I had decided to take a bit of a break from the blog to explore some other forms of social media, and just generally decide if doing the blog is worth it.  Despite some encouragement, blogging is a little like shouting your ideas from the roof of a building… all while 10,000 other shout from their own. As such, it’s tad lonely.

Anyway, my experiment with other social media has been a mixed bag. Twitter has been fun, though terribly addictive. If you don’t know, I’m @habituatedbuddh on twitter. There I have found a great recovery community (who use the hashtag #xa – among others which I generally ignore). All very supportive and more or less tolerant of my heretical ways.  Being on Twitter has been fun, and has led to a great, though scary, opportunity I describe shortly. In addition I have connected with some really wonderful and intelligent Buddhists who have been great to get to know,

The other social media I checked out is the new Google +. As much as I’m enjoyed Twitter, G+ has been a truly disappointing and disillusioning experience.  On G+ I have had the chance to meet and interact with some very interesting and occasionally prominent Buddhists. Several whose blogs I frequent and link to from my own.

Unfortunately, it has felt at times like one long episode of “Buddhists Behaving Badly” .  Unbeknownst to those of us outside the e-Buddhist world, in cyberspace there is quite a history of, and active engagement in, the rudest, pettiest, most mean-spirited behavior by Buddhists, and under the banner of Buddhism, one can imagine. Now, I know I should not expect all Buddhist to behave a certain way, and bad behavior is not the sole domain of other faiths, but seriously the rude insulting and ego-centric behavior out there is enough to turn me theist (poor joke, but you get what I mean).

Perhaps I should not expect all Buddhist to behave better, but I feel no desire to engage with those for whom basic manners are not a part of their practice. If you disagree… well, I don’t care.

The great opportunity that has come up as a result of the social media experiment is that I am going to be starting a Dharma Punx inspired recovery meeting in the Atlanta Metro.  More details will be forthcoming but it appears I’ve actually got a space lined up and encouragement from some people at Dharma Punx in LA and elsewhere.

It’s a scary prospect, but it’ll be fun. I’ll get a web page and twitter account up once I get a name for the group.

As for this blog, in up-coming days I’ll finish my analysis of Step two, begin to explore what I consider the three stages of recovery (including “transcendence”) and begin introducing the Dharma Punx group.

Good to be back!

Came to Believe…

In Re-Imagining: Step 2 (Part 1) we proposed the following re-write: Came to believe a Power greater than ourselves could restore us provides us with a skillful path to sanity.

At the outset let me be clear that this installment will not attempt to define or discuss any re-imagining of the phrase “a Power greater than ourselves.” I will take that up in Part 3. Unfortunately, however, it’s dangerous to leave even this apparently innocuous phrase hanging out there while trying to discuss the topic of belief.  The problem is that even this idea of a “Power greater” may taint of influence how we define belief. Therefore, for the purpose of the following discussion we will temporarily replace this phrase with an arguably non-suggestive formulation and proceed with the following provisional re-write: Came to believe a Power greater than ourselves that there is something that could restore us provides us with a skillful path to sanity.

“Came to believe…” When this phrase is discussed the focus tends to be on how we came to believe. That is, that the birth of our belief, or faith, was not an instantaneous “burning bush” experience, but was of what some people call the “educational variety.”  This is certainly a wonderful and charitable way of interpreting the first part of this step.

In describing it as charitable I mean to acknowledge that this interpretation emphasizes an inclusiveness that is often missing from discussions of faith.  It emphasizes that the many ways or many time periods in which belief grows is irrelevant.  Step 2 includes them all.

However, while this interpretation welcomes all believers it masks a deeper and more serious question, perhaps the question that most vexed addicts facing this step: “What does it mean to believe?” Note, this is not a question of what to believe, nor a question of how long it takes to believe.  It is simply, “What is this act of belief?” I submit that belief actually comprises two acts.

Come to see…

In order to believe X, by definition, one must see X.  For example, one can not believe that Keanu Reeves is the greatest actor in the world without having a concept of Keanu Reeves.  As such, the first stage of belief (or belief in X) is having some concept of the matter believed.  Although this sounds simple this is not so simple a matter as it at first appears. 

