Easter and the Undercrown SunGrown

This is Liberty on Nicotine, and today’s episode comes to you from the sands of Myrtle Beach on a glorious Easter morning.

I’ve got a hot cup of coffee in one hand and a Drew Estate Undercrown Sun Grown in the other, which—if you think about it—is the libertarian version of the Holy Trinity: coffee, cigars, and voluntary association.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:24

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, lovers of Liberty and the Leaf. This is Liberty on Nicotine, and today's episode comes to you from the sands of Myrtle Beach on a glorious Easter morning. I got a hot cup of coffee in the hand and a Drew Estate Undercrown sun grown in the other, which, if you think about it, is the libertarian version of the Holy Trinity. Coffee, cigars, and voluntary association. Now, the sun has already climbed above the Atlantic, but about an hour ago the beach looked very, very different. Pre-dawn, cool breeze, that faint blue glow where the horizon is just barely hints that the sun is thinking about showing up. And out on the sand, a crowd gathered for Easter sunrise service with Surf Church in their leech. No cathedral, no marble columns, just the Atlantic Ocean, a few portable speakers, and about a hundred folks who decided that the best roof for church is the sky itself. Frankly, if the Almighty wanted stained glass, he'd probably would have invented it before sunsets. Before the sun came up, three young women step forward with guitars. And let me tell you something. When these three voices started harmonizing while the Atlantic waves are rolling in behind them, that's the kind of acoustics you simply cannot regulate into existence. No permit required, no zoning board approval, no department of horizontal and coastal melody enforcement. Well, let me back up a little bit. There was a little bit of zoning approval. We did have to have approval to use the beach. Just music. Their voices carried out over the water while the sky slowly shifted from navy blue to that faint Carolina peach color. You know the one. The kind of sunrise that makes you forgive the alarm clock for ringing at 5 15 a.m. Even the seagull seemed respectful. One of them tried to interrupt, but was quickly overruled by a wave that sounded suspiciously like a heavenly order in the court. Then a young, young preacher stepped up. No pulpit, just bare feet in the sand. And as he started speaking about renewal and resurrection, something pretty remarkable happened. The sun began to push through the clouds right behind him. Now, I'm not saying he scheduled that, but if he did, his production team deserves a raise. Because nothing punctuates a sermon like the sun itself rising on cue. He talked about fresh starts, about redemption, about the idea that life, like the tide, gives you another chance. And I found myself thinking, you know, renewal is a concept that libertarians understand pretty well. Not because of politics, but because we believe in something radical. People are capable of changing their own lives without being micromanaged by committees. That's renewal. Voluntary, personal, no bureaucratic middleman. After the sermon, folks started heading toward the water. And this is when the real show began. The Atlantic Ocean, still chilly this time of year, became the world's largest baptismal font. One by one, people stepped into the waves, friends gathered round, applause broke out every time they came out. And every time someone came up out of the water, the beach erupted like a small football stadium celebrating a touchdown. Now, if you've ever, ever, never seen baptisms in the ocean, let me explain something. Timing is critical because the Atlantic doesn't care about your spiritual scheduling. One guy came up from the water just in time for a wave to smack him square in the face. I'm sure I'm not sure that if that counted as a double blessing or just aggressive tide participation, but everybody chick chuckled a little bit. And honestly, it felt perfect. After the service wrapped up, people started lingering on the beach, some hugging, some taking pictures, some heading back toward coffee and breakfast. Me? I walked over to uh my chair that was near the dunes, pulled out the Drew Estate undercrown sungrown. Now this cigar is a beauty. Ecuadoran Sumatra wrapper, rich in color, smells like cedar, spice, and a hint of rebellion. I clipped it, lit it, first straw, and just like that, Easter morning officially begins. Coffee in one hand, cigar in another, sun rising over the Atlantic. If this were any any more peaceful, someone from the government might try to regulate it. And then came the surfers, because the young folks from the church didn't just attend service, they live here. Boards started appearing, wetsuits, wax being rubbed on the fiberglass like some kind of strange coastal ritual. The next thing you know, they're paddling out past the break. Now, watching the surfers after sunrise service is a funny thing because it feels like the most natural continuation of worship imaginable. You praise creation, you you go play in it. Frankly, that's a philosophy I could get behind in about every aspect of life. You know, what struck me while watching them out there renewal isn't always dramatic. Sometimes it's very quiet. Somewise, a conversation. A decision to start again. Renewal. Cigars are kind of like that too. Every time you light one, it's a little reset button. You slow down, you think, you breathe. And in a strange way, that pairs beautifully with libertarian thinking because liberty is also about renewal. It's about the idea that tomorrow doesn't have to look like yesterday. You can change direction. You can build something new. You can paddle out and try another wave. Preferably without filing paperwork first. The surfers are still out there now, little silhouettes rising and falling on the swells. My cock my coffee cup is empty. The Drew Estate Underground, Sun Grown, is down to its final inch. And Easter morning is fully underway here in Myrtle Beach. Renewal in the air, salt in the breeze, liberty in the heart. Not a bad way to start the day. So wherever you are listening from, whether you're lighting up a cigar, sipping a coffee, or simply enjoying a quiet moment, remember, freedom, like faith, works best when it's voluntary. So until next time, stay free, stay thoughtful, and keep the smoke drifting toward liberty.

SPEAKER_03 7:59

Well I like one of when the sun goes down, kick my boots on Region, and ain't begging nobody for permission to breathe. This smoke's my banner in the land of the free.