spirituality – Beginner's Mind, Writers Mind

Things were not looking good on October 8th, 2000. I’d relapsed earlier that year after two years of white-knuckled sobriety where I continually racked my brain trying to figure out how to drink without the consequences that always followed that first gulp of alcohol. I found myself once again at the same treatment center I’d been placed in two years earlier, but this time things were even worse than before. Not that the external circumstances were so much worse than last time, though they were indeed bad. The pain I felt was coming primarily from my internal world, not the external. This psychic pain was so acute that the thought of taking my own life became an obsession. I was so filled with anxiety, depression, confusion, and shame, that the mere thought of having to endure fifty more years on planet earth, especially without drugs and alcohol, seemed like a life sentence in prison.

The first time I went to treatment I was open to many of the concepts that were presented, especially the idea that people who suffered with addiction were biologically different than 85% of the population. This made sense to me since from the time I was fourteen I seemed to be able to consume amounts of alcohol that were far beyond the norm. I could also see that the idea of a recovery community was a good idea, people who were in the same boat as you and knew how to swim to shore. But the part of recovery that I couldn’t swallow was the idea of a Higher Power, something that existed outside logic and science. For me, the realm of the spirit was something I’d outgrown in my early teens, believing that religion and spirituality were in the realm of the belief in Santa Claus. I was unapologetically antagonistic toward both religion and the people who believed in it, arrogant as I was in my youth and addiction.

The Unseen has a way of backing you into an unsolvable intellectual paradox in order to get your attention. I have found that if I ignore it’s prompting, this gentle nudge becomes more forceful and unrelenting, until I must seek a solution that is outside the realm of logic and the conscious mind. My addiction had put me in such a position the second time around in rehab. So an intuitive knowing began to pull at me. It was the knowledge that if there was nothing outside of my personal consciousness and willpower to pull me out of my addiction, I would indeed succumb to its power and be forced to surrender my life. I fought this intuition the first few days in treatment, until on the fifth day a counselor at the facility didn’t like the way I spoke to him and told me that the was going to get me kicked out. I knew that if in fact I was asked to leave the facility I would more than likely die within a few days, either by an overdose or by my own hand. That night, in desperation, I did something that I never thought I would do. I sneaked into a closet in my room at the rehab, fell to my knees, and begged something to help me. I didn’t care what it was.

Spiritual awakenings are hard to explain in words. It is like telling someone what it’s like to be in love who has never had the experience. It’s probably similar to a woman trying to explain to a man what it’s like to give birth to a child. One could give a description or provide details, but without the experience, it doesn’t register on an emotional or psychological level. And as I have learned over the years, knowledge is one thing, and experience is quite another. There is an old Buddhist quote that says “The word water will not get you wet.” This points to the impossibility of trying to nail down the numinous with the rational mind.

All I can tell you is that after I got down on my knees and prayed the only sincere prayer I’d ever prayed in my life, two things happened: I’ve never since had a drink of alcohol or taken intoxicating drugs, and I’ve never doubted the existence of an unseen, all-powerful force that loves us unconditionally, even though it sometimes doesn’t feel that way. After I’d finished the prayer, I remember I got in the shower, feeling like I needed to be clean. Then I walked out of the room into the bright October sunshine and the world looked completely transformed. The people in the rehab facility seemed beautiful to me. They were glowing with their humanity, and I could see deeper into who they were no matter what type of imperfections they may have had. You could say that I became aware of their divinity, or that I could see the Higher Self, unobscured from all the judgments I was so used to placing on them. I realized that the purpose of interacting with these strangers was to try to be of service to them as best I could. And though I had nothing of the material to offer them, I could treat them with kindness, respect, and love. I also had deep intuitive knowing which eminated from inside of me, but was not produced by me. This intuition told me that if I would just focus on the status of my inner world, the outer world would provide for me what I needed if I continued to try to live my life based on spiritual principles and a desire to be of service to those I encounter.

I went back to my room, pulled out my notebook, and wrote a letter to the Spirit of the Universe. I promised this Spirit that I would dedicate my life to helping those suffering with addiction, and all I asked in return was that it help me stay sober one day at a time. Back then it seemed like I was making a bargain with God, but in hindsight, I know that God doesn’t bargain, it just provides what is asked for as long as what is asked for is of the highest good, the spiritual, not the material. But I meant what I said, and the universe knew that I was sincere in my desire to be the best version of myself, thus it has provided me with all the support and people in my life to fulfill the promise that I made that day.

So, it’s been 25 years since that spiritual awakening, the defining moment of my life, a gift that I cherish each and every day. Since then, after having had a taste of the Divine, I can tell you that nothing compares to the beauty and peace that accompanies such an experience. There is not a drink of alcohol, a line of cocaine, or an over-hyped-hallucinogen that can compare with a true encounter with the Self. The friends that I have made in recovery, the marriage I have, the call of adventure, the love that I have felt, it is indeed like finding the Holy Grail. It is the pearl of great price spoken about by prophets, and it is the mythological city of gold sought by the conquistadors.

