Cigar Cynicism’s Cure.


When you’re in the dumpster, it can take the will of God to pull you out of your funk.  But sometimes, all it takes is knowing that you’re appreciated – and loved.  Yes, you may still be in the dumpster, but just being able to generate that internal impish grin, and are fully conscious that deep within your soul there is that white-hot spark of unfathomable, genuine affection that actually exists is all that is needed for you to confidently climb out.

I was talking to a manager the other day and she told me that she gets such a kick out of the fantasy some guys have of what being a cigar broker is.  To lift a line from the great Motown tune by The Main Ingredient, Everybody Plays the Fool,Love runs deeper than any ocean . . .”  is precisely what pulls these guys into this phantasmagorical world of make-believe that they hold so close to their fragile hearts.

Phantasmagorical is defined as “having a fantastic or deceptive appearance, as something in a dream or created by the imagination.”  And that is why we become enveloped in this shady conglomeration of grays, blacks, whites, smoky, misty hues of daydreaming.  And it’s when we are immersed up to our necks in what I call, the angular disturbance of Germanic wood carvings that I need to draw upon that glimmering iridescent crystal of love to drag me out of the dumpster screaming of the injustice that is being perpetrated on human beings.

I have access to that fiery glow that is more brilliant than the light that is produced from a rapidly burning, oxygen infused strip of magnesium.  I do.  I really, really do.  

I delved ponderously into my metaphysical mind today to churn up its oftimes insouciant ambivalence – clay people,  and I willed that grounded emotional support I needed to keep me upright to action – and I did it.  

I was able to achieve that balance because I knew in my heart that I would not let myself be sucked into the nadir of negative and unproven lies the mind constantly creates to pull you even further into the deep, dark, dangerous dungeons that this world can lead you into.

I stayed in that rat infested, garbage spewed steel container for about an hour.  But not once during that time did I take my eyes off the word that I knew could catapult me out of what some might call utter despair or hopelessness.  The latter word is the more positive one because it contains – hope.  And I hang onto that with a grip that no vise can exceed.

I won today mates.  I got out of the dumpster with, figuratively speaking, bloodied hands and knuckles.  But love will always be stronger, tougher, and more resilient than anything the Dark Side can throw at you.  Even if that effervescent glob of concentrated emotion is suddenly hurled in your direction at the very last second, even when you were totally convinced that you had lost that emotional connection from above – don’t give up!  Grab for it, scrap for it, stretch your muscles for it, force your mind to absorb what you know is within you with every last ounce of desire and you will not be trapped in the dumpster, but rather will be free from whatever it was or is trying to keep you a prisoner.  “I am not a number.  I am a free man!”

The feeling of winning is worth every nano iota of physical, mental, and spiritual pain you must endure to lift yourself out.  No dumpster walls are high enough to keep you from escaping.

You’ve got it.  It’s in you.  I promise you.  It’s there.  No shit.


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