Everyday each of us is exposed to ten thousand things to believe.  They can range from political ideas, to what is the better toilet bowl cleaner, to whether your friend really will meet you at 1:00 for lunch like she promised. Each of these are things we may “believe” and each of these can be ignored.

In order to “believe” any of these, or any other things, it is not simply enough to be exposed to these “potential truths.”  Most things thrown at us that we’re asked to believe are simply treated by us as stimulus to which we respond.  We curse the politician, buy the TidyBowl, and arrive early to lunch.  We rarely actually consider them. We rarely actually “see” the matter to which we respond before we respond to it.

Thus, when I say that the first requirement of “Come to believe” is “Come to see” I mean that one must actually go beyond being exposed to the “truth” and go being able to recite it. One must actually consider it.  One must actually pause, prior to reacting, and really contemplate the matter.

Come to acknowledge…

The term “acknowledge” is perhaps an unusual one to use in the context of “belief.” For many once you come to see that there is a skillful path the next step is to accept the path. Acceptance, however, is a much more mature state of belief, and here we are only considering the first stage.  I contend that the initial stage is much more one of “acknowledgement.”  

“To acknowledge” is a fascinating act.  Acknowledgement goes beyond the seeing or comprehending of a truth, it is almost a form of admission.  It goes beyond the simple internal cognitive state of knowing something and implies that ones extends to that truth a certain status or role.  I may, for instance, know that Bob is my immediate supervisor at work.  Intellectually I may see that this is true, and may respond to it in any number of ways.  However, it is only when I “acknowledge” it, and I take the truth of his supervisory position and really internalize it (whether I “accept” it or want it to be so) that an authentic truthful relationship to Bob is formed.  In so doing, it is by acknowledging this truth that I am affected and changed.  Likewise, it is when I acknowledge that there is a skillful path to sanity that I form an authentic relationship with that path.

In Conclusion

Therefore, while we can appreciate the charitable inclusiveness of the traditional emphasis in understanding the phrase “Came to believe…” we see that there is much more in this phrase to be appreciated.  By “Came to believe…” we understand the that there are the twin actions of coming to see and contemplate that there is a skillful path, and acknowledging, or getting into an authentic relationship with this skillful path (even before I fully accept it).  Therefore, we conclude by proposing the following re-imagining:

Came to believe Came to see and acknowledge a Power greater than ourselves that there is something that could restore us provides us with a skillful path to sanity.

Coming in Part 3 we tackle the elephant in the room: “a Power greater than ourselves”

Short form of Step 2:  Came to believe a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

“Came to believe”,  ”a Power greater than our selves”, “sanity”, each of the words and phrases evoke an almost magical and mystical awe. Questions like “How does one come to believe”, “who or what is this power,” and “so, I’m insane?” all leap immediately to mind.  But in this first part of the re-imagining of Step 2 I want to begin with what might seem to be the most innocent words in this step: “could restore us.”

Two Conceptions of “could restore us”

There are, in general, two ways to understand “could restore us”.  To understand the difference it is useful to take as a starting point the relatively innocuous sentence “X could take me to Dallas.”  The first way of understanding this sentence can be termed the agent model.  In this interpretation the sentence is understood to say that I could be transported to Dallas by some outside agency “X”.  That is, by the agent model, the sentence “X could take me to Dallas” means that there is some person (or other agency) ”X” who could drive me to Dallas.

The second understanding, which we will term the directive model, takes the sentence “X could take me to Dallas” to mean that there is a path, scheme or course of conduct that will take me to Dallas.  The obvious example is a map, or travel plan.  Thus, our innocuous sentence translates as, “If I take this route (or highway) it’ll take me to Dallas.”  Here, there is no outside agency, there is merely a proscribed course of conduct that lead to the desired result.

The Agent Model and it’s Deficiencies

As should be evident from the above, the key feature of the agent model is a subject/object relationship.  In the sentence “X could take me to Dallas”, “X” is that a subject or actor or agency acts upon me, the object. I am literally taken to Dallas by something else.  Thus, in the Second Step, following this model, when we say “a Power could restore us to…” we are conceiving of ourselves as an object that is acted upon by the outside agency (the “Power”).  We are thus in the role of that which is restored and the Power is in the role of the restorer (that is, the agent).

