Back on the beers: Failing to find freedom from the bottle

As I sit down to write this, I am in the middle of my first drink in over 3 months. Well, it's not quite my first drink, I actually had 3 tiny sips of alcohol this morning, on a day trip to Mount Popa in which we stopped to see how local villagers make various products from palm trees, including whiskey and wine. Originally, I set out to quit drinking for the 3 month Buddhist Lent period which has recently ended. Given that 3 months is twice as long as my previous record set last year, I felt that it was big enough of a challenge. But something in me was hoping I could make it longer. Now, having finally  given in, and feeling somewhat guilty, what follows is my confession.

This blog isn't about the triumph of the will, it's the blood and guts of the path to purification. No one said it was going to be easy, and so the struggle continues.

Earlier this year, I had the pleasure of reading "Autobiography of a Yogi," by Yogananda, and remember the part when he tells of how his teacher taught him about non-violence. One day, when he was still a boy, he raised his hand to kill a mosquito that had landed on his arm. Before he struck the mosquito dead, he remembered what his teacher had taught him about not harming any living creatures, and so restrained himself.

His master, having witnessed this restraint, inquired as to why the boy hadn't killed the mosquito. Confused by this, Yogananda reminded him about his teachings of non-violence. His master clarified the teaching, and said that the purpose of non-violence wasn't to stop killing, it was to purify the mind from the desire to harm other living beings. In this way, he said that Yogananda had already killed the mosquito in his mind when he raised his hand to do so. Since the deed had already been committed at the mental level, he might as well go through with it on the physical level.

Having taken a vow of non-violence myself just over 2 years ago, I can relate to this teaching. At first, it was very difficult, as my mind was conditioned to swat and kill any mosquitoes that landed on me. But after time, I have found that the impulse to kill has almost completely vanished, with the exception of a mental breakdown that occurred when I put on a t-shirt that was covered with tiny ants inside, leading to the sudden collapse of my non-violent vows and a tiny ant massacre. But, the point of the vow wasn't to protect the innocent ants from being slaughtered by a surprised shirt-slinger, it was to protect myself from the dangers of responding violently when faced with aversion.

In Buddhism, there is no good or bad, no right or wrong. There is only Kamma (Karma in Sanskrit), which is simply cause-and-effect.

So what kind of effect comes from reacting impulsively with violence toward tiny creatures such as mosquitoes?

Well, one thing about Kamma is that we don't necessarily have the ability to look down the causal chain to see the consequences of our actions. But we can speculate, we can take this into consideration.

In my opinion, I feel that the near absence of my violence toward tiny creatures has also led me to treat my fellow humans more favorably, and that at some level, there is no difference to the way we treat mosquitoes and humans.  If we choose aversion instead of compassion everytime a mosquito, or person, lands on us in the wrong way, we are only making the experience of living harder for ourselves. Buddhist philosophy, and conveniently the more recent findings of quantum physics, tells us that we are one with everything in the universe. The mind, and its perspective, is the only thing that separates us from each other, as well as from a tree, a rock, a grain of sand, and yes, even a mosquito. As it turns out, we are all made up of the same stuff, or lack of stuff, and that matter isn't really solid at all.

Everything we see in our environment is the result of our conditioned material response to an immaterial world. 

But anyway, back to this beer, which is now my third and the purpose of this post. And no, I'm not writing slowly, I'm drinking quickly.

In the Therevada tradition of Buddhism which thrives in many SE Asian countries and Sri Lanka, also known as the "Doctrine of the Elders," a lay-Buddhist, such as myself, is "supposed" to follow 5 precepts. The 5th of which is the vow to refrain from taking intoxicating drinks that lead to heedlessness and a lack of mindfulness. That being said, many Buddhists in these countries consider drinking a national past-time. Again, there is no judge here, there is no guy in the sky condemning the actions of the human race, there is only cause and effect.

It's quite easy to see why drinking would be "discouraged" by the Buddha. The effects that stem from the act of drinking vary, but definitely include "less than desirable" outcomes. It makes people do stupid things, and by people, I mostly mean myself.

So why am I drinking?

No, I didn't think back to the Yogananda story and give myself the green light. I only thought of that story after I was halfway through my first beer and ran next door to grab my tablet and bluetooth keyboard on which I could share these mental formulations with whoever was interested (or bored) enough to read them.

