We have to admit something to ourselves: As a community, a culture, a society. We make it difficult for families to throw off the weight of addiction because we really want them to keep it in the family.
The community wants the elephant in the room to stay in the room, nicely and neatly, behind closed doors.
Stigma of shame and silence about addiction is community-wide.
Community services don't want to handle it.
A recent account by a woman who's working hard to detach herself from her husband's drinking, and do her own emotional recovery says it all. One night, after he'd spent most of the day and evening drinking in front of the TV, her husband stumbled out the door - drunk. He got in the car and drove away. She'd warned him, if you drive drunk, I'll call the police. She's done it before - threatened to call the police - but he knows (if he even cares) that it's a bluff.
This time though, she pushed through all the thoughts and fears about the consequences and dialed 911.
About half and hour later the phone rang. It was the police ...
"We've got your husband, what do you want us to do with him?"
Back to her - like every other time she's asked for help, she's got to take responsibility for her husband. She's put in the place of deciding whether he experiences the consequences of his behaviour, or she protects him from it. The protecting is called enabling. She knows it and is trying not to. She reached out for help - and it's thrown right back on her lap. Who's going to protect her from the community enablers?
Next time you see a public service announcement by some community service bragging and posturing about how they're on to drunk driving and what they're doing about it (One of the clever ones has the slogan "get hammered, get nailed"), ... remind yourself that for the most part, the drunks get away with it. Because even when they're caught, the community would rather we keep it in the family.
Wednesday 2 April 2014
Friday 7 March 2014
CHANGE IS ABOUT SELF-STUDY
Reading this blog will change your life.
Got your attention? Pretty big claim I'm making.
Not really ...
Not reading this blog will change your life too.
Whatever you do will change your life - from minute to minute - every day of your life from birth till death. That's because the only thing unchanging about life is that it changes. Consider these words on what the Zen Buddhist tradition calls an everlasting truth:
Without accepting the fact that everything changes, we cannot find perfect composure. But unfortunately, although it is true, it is difficult for us to accept it. Because we cannot accept the truth of transiency, we suffer. So the cause of suffering is our non-acceptance of this truth.
What is this truth? It is the simple fact that every moment of your life is change. any given moment changes your life.
But this point is not the main one I want to make.
Saying something will change your life is a common attention-getter in marketing. Whether it's a self-help book promising a new breakthrough technology, program or system, or a product based on a 'new science', the underlying premise is that our current lives aren't that great and some instant change would improve things a whole lot.
I don't know when this desire not to be living the life we're living overtook us, but we've certainly been trained to expect instant, permanent solutions to whatever is wrong - and if one solution doesn't bring immediate results - we're off to see the wizard for another. Or, more likely, we slide back to our old behaviours and attitudes .... and the accompanying restlessness and discontent
When it comes to moods and attitudes, relationships and values, one's sense of well-being, our technologies and instant-changes solutions hardly ever work. But that doesn't stop us from looking for a magic answer - the switch we can flip to fix it. We look for this switch because we've come to expect, if not instant results, at least 'new scientific' solutions that will change our lives and eliminate the deep-down pain, shame and anger we detest in ourselves.
Everywhere there are experts with answers to our problems - with prescriptions to make life better overnight. But we become discouraged when we find that the change we crave and the goals we desire for our lives and relationships are really a matter of slow, steady retraining of our attitudes, actions and reactions - a daily process of vigilance over our own behaviour.
After a lot of my own trial and error, that's how I see it happening. Creating the life and relationships we want is an unending series of tiny victories won over months and years of practise, of sustained effort, of self-awareness and mindfulness. And, in my case, the trial and error continues.
Even Dr. David Burns, the author of the 'clinically proven' 'cure' for depression in the book Feeling Good doesn't claim to have found the instant prescription or switch you can flick for happiness and contentment. He simply offers a program of retraining the mind. He says:
If you're willing to invest a little time in yourself, you can learn to master your moods more effectively, just as an athlete who participates in a daily conditioning program can develop greater endurance and strength."