When I assert that this model has deficiencies I do not mean to imply that it may not work for some people.  There are many people in recovery that approach the second step from this orientation and are able to achieve sobriety.  To them I say congratulations.  However, the major deficiency of this model is the cost it extorts.

Accepting this model is to see oneself as merely an object.  Our salvation or restoration is something imposed on us from outside, and is completely outside of our own agency.  For many in recovery this is seen as a great plus.  They describe it as the height of humility.  The idea is that being truly humble is to accept that we are powerless, and can not save ourselves.  Thus, any success we appear to have is not ours to claim.  Instead, all glory goes to the one who restored us, and we, in total humility, accept none.

Unfortunately, and what is rarely admitted is that, if this is so, the converse is also true.  That is, sense a Power outside of ourselves is responsible for our restoration, the failure of our restoration must also lie with that power.  Remember, we are not an agent in this model, we are merely acted upon.  Thus, the failure for us to be acted upon is not our responsibility, but is the responsibility of the agent (Power).

Often, people in recovery will attempt to avoid this corollary truth by claiming that the agent (Power) will only act upon us if we take certain steps.  Further, many claim that if we take those steps the agent (Power) will necessarily act upon us and restore us.  This, unfortunately contradicts the original formulation that we are powerless and that our restoration lies outside of ourselves (since it is we who decide if and to some extent when the agent acts).

The Directive Model and the Descriptive/Normative Distinction

The key feature of the directive model is that there is no subject/object distinction.  That which acts, and that which is acted upon are the same.  Said is plain english: We cause our own restoration.  Note however, this is not the same as claiming that we restore ourselves through our own “will power”.  In fact, this model implies no claim about the exact method of restoration, merely it’s general nature.

To understand this point recall that in the directive model of understanding of our innocuous sentence “X could take me to Dallas” no actual travel route (or mode of transportation) is mandated.  Likewise, when considering the second step the directive model of understanding does not specify what the actual route to restoration is.  Instead, this understanding merely describes that the restoration is achieve through the application of some method or scheme.

Applying the directive model of understanding to the second step then would leave us with the following: Came to believe a Power greater than ourselves could restore us provides us with a path to sanity.  This re-imagining is enough to give us an understanding of the second step that avoids the personal debasement of the agent model without necessarily elevating “will power” to the status of a superpower.

Before settling on this re-imagining of Step 2, however, it is useful to reflect on another aspect of methods, plans, or schemes: the descriptive/normative distinction. All directive methods, plans, and schemes (if accurate) are descriptive.  That is, they each describe a way of reaching it’s respective goal.  Returning to our innocuous example, any accurate path to Dallas satisfies the “X” in “X could take me to Dallas.”  However, we all recognize that some paths to Dallas are superior to others.  For example, most concede that driving west from Atlanta is a superior path to Dallas than drive east.  Both will get you to Dallas, but one gets you there much sooner, and much drier.

When we say give some directive, some plan, scheme, or method, as a way of achieving our goal, and we mean not only that it is accurate but that it is a better way than others we describe it as a normative directive.  Thus in further understanding of our innocuous example of going to Dallas with a normative directive understanding it states that “X” is a proper or skillful (using a Taoist term) to get me to Dallas.  

That Step 2 implies, in fact requires, a normative understanding is self-evident.  The entire purpose of the twelve steps is to help a person get sober, and to show them not just any way, but the best (or at least one of the best) ways to do so.  As such our re-imagining ought to include some indication of this normative aspect.  Therefore we can finally state our re-imagined Step 2 (thus far):

Came to believe a Power greater than ourselves could restore us provides us with a skillful path to sanity.

Upcoming in Re-Imagining: Step 2 (Part 2) – “Came to believe”

As always, comments and debate are welcome, invited, encouraged and anticipated.

Forgiveness and Debt

I visited a Christian blog recently (Ginzo Talk) which offered the following definition of forgiveness:

Forgiveness – a : to give up resentment of or claim to requital for b : to grant relief from payment of

While this blogger expressed a preference for the second definition, I feel that they both have the same failing. That is they are each based on seeing human relations as essentially a series of fundamentally commercial relations.  As such, based on one persons behavior they either “owe” something to another, or are “owed” something from the other..

