Restlessness

Ichi chakoma ichi chakoma, pusi adagwa chagada (A monkey that wants to sample fruits from two trees at the same time ends up falling)
Chichewa Proverb

You can dig a thousand wells and never get to water.
Shirzad Chamine

The intellect has little to do on the road to discovery. There comes a leap in consciousness, call it intuition or what you will, the solution comes to you, and you don’t know how or why.
Albert Einstein

When we look at what are referred to as `Saboteurs´ in the Positive Intelligence (PQ) Programme, what we are really seeing is human behaviours and thinking patterns, in and of themselves necessary for our development and survival as young human beings, which have crossed a tipping point whereby they become destructive, ultimately leading us to the opposite of our intended goals. This often happens in the unconscious, with the Saboteurs silently communicating their self justification in terms of lies such as: `Only if you follow my guidance will you get the most out of life.´

This is a typical lie of the so-called `Restless Saboteur´, the one that has us always on the move from one thing to the next in the hope of even more excitement or fulfilment, a little like a honeybee on a summer’s day darting incessantly from one bright flower to the next. True intimacy with others becomes impossible as they struggle simply to keep up with us.

The neutral quality behind the Restless Saboteur is a vibrant energetic life force, a vitality fired by curiosity, a sense of wonder, and a desire to manifest our inborn creativity. We could describe this as the drive which fuels creation and evolution, without which flowers might well stop short of blossoming to the full, which would be a great pity.

These very qualities are extremely attractive in the human domain, if expressed in the energy of the higher powers of the Sage, that part of us which intuitively knows that we are perfect in our essence and is guided towards the expression of this essence in our day-to-day lives, free of any agenda, other than to manifest fully as human beings. Such people radiate an almost irresistible magnetic energy. They stand out in the crowd.

The tipping point, beyond which the energies turn destructive, is situated at the frontier of some underlying fear, or set of anxieties which the Saboteur attempts to escape or avoid. The fear of missing out (FOMO) is commonly cited in this era of social media. The fear of not being good enough. The fear of rejection.

There are also the anxieties generated by the notion of our supressed negative emotions (rage, anger, sorrow, grief, etc.) blowing the top of the artificial volcano we have diligently constructed and flooding us to the point that we are overwhelmed or even obliterated. In such cases, the promise of a fulfilled life turns out to be hollow indeed, as we wither, burn out, and suffer the impoverishment of our frenzied existence, unable to tarry, even briefly, in the present moment.

The culmination of the totality of our fears is the fear of fear itself. This is where panic attacks or phases of deep depression disrupt our apparently normal fast-paced lives. By this stage, the Restless Saboteur may have overshot the mark, but it will still find arguments as to why we need to continue under its tutelage in order to get the most out of life.

I am no stranger to this dynamic. It was only in middle age, looking back, that it became clear to me that the `nightmares´ I had experienced with great frequency during my early childhood would today be called `panic attacks´. Something must have affected me at the core of my psyche in such an adverse manner, as to fill me so full of fear.

Restlessness was one of the responses which seemed to provide respite. My curious, wonderous temperament, love of nature, and keen intellect would have suited this approach. In my teenage years, I became a walking encyclopaedia, able to engage in conversations on almost any topic under the sun.

Then I discovered a further, even better solution. Intoxication soothed me and `took the edge´ off the stream of impressions which bombarded me. It was also the only means of calming my monkey mind, that endless stream of gibberish thoughts, mostly of a destructive nature, that never rested and could not be brought to a halt.

Self-medication was originally a solution that worked. The price was high, however. It meant that my saboteurs had free reign and grew in strength and impact for many years, until I got clean and sober at the age of forty-two.

It was in a certain programme of recovery that the following text crossed my path: `Men and women drink essentially for the effect produced by alcohol. The sensation is so elusive that, while they admit it is injurious, they cannot after a time differentiate the true from the false. To them, the alcoholic life seems the only normal one. They are restless, irritable, and discontented, unless they can again experience the sense of ease and comfort which comes at once by taking a few drinks – drinks they see others taking with impunity. After they have succumbed to the desire again, as so many do, and the phenomenon of craving develops, they pass through the well-known stages of spree, emerging remorseful, with a firm resolution not to drink again. This is repeated over and over, and unless this person can experience an entire psychic change, there is very little hope of his recovery.´ (Dr William D. Silkworth, as quoted in the Big Book of AA).

This is a classic example of the Restless Saboteur dynamic. That instant sense of `ease and comfort´ is a mirage. The paradox is that only those who have experienced true ease and comfort can see through the deceit.

Some of my new fellows in the recovery community had already come that far. They generously shared their experience, teaching me to sit with my fears, to allow them to come and go, while simply noticing their presence. In line with the mantra: `This, too, shall pass´, they showed me how to slow down and experience the present moment, one moment at a time.

The effect was astounding. Like the curtain being drawn back to reveal the Wizard of Oz, the fears were drained of most of their energies simply by being observed and consciously experienced, especially in terms of how they demonstrated in the body. My throat is dry, my hands are sweaty, my breathing shallow. These realisations, coupled with the fact that the ominous waves did, of their own account, move on every time, were the commencement of the entire psychic change which Dr Silkworth considered the prerequisite of recovery.

My life is no longer characterised by giddily digging only so deep before being driven to move on to the next borehole, ultimately never reaching water. In recovery, the present moment has become accessible. With daily cultivation, this capacity to be truly present expands and grows. It is there that I experience ease and comfort, sometimes even bliss, no longer tortured by what was or might have been, or the dangers that might lurk around the next bend. I have returned home.