Briarbabe
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- Joined
- Jul 30, 2013
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Since starting this hobby several weeks ago I've been frustrated a lot. There is a very large learning curve to smoking a pipe and the more I learn the more I see that this is definitely something that takes time. And patience. I am not really a patient person. My dad used to tell me "Have patience before you become one.", all the time as a child and I still to this day don't know if it was a warning or a threat. Knowing me, probably both. I have used more matches in the last four weeks than I probably have in my entire life. My tongue is definitely ready to call this quits, although it is healing up nicely. I have had so many questions and posted many; and scoured YouTube and I've learned a few things.
I'm getting better at this.
When I rush, it's just a big unfulfilling mess.
If my bowl starts to get hot I put it down.
When I rush, it's just a big unfulfilling mess.
I still have a lot to learn.
When I rush, it's just a big unfulfilling mess.
Using a neti pot for the last ten years, I figured out how to "snork" almost instantly.
When I rush, it's just a big unfulfilling mess.
So I've stopped trying to smoke my pipe just for the sake of smoking my pipe. I set aside some time. I gather all of my tools ahead of time. I pack my pipe (getting pretty good at it), I light, I tamp, I relight and then I take my shoes off. This small step of taking my shoes off, has forced me to slow down. I've had three really great zen-like smokes where I finally got a glimpse at what all the fuss was about. Coincidentally, or not, those are the ones I didn't have to relight. Everything was just right. My cadence was perfect. The smoke was cool and flavorful. The world slowed it's spinning for a bit. My feet felt firmly planted on the ground. Or my butt was firmly planted on a pick up truck bed leaning close to my love. These are what keep me in it, because I get it.
I remember the look on my Dad's face when he was smoking his pipe. I remember his slow, even movements from when he filled his pipe, right up to the point when it had cooled and he cleaned it out in the ashtray. It's a process. This is why I'm drawn to things like knitting, spinning, writing, smoking, even mowing the lawn and vacuuming. It's a process. Predictable, steady, even steps are taken to produce a predictable result. And in all of the above mentioned it becomes muscle memory. I can check out for a while, and my body can take over. When I sit at my spinning wheel treadling quietly, it will send me into another world, and twenty minutes later, I look down to find that although my mind was somewhere else, my fingers stayed behind and there is a bobbin full off evenly spun singles. I know someday it will be the same with my pipe.
I'm learning, it's slow going, but I'm getting it and I love it.
eta: grammar check!
I'm getting better at this.
When I rush, it's just a big unfulfilling mess.
If my bowl starts to get hot I put it down.
When I rush, it's just a big unfulfilling mess.
I still have a lot to learn.
When I rush, it's just a big unfulfilling mess.
Using a neti pot for the last ten years, I figured out how to "snork" almost instantly.
When I rush, it's just a big unfulfilling mess.
So I've stopped trying to smoke my pipe just for the sake of smoking my pipe. I set aside some time. I gather all of my tools ahead of time. I pack my pipe (getting pretty good at it), I light, I tamp, I relight and then I take my shoes off. This small step of taking my shoes off, has forced me to slow down. I've had three really great zen-like smokes where I finally got a glimpse at what all the fuss was about. Coincidentally, or not, those are the ones I didn't have to relight. Everything was just right. My cadence was perfect. The smoke was cool and flavorful. The world slowed it's spinning for a bit. My feet felt firmly planted on the ground. Or my butt was firmly planted on a pick up truck bed leaning close to my love. These are what keep me in it, because I get it.
I remember the look on my Dad's face when he was smoking his pipe. I remember his slow, even movements from when he filled his pipe, right up to the point when it had cooled and he cleaned it out in the ashtray. It's a process. This is why I'm drawn to things like knitting, spinning, writing, smoking, even mowing the lawn and vacuuming. It's a process. Predictable, steady, even steps are taken to produce a predictable result. And in all of the above mentioned it becomes muscle memory. I can check out for a while, and my body can take over. When I sit at my spinning wheel treadling quietly, it will send me into another world, and twenty minutes later, I look down to find that although my mind was somewhere else, my fingers stayed behind and there is a bobbin full off evenly spun singles. I know someday it will be the same with my pipe.
I'm learning, it's slow going, but I'm getting it and I love it.
eta: grammar check!