Our relationships and the heart of inner beings are healed, not by flicking a switch or by the flash of insight brought about by some miracle prescription or breakthrough system or new science.
Healing comes about in the same way that water breaks down rocks.
Last word to Larry Rosenberg in Breath By Breath:
A certain amount of what we're doing is a kind of reeducation, a clear seeing of what has been happening all along. You are the teacher and the taught. You can read books like this one, listen to tapes, go to talks: all those things aim you in the right direction. But finally, you're not studying Buddhism. You're studying you. If you know all about Buddhism but don't know about you, you've missed the whole point.
A certain amount of what we're doing is a kind of reeducation, a clear seeing of what has been happening all along. You are the teacher and the taught. You can read books like this one, listen to tapes, go to talks: all those things aim you in the right direction. But finally, you're not studying Buddhism. You're studying you. If you know all about Buddhism but don't know about you, you've missed the whole point.
Tuesday 25 February 2014
FRIENDSHIP: BEGINNINGS AND ENDINGS
My mind has a miraculous, sometimes tedious, characteristic: little things stick in it. I don't will it, but whatever the experience - be it random firing of neurons? karmic imprints? providential manipulations? ... whatever, the little thing remains there stored away and can be recalled when the right time seems to have arrived. I can excel at games of trivia (what does the T.S. stand for in T.S. Elliot?). And sometimes it feels like all my mind is capable of retaining is the trivial, the random ..... but at the same time this ability - gift (disability? curse?) can come in handy.
One such fragment of memory is a short passage from a book I read many years ago by the Canadian critic and newspaper columnist Robert Fulford. The passage is in his memoir, Best Seat in the House: Memoirs of a Lucky Man (1988); it has stuck with me, so now I can share it with you:
"In my experience, friendship begins in the exchange of laughter, and dwindles when easy laughter becomes impossible."
Friendship. Mysterious and sacred. One day evoking gratitude and love, another day exasperation and fury. Anybody who's ever had a friend has probably reflected on the nature of friendship, maybe tried to analyze it ....
Fulford's definition seems as good and true as any I've ever come across. He uses that sentence to introduce his recollections of his friendship, which began in their boyhood, with the famous classical pianist Glen Gould. And it works for him because that's exactly what happened to their friendship - it began when they were boys and ended when their easy laughter became impossible when they were men.
The first thing that occurs to me now is what a great gift it is to have a friendship that continues throughout our lifetime and have it retain the grace of easy mutual laughter. It may wax and wane and suffer through periods of tension, but it can remain and endure. A friendship like that is a gift.
Friendships that begin in childhood often feel permanent and everlasting to us - or at least we feel they should be so. But more often than not, they trail off and fizzle out .... that's the way of this life, no matter how hard we strain against it's cyclical, impermanent nature.
Friendships become painful when we cling to them after the easy laughter becomes impossible. They really cease to be friendships, don't they? They become a duty, a trial, an endurance test - and worst of all, we sometimes lose ourselves in them. Preserving the relationship becomes paramount.
Friendships are supposed to be about fun and comfort and mutual acceptance. The are also a refuge of support when difficulties and challenges arise. We can, and should, reach out to friends when we have difficulties. And although they may give you straight-up feedback and challenge you when you're deceiving yourself or others, they won't judge you.
If you ever find yourself assessing a friendship, wondering whether it's worth preserving and spending energy on, ask yourself, is there an easiness in the relationship? Does it feel like a comfortable place to be? And is there mutual respect?
Or does it feel like work? A duty? Does it feel like I have to measure up? (And most of the time it feels like I don't). Am I walking on eggshells, giving in and making accommodations to the other all the time? Is there a lot of comparison going on?
Was there ever an an exchange of laughter in this friendship? Is it still there?
Or has that exchange of laughter become impossible?
Of course there may be times when an exchange of tears is the central experience of the friendship. But it's during those times you most likely discover that 'laughter' is just a metaphor. And, while the laughter may at times be literally present, what is really there is a mutual respect and acceptance - and attention to one another without judgement.
By the way, T.S. stands for Thomas Sterns. But you knew that.
