The taste lingers in my mouth as if to mock what little solace I found in the dozen or so puffs I just let out into the air. Interesting thing, smoke: it’s like air except you can see it. As if it gives you a glimpse into the otherwise hidden and unseen forces of the world, a sense and feel of the intangible, a true perception of reality. As if. Or is it?

“This is how it all begins, simon”. Beginning and end indistinguishable.

Part 1: Beginning.

It’s amazing how you can literally sit for hours in the exact same position and watch as countless thoughts stream and float in front of you. At some point you’ll rest your forehead on your palm, move your fingers across your chin, press your nose and cheek against your knuckles etc. All the usual traits of deep thought. But more importantly, I think, they serve as markers of resignation, an acknowledgement of defeat. An official submission into the despair as there are no answers to be found to questions which won’t leave you alone. Suddenly you’ll catch yourself getting lost in your thoughts in time not to drown, and only for the cycle to repeat itself.

Where to from here?

Part 2: the story – or so it goes

In part I think it’s like an intriguing and strange journey that comes to an abrupt end. An open exploration and adventure: boundless – a sense of freedom, but with a nagging timeclock and a knowing of a coming end. Although the final destination is uncertain, in fact it seems to change every time, I think it’s this knowing of uncertainty of the end point that will always make you embark on the journey. Of course, the idea of the journey itself is enough to get you on the trail: as I’ve already said it’s an adventure, or at least a trip that hasn’t been mapped out, the journey therefore is symbolic of being free. Consequently, even with the knowledge that the end is inevitable, one still cannot escape the dissonance that comes with the boundlessness of space and the alluring prospect of freedom.

Dangerous thing venturing into the endless sea: what wind and tides await? What storms will find your path? These are all metaphors of various thoughts that may spring up, each finding resolution in every puff, each attempting to find clarity in its expression, until there’s nothing but the clear sky.

But on some days even the sky remains cloudy, never quite always a blue day.

Part 3: where to from here – the journey continues?

Tired. This journey is long and tiresome. And as painful as it is to admit I must stop and take a breath, entertain the idea of stopping indefinitely. For even the sea itself grows tired and lies still. It seems we all don’t quite know where to go, including these forces which push us forward. To what end? There is none really, only life they say.

Back to that cigarette. Inhale. I must say there’s a definite scintillating, calming feel to that drag. Yet it’s also suffocating because as it turns out our bodies don’t really take the inhale from cigarettes for actual air. Cough cough.

Funny thing smoke.

Exhale. Disappointingly not as fulfilling as the former. It’s not really an exhale, more like a polite sigh before the actual exhale. Inhale. Cough. Exhale. This is the cycle. In between this cycle the real world comes and hits you fast and hard. And hits even harder once the cycle ends.

Maybe the trick is to find more pauses in actual life to see this real world, maybe that way it won’t be a constant reality.

Part 4: End

Apparently this journey is too dangerous. There are other routes to take. And so in the meantime it seems I’m content with exploring an alternative avenue. And with all earnest, for whatever good, a part of me prays I stay to it.

Yet, I’d be lying if I did not say there’s a deep yearning of undertaking this journey. My words, and indeed thoughts, have of late become more. It is therefore with extreme caution I write what I write now: a possibility grows to probability, a truer quest for freedom. Fate and destiny once intertwined and seemingly entwined have become but strings which if willing I can pull.

If I to take the will, then I venture into more than boundless and unchartered waters. And this I am scared. Steep is the price of true freedom. Begs the question what price is too great to be free? Surely, true freedom can’t be bought. Yet if you are born a slave to this world, then for you, life itself is your master, to be free means to give up your life as you know it and this world.

Where then is there life that is free?

*Just over a month ago I went from flirting with the idea of smoking, to seriously contemplating smoking, to eventually smoking, and finally stopping. This post is in a way going through and reminiscing the four stages.*