In the case of the second of these two definitions this is obvious: “to grant relief from payment of”.  Thus, if I forgive you, I am relieving you an obligation you have to me.  The assumption of a sort of commercial activity between people is explicit.  You did X and as such you owe me Y.  You can either pay Y or I can “forgive” that debt.  This I would term “restorative debt”, and thus “restorative debt forgiveness/”

The second part of the first definition, “giving up a claim to requital for”, is slightly more subtle, but amounts to the same thing.  A “claim to requital for” is just a fancy way of saying I gave you X and as such you owe me X in return. This often takes the form of “I love you so you should love me.”  Again, a sort of commercial transaction.  This then constitutes what I’ll term “reciprocal debt” and “reciprocal debt forgiveness.”

Next, lets consider the first part of the first definition: “give up resentment of “.  Now to those in 12 Step recovery the term “resentment” has a special and sinister meaning.  Resentments are described as the chief offender, certain to lead one to drink again. As such, understanding what a resentment is is doubly important because it helps us understand both that part of the “program” as well as forgiveness.

A simple definition of resentment is “the feeling of displeasure or indignation at some act, remark, person, etc regarded as causing injury or insult” (Dictionary.com) In short, we might say its a feeling caused by another, seen as causing injury or insult.

Now at first glance this definition of forgiveness does not seem to follow the debt model laid out above. One might say that since I’m just giving up my own “feeling” there is no debt at issue. However, this ignores the most basic reason for this “feeling.”  That is, we each have a basic belief that we are entitled to NOT feel that displeasure.  Thus, If you caused my displeasure X then you have harmed me.   This I would term “rehabilitative debt.”

Now, If it is simply a matter of giving up the feeling of displeasure then the question must be asked “Who are we forgiving?”  The answer is that we are forgiving ourselves for feeling that way, or the other for causing the feeling.  If we conceive of it as forgiving the other the commercial nature of forgiveness is again obvious.  What if we are forgiving our selves?  Again, this is a commercial relation, we are feeling X; we see that we inappropriately are causing in ourselves X (we resent ourselves); and so we owe ourselves some sort of relief.

Another Model

If one encounters an injured animal, one that’s scared, one is not surprised if one gets bitten.  In this instance we understand that the animal’s action of biting (or clawing or scratching) us is not a malicious act.  We also understand that when we come across an injured animal, and we are injured by it, the animal owes us nothing.  We have no claim against the animal for requital (we don’t expect it to love us for any aid we offer, or if we do it is easy to see the foolishness of this attitude), we have no claim of repayment from the animal, and we recognize the foolishness of resenting the animal.  This is all true because we recognize that the animal’s action arise from it’s own suffering.

Thus, when we recognize that the animal’s action is from it’s own suffering, and that it owes us nothing, not even for any aid we render, we see that we have no need to forgive that animal.  Neither restorative, reciprocal, nor rehabilitative debt is owed.  The same is true of other people.  When we see that their actions are merely their reactions to their own suffering we can feel compassion for that person.  Part of that compassion is the understanding that since it was born of their suffering, and they owe us nothing, forgiveness is not necessary.

Living the Model

Living this model means that one need never forgive, because there is nothing to forgive.  The benefits of this approach is twofold.  First, in specific relationships, one need not spend time, energy, and emotion in the constant economy of emotional debt.  One does not focus energy on “you owe me this” or “you owe me for that”, or even “I’m in debt to you for this or that”.  One escapes the overlay this crude economy places on relationships, and concern for how and when these debts get paid, whether our payment is accepted or theirs is acceptable.  We escape all of this emotional bookkeeping.

Secondly, and more importantly, we escape the more general attitude of seeing people merely as economic actors.  By learning to see their slights and injuries to us as manifestations of their own suffering we no longer are centered on ourselves.  We are now are able to focus on their pain, their suffering and thus how to serve and assist them.  We move away from an ego-centric way of being in the world and become other-centric.  If one must, one can see that such a shift does in fact aid us because if their injuries to us arise from their suffering, then alleviating their suffering will dismiss these slights.