One such fragment of memory is a short passage from a book I read many years ago by the Canadian critic and newspaper columnist Robert Fulford. The passage is in his memoir, Best Seat in the House: Memoirs of a Lucky Man (1988); it has stuck with me, so now I can share it with you:
"In my experience, friendship begins in the exchange of laughter, and dwindles when easy laughter becomes impossible."
Friendship. Mysterious and sacred. One day evoking gratitude and love, another day exasperation and fury. Anybody who's ever had a friend has probably reflected on the nature of friendship, maybe tried to analyze it ....
Fulford's definition seems as good and true as any I've ever come across. He uses that sentence to introduce his recollections of his friendship, which began in their boyhood, with the famous classical pianist Glen Gould. And it works for him because that's exactly what happened to their friendship - it began when they were boys and ended when their easy laughter became impossible when they were men.
The first thing that occurs to me now is what a great gift it is to have a friendship that continues throughout our lifetime and have it retain the grace of easy mutual laughter. It may wax and wane and suffer through periods of tension, but it can remain and endure. A friendship like that is a gift.
Friendships that begin in childhood often feel permanent and everlasting to us - or at least we feel they should be so. But more often than not, they trail off and fizzle out .... that's the way of this life, no matter how hard we strain against it's cyclical, impermanent nature. Friendships become painful when we cling to them after the easy laughter becomes impossible. They really cease to be friendships, don't they? They become a duty, a trial, an endurance test - and worst of all, we sometimes lose ourselves in them. Preserving the relationship becomes paramount.
Friendships are supposed to be about fun and comfort and mutual acceptance. The are also a refuge of support when difficulties and challenges arise. We can, and should, reach out to friends when we have difficulties. And although they may give you straight-up feedback and challenge you when you're deceiving yourself or others, they won't judge you.
If you ever find yourself assessing a friendship, wondering whether it's worth preserving and spending energy on, ask yourself, is there an easiness in the relationship? Does it feel like a comfortable place to be? And is there mutual respect?
Or does it feel like work? A duty? Does it feel like I have to measure up? (And most of the time it feels like I don't). Am I walking on eggshells, giving in and making accommodations to the other all the time? Is there a lot of comparison going on?
Was there ever an an exchange of laughter in this friendship? Is it still there?
Or has that exchange of laughter become impossible?
Of course there may be times when an exchange of tears is the central experience of the friendship. But it's during those times you most likely discover that 'laughter' is just a metaphor. And, while the laughter may at times be literally present, what is really there is a mutual respect and acceptance - and attention to one another without judgement.
By the way, T.S. stands for Thomas Sterns. But you knew that.
Friday 14 February 2014
LOVE
Trying to define love is like ... trying to define love. Or wonder, or art, or ... any other ineffable human experience. But we continue to try. Here's the one that makes the most sense to me:
And this, from Thich Nhat Hanh:
Attention is love
And this, from Thich Nhat Hanh:
The most precious gift we can offer anyone is our attention. When mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers.
Sunday 9 February 2014
PETE SEEGER AND THE POWER OF ENCOURAGEMENT
Last evening I watched the PBS documentary on the life and career of Pete Seeger. (Pete Seeger: The Power of Song. You can find the complete program on Youtube)
I'd seen it before but this viewing was a kind of tribute to him because of the news of his death last week at the age of 94. I wanted to stop and remember him because he had a profound influence on me as I made the journey along the rocky road of adolescence.
What was it about him that so impressed me? His music? His activism? His 'lefty' attitudes? All that I suppose, but at the root of it - he encouraged me. I never met him, nor did I ever see him perform live, but I could tell that he had a profound faith in the human heart - in our capacity for love, and co-operative effort. He believed in the possibilities and potential of human communities. He was, in my view, the ultimate humanist - he had, deep in his heart, a profound concern for human welfare and a belief in human values and dignity.
We need people like Pete Seeger to remind us that we need one another - that we are nothing without community, that at our core we are relational beings.
We need people like Pete Seeger to encourage us. People like him teach us to respect and support and encourage one another - because we all, at all times, need to be and to feel respected. And without exception, at one time or another in our lives, we all need support and encouragement.
