As Addiction Takes Hold of Us
This world provides ample opportunity for us to let go. In last month’s column on this topic, I discussed many types of letting go. This month I consider what it means to hold our dreams and goals lightly. This is not always easy. Sometimes our dreams and goals become addictive.
All mammals, humans included, have evolved to take pleasure in the many substances and activities we need to survive, such as water, sweets, fat, sex, learning, and caring relationships. When we feel pleasure from a behavior, we learn