Hello sweet ones,
Told you I’d be back more often!
I’ve been thinking about indecision recently, about future tripping and the fear of not knowing which way to turn. I am not a person who’d be described as patient. I like to make decisions, I like to charge into them full throttle, and nothing terrifies me more than the feeling that I’m at a loss for my next move.
For those of you keeping up to date, you might have an idea of where all that warp speed thinking landed me : burnt out and battling addiction.
I’ve recently reflected quite a bit on my triggers for using, and it’s all boiled down to one thing: control. I (much to my surprise) am a control junkie. Should I sit with unpleasant emotions? Certainly not! I’ll take a shortcut to euphoria. My fear of confronting the unknown has lead me to sabotage many offered opportunities, preferring familiar and guaranteed disappointments to the branches of other, newfound possibilities. Why risk rejection when I could make the first strike? Yes, I’ll shut down, ice out, ensure that I cool and apathetic — much better then to let it be known that I am terribly, awfully anxious.
None of these plans worked to my benefit, in case you hadn’t guessed. Fear becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. It’s horrifically simple, lonely, and sad. But what lies beyond fear? What is fear’s kryptonite?
Faith.
Bear with me, please.
In a 12 step program, the 3rd step is the decision to turn our will and our life over to god (as we understand god). In essence, it’s about relinquishing the need for control.
This may sound lofty, I mean - it is. 24/7 faith is a difficult shield to maintain, but it is, indeed, a shield. My thinking has gotten me nowhere good. My need to grab the steering wheel has led to rushed decisions and near deadly collisions. In searching to control other’s actions, I have been angry. In attempts to control the world that extends beyond myself, I have been resentful, fearful, and isolated.
Tangent incoming—
I’ve been reading Robert Thurman’s translation of the Tibetan Book of the Dead. For those who are unfamiliar with its background — the Tibetans believe in an unending cycle of reincarnative life experiences, with the spiritual growth or lack thereof in each lifetime deciding how one will incarnate in the next (I am over simplifying, a lot. I really recommend you read Thurman’s translation, he’s much more well versed than I am ;) The Tibetan view is that strength is spiritual, not material. Because of this belief system, the Tibetans created a culture whose merit system was little focused on one’s tangible achievements, but of the collective spiritual advancement of their society. Because they believed in the possibility of negative future incarnations, they gave their all in ensuring their pursuit of spiritually and morally aligned choices in their current lives.
Thurman — knowing that many fatalists/non believers might find this pursuit silly, as there is sure to be nothing but void following our deaths— posed an interesting point, which can be applied to one’s decision as to whether or not we choose to live with faith.
If we become nothing after death, we will not be there to regret having prepared for something. But if we are something after death, and we have not prepared at all, or are prepared badly, then we will long feel bitter, painful regret. So we have everything to gain by preparing, and nothing to lose. Should our preparation be for nothing, a little time spent on it in this life will not be regretted for eternity. Should our preparation be for something, the time taken away from it for the sake of this life’s business of pleasure will be deeply regretted for eternity as a waste of a vital resource.
I try to apply this same thinking to my faith, now. Personally, I believe in god — not a God belonging to any specific body of religion, but I do believe in my god, which is a Something, which is loving and intentional. I also deeply believe in my ability to be completely wrong, about anything, about many things. I may find that my faith is being placed in a thing that simply does not exist. I don’t think so, but I can’t say with certainty that the magic that I believe to be all around me is actually present beyond any reasonable doubt. However, I do have a choice, between faith in the possibility of something, or cynicism toward its certain non existence. Cynicism has gotten me many places, such as the psych ward, the ER. When I lose touch with my faith, I quickly descend into fear, and when I am living from fear, I am not keen to be living at all. From a purely practical perspective, it would seem I’m better off trusting in a thing I cannot see than taking life at face value.
The first time that I first experienced depression, I was about 11. I started to have these big existential crises about how small I was in the grand scheme of the planet, of the universe. Unable to comprehend my own insignificance, I was horrified, kept up at night by how little everything, myself included, mattered. I felt insignificant, I felt alone.
Magic is the thing that has saved me, time and time again. God, as a concept, as a loving force, that’s the thing that I see as magic, and that’s the thing that has carried me through to this day, even through my darkest moments. I believe there is significance to all things, even if I do not understand what that significance may be. Perhaps because I do not understand, I have to believe that there is Something that does. Maybe it’s childish, true. Maybe my god isn’t real. But I’ve got to face the fact that many of my fears aren’t real, either. What’s the harm in choosing to believe that things will work out, because they always have, one way or another? At any rate, there is certainly nothing to lose, and I suspect that, removed of worry, there is much time and joy to be gained.
Meditating the other day, I was still thinking, sneakily, my way through something that I viewed to be a problem. I was stuck in indecision, my mind running in circles, trying to come up with a solution. As I was lost in thought, a calm voice came into my head and said something along the lines of, “if you don’t know yet, you don’t know. When the time comes for you to act, you will know what to do.”
Simple as it was, I felt liberated. Maybe it was god, or magic, or maybe it was just my wiser-than-I subconscious mind. In any case, I laid the issue to rest for the evening, I gave up my obsession for control. In the morning, I woke up and had my answer. It simply appeared, and I felt calm — I acted on it, and felt the full trust that I had made the right choice, because I had waited for clarity.
In the program, there is a saying, “if it feels urgent, it’s not spiritual.’ So much of my desire for control comes with a deadline. The pressure to act feels immediate, as if, if I don’t find an answer right now, impending doom will surely arrive. The decisions I’ve made from that state have nearly always led me to regret. Nothing has ever imploded because I took a beat and waited for clarity. The decisions I make from a place of calm faith have always been a step in the right direction.
♡
My goodness. I relate so much. So many gems dropped. I'm also nothing without my faith and I have had to go through so much to discover that. Thank you for sharing this.