Pete Seeger's medium of communication was his music. And he was most effective in communicating and connecting when he was in front of an audience. He said that his greatest satisfaction was singing with his audience - whether they be adults or children - and that singing together made him feel hopeful about the future of the human community.
I remember hearing something Pete said to an audience that says better than I ever will what he believed about the power of song - and why his faith in that power has given me courage throughout my life. I can't find the verbatim quote (maybe you can direct me to to it) but it goes something like: "If you know the words, sing out! You'll encourage your neighbour!"
I smile when I remember listening to my vinyl copy of The Best of Pete Seeger, over and over again.
And I smile remembering Bruce Springsteen's cheer (Bruce gives me courage too.) at the celebration of Pete's 90th birthday: "Congratulations Pete! You outlived the bastards!!"
Yes.
I'd seen it before but this viewing was a kind of tribute to him because of the news of his death last week at the age of 94. I wanted to stop and remember him because he had a profound influence on me as I made the journey along the rocky road of adolescence.
What was it about him that so impressed me? His music? His activism? His 'lefty' attitudes? All that I suppose, but at the root of it - he encouraged me. I never met him, nor did I ever see him perform live, but I could tell that he had a profound faith in the human heart - in our capacity for love, and co-operative effort. He believed in the possibilities and potential of human communities. He was, in my view, the ultimate humanist - he had, deep in his heart, a profound concern for human welfare and a belief in human values and dignity.
We need people like Pete Seeger to remind us that we need one another - that we are nothing without community, that at our core we are relational beings.
We need people like Pete Seeger to encourage us. People like him teach us to respect and support and encourage one another - because we all, at all times, need to be and to feel respected. And without exception, at one time or another in our lives, we all need support and encouragement.
Pete Seeger's medium of communication was his music. And he was most effective in communicating and connecting when he was in front of an audience. He said that his greatest satisfaction was singing with his audience - whether they be adults or children - and that singing together made him feel hopeful about the future of the human community.
I remember hearing something Pete said to an audience that says better than I ever will what he believed about the power of song - and why his faith in that power has given me courage throughout my life. I can't find the verbatim quote (maybe you can direct me to to it) but it goes something like: "If you know the words, sing out! You'll encourage your neighbour!"
I smile when I remember listening to my vinyl copy of The Best of Pete Seeger, over and over again.
And I smile remembering Bruce Springsteen's cheer (Bruce gives me courage too.) at the celebration of Pete's 90th birthday: "Congratulations Pete! You outlived the bastards!!"
Yes.
Tuesday 28 January 2014
A HUMBLE REFLECTION ON MINDFULNESS
The following is a quote from Annie Dillard's A Writer's Life. Aside from the evocative nature and beauty of its imagery, the passage started me thinking about the moments of our lives - and of that trendy word: mindfulness.
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order - willed, faked and so brought into being: it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time: it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living. Each day is the same, so you remember the series afterward as a blurred and powerful pattern.
How we spend our days is how we spend our lives.
You could be even more precise and say: How we spend our moments is how we spend our days ... then automatically it follows, how we spend our days ...
Each moment builds upon and becomes the pattern, the fabric of our lives.
Dillard gives a nod to the need for a schedule, a way to manage and use the fleeting nature of time when struggling to be disciplined, especially when no one else in the world cares about one person's impulse to be creative - at writing or anything else. It's all up to you.
Living by a schedule - whether imposed on you by a someone else as a workday, or created by yourself - is a way to grab hold of life and get things done. A schedule speaks of the need to accomplish, to create and build, to nurture and grow ... and it is a fortress against the forces of sloth and confusion and the weight and inertia of depression. I suppose you could say that this regard for the moment and the unfolding of days is at the heart of living life fully.
Another way of regarding, managing and cherishing the moments of our lives over time, is to pay attention.
That means paying attention to what's happening in each moment - both outside and inside of ourselves. And the word for that of course, is mindfulness. Or, being mindful.
