Addiction

“Don’t turn away. Keep your gaze on the bandaged place. That’s where the light enters you.” -Rumi

I recently "quit" smoking. My friend Zil helped me by being present for the arising urges. We were in a car for a couple of days and the craving voice really couldn't hide itself very well behind emotional states. What I mean is that when I had quit in the past, I would have days of extreme moodiness. Aggressive and bizarre thoughts would tumble through my mind and all of it I would label as nicotine fitting. The thought was that I just needed to power through these states until I could get past the chemical addiction, then I'd be fine. This time, I was beginning to understand that it was that place of extreme resistance where my truest being lay hidden. This time, I listened to my thoughts and words that spilled out of me, and at first I laughed. How funny that I crave this so much and how irrational and strange the thinking that arose to try to smoke again. My friend was immensely helpful in this process because she observed and laughed with me, and never gave much importance to the sometimes pleading rationalizations to smoke.

Once space was made for the addiction's voice, i began to feel what was underneath it, and found myself swimming in sorrow. Every thought, every word and experience was felt deeply. I cried a countless number of times and I felt so exposed and open. It was like discovering I had been shot and now instead of pretending i was fine and continuing on with life, all I could do was sit there and feel it, watch the blood flow out of me, and carefully begin to bandage it. What had in the past taken weeks to get over ended in less than two days. The chemical addiction felt like a small itch, barely noticeable.


I am beginning to see all addictions, even addiction to a perception or world view as nothing more than protection from my own vulnerability.

Fear or why you ought to perform better in school.

I had parent teacher conferences at my school on Friday.  In one of them, a student and his mother came in to speak to all of his teachers.  The room immediately turned into the feeling of a smirk. The student hides his face in long bangs and has often looked for ways to cause upset at the expense of his own self image.  Racist, sexist and "inappropriate" statements flow out of him at every turn, but the ruse is paper thin. As a counter to this ruse he allows another side of kindness and authentic respect to peak its way out and often accompanied by the tipping back of his head to reveal smiling eyes.  It felt like the smirk in the room which played across a number of faces was a kind of reflection of what he uses to protect an extremely vulnerable and sensitive heart.


The conferences began with the usual lectures and platitudes.  Repeated themes of needing to work hard in school so you can have choices.  Sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do to achieve something.  If you want to be such and such you need to...


Then from a very honest and sad voice, "Sometimes you will have to work with people you absolutely despise, but that's just the way life is."  All of it reiterated again and again each taking to the soap box as the student's head tips lower and lower hiding those happy eyes.

I found myself saying something.  Looking at him and saying his name this is what I remember, "I don't agree with anyone at this table.  You've heard all of this before and it isn't going to make any difference. First of all, you do not have to work with people you despise and in fact you never have to do anything except what brings you joy.  If you actually want to become a computer engineer then become one. You are more than capable. What I really appreciate about what you have shown me is your authenticity.  Your indifference is your resistance to the unhappy destiny that others are pushing onto you.  Trust your joy over and over again and you will be more than fine."

His head tipped up as I spoke and those eyes were not just smiling.  The smirk left the room and for a while it lightened as others agreed or defended their motivational offerings. At one point a question was asked of him.  I could feel the pressure of everyone's gaze building on his face.  Suddenly, he leaped up.  "I have to go to the bathroom," he projected, a joke still hidden somewhere in his words.  Snickers from the adults erupted as he left the room, but my heart had leapt with him and I found myself to guarded to share the genuine laughter I felt having finally gotten his joke.