I have a nose, as do you, though my nose is not just a nose… and it has never been just a nose. It has been a bitch of a nose, because my nose can smell things that other people just can’t smell.
This has been both a blessing and a curse.
The thing about our nose is that it knows things. The nose knows things we don’t even know it knows. It just knows. For example, I can smell when women are on their menstruation cycle, which isn’t anything to write home about, let me tell you, and I can smell when women are ovulating. I can also smell when both men and women have a candida overgrowth. And that is just the tip of the iceberg of what my nose knows. I can smell all kinds of things that people just cannot smell.
My nose has three voices: Ewe, Mmm and Hmm.
EWE is NO: the negative response as in WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T SMELL THAT DEAD KANGAROO FROM THREE MILES AWAY?
MMM is YES: the positive response as in SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? IT SMELLS AMAZING! CAN’T YOU SMELL THAT?
HMM is MAYBE or I DON’T KNOW YET: the neutral response that says WHAT THE FUCK SMELL IS THAT? I DON’T QUITE KNOW WHAT IT IS YET… therefore I’m not quite sure which direction it goes, positive or negative, therefore I just might keep smelling it until I figure it out, like Sherlock Holmes collecting clues. Like the smell of a pungent plant or a sweetish flower. You know, when you can’t quite place a smell…and you can’t define it or classify it. So it stays neutral until it becomes classified into either positive or negative, unless of course it just stays neutral.
So I don’t know about you, but this is how MY nose works. It guides a part of my intuition.
And believe me, I am in total shock when people can’t smell the shit I smell, especially the negative, offensive, rotten smells. Like your crotch or your ass or your feet. What do you mean you can’t smell the funk of your own ass? It is closer to YOUR nose than it is to MY nose. All I can say is un-fucking-believable. And this has lead me to discover that my nose is not like everyone else’s nose. And you may very well be reading this right now thinking to yourself that you have the same nose as I do. And if you do, let me know about your nose. I would love to hear your nose story.
Once upon a time ago I came across a movie called PERFUME. And I was like YES! I have found my long lost brother. Who cares if he accidentally and then purposefully kills a bunch of women in his quest to capture not just scent, but the essence of someone’s Soul. I didn’t care, because that wasn’t the point of the movie to me, and neither was his quest, really… it really was about what happens at the end of the movie, but you’ll hafta watch it for the first time yourself to get it, or watch it again, but with new eyeballs that are opener. Yep, I said opener.
Out of everything, including dog shit, my own shit, anyone’s shit, even baby shit, so really ANY KIND OF FUCKING SHIT, along with rotten shit, aka food, there is one smell especially that I find so goddamn offensive to my person, my nose, my sanity, and maybe even my own fucking Soul…and yep, you guessed it…it is FUCKING CIGARETTES. And really, it is not even cigarettes that I am offended by. Because you can wave a pack of 1000 cigarettes in my face and I will have no reaction what so ever.
But if you ignite one of those cigarettes, and the smoke, scent and intrusiveness of that fumar hits my nose, I go From Zero To Kill in less than 0.2 seconds flat. Calm to irate. Calm to 100% losing my shit. Calm to yelling. Calm to crazy bitch. And believe it or not, that was the old me. The new me has found other tactics to DEAL with this smoke. Because this smoke lights me on fucking fire like no other scent on the planet…not even dog shit, not even when it’s all squished up in between my little toes.
So this quest to understand my nose, and to understand what it knows has lead me to many interesting things. For example, did you know that we actually have an intuitive sense called CLAIR-OLFACTORY and CLAIRALIENCE, and a few other words that is elicited from scent? Check out this article on how smell secretly controls your MIND.
I have a friend who I happen to live with, and guess what, he smokes fucking cigarettes. So in the beginning of our friendship, I seemed to have had a lot more tolerance of him smoking cigarettes. You see, the thing about cigarettes is that they perfume everything. It’s kinda like this person has this weird habit or addiction or whatever you want to call it, that makes them smoke this toxic thing that is like taking a can of bug spray and spraying it all over themselves. And I’m not talking about mosquito repellent here. I’m talking about the kind of bug spray that you use to kill ants and roaches. That neuro-toxic cancer causer in a can. So here is this person, who is your “friend” who twenty times a day sprays bug spray all over themselves…and because you are on your best behaviour and are doing everything in your might to supress your disgust and controlled urge to scream at the top of your lungs, because you are practicing all that “good” shit like patience, tolerance and acceptance…you bite your tongue and BE THE BIGGER PERSON and keep your mouth shut. You just hold the screams in. You’re screaming on the inside. And really, it is written all over my face, and my body, because that kind of language just doesn’t lie, and it gives you away. Therefore I must put on my you-can’t-read-my-face face.
And then the friendship continues… and your façade of patience, tolerance and acceptance starts to chip away at your façade of composure…
And then you start to lose your shit.
And then you start to lose your fucking shit.
And then you start to lose your motherfucking shit.
And this person is like, WHO ARE YOU, CRAZY BITCH?
And this is what recently happened to me. And this made me take a closer look at this instant reaction within me to discover WHAT THE HELL? Because, you know, judgment is not conscious. And my quest to become as conscious as humanly possible is, well, my quest.
