The Books of Pipe Smokers

Let me tell you about the books of pipe smokers: They stink!

That, of course, could be too harsh a judgment. Maybe they don't all stink. Because it depends on several factors: How often they're smoking pipes around the books, whether the books are on the shelf or table, and how much exposure the book gets to the air.

When I think of pipe smokers -- a habit I don't encourage, by the way -- I think of guys who just naturally have the patience to sit and linger over a book for hours. If you've ever smoked a pipe, you know what I mean. For smoke delivery, the pipe demands patience. They tend to go out often. That's why whenever you see a guy smoking a pipe, he's either lighting it or getting ready to.

I've had books over the years that I only suspected were owned by pipe smokers. They had just enough of the ambiance of smoke to at least whisper, "I've been around pipes." But then there was this one single book, just one book in particular, that I remember so clearly ... it was one of a pipe smoker's absolute favorite books. I bought it used.

The book was a collection of Jewish humor, jokes or folklore. And if you know humor books like this, or folklore books, you know they are something to linger over. Not like knock knock jokes or elephant jokes. By the way, I made up a knock knock joke the other day: "Knock knock, Who's there?, Enema, Emema who?, Eh-na-mauntain high enough, nothing to keep me, keep from you!" You wouldn't smoke a pipe over that joke. You might roll a cigarette in it, anything to get rid of it.

But this book of Jewish humor was a great one. I actually wish I had a copy of it. But I couldn't keep that copy. I say that even though I actually had it for years. But it was in a box and not exposed to my nostrils. I just couldn't stand to be around it when it was out.

But whenever I saw it -- from time to time I'd go through the boxes -- I'd smell it, and, yes, it was still an inferno. Then I'd forget it and start to imagine the guy with it. Pipe's blazing away, of course. He's reading in a comfortable home library, getting pipe stuff on his fingers, and turning the pages. He's delighted with the book and tapping the cover, "One heckuva book!" Maybe he even tapped his pipe on it. One beloved object to another. Then he'd think, "I'll leave that one out and look at it a little everyday." So there it remained, setting on the table, as pipe smoke swirled around it day after day and settled. And a couple weeks later, he'd do it all over again...

I don't know why he ever got rid of it, unless, probably, he died and the family couldn't stand to have it around. They knew how it was. For this guy, everything centered on his pipes. The little collection of them was in one of those pipe holders, like a small lazy susan. And this book, probably like a lot of his other possessions, had to go.

I said I kept it in a box. I really didn't want it affecting (or infecting) my other books. Now, though, it's gone, when I did some downsizing a few years ago. And this was actually one I would've kept ... had it not been for the overwhelming odor of that guy's greatest enjoyment, his pipe.

I'm Smelling Something Bad -- That's Good!

I'd said before that I think I have olfactory hallucinations.

The tricky thing about it is I've never been officially diagnosed, so it's all anecdotal, what I tell myself and suspect. The thing about senses is that you have nowhere objective to stand from which to judge them. I suppose if you had instrumentation and science you could come to better conclusions. But if I was going to do that, I'd go to the doctor. So far, I prefer going it alone, because, for the most part, I don't mind them.

When I first noticed this -- and there's links above with links within some of those posts if you want to see what I've written before -- I thought it was all objective. To the point that I was scrubbing floors and walls to get rid of bacteria. But because others in the environment weren't smelling anything, and because it all went away after a while, which bacteria wouldn't be likely to do, and because I discovered online that olfactory hallucinations is an actual thing, I quit scrubbing, etc.

Usually everything is perfectly OK. Like right now, everything is more or less perfectly OK. I'm not smelling anything extremely vile or disagreeable. And when I do, frankly, it doesn't bother me that much. Nothing really lingers, not like a few years ago.

It's a big jump from really worrying about it a few years ago to embracing it now. Maybe there's some link, I hope so, between olfactory hallucinations and the creative process, and happiness, or even the more spiritual dimensions of life. My guess is that whatever you embrace you can use for personal profit. If you think it, you can live it. Which is what I'm trying to do. I read a good verse today:

The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. (Song of Solomon 2:13)

Of course I read that in the most mystical sense presently possible for me.

Think about this, if you're evaluating all the nuances of your experience, and the nuances are varied with hidden dimensions, it really gives you something to think about. This touches that and everything gets affected along the way. It does happen to be my belief that there are stranger dimensions of reality than we typically see, so anything to open that up seems pretty much a plus. The trouble is, you might just be smelling rotten garbage...

If you are just smelling rotten garbage, it only takes a few seconds to get up and objectively make that determination. And anyway, in my case at least, there's nothing quite that profound about what I smell. I don't think I'm so far from objective reality in the nose/brain that I can't trust it.

Still, it's definitely good to test, which is true for all of life. If you're testing, experimenting with this or that dimension of reality, what better way to appreciate and enjoy it? I'm thinking maybe too much conscious reflection means you spoil the experience, since at some point pure experience is more desirable. But I'll cross that glassy sea if I ever get to it.

Right now, I keep wondering, What's that I smell? There's a hint of patchouli (I have some by my computer at home), a hint of some exotic vapor in another part of the building, a touch of something industrial when I wander around, something pleasant on my fingers, and who knows what all they've touched. I'd rather smell them than lick them, so at least this isn't gustatory hallucinations!

The way it stands now, if I'm smelling something, that's good! If you're spiritually stifled, breathe! Smell more stuff!