In Sum – A Prayer

Forgiveness is unnecessary because no debt is owed.  I will endeavor not to forgive you, or myself, because all the “wrongs” I experience are nothing more than evidence of your, or my, pain.  I will endeavor not forgive what is not owed.  Instead, I will endeavor to see instead the suffering that gives rise to these slights, and work always to aid those who suffer, whether myself or others.

“We Admitted…“

A reminder:  In this series I attempt to re-imagine the 12 steps, without changing the basic format or content, along non-theistic, Buddhist, and existentialist lines.  I am attempting to do so without employing explicit Buddhist ideology, ontology, or terminology, although a complete avoidance of such is likely impossible.

At the conclusion of Step 1 (Part 1) we suggested the following, provisional, re-imagined Step 1:

We admitted we were powerless over alcohol had engaged in an alcoholic life – that our lives had become unmanageable.

With the concept of “powerlessness” unpacked we can now turn our attention to the first two words of this step: “We admitted”.

Stoic/Editorial “Admission” v. Effusive “Confession”

While the first step uses the phrase “We admitted…” the emotional weight that is implied, and that normally attends this “admission”, is almost always greater than that of a simple admission. Instead, it is more akin to “We confessed….”  That is, this singular act of “admission” is rarely experienced as a simple acknowledgment of a fact, or as some stoic editorial correction.  It is rarely: “Yes, well…, upon reflection it turns out that I have, in fact, abused alcohol… I hereby revise my earlier assessment of myself.”

Instead, the admission spoken of in Step 1 normally evokes a sense of shame and a self-loathing that may more commonly be experienced by the sin-burdened penitent at confession.  The emotion is felt in the manner of: “Forgive me [whoever] for I have sinned, debased and disgraced myself in your eyes and the eyes of the world.” This may not be the actual manner of confession but this language does capture the some of the complete moral and emotional collapse that one can feel in such a confessional moment.

Returning to the first step we can readily see that neither of these models carry the proper sense or connotation for the first step to be effective or meaningful.  An admission of the stoic/editorial variety simply fails to acknowledge and recognize the seriousness and depth of the “admission”.  In a nutshell, any confession that can be so readily and unemotionally made is of little significance, and likely to have almost no effect on a person’s life.

Alternatively, the effusive confessional model fails as an effective “life-change” event because it is primarily emotional an experience.  In contrast to the stoic/editorial modal which was all intellect, this mode is virtually all emotion, and deeply negative emotion to boot.  Thus, it fails to encompass an acceptance of the truths expressed.  The point of a confession is to “unburden” oneself, and be relieved of the ugly truth confessed.   Step 1 is intended not as an unburdening, just the opposite – it is an acceptance of the burden.

An Inelegant Re-Imagining

From the foregoing analysis, and the failures of the two described models, it is easy to see what the first step demands.  The “admission” in question must recognize the true significance of what is being confessed.  Further, it must be experienced in a way that the emotion does not overwhelm the “confessor” and allows them to truly accept, including intellectually, the truth.  Thus the phrase “recognized and accepted” more accurately represents what is required.

Final Version: Step 1

Thus, I suggest the following replacement:

We admitted recognized and accepted that we were powerless over alcohol had engaged in an alcoholic life – that our lives had become unmanageable.

This formulation avoids the unproductive emotional extremes of the stoic/editorial approach and the emotional/confessional, while actually encouraging the those things that will later promote sobriety.

A final note on Step 1:  The phrase “our lives had become unmanageable” is proper, when sufficiently understood.  That is, the recognition of manageability is a recognition of past manageability.  That is, one’s life can, and will, be manageable (should proper steps be taken).  In other words, this statement of manageability does not express an ontological or existential truth.  It is not a claim that human lives are by their nature “unmanageable”, merely that ours had become so.

Upcoming in Re-Imagining Step 2: “Came to believe”, “power greater than ourselves”, and the restoration of sanity (oh, my!).

Comments and debate are welcome, invited, encouraged and anticipated.

The Weariness of a Life Lived “Right”

The Hubris of a Life Lived “Right”

Part 3 – Coming Soon!!!

The Habitual Buddhist invites a lively and respectful discussion and exploration as we re-imagine the 12-steps of recovery.  All are invited to comment and debate.

Step 1, Part 1

Step 1, Part 2

Step 2, Part 1

Step 2, Part 2 – Coming Soon!!!

