It’s difficult to explain the beauty of coffee and cigarettes to someone who has never experienced nicotine love. In fact, it’s impossible to explain the pleasure drawn from smoking to a non-smoker, a pleasure extending far beyond the chemically produced emotions of satiation, fulfillment and happiness. Smoking is an art, a modern form of active meditation, a social catalyst for conversation and a solitary ritual stimulating reflection and thought. Smoking is something to be shared in a group of a few or more, or something done in quiet secrecy. We smoke to pass time or to fill it in, smoke to prepare for a day or to put another evening to rest, smoke when we drink, or smoke as we wait for the bus. We smoke at a work break to hobnob with associates, or smoke barefoot on our doorsteps as we gaze upon the stars. However you define that wonderful relationship you’ve established with nicotine sticks, as a fellow member of the smoking club I think we can all agree that it is more than just a breath of sweet toxic air: it is a way of life.

And just like everything else in our tragic lives, it is a relationship that must, for some of us health curious folk, come to an end. I first noticed that Mr. Marlboro and I were having problems when having a cigarette became a chore: it was something I HAD TO DO. Whenever I was to be out for the entirety of a day, my schedule was planned around smoke breaks. I would find myself adopting sneaky behavior around family and friends in order to steal a cigarette during outings together. I tried to hide the fact that I smoked, as the embarrassment of admitting addiction was humiliating beyond belief, and usually opened the door for awkward discussions of intervention, treatment plans, and rehabilitation. The romantic appeal of smoking had faded along with the wisps of smoke from my umpteenth cigarette: it was becoming a burden, and I could no longer compromise my integrity for inhaling, so I decided to quit smoking. I quit as a result of a nagging mother and siblings. I quit smoking in compliance with ‘no smoking zones’, a recent phenomenon sweeping the downtown areas of my otherwise liberal hometown community of Berkeley, California. Most of all, I decided to quit smoking because I was no longer able to rationalize such harmful self destructive behavior. I was a liar and a hypocrite, sacrificing the effectiveness of all other attempts at a healthy lifestyle for those twenty cigarettes a day. I was a vegetarian limited to strictly organic options, cycling forty miles a week and ingesting supplemental vitamins to make my nails grow and hair shine. I visited a natural doctor for colon hydrotherapy and routine acupuncture treatments to ensure the maximization of energy flow throughout the channels of my body. All this time, money and energy was being spent in the search for balance and spiritual management: yet I was still smoking.

Finally, after eight years of lighting up, I owned up to my inner addict and did the unthinkable: I pulled the half empty box of yellow American Spirits from my purse and tore them into pieces, releasing the tobacco from the paper cocoon and into the wind. Yes, it had to be done, and it had to be done dramatically, as this was the end of the longest relationship of my life, and I needed to manifest my unspoken desire to quit in a scene of conviction and climactic intent. ‘I don’t need you anymore!’ I declared, and as my dismembered boyfriend crumbled into a thousand tiny pieces, I walked confidently into the office of Dr. Donner.

I had tried to prove to myself in the past that I smoked because I wanted to, and not for any reason associated with addiction. I could maintain my smoke-free mindset for hours, sometimes a day, but the temptation and craving for nicotine would consume me eventually, and I would reluctantly return to my old habits. Desperate, I experimented with aids to soften the effects of cold-turkey. I wore the patch until it made me nauseous, chewed the gum to appease oral fixation cravings, and became a happy pill popper, taking minimal doses of the antidepressant Wellbutrin at the recommendation of a western medical doctor. Despite all of the available options, I still couldn’t refuse a cigarette. Was I doomed to be a smoker forever?

Never! As I shook hands with the miracle man who had promised a treatment much more effective than anything offered at Wal-Mart, I knew that I had just taken my first steps as a non-smoker. Dr. Donner was a natural medicine specialist and an acupuncturist, and each time I had sat as a patient before him for ailments unrelated, he would say passively, “let me know when ya wanna quit, cause I can help you…”. One random day, as I impatiently suffered through an acupuncture session with a patch-induced upset stomach, I took him up on his offer.

And here I was, a single American Spirit in hand, (I had switched to Spirits because they are made from organic tobacco and without any additives, thereby relieving me of some of the guilt smoking induced), eager for the thirty minutes that were to inevitably reverse years of damage and harm. Dr. Donner had me lie on my back and relax, as he felt my pulse and measured my energy flow with his pocket quartz. Then, he began inserting needles in my right ear. I inhaled on his command, taking deep breaths accompanied by the scent of the cigarette held closely under my nose. With every individual breath, a needle pierced the skin of my ear, until all relative points had been stimulated. Dr. Donner took the cigarette from me, and had me close my eyes and meditate upon smoking and positive mantras of determination and the desire to quit. After thirty minutes, he returned, and removed all needles save one: this special acupuncture needle was to be a temporary earring for two weeks, as it was constantly distracting the hypothalamus, that area of the brain responsible for cravings and desires. He also gave me a root of black licorice, an imitation cancer stick. In addition, I received a magic wand: a tiny device made of magnetic strips that would react with the needle in my ear with a slight wave of circular motion, an act to be performed each time a craving was seriously intense. Armed and ready, I left the office a new and improved smoke-free woman.

I have been without a cigarette now for nearly six months, a milestone for anyone who has smoked for eight years. I think about smoking occasionally, the desire to smoke is still a haunting presence in my waking life. The first few smoke free days were powered by pure self-will. The weeks to follow were tough, but the price of admitting defeat seemed costly, and I found ways to cope with the intense emotional and physical urges to give up and take a drag. The alternative treatment was effective, as it did help diminish the terrible withdrawal systems of a nicotine strike. But there is no cure for smoking, only treatments to hold your hand when things get tough.

In addition to the acupuncture, the eastern approach to the cigarette condition involved other proven methods which complimented the success of the needles. Dr. Donner recommended breathing exercises, which would not only replenish my black lungs of oxygen, but also focus my attention away from a cigarette and onto the fact that I had quit smoking. He also recommended that I reward myself with healthy gifts: small inspiring incentives, like a ferry ride across the bay, or a nature walk in the woods. I was also encouraged to read books on eastern philosophy and meditation, which nourished my mind in ways no sip of bourbon and a smoke ever had. I changed many old habits: where I would have a smoke before bed I now have a soak in a candlelit bathtub. However simple or silly, all of these suggestions combined and altered to fit specific needs is the perfect recommendation for anyone who wants to be free from the chains of nicotine addiction. The American brand methods for quitting were futile, offering only substitutions for active lung combustion, still feeding the body and mind its daily doses of nicotine. Acupuncture and eastern therapy, however, treated the addiction at its core, weaning the system from its dependence upon a foreign toxin one day at a time. I learned a new way of life through the acceptance of Dr. Donner’s anti-smoking techniques which translate into all aspects of my existence. Because I was open to a vague unexplored alternative for smoking cessation, I profited from the adaptation to a freshly inspiring lifestyle by having been introduced to a better design for living.

And now, the alarm still rings even before the sun has risen, and as I still moan in protest of the noisy request, my lucid thoughts still awaken to the reality of the day. However, I don’t so much despise my existence purely because I must abandon the seductive wrath of warm satin sheets and prepare for the laborious events of my routine existence. As I rise up from the embrace of my bed a smile brands my once tired face, as I have something truly wonderful awaiting me in the kitchen of my apartment: a cup of loose leaf green tea, and a yoga mat for morning salutations.