Hello! This is my first published piece with Pig Iron. Hopefully, it won’t be my last. I'd like to briefly define my intended purpose for this style of post. When I say "from the journal" I mean this is a minimally researched opinion written extemporaneously. To put it simply, I reserve the right to be wrong in my opinion. In case of egregious errors, I’ll issue a necessary correction, but otherwise, this is intended to be a snapshot of my current thoughts on a subject.
"On the porch, a man and his pipe,
Striking his match and lighting his Briar not once, not, twice, but thrice,
A charring light, a false light, a true light then poof....
He disappears in rhythmic puffs of fire, smoke and ash,
Nature at his feet and the bustling world in the back of his mind,
The modern people will spit and curse at him but the men of old will understand,
A wise man once said
A pipe is the fountain of contemplation, the source of pleasure,
the companion of the wise;
and the man who smokes, thinks like a philosopher, and acts like a Samaritan,
The ignorant will laugh, but the men of leaf and briar will understand,
For this is what entails a man and his pipe"
- A Man and his Pipe, Phoenix98
I am a man of vice. I seek pleasure. What little dominion I have over this is how I seek it. This raises the pertinent question: how should we achieve pleasure?
Is finding pleasure simply hedonism, chasing every emotion fleeting through our limbic system? Our only meaning found in satisfying the base desires of our deepest - and shallowest - feelings? I would hope not. It's not sustainable. Short-term pleasure with long-term consequences. Is achieving true pleasure chasing after all the world offers? Do we find our meaning, our happiness, only in doing everything? My gut says this is closer, except for one major flaw. We cannot have everything, no matter how hard we try. We pursue a Sisyphean task, chasing after the shiniest offering only to realize it is not as valuable as we believed during our quest. At the end of the day, this too falls apart.
We can't achieve true pleasure by chasing either emotions or material actions. How then can we find true pleasure?
As a Christian, I'm inclined to say the answer is through living in union with the Christ. This means many things, but I think it is an important filter for which emotions and actions we foster. I'd like to point to some overarching ideas of ways to increase your genuine pleasure. Or, to use another word, your joy. They are as follows: intentional rest, gratitude, self-discipline, reflection, and companionship. We see all of these in Christianity, and I see them in the art of pipe smoking.

The art of pipe smoking is the act of placing tobacco into a bowl, lighting it, and gently sipping the smoke through the stem, taking care to not inhale. It's an old form of smoking tobacco - stemming from the Native Americans and their tobacco in the fifteenth century. While cigarette (and cigar) smokers outnumber pipe smokers today, there is still a large following. In the 1960s, pipe maker Carl Weber explained the tenacity of the pipe as such:
“The pipe has survived its threatened eclipse by cigar and cigarette for a number of reasons, but the primary one is simple. It is the most attractive, most effective means yet devised by which the smoker can obtain full pleasure from tobacco.”
Besides the aesthetics, why is the pipe so pleasurable? It stoically models important life lessons: intentional rest, gratitude, self-discipline, reflection, and companionship.
The very act of lighting the pipe and enjoying it displays intentional rest. Taking time out of a busy day for a thirty-minute smoke (sometimes even longer!) can seem preposterous, but it is a way of separating from the bustle of the hectic modern world. Smoking my pipe relaxes my restless soul. I take a step back from all the bells and whistles and relax. I take time to appreciate God's creations and His glory. Taking intentional rests can help rejuvenate ourselves and relieve stress.
Gratitude seems an odd lesson to learn from a pipe but it makes sense. This is a temperamental world. People are prejudiced against pipe smoking - gone are the days of smoking in pubs with good drinks and even better friends. Finding a place to partake is worthy of praise and thanksgiving. Likewise, I am gracious for fair weather because most smoking spots are outdoors. I'm thankful for the chance to relax and enjoy the moment that the pipe allows me. I’m reminded to be thankful for everything in my life - the big and the small.
Another odd lesson from the pipe is self-discipline. The very nature of pipe smoking is intentional. It's slower than you think. You can't rush a pipe - a hard-learned lesson. Puffing too fast makes the leaf burn hotter, resulting in a burnt mouth. Not fun. You must pace yourself to enjoy a pipe properly. Too fast and nothing but pain. Too slow, however, and the pipe goes out. Discipline increases the pleasure. I've found this true for other things: intentionality and control tend to make things more enjoyable. A good dose of order, if you will. Moderation elevates the experience.
One particular reason driving me to the pipe is its facilitation of self-reflection. When I smoke my pipe, I slow my breathing. I’m very intentional when I draw the smoke into my mouth and release it. The process is somewhat meditative - conducive to deep thoughts on whatever happens to catch my fancy. I've mused over nature, physics, philosophy, and the complexities within my personal life. You don't need a pipe to think deeply but the very act of smoking leads you toward deeper thoughts.
Probably the most important part of the pipe in my humble opinion is companionship. I can think of four distinct forms of companionship furthered by the pipe: social, literary, ritual, and spiritual.