It is far from uncommon to hear a person in recovery talk about how great working on a step, or especially completing a step, makes one feel.  Or, if not a step per se, how doing some aspect of the 12 step program makes them feel great.  One will hear, “I just did my 5th step, and wow, I’ve never felt better!”, or ”I can’t wait to do a 5th step on some more of my character defects, I love the release I feel when I’ve done it!”

These positive declarations come, I think, from two main sources.  First, doing the steps, and other parts of the program, does often times feel good.  After weeks, months, or years of abuse, where there has been no substantial spiritual life, no real honesty, and no real hope, the addict can become awash in the new-found relief and sense of a positive and promising future.  At each stage of the program the addict feels, for perhaps the first time in years, that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  They may even begin to see the light.  Stress, fear, and tension begin to lose their grip, and actual human relationships begin to unfold.  The addict feels, in a word, better.

The second source of these positive declarations is the culture of 12 step programs themselves.  The phrases “we are not a glum lot” and “happy, joyous and free” (as well as many others) have become mantras of the program.  The reason for this is simple.  By and large they are true.  As described above, people working the program are happier than they were while using.  Additionally, The culture of 12 step programs recognizes the very real danger of the new (or new-ish) member slipping into a morose and self-hating lack of hope.  Having developed a committed and exclusive relationship with alcohol and the alcoholic life, a member can feel alone, perhaps abandoned.  They may see no chance of a happy life without the alcohol drip of happiness to which they were formerly committed.  Instead of the hope, they experience only loss.  Thus the culture of 12 step programs promotes the positive, in an attempt to buoy the addict long enough to learn the truth and peace of a sober life.

There is, however, a real danger in the over promotion of the positive attitude in recovery:  It encourages a denial of the real pain, loneliness, and grief that in recovery we must learn to befriend.  I often think we do a disservice to new(-ish) members by failing be respectful of the solemnity of the situation.  That we were addicts is a truly sad thing.  We were lost, lonely, and self-destructive people.  From the outside (or other side) we can see the damage to others we have caused.  It is important not to paint over this truth.  While humor and positive incantations may make the pain of that recognition easier, recovery is not the “easier softer way” that we had sought.  Until we learn to sit with theses negative emotions, without recourse to humor and feel-good clichés, recovery will elude us.

This said, the greatest danger of the over promotion of the positive attitude is that it simply becomes a new drug.  “I feel bad, so I need to fix it…”, or, “I do this to feel good…”  Note, there is no difference between the attitude here between the user and the non-user.  I want something to make me feel good – be it drink, pill, or step.  We can fall victim to taking a “hit” of the program every time we don’t like how we’re feeling, a “bump” of acceptance, a “dose” of step 5.  No quarter is given pain, mourning is not permitted here.

Obviously I am not advocating encouraging the new(ish) member to indulge in self-pity, but it is important to learn how to mourn our past (or our present).  We must learn not simply how to avoid the mistakes of the past, but how to feel bad about them without that feeling destroying us.  Further, we must do it without recourse to a mainline of “recovery” to mask or deny them.

Thus, the person in recovery ought to be encouraged to learn to regard their mistake, addictions, and defect with solemnity but without being consumed by them.  Otherwise, just as our drug of choice began to fail to mask our pain, and greater doses were required until no dose was enough, “recovery” itself, as the new drug, will ultimately fail.  Pain, sorrow and regret are not the enemy, it is how we dealt with them that almost destroyed us.  That is what we must learn to live with them – and a reverent acknowledgement is, in the end, more valuable than a slogan.

I do have plenty of illusions that I am living my life “right.”  That said, my biggest problem does not come when I am deluded, falter, doubt, or lose my focus on what I should be doing to live “right”.  It comes, often times, when I am most focused on the idea of what I should be doing.  That is, it comes when I am most cognizant of what a person “ought” to do to live “right”.

Essentially, my biggest problem (at least, biggest problem today) pops up when I am trying to do the “right” thing.  It comes when I am in a situation that previously I would have responded to very badly (even self-destructively), but I can see so clearly the right way to respond – and I do!  And in this situation I look at the person across from me, and I see that they are caught up in the same situation, perhaps we are arguing.  I see that they are as caught up as I normally would have been, and I see that they…  horrors of horrors… do not see the  ”right way”.