Because of that encounter on October 8th, 2000, I have chased spiritual awakenings for the past 25 years with the same fervor that I once chased intoxication. I’ve meditated with Buddhists, prayed with Christians, read the mystics, trained with Jungians, sweated in lodges next to Native Americans, and held hands with fellow alcoholics when we’ve lost one of our brothers or sisters to the disease of addiction. And all I know for sure is that the realm of the Spirit is real. It can’t be found behind the screen of a smart phone, the shine of a new car, or in the latest post about some one-sided political opinion. As many great teachers have already told us, the thing that I seek is inside me if I’m only brave enough to look there. If only I can refuse to let the dragon at the entrance to the cave scare me away with the fire and smoke of judgement and criticism. If only I can see that beauty and love is truly in the eye of the beholder.

Last September, I had the pleasure of attending a two week depth psychology training in Switzerland which focused on the psychological theories of Carl Jung and Marie Louise Von Franz. Since then, many people have asked me what I learned that I can integrate into my counseling practice. I’ve noticed that whenever anybody asks me the question I struggle to give a good answer for a variety of reasons. I’ve thought about this a lot, realizing that one of the reasons that I have difficulty is because by its nature, Jungian psychology is distinct from many modern therapeutic techniques. Not that Jungian psychology is opposed to the many advances that we have made in the realm of mental health, it just takes a much different approach. In fact, Jungian psychology warns against being too attached to any one approach, including its own. Now that I have had a few months to let the experience sink in, I think I can express to some degree why I have embarked on the journey to become a Jungian analyst, and how I think this can help me become more effective at producing positive change in my clients and myself.

I was talking to an acquaintance about my upcoming trip a few months before I left, explaining that I would be doing two weeks of training in Jungian psychology. They told me that Jung’s theories and modalities had been proven obsolete, a statement that seemed so absurd to me that it literally left me speechless. (Not a common occurrence.) All I could do was chuckle and excuse myself from the conversation. In hindsight, it’s obvious that In order for her opinion to be true concepts like extrovert and introvert would be meaningless, terms like archetype and collective consciousness would be removed from the lexicon, and the Myers-Briggs personality test would disappear. Most importantly, it would mean that 12 step recovery is irrelevant to the millions of people who have found release from crippling addictions.

Jung was considered a silent co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous because he informed a patient he was treating that he’d reached the limits of his ability to help him to stop drinking. He knew that alcoholism was a complex, multi-layered psychological problem that can be supported by science, but not cured. He understood that there was a hidden dimension of addiction that cannot be quantified. That hidden dimension is the Spirit, or if you prefer, the Self. The humility that Jung demonstrated set in motion a chain of events that would culminate in the modern recovery movement.

This idea that Jung himself proposed that his psychology was insufficient for someone in active addiction was further impressed upon me at the training I attended in Europe at the training. A Swiss psychologist who’d heard I was an addictions counselor pulled me aside one day to ask me if I could help her with a client who was struggling with alcoholism. She told me she’d tried many different ways to reach this person but found herself feeling hopeless and frustrated, unable to facilitate the change both she and her client desired. I was glad to help in the way that I could, emphasizing that even with twenty years of working with substance abuse I often feel quite powerless myself. This interaction did not cause me to question the validity of Jungian Psychology, only to see its limitations. Trauma therapy, specifically EMDR, is one of the most beneficial tools we have at our disposal to lessen anxiety, reduce PTSD, and turn down the volume on intrusive thoughts. However, it will not arrest or eliminate an alcoholic’s desire for intoxication or an opiate users’ craving for oblivion. There is not a single modality, drug, technique, school of psychology, psychedelic, or self-help book that can entice someone who longs for constant escape from their individual reality to turn and face their agitated self who is trapped in psychologically unbearable circumstances. This is why our society’s attempts to solve the addiction problem always results in moderate progress at best. As with the fentanyl crisis today, the so-called crack epidemic in the 80’s, and the heroin crisis in the early 2000’s, too much attention is given to a specific drug and not enough attention to our relationship too intoxication itself. As a country, and in the family of origin, people talk about the tragedy of the thousands who die of fentanyl overdoses while finishing off their fourth glass of wine while popping another THC gummy. But that’s a whole other conversation.

My interest in depth psychology is not so much for the benefit of the person still in the midst of their addiction, there are strong resources for those locked in its grip. The place where I think it can have the most impact is for those of us who have years or decades in recovery but still struggle to find balance, peace of mind, and successful romantic partnerships. Through the process that Jung called individuation, I believe that people can come to know their true Self and tap into the power of a fully realized personality. This process begins with identifying different parts of the personality that have been suppressed below consciousness, such as the shadow, the anima and the animus. Jung believed that these splintered parts of our personality were observable through the process of analysis and a relationship with the unconscious, through dreams, active imagination, and even artistic creativity. And though the process of individuation is quite demanding, the rewards for myself have been quite striking.

So far on my journey I’ve been a student of Buddhism, Christian mysticism, psychodrama, trauma therapy, 12 step recovery, and many more. Last year I even did ice baths for about six months straight. All of these have added to my happiness and well being. As I mature, I become more and more wary of anyone or any technique that claims to have the quick fix to mental health and recovery. There is no one thing that will work for everyone. We are human beings, not machines. As such, we cannot be fixed, only healed, nurtured, and awakened as the individuals we are.

Tag: spirituality

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