Rediscover the pleasure of cigars: Between embers and thoughts

Cigar enjoyment. There are moments in life that cannot be measured by a clock. They elude time, breathe more slowly, speak more quietly, but with greater depth. One of these moments begins with the scent of cedar wood, the soft crackling of a flame - and ends somewhere between lost in thought and ecstasy. It is the moment when you light a cigar. And with it a whole world.

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Preparation - a ritual that sharpens the senses

Smoking a cigar is not a matter of haste. The pleasure begins long before the first puff. It is the solemn act of selection: fingers glide over wrapper leaves, feeling their way through structures like old stories. The cigar is not a product, it is a character. Sometimes robust, sometimes elegant, sometimes unruly. It is not made, it is matured.

You look at it like a work of art: the finely veined wrapper - oily, warm, with veins reminiscent of river courses. You smell it. It smells of earth, of stables, of hay, of fermented truth. The cold smell promises nothing concrete - but everything.

Then the cut. No blow, no jolt. A respectful opening of the soul. With the cutter you expose the inner life - gently, firmly, without haste. Because anyone who rushes has not understood the essence of the cigar.

The ignition - a kiss of fire and air

Now comes the flame. No wild fire, no ignition. But a dance. You roll the cigar over the fire, toasting the foot end like a wanderer toasting a piece of bread over a campfire. The first wisps of smoke rise up and suddenly the air around you changes. It's as if the world stops to make way for this moment.

The first train. Slowly, deliberately. The smoke fills the mouth like a revelation. Warm, spicy, bittersweet. You taste wood. Leather. Cocoa. Perhaps a hint of pepper. Or vanilla. They are not aromas, they are memories, or illusions.

The first act - arriving in the now

With every minute, the smoke turns into a message. You are no longer part of everyday life. The cigar snatches you away from the rhythm of the world. You are there - not on the way, not on the run, not at the finish line. Simply there. In a now that breathes.

The first few centimetres of the cigar are like a conversation with a stranger who seems familiar. You feel your way around. Get to know each other. Feel each other's temperature. The cigar speaks, but it whispers - and if you don't listen, it remains silent.

The second act - depth, breadth, truth

Now it unfolds. The aromas become fuller, more complex, often surprising. Some cigars dance. Others stride gracefully. Some challenge you like a difficult book. Others open up like an old poem that you had long forgotten.

The ash grows - silver-grey, fine, stable. It is the memory of the embers. And as you watch them, you become calmer. Slower. Perhaps melancholy. Or simply empty - in the most beautiful way. Because emptiness is not lack. It is space for the essential.

The cigar brings you back to yourself. Not with volume. But with warmth. It forces you to pause. And gives you something that has become so rare today: unadulterated presence.

The third act - farewell with dignity

The cigar is a fleeting companion. Not a lasting promise, but a short, intense vow. And at some point you feel it: The moment is coming to an end. The embers become shorter, the smoke more subtle, the strength diminishes; or a final rebellion of the aromas, strong and demanding.

But you don't argue. Because every puff was part of a complete work of art. The cigar doesn't just give you pleasure. It gives you time. And with it, clarity. Thoughts that you would otherwise have lost between appointments, phone calls and to-do lists find space.

The last move is not a bang, not applause. It is a nod. A silent thank you. You put the cigar down. You let it go out. Not because you have to, but because she tells you to. And you listen.

Afterglow - the quiet echo of a great moment

The smoke still hangs in the air. It tells of you. Of the place you were in while the world went on outside. You lean back. Your pulse is calm. Your thoughts in order. Your soul: a little fuller.

People say that smoking cigars is an addiction. Anyone who says that has never really smoked. Cigar smoking is not consumption. It is an art. And as with any art, the magic is not in the object, but in what it does to you.

A good cigar changes you. Not fundamentally, but in nuances. You don't walk differently afterwards, but more consciously. You don't speak louder, but more clearly. You're not a different person - but a whole person.

The cigar as a mirror of the soul

In a world that thrives on speed, the cigar is a counter-design. It wants nothing from you - except your time. And if you are willing to give it to her, she will give you back the most valuable thing: yourself.

You don't have to be an expert, a collector or a connoisseur. All you need is a little courage to be quiet. And the willingness to get involved - with tobacco, embers and the moment.

Because perhaps that is the greatest truth of cigar enjoyment: it is not a luxury. It is a necessity for the soul.

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Picture credits

• Cover picture: Vasilij Ratej
• Image in text: Chat GPT. Prompt: "cigar with light smoke in a man's hand."

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