Bam!  There it is, the problem hits me.  I feel that, if only I can make them see the “right way”.  If only I can get them to see it they would be so much happier.  This situation that is so troubling them (but not me, because I see and apply the “truth”) would be alleviated or vanish altogether if only I can get them to understand… if only….

Heres the thing:  I may be correct.  But guess what:  That doesn’t matter.

My biggest problem comes when I have a genuine urge to help someone, but respond  like a shark smelling (tasting?) blood in the water.  The clarity of the “right way” becomes intoxicating, and energizes me while my concern for the other person gives me direction.  I will now allow no obstacle to stop me.  I will show them the way whether they want it or not (after all, its good for them).

This then is the heart of hubris.

In my embracing of the Buddhist path I feel I have come to a place where compassion is possible, and I have come to a place of occasional clarity.  That said, I often lack balance. The passion that arises out of genuine compassion, and the immediacy of how to help become like two weapons.  My lack of balance makes them two weapons in the hands of a child.

It is true hubris, a true arrogance, to only act on these two.  A third piece is needed.  The third piece, the one that gives balance, is patience.  Patience is the part that restrains the passion of compassion.  Not by squelching it, but by holding it in sufficient check that the focus that comes from understanding the “right” thing to do, can broaden, and include and actual appreciation for the person.  With this broader focus, with this appreciation, the compassion that I felt for the person as a suffering person becomes a compassion for this particular suffering person, and not simply for an abstract suffering person.

Patience, then, is that piece that restrains compassion and focus to the point where one can abandon the cause of helping and actually connect with the person in need.

As a bonus, patience causes us the revisit the fact that “I may be right,” and may show us that we were not.  Either way, “right” or “wrong”, patience allows the compassion to be true compassion by being a compassion for a true person, and not the idea of a person.  That, then, is the antidote for hubris.

Short form of Step 1:  We admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.

The first, and most obvious place to focus our attention in this step is with the phrase: “powerless over alcohol”. For most addicts in recovery this idea of being “powerless” is a central tenet of their program. The belief often comes down to the simple principle that if one fails to accept that you are powerless over (that is, if you believe you still have power over your drinking) you will be proven wrong and drink again.

A more complete analysis of “powerlessness” has already been posted here, but for our purposes here we can simply summarize the key points.  First, as “powerlessness” is traditionally understood, power is a zero-sum game.  That is, if one thing is powerless, then anther thing is powerful, and if one thing is powerful, the then another thing is powerless.  There is always a split, and the power of one thing is directly and irretrievably lock to the second thing.

Second, because this way of understanding “powerlessness” necessarily creates a dichotomy (powerless/powerful) it bifurcated our “disease” and makes it a separate thing from us.  Essentially, there is “me” and there is “alcoholism.”  (Note: while I am provisionally use the term “disease” here, it is not one I subscribe to.  For a critique of the “disease model’ of alcoholism, click here.)  Further, under this conception “alcohol” or “alcoholism” as a separate thing bestowed with power, can and does act upon me.

Thus, the phrase: “powerless over alcohol” can now be seen to imply far more that simply the admission of a problem, an addiction.  To accept and “admit” to this “powerlessness” is  to assume, in fact to posit, an entire world view.  A world of zero-sum games, winners and losers.  One where my “disease” has a separate existence from me, and can act on and against me.

This essay does not set out to demonstrate the absurdity, or advisability, of such a curiously populated world.  If you are like me, recognizing that this is the implication of this understanding is enough to reject it.  But, even if you are personally satisfied with this world view, one must see that the first step can not function as a path to sobriety for everyone if it implies so much.

Thus, I suggest the following replacement:  We admitted we were powerless over alcohol had engaged in an alcoholic life – that our lives had become unmanageable.

This formulation avoids the metaphysical excesses of he “powerless” formulation, and implies nothing more than what ever life the person taking this step already knows.

Upcoming in Re-Imagining Step 1 (Part 2) we analyse the idea of “admission”, and briefly review the language of unmanagability.

Comments and debate are welcome, invited, encouraged and anticipated.