Therefore, whenever I find myself in REACTION, I use my teeny tiny drop of patience, because that’s all I got…along with all of my tools to explore the deeper realms of myself and my behaviours and my consciousness, or lack of consciousness. And this is what I discovered and remembered…
My Mom, bless her smoke filled lungs, smoked for the first 30 years of my life. Constantly. My Mom was the kind of smoker that had her cigarette and her lighter ready before we left the grocery store so that she could suck on that motherfucker as soon as we were out the door, as hard and as fast and as deep as she could, before we got to the car. And then she would get in the car, exhale the goddamn smoke IN THE FUCKING CAR. And I would be a trapped, helpless, victim of smoke abuse.
Then I remembered in my naturopathic/holistic studies that my Mom volunteered to be one of my clients for a case study, in which I got to discover all kinds of stuff about my Mom, including the fact that back then when she was 20 and she was already smoking cigarettes, that it wasn’t known that cigarettes were “BAD” to smoke while pregnant. So guess what? My mom smoked for 30.9 years of my life. Yep, NINE LONG GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING MONTHS OF ENTRAPMENT IN HER WOMB OF LOVE AND SMOKE! And all I can say right now is WELCOME TO MY WORLD!
So I snapped again, not too long ago, on my friend. And he is just as much as an Unconscious Smoker as my mother is. Sorry Mom, but you know this story and you know how irate I am about this shit, so I’m really not sorry, but maybe I am sorry I’m not sorry, but I’m not…
Anyways, my friend also gets into the car and exhales his smoke into it…and this lights me on FIRE. And believe me, that little teeny tiny drop of PATIENCE that I DO HAVE, is similar to my FUSE. It is also teeny and tiny. So when it gets lit on fire…you better stand back because my wrath is about to unleash beyond my control and desire to even stop it or care to stop it. From Zero To Kill is all I can say. And this is my hellfire of cause and effect.
I have a pack of handy wipes in the car, which I hand to him every time and have him clean his hands, because smokers have concentrated cigarette smoke smell on their fingers. How do they live with those fingers on their body that are closer to their OWN nose, than to MY own nose? These questions baffle me. And what I’ve discovered about that is that smokers can’t smell as well as the average bear, because they’ve contaminated their nose, and their intuition, and ultimately their knowing. Now, maybe not ALL smokers are like this, but maybe they are, because this is based upon my own personal experience, observations and mediations about fucking cigarettes.
And believe me when I say that the handy wipes barely put a dent in taking the smoke scent of the cigarette away. Because the thing about cigarette smoke especially is that it perfumes every part of them. Their mouth, their nose, their hair, their clothes and their hands. Bug spray bubble that I believe, on many levels, is an expression of anti-social behaviour and/or introverted behaviour. Not only are they smoking because of an addiction, a physical, emotional, mental and/or vibrational addiction, but also to surround themselves with a smog aura to keep people away or at a distance. I believe that this is the unconscious and/or subconscious behaviour or cause, let’s say.
So handy wipes really do nothing except prevent me from vomitting and beating the motherfucker dead. This motherfucker would really need a shower to get the bug spray smoke smog aura off of him. And he probably really wouldn’t want that. And he probably doesn’t even care. Which I find quite fascinating in itself.
So here he was just coming in to sit on the couch after smoking a cigarette, and this was just a couple of weeks ago…and it just hit me hard and strong and bad and I was at From Zero To Kill a motherfucker dead. And I couldn’t control it or contain it - my façade of composure - any longer and I lost my shit right in front of him, right then and there. This is what I said after many, many, many, fucking many requests to be more mindful of his smoke smog scented aura. But NO. So I screamed at the top of my not-addicted-to-cigarettes lungs…
MY MOTHER SMOKED FOR 9 FUCKING MONTHS WHILE I WAS INCUBATING IN HER WOMB AND I HAD NO FUCKING CHOICE THEN. BUT HERE, IN MY HOME, IN MY SACRED SPACE, RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW, I HAVE A FUCKING CHOICE.
And then I just let it all out and screamed a whole bunch more shit. But it really didn’t register until it all flew out of my mouth faster than the speed of light. I NOW HAVE A CHOICE. So now he has a choice, to become a conscious smoker. To realize that if he wants to be in my world, then he has to make changes about his oblivious smoke stink that he brings to my hyper-sensitive nose. Otherwise, I will make the choice to remove him from my home and/or remove myself…PERMANENTLY. Because it’s all or nothing right now. And this I cannot and will not budge from…because I DO NOT HAVE TO. Because I HAVE A CHOICE. And now he does too.
So this new declaration and new boundary of mine is not set in sand, nor cement, it is set in STONE. And I have no problem picking up that stone and throwing it at his motherfucking head.
And yes, I am smiling as I’m writing this to you right now!
So is he a little scared of me right now? YES! Do I care? NO! Do I care enough to tell him this without just killing him dead? YES! Does he know now without a shadow of a doubt EXACTLY how I feel about cigarette smoke? YES! And has he become more mindful and conscious about his smoking? YES! And has he recently mentioned that he’d like to quit smoking? YES HE HAS.
So, uh yeah…that’s my story thus far. And I really don’t think I need to tell you the moral of this story or why I shared it with you. And if, um, I do need to spell it out for you, just let me know. Because sometimes we just don’t KNOW! And that says more about your nose than you might ever know!
Peace Pipes & American Pie,
International Intuitive Investigator
Photo Credit: Tumblr
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