Archives For Disappointment

Up in Smoke

December 6, 2013 — 2 Comments

hookahsI have the misfortune of living in one of the two states that has legalized the growing, distribution, use and promotion of marijuana.

The fauna and (natural) flora of Washington are scenic beyond compare. But in order to enjoy them, I am forced to live in a location where what was inconceivable a decade ago has become commonplace.

This week, in my small town of nine thousand, they opened our first “hookah lounge.” Although the owner’s initial license only allows the sale and on premises use of various tobaccos and other weeds, it’s no secret the owner is eager to expand his offerings.

My purpose here is not, however, to debate the merits of legalizing cannabis. I want to share with you the utterly apropos name of this hookah palace. It is called “Up in Smoke.”

While I’m sure the entrepreneur thought he concocted a brilliant play on words for his establishment, I cannot help but shake my head at the irony.

After all, what does the phrase actually mean? The expression isn’t truly an “idiom,” since the words are quite straight forward. It means what it says, referring to something of potential value that has been burned and is now lost, spoiled or wasted. Of course, the last of those synonyms also has another connection to the world of drugs.

I suspect the actual meaning of the phrases pass right over the head of the owner. He certainly misses the irony, or he would not adorn his establishment with that moniker.

I assume the purveyor of lung destroying inhalants is consciously referencing the 1978 film by this name, that glorifies the drugged induced stupors of Cheech and Chong. (Not a pinnacle of cinematic achievement.)

The saddest thing about using drugs for “recreation,” or distraction from the responsibilities of life, is that it often results in lives going up in smoke. While marijuana itself is apparently used “recreationally” by many successful people, with little negative impact, that’s far from true for all who “inhale.”

As I try to recall every individual I’ve personally known who used the drug, I’m unable to think of a single person who stopped there and did not at least experiment with some other drug. From my subjective experience, it definitely proved to be a “gateway” drug.

While none of these acquaintances became what would traditionally be labeled an “addict,” I can think of several tremendously talented and gifted people who never lived up to their potential. And I attribute at least part of that regret to being distracted from school and employment as young adults.

Similarly, of all of the people I’ve counseled regarding drug-related struggles during the past three decades, I’m hard-pressed to recall a single one who did not begin his or her narcotic journey with the ubiquitous weed.

Drugs, of course, are not the only diversions that cause us to miss out on the full experience that life offers. As C.S. Lewis wrote:

We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased. (The Weight of Glory)

I’m not casting stones here. I too waste far too much time and energy with fruitless distractions. In doing so, I watch part of my own life go up in smoke. Still, I doubt I’ll ever experience the slightest temptation to waste the briefest moment of my life . . . in an ill-named hookah den.

snailEons ago, when I was attending college, I suffered from that common plague—a chronic lack of time.

Between my studies, my job and romancing my future wife, I never had enough hours in the day.

So I did what everyone in that situation does . . . I worked harder. It didn’t solve my dilemma and probably worsened my exhaustion.

During that indescribably busy season of my life God spoke to me through a song. It was recorded by an early “contemporary” Christian group called “Love Song.” At the end of this column you can listen to a recording of the song “Slow Down,” by Chuck Girard. (Don’t skip to it now though, since the link won’t work unless you read the entire post.)

It sounds a bit dated now, forty years after it was composed, but it still conveys a powerful calming message. I hadn’t heard it for years until I just uncovered it for this column, but listening to it today has stilled my sense of urgency as I rush to complete this post before our four grandkids arrive for a weekend visit, in just an hour.

The importance of slowing down and resting is never far from my consciousness, since I am always overextended. Like many of you, I find it extremely difficult to say “no,” so I end up committed to more things than I feel I’m able to do well.

This week I received word of another song, which is what actually inspired me to write on this subject. It’s by a delightful young artist and is much peppier than Girard’s more prayerful message. I believe you’ll enjoy watching the music video below (after you finish reading, of course).

In light of this human need for being reminded to rest, I wondered where C.S. Lewis lamented his own overburdened state. His courtesy in responding to all correspondence is legendary. In addition to teaching, writing, corresponding and (near the end of his life) husbanding, Lewis was far busier than I am.

So, I explored some of Lewis’ words. (That’s never “work,” by the way, since it never fails to reinvigorate me, just like physical rest.) I found the following passage delivers a brilliant insight into why many of us are so compelled to work—work—work.

In the following passage, from a 1930 letter, Lewis relates how our drive to succeed can be linked to our personal ambitions. He couches the discussion in the context of his own desire for renown as a writer. And, Lewis declares, it is only when those misdirected impulses are quelled that we can truly find rest and peace.

From the age of sixteen onwards I had one single ambition [to succeed as a writer], from which I never wavered, in the prosecution of which I spent every ounce I could, on which I really & deliberately staked my whole contentment: and I recognise myself as having unmistakably failed in it. . . .

The side of me which longs, not to write, for no one can stop us doing that, but to be approved as a writer, is not the side of us that is really worth much. And depend upon it, unless God has abandoned us, he will find means to cauterise that side somehow or other. If we can take the pain well and truly now, and by it forever get over the wish to be distinguished beyond our fellows, well: if not we shall get it again in some other form.

And honestly, the being cured, with all the pain, has pleasure too: one creeps home, tired and bruised, into a state of mind that is really restful, when all one’s ambitions have been given up. Then one can really
for the first time say “Thy Kingdom come:” for in that Kingdom there will be no pre-eminences and a man must have reached the stage of not caring two straws about his own status before he can enter it.

Think how difficult that would be if one succeeded as a writer: how bitter this necessary purgation at the age of sixty, when literary success had made your whole life and you had then got to begin to go through the stage of seeing it all as dust and ashes. Perhaps God has been specially kind to us in forcing us to get over it at the beginning.

At all events, whether we like it or not, we have got to take the shock. As you know so well, we have got to die. Cry, kick, swear, we may: only like Lilith to come in the end and die far more painfully and later. . . . I would have given almost anything—I shudder to think what I would have given if I had been allowed—to be a successful writer. . . . I am writing as I do simply & solely because I think the only thing for you to do is absolutely to kill the part of you that wants success.

Powerful words to ponder. Now, without further delay, the aforementioned songs. Profound lyrics in both. Listen to them in either order, keeping in mind that Myla Smith’s is energetic and Chuck Girard’s is meditative. Enjoy . . . and slow down!

“Slow Down” by Myla Smith

“Slow Down” by Chuck Girard