If you always try to be the smartest person in the room, everyone else will leave the room.
As a published writer, I know that a poet fights with words. But wisdom lies not in wielding them like weapons—but in knowing when to sheath them. And that’s why, in this delicate yet hostile time of quitting smoking, I’m learning to be careful with what I say. Agitation creeps in from the withdrawal, anxiety flares without warning, and if I’m not mindful, my words can do damage.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones…”—sure, we’ve all heard the proverb. But let’s be honest: words can harm. Some slice deeper than any blade.
I remember sitting on my mother’s porch one night when she said, “Why don’t you just quit all that art, music, and writing? You’re not making any money!” And she wasn’t wrong—at the time, I wasn’t. But what cut deeper was that she had helped demolish half my business after my father died. He was my partner, my sole investor. Losing him was a tragedy. Losing the dream we built together was an even deeper one. That still hurts.
But if I’m going to be honest, I’ve said mean things too. Hurt people hurt people. I’ve lashed out in anger, anxiety, or exhaustion. My words have gotten me removed from churches, self-help groups, art collectives, and shelters. I know the damage I can cause. So what do I do when I feel that storm coming?
I stay silent. Because sometimes… silence is golden.
Meditation and mindfulness have become my lifeline. They remind me to stop, breathe, and reconnect. They help me return to the quiet center inside myself. We’ve all heard, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” Well, my mouth runs faster than I can catch it sometimes, and even the sharpest wit isn’t always appreciated. So now, I practice stillness.
Today's progress? I'm back down to one pack a day. I started at three. Next week, I begin the patches—no cigarettes at all. I plan to embrace the calm through meditation, soft music, deep breathing, and visualizing my happy place: the desert at night. Under the stars, with nothing to prove and no one to impress, I find peace.
I don’t have to be anything right now—just human. Just healing. Just me. And soon… I’ll be a nonsmoker.
by Dan and Bonkers
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