“Yesterday I quit smoking … Kind of.”
Yesterday, I was in my morning meditation talking to God (which is antithetical to meditation I know, but you have to start somewhere) and I said, “Okay, God, tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
“Throw out your cigarettes,” came The Thought.
“Throw out your cigarettes,” It repeated.
And my eyes widened because I knew it was the Voice of God.
Now how do I know this wasn’t just the latest in the never-ending manic thought avalanche of my monkey mind? Because I’ve come to understand during my 31 years of sobriety that the Voice of God can be defined by two things:
- The Thought is in my best interest.
- The Thought is not anything that I would ever naturally think on my own.
Throwing away a full pack of cigarettes is definitely not something I would ever normally think. It was indeed the Voice of God.
“But I just bought them!” I whined.
The Voice said nothing but I could feel it looking at me with its eyebrows raised.
“It cost like ten bucks!” I pictured myself the night before, handing my debit card to the woman behind the counter at the corner gas station as I shook my head at the ridiculous expense of these things, but buying them anyway.
Pause. “Was I mistaken or didn’t you just ask for help?”
Well, yeah,then there’s that.
So I sighed, got up from my meditation chair, walked over to the $10 pack of Marlboro Ultra Lights sitting on the counter and ran them under the sink.
If I didn’t render these cigarettes completely unsmokable, I’d go dig them out later because I’ve done before. Before I could lose my nerve, I promptly took them out to the dumpster.
Then I poured myself another cup of coffee and fought the panic of living life without cigarettes.
Later that day, I remembered I had two remaining cigarillos in my kitchen junk drawer. I figured since the Voice of God didn’t mention throwing those out specifically, I was free to smoke them.
Such is the mind of the practicing addict.
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