Mindfulness is not just bare attention. Real mindfulness is built upon and rests on an understanding of, and faith in the law of cause and effect. Will this thought, word or deed of mine produce more happiness to me and all those who are affected by me? Or more suffering?
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order - willed, faked and so brought into being: it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time: it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living. Each day is the same, so you remember the series afterward as a blurred and powerful pattern.
How we spend our days is how we spend our lives.
You could be even more precise and say: How we spend our moments is how we spend our days ... then automatically it follows, how we spend our days ...
Each moment builds upon and becomes the pattern, the fabric of our lives.
Dillard gives a nod to the need for a schedule, a way to manage and use the fleeting nature of time when struggling to be disciplined, especially when no one else in the world cares about one person's impulse to be creative - at writing or anything else. It's all up to you.
Living by a schedule - whether imposed on you by a someone else as a workday, or created by yourself - is a way to grab hold of life and get things done. A schedule speaks of the need to accomplish, to create and build, to nurture and grow ... and it is a fortress against the forces of sloth and confusion and the weight and inertia of depression. I suppose you could say that this regard for the moment and the unfolding of days is at the heart of living life fully.
Another way of regarding, managing and cherishing the moments of our lives over time, is to pay attention.
That means paying attention to what's happening in each moment - both outside and inside of ourselves. And the word for that of course, is mindfulness. Or, being mindful.
But paying attention in the moment, although it is a crucial step, is only part of being mindful. Real mindfulness has this moral connotation of
knowing that one is thinking, saying or doing something that is going to produce some happiness now and in the future - or will result in suffering now and in
the future.
Mindfulness is not just bare attention. Real mindfulness is built upon and rests on an understanding of, and faith in the law of cause and effect. Will this thought, word or deed of mine produce more happiness to me and all those who are affected by me? Or more suffering?
And the deeper the understanding, the stronger the faith and the better the ability to withhold from thinking negative things, saying negative things and
doing negative things.
But perhaps the most important thing to understand on the path of moments, days and lives of mindfulness, is the crucial need to develop an attitude of not being judgemental of our thoughts, words and deeds. Judgement causes negativity to scuttle into hiding and mask itself with rationalizations and justifications, shame and guilt.
The effort and attention we pay in each moment helps us to KNOW that we are thinking, saying and doing negative things - things that cause more suffering to myself and others. If we know it, and accept it, we can make an intention to think, speak and do differently without getting stuck or derailed by judgements.
Like the demands of living by a schedule, being mindful requires discipline and attention. It also requires perseverance and self-acceptance ...
Tall orders to be sure, but the rewards - as the western world is discovering all in a rush - are sublime.
By the way, I called this a humble reflection. It's to remind myself that when it comes to mot things, and especially mindfulness, I've got a lot to be humble about.
But perhaps the most important thing to understand on the path of moments, days and lives of mindfulness, is the crucial need to develop an attitude of not being judgemental of our thoughts, words and deeds. Judgement causes negativity to scuttle into hiding and mask itself with rationalizations and justifications, shame and guilt.
The effort and attention we pay in each moment helps us to KNOW that we are thinking, saying and doing negative things - things that cause more suffering to myself and others. If we know it, and accept it, we can make an intention to think, speak and do differently without getting stuck or derailed by judgements.
Like the demands of living by a schedule, being mindful requires discipline and attention. It also requires perseverance and self-acceptance ...
Tall orders to be sure, but the rewards - as the western world is discovering all in a rush - are sublime.
By the way, I called this a humble reflection. It's to remind myself that when it comes to mot things, and especially mindfulness, I've got a lot to be humble about.
Thursday 23 January 2014
MORE ON THE ALCOHOLIC AND THE PROBLEM DRINKER
Last week I went round and round trying to sort out the difference between what we call 'alcoholism' from what we call 'problem drinking'.
A common exercise, no? ... and it results in a common problem: getting all bound up in the meaning of words and self-doubt while the drinking continues, causing profound damage to untold numbers of people - families and communities.
In the end it's all about words isn't it? Our paralysis I mean. I suppose it's necessary and helpful for some people to sort out the difference - although I'm not sure who. Policy makers?
