relationship with his dad.

I had a responsibility to uphold, raising Skye. One I was absolutely honored to be gifted with but one that terrified me in my moments of imbalance and made me question if I was good enough to be his mama often.

So, as I sat smoking that life vest of a cigarette that stormy afternoon in my garden, watching the tree’s blow around in the storm I wondered first if I should google “spiritual people that smoke” just to verify that it was okay that I was. But I was terrified I would find no one, so I quickly scrapped that idea, I mean, there must be other spiritual spokes people that smoke cigarettes when life kicks their ass right?

Or maybe it’s just me, and maybe I am not as spiritually woke as I thought I was because lord knows my discipline is not as my spiritual teachers encourage me to be.

I sat there breathing the smoke into my lungs, feeling the relaxation pulsate through my veins. And I pondered on the spiritual “rules” I had been taught and had adopted over the years.

Of course, smoking is bad for you, I have seen firsthand the repercussions with my own loved ones, but when did I begin to believe that if I smoked a cigarette, it made me less worthy, and less valuable as a person, and especially as a spiritual guide and student.

The shame and self disgust and disappointment in my lack of ability to cope I felt was for real. How could I have come so far on my journey of spiritual development just to fall so far backwards I pondered.

But as I have grown into more of myself I now see the illusion I was living in, I was holding myself so accountable to be the image of spiritual perfection and how un realistic it was when I know full well every human being on this Earth has their own lower nature and that is exactly what I am. Human.

I guess because there is the projected idea that “bad” boys and girls smoke, and to be spiritual is to be pure, and all things healthy and light. It’s the “good girl” in me that believes that I must conform to the spiritual rules laid before me to be worthy of the message I teach.

But let’s be real that is not life, and sometimes rules must be broken, this time as a way of surviving my horrible, HORRIBLE day. But sometimes we must break rules we have been programmed to believe because our understanding and beliefs have changed, or we are working through some HEAVY life shit, or because we still have to learn what truly serves us in this lifetime and what doesn't.

Often, we have to stray off the path, to find the path again and as I sat there smoking my ciggy, looking up at the sky, and the wild wind through the trees I felt home. In my body, as I sat there mindfully puffing away. I prayed as I smoked, and cried while announcing to the trees, to God, to SHE that I really, truly was grateful for all of the beauty in my life. “But right now, I am just sooo sad” I sobbed. Honestly if my neighbor was watching good god what a sight I would have been.

In that moment I understood that while yes, smoking is not good for our health, obviously, we all know that.

Everything has its purpose.

I used that cigarette as a way to come home to myself, I smoked it mindfully, enjoyed the relaxation it brought and it helped to slow me down mentally when I was on the brink of literal, psycho break down.

It taught me how I was still searching for validation and suffocating myself with the tight rules I had been programmed to believe made me more worthy as a spiritual person.

I believe smoking one cigarette in a moment like that, is totally acceptable, spiritual or not. Sure, I don’t condone my actions, or recommend it, its obvs not the goods long term, but I wanted to write about this experience so others on the spiritual path who find themselves doing not so “spiritual” things feel less alone.

No matter how spiritual we maybe, we are all still having the human experience and frankly I am sick of the illusion that to be all holy and mighty, valuable, and worthy of teaching, practicing and believing in such topics we must be pure in every single way, body, mind, soul, and sex because babes, that shit is just so far from the truth.

Sending all my love.

Amy Dee x

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