Social companionship is perhaps the easiest to understand and easily one of the most important. Humans have always been social creatures. We need friendship. Tobacco has been bringing men together for centuries. There is something to be said of what Dewayne Noel of the Dry Creek Wrangler School calls the "Brotherhood of the Leaf" - people of many different walks of life come together and enjoy the same tobacco. It harkens back to the ideas of “peace pipes” - companionship is found in sharing experience.
Literary companionship is settling in with a good book. A good pipe settles you in even further. Friendship is incredible but when no friends are to be found, books are a nice substitute. Books take us on journeys of discovery. Whatever suits your fancy - we enjoy the companionship of a good book. I believe the pipe elevates this.
Ritual companionship is harder for me to describe. Perhaps I could've called this "historical companionship" but it relates to the ritual of lighting and smoking the pipe, so it's called thus. What do I mean by this? I define ritual companionship as the connection to the past through the pipe. I first noticed it when I was smoking a corncob pipe filled with an old blend enjoyed by none other than jazz crooner Bing Crosby. It blew my mind that I could smoke a blend enjoyed 80 years ago. I felt a connection to all who had smoked it. I wondered about the unknown men who enjoyed their own pipes in a bygone era. Ritual companionship feels like you're friends with the tradition itself, with the smokers of ages past - famous ones such as Mr. Crosby, Mr. Twain, Mr. Lewis, Mr. Tolkien, or Mr. Chesterton - but also the average man. You don't just feel this connection from tobacco blends. The pipe itself adds to this. The corncob pipe I smoked was from an American company started in 1869 - the Missouri Meerschaum Company. They still produce cheap but durable pipes - the pipe of the working man. Another pipe in my collection is from 1943. Pipes are reusable. With good care they can last over 100 years. I wonder about the story of this pipe and who smoked it, what they were like. This pipe outlived its owner, and perhaps my pipes will outlive me too. Thus I enter the tradition, another unknown man giving another smoker the ritual companionship that I enjoy.
Last, but certainly not least, spiritual companionship. When I quiet my mind with a pipe, I make room for God. I take the time to listen. Smoking my pipe builds my relationship with the Lord. I will pray, give Him thanks, and take time to look at His creation with wonder and respect. I grow my faith when I have my pipe.
These are the reasons I find the pipe as pleasurable as I do. It's very stoic in nature. We smoke to enjoy the emotions and the actions, but we do so in moderation, keeping the mind in the driver's seat. It's a pastime that pushes me to flourish much more than it harms me. And on a quick note: if smoking moderately, the harms are basically non-existent. The FDA released a statement that smoking 1-2 cigars per day doesn't significantly affect health risks. Since a pipe contains much less tobacco than a single cigar, it is safe to assume that the risk is equivalent at most - if there is any at all.
To summarize, I find pleasure in the pipe because it leads me to grow in intentionality, gratitude, self-discipline, self-reflection, and a multitude of companionships. It's an elegant way to enjoy flavor and flourish, and I plan to continue for the rest of my life.
The other day I was smoking a pipe outside and a friend walked by. This was the first time they saw me with my pipe. They laughed. "You're like an old man!" I laughed with them. She didn't mean any harm, but she didn't mean it as a compliment. However, I'm inclined to take it as one. Why is being 'like an old man' something undesirable? The pipe is a reminder to me of a fading era of God-fearing men. I consider it an honor to be compared with their ilk.
"A pipe, a book,
A cosy nook,
A fire,—at least its embers;
A dog, a glass:—
'Tis thus we pass
Such hours as one remembers."
- an excerpt from A Bachelor's Views, Tom Hall
"All the long day’s weariness is done
I’m free at last to do just as I will
Take out my pipe, admire the setting sun
Practice the art of simply sitting still
Thank God I have this briar bowl to fill,
I leave the world with all its hopeless hype,
Its pressures, and its ever-ringing till,
And let it go in smoke rings from my pipe
The hustle and the bustle, these I shun
The tasks that trouble and the cares that kill,
The false idea that there’s a race to run,
The pushing of that weary stone uphill,
The wretched i-phone’s all-insistent trill,
Whingers and whiners, each with their own gripe,
I pack them in tobacco leaves until
They’re blown away in smoke rings from my pipe
And then at last my real work is begun,
My chance to chant, to exercise the skill
Of summoning the muses, one by one,
To meet me in their temple, touch my quill
( I have a pen but quills are better still)
And when the soul is full, the time is ripe
Kindle the fire of poetry that will
Breathe and expand like smoke-rings from my pipe
Prince I have done with grinding at the mill,
These petty-pelting tyrants aren’t my type,
So lift me up and set me on a hill,
A free man blowing smoke rings from his pipe."
- Smoke Rings From My Pipe, Malcolm Guite
Funny how in even reading on the topic of pipe smoking it feels like a meditative jaunt. Something to be said of your writing too, ha! Enjoyed the personality you brought to this article from what you've experienced. Would enjoy to see more of that with you and Pig Iron. I much liked the idea of ritual companionship. You do nicely to put a finger on it - but it's something a little hard to pin down. You're not just doing a thing, you're doing something which has been practiced for hundreds or thousands of years, whatever it is. There's some serious gravity to that.
Also, hearing Guite himself give that last swell poem a read is enjoyable! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ui6fq8pR_sM&t=931s