As an intern, I worked in a detox facility in Portland, treating mainly heroin addicts. Foul moods were common, but one of my clients, a guy who was slightly more grizzly bear than human, was always happy to see me. As I inserted acupuncture needles in his ears (a protocol for drug withdrawal), he would release a big sigh. “This is the closest I get to the feeling of heroin anymore,” he told me, “but what can you do to help me quit smoking?”
Many of the guys echoed the sentiment that overcoming their tobacco addiction was harder than kicking heroin. Of course, there are some practical reasons why this would be true (tobacco is very easy to come by, it’s legal, it isn’t as frowned upon as heroin, it’s less likely to ruin your life, etc), but it’s also exceedingly addictive.
For years, I treated clients for “smoking cessation” with acupuncture, supplements that reduce cravings, and common-sense behavior modification – get rid of all your smokes, tell friends you’re quitting, and of course, don’t smoke. My clients were moderately successful.
But as I gained experience – while also deepening my personal spiritual practice – I began to approach the quitting process differently. I remember the first day I told a client, “If you want a cigarette, have a cigarette.” She looked so relieved!
Taking direction from Buddhism-based mindfulness practices, I wanted to see what would happen if she didn’t try to restrict herself. Instead, her only direction was this: if you’re going to smoke, be 100% engaged in the act of smoking.
That meant she couldn’t smoke while driving or working or talking on the phone or watching a movie or even while thinking about what she’d do the next day. Again, the aim was not to restrict, so rather than treating these as prohibitions, the invitation was to have a cigarette with total devotion to the act.
I thought, even if she doesn’t smoke any less, at least we’re subtracting the inner conflict. The whole fight of: I really want one, but it’s bad for me. I'm bad. I shouldn’t. Oh, here I go doing it anyway. What’s wrong with me? What happens, I wondered, when we get rid of this part?
What happened in this woman’s case was that she smoked fewer cigarettes over the next week than she had in years. When it was time to smoke, she went outside alone, sat down, lit a cigarette, and gave all her attention to how it felt, tasted, and smelled. Instead of smoking the whole thing, in this mindful space she felt complete after just a few drags. Afterwards, she didn’t crave another for hours. In a couple months she was done with cigarettes for good.
I didn’t set out to write an article about quitting smoking. My real interest is in the mechanisms that allow a person to change a habitual behavior not by forcibly halting it, but by being with it in a committed and curious manner.
Over time, I asked this client to add one more piece of direction to her smoking practice: simply to ask her body how it feels about the cigarette (before, during, and after smoking).
When she returned, she told me, “My body says no. Every time. It never wants it. I realized that in order to have the cigarette, I have to ignore what my body wants. I realized that I’ve done that a million times.”
We talked about how that worked with the primary instruction, and she said, “Well, I can’t be totally present to the act of smoking while at the same time trying to deny part of my experience, so I had to let that in.”
When we start letting in all of what’s happening, life changes.
This week I encourage you to try this with something you feel conflicted about: smoking, drinking, eating, getting on social media, etc. Make a commitment for a day or a week to allow yourself to engage in this habit without shame, but only when you can give it 100% of your attention and feel the experience fully. That’s all.
Love,
Peter