The past 3 months have been relatively easy to refrain from breaking the 5th precept of not drinking compared to the last 3 days. Sure, I have had thoughts, and maybe even fantasies, about going back to the bottle, but for the most part, they came and went quickly and only resided on the surface level of my experience. The past few days, on other hand, have been somewhat of a different story. It's like it's been in my blood, and even though I have managed to sit through some serious cravings, and even somewhat of a mental breakdown two nights ago in which I thought I was coming down with food poisoning but only turned out to be something of a withdrawal, I practiced restraint.

It's not just that I have been feeling weak and lonely, now one week into my solo-journey through Myanmar, which I have, but I have also, at times, been feeling very grounded and strong. But everything is temporary, including strength, and what follows strength is weakness. Back and forth the pendulum swings. Sometimes, I sit in the middle, only watching. Sometimes, I am blindfolded, and along for the ride.

So is it bad that I'm drinking? No, there's nothing intrinsically wrong with lifting a glass of beer to the lips and drinking it down, nor is there anything intrinsically wrong with the "less than desirable" outcomes that tend to follow. But here I am. This is what I am experiencing, and this is a lack of my strength manifesting in this very moment. And to be honest with you (and myself), it feels pretty good.

No, I'm not better than anyone. Do I desire a life free from alcohol? Yes. But I'm not there, and I'm being honest with myself about how much control (or lack thereof) I have over worldly attachments and desires. As Steve Armstrong, a meditation teacher that I had the privilege of sitting on retreat with a year ago said, "Just do the best you can, and let that be good enough." If I am getting good at one aspect of the practice, that is it, "I'm just gonna let it all be good enough." That doesn't mean I'm being lazy, that doesn't mean I'm not putting in the hours. It just means that I am realistic about how long it takes for progress to be made. Our thoughts, actions, and desires stem from everything we've ever done leading up to any given point. They are all stored somewhere in our sub-conscious. Thinking that you can undo them in an instant would be like the conductor of a train suddenly deciding he didn't want to go to the way of the tracks and trying to turn off and follow a different path. Can you say train-wreck?

If you want to take a different path, you must first lay new tracks. 

What I mean by that is that whatever you are conditioned to do will likely repeat itself unless you do the hard work of creating new conditions for yourself. If you are a heroin-addict, and you just try to walk away without changing anything in your life, you will probably be sadly mistaken. It's just not that easy, and it's not healthy. We need to take gradual steps toward improving our lives. The addict needs help, not denial. Maybe a support group or new friends. A new lifestyle. Medication and a doctor or therapist might be required. It depends on the person. And it depends on the change. If you want to have big muscles, and you go to the gym once and work-out super intensely, expecting that by the time you leave the gym you will have big muscles, you are mistaken. It's going to take time. It's going to take hard work.

So now that I have broken a streak that I was so proud of, that I held dear to my heart, I will now take the opportunity to practice compassion for myself, by realizing that I, as well as everyone else, is just doing the best they can with that they have. Someday, with continued practice, discipline, and perseverance, I hope to put the bottle down and walk away for good. But that day hasn't come, and so I sit, and so I drink.

In no way do I mean to justify my actions. I am sure tomorrow I will regret this "decision," or "reality," that I find myself in. But sometimes, I need to fall over before I can pick myself up again. Having been standing tall, I found myself teetering, barely finding the footing to keep myself up. Now, I have taken what little was left of the ground I was standing on, and am prepared to deal with the consequences of my actions. Maybe it's the association of drinking that I have with traveling. Maybe it's the build up of over 3 months of restraint. Maybe it's the loneliness of finding myself all alone in a 3rd world country. It doesn't really matter.

The truth is, I have yet to purify my mind from my desire to drink. I'm getting closer, and I believe it to be possible, but the rise to purity of speech and action is not just a decision, it's the result of hard work, determination, and what could be years and years of practice. And, as Yogananda's master explained, action exists in the mind before it is carried out by the hand. In my mind, I had already lost the battle. The decision to cave was just a way of admitting that I was, and am in fact, defeated.

Thanks for listening, it's been a pleasure sharing these beers with you.