Our experience tells us (as long as delusion and denial don't get in the way) when our drinking, or a loved-one's drinking is merely a 'problem' or is really 'pathological' ... but, when is problematic drinking not pathological? Uh, oh, there I go again .... words, words ... the temptation to digress.
But we know it. Deep down we do know it.
We know when there's something wrong. The challenge is what to do about it. What am I willing to do about it?
Then again, words like delusion and denial, defiance and grandiosity do have a basis in reality. And the real experience of delusion and so on do prevent us from knowing ... from accepting that there's something wrong here. (Is that what hitting bottom means - when our delusion, denial, defiance and grandiosity lose their power to create reality?)
That said, and plowing ahead here: If the drinker is you - if you're an 'alcoholic' who really would like to be a 'problem drinker', ask yourself a few questions:
- Do I spend time thinking about and planning ways to control my drinking? Do I succeed for awhile then unexpectedly find myself out of control again?
- Is my continued drinking causing negative consequences in my life?
- Do I really resist giving up my drink or other drug of choice no matter the cost?
If the drinker is someone you love, or otherwise care about, ask yourself some questions too:
- Do I spend a lot of my waking time thinking about the drinker?
- Do I spend a lot of my waking time planning how to control him or her - to help them?
- Do I ruminate about how my controlling and helping behaviour has failed?
- Do I blame them for my unhappiness?
The point I'm trying to make is simple but often missed. It is this: dealing with problematic or pathological drinking in our lives is not about understanding labels. It's about being honest with ourselves and others about our experience and the impact it's having on our lives and relationships - on our well-being.
Call it what you will. But see it for what it is and find some willingness and intent to do something about it.
(Here's a parting shot for those of us who want to get all bound up in more words: harm reduction versus abstinence.)
The most sure-fire way to reduce the harm of drinking alcohol or other drug use is abstinence.
A common exercise, no? ... and it results in a common problem: getting all bound up in the meaning of words and self-doubt while the drinking continues, causing profound damage to untold numbers of people - families and communities.
In the end it's all about words isn't it? Our paralysis I mean. I suppose it's necessary and helpful for some people to sort out the difference - although I'm not sure who. Policy makers?
Our experience tells us (as long as delusion and denial don't get in the way) when our drinking, or a loved-one's drinking is merely a 'problem' or is really 'pathological' ... but, when is problematic drinking not pathological? Uh, oh, there I go again .... words, words ... the temptation to digress.
But we know it. Deep down we do know it.
We know when there's something wrong. The challenge is what to do about it. What am I willing to do about it?
Then again, words like delusion and denial, defiance and grandiosity do have a basis in reality. And the real experience of delusion and so on do prevent us from knowing ... from accepting that there's something wrong here. (Is that what hitting bottom means - when our delusion, denial, defiance and grandiosity lose their power to create reality?)
That said, and plowing ahead here: If the drinker is you - if you're an 'alcoholic' who really would like to be a 'problem drinker', ask yourself a few questions:
- Do I spend time thinking about and planning ways to control my drinking? Do I succeed for awhile then unexpectedly find myself out of control again?
- Is my continued drinking causing negative consequences in my life?
- Do I really resist giving up my drink or other drug of choice no matter the cost?
If the drinker is someone you love, or otherwise care about, ask yourself some questions too:
- Do I spend a lot of my waking time thinking about the drinker?
- Do I spend a lot of my waking time planning how to control him or her - to help them?
- Do I ruminate about how my controlling and helping behaviour has failed?
- Do I blame them for my unhappiness?
The point I'm trying to make is simple but often missed. It is this: dealing with problematic or pathological drinking in our lives is not about understanding labels. It's about being honest with ourselves and others about our experience and the impact it's having on our lives and relationships - on our well-being.
Call it what you will. But see it for what it is and find some willingness and intent to do something about it.
(Here's a parting shot for those of us who want to get all bound up in more words: harm reduction versus abstinence.)
The most sure-fire way to reduce the harm of drinking alcohol or other drug use is abstinence.
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