In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.
Genesis 1:1
Every day a new beginning.
Morning Meditations
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
T.S. Eliot, from `Little Gidding,´ Four Quartets
Where to begin? All this commotion about a Happy New Year seems oddly out of place for a person like me who believes that every day is New Year’s Day. On waking in the morning, I generally feel a surge of gratitude for having been granted one more day on this amazing planet. When I succeed in remaining open-hearted and in that grateful frame of mind, the day seems to work out well. Real accomplishments, mostly minor, sometimes major, present themselves for review before my eyes close, as yet another day comes to a conclusion.
It has not always been thus. From my teenage years to my early forties there were periods of depression when I really felt that I couldn’t face another day. `I just can’t go on living like this,´ is the cry that came from within. And it is precisely the search for the source of that lament that propelled me on a journey of recovery which continues to this day. `Whose voice was that, deep down inside?´
The examination of this question lead me to the realisation that there were, unbeknownst to me, deeper layers of yearnings, consciousness and intent within. Up to that point I had been pre-occupied with the superficial, a domain concerned mainly with `making it´ and the fear of not `making it´ in accordance with the storybook of our society and times. This has much to do with how one is perceived by others in the context of (mostly material) values. Get an education, a job, a family, a house, a reputation, etc. My fears and these values turned out to be a very unreliable compass indeed.
In the depths of the depression, then this question; `Who is it that can’t go on living like this?´ Who could it be, slumbering in the depths of my being? In itself, not a bad notion, but when it became clear that the values of the superficial, now glaringly visible for what they were, must first be set down before crossing the threshold of the true inner journey, fear again rose to the surface. `Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t know´, goes the saying, and I was truly petrified by the idea that, having jettisoned the known, even though it was patently not working, I might draw a blank on my inner quest and be left empty-handed, obliterated, so to say.
`The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure that you seek´, observed Joseph Campbell astutely. This was my dilemma. I did have an asset, however, which was instructive in helping me over the hump; that asset was desperation. I had become so sick and tired of being sick and tired that a part of me said there was nothing to lose. And as the song goes; `Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose….´
I embarked then on what is commonly known as: `The Road of Recovery´. I had been wrestling with the daemons of substance addiction for over two decades, without success. On the face of it, I was simply trying to learn to party like a gentlemen. This quest had begun in my teens and had always frustrated me. Why couldn’t I drink and smoke pot like the good guys? But, to be honest, I had surrounded myself with heavy-drinking potheads. It was not the good guys that made up my social circle. Those who I did know, among family and acquaintances, I silently scoffed at for drinking half a glass of white wine with their dinner on Fridays.
Without realising it, my entire world view had been shaped by my addiction. Those who didn’t fit in were experienced as the proverbial `thorns in my side´, and were evaded as much as possible. Those who could not be evaded had to handled with lies, recriminations and even, mostly covert, threats. Addicts are sometimes likened to hurricanes, ploughing through life causing great destruction, especially to those closest to them.
My first venture into recovery was a Twelve Step group called CoDA, or Co-Dependents Anonymous. It is for people who are addicted to people pleasing, thereby losing themselves in the process. As I felt hopelessly lost, I figured it might be a place where help could be found. On the very first evening when the Twelve Steps were read out, the first step being: `We admitted we were powerless over other people – that our lives had become unmanageable´, a light went on! This made so much sense. It also went against everything I had been trying to achieve all my life; persuading, cajoling, convincing others to do my bidding. I had been trying to direct the movie of life and now came to see the folly of my imperious stance. Less charitable friends call it; `playing God´.
Some weeks later, I asked one on my new recovery friends to take me to his regular AA meeting, which he did. There I also quickly learned something new; that I had a disease that almost ten per cent of people have, which, once triggered by the intake of alcohol, induced a craving for more, far beyond what was healthy or sane. `Loss of control´ is one of its main symptoms. That was new to me. Up to then, I had considered my self simply morally defective or some sort of freak.
It turned out, to my surprise, that the Twelve Steps constitute a spiritual path. By means of admitting my problem, trusting in powers beyond my own ego, inventory, amends, prayer and meditation, and service, I found the owner of that voice who once cried out that he `couldn’t go on living like this.´ Some cultures distinguish between `self’ and `Self´; the earthly (ego) identification, and the Divine within, the manifestation of Spirit. Only when these are configured in a healthy manner, can we achieve our true potential, living a serene life of purpose, in harmony with others.
This past week, I left the comfort zone of my beautiful home to spend four weeks at an orthopaedic rehabilitation clinic, to deal with the residual effects of an accident I had had last summer. I could feel my reticence on packing up my luggage, not knowing what awaited me there. And indeed, since arriving, I have had two difficult days, struggling with apparently invisible daemons. Until lunchtime today, when I realised that I had formulated, in my unconscious, a set of expectations, – expectations which are not being met. Sure, the place is not perfect; the location, the rooms, the food, the people, etc. That is not the issue. The issue is my hidden set of expectations which, if upheld, are bound to lead to resentment and ultimately, self-pity and depression.
Thus I arrive again at the beginning, initially difficult to recognise even after all these years of recovery. The ego knows only one slogan; `No Change!´ Cunning, baffling, and powerful, it will use every opportunity to lure me into putting it in that sweetest of spots, the centre of the universe, where it resided for all those years of active addiction.
Now, in gratitude, I re-member the divine within, in the recognition that the Great Spirit is the Source and architect of my life, while I am simply the builder. I have learned to trust this architect with all my being, to take and follow my instructions, and to let go of trying to run the show.
I am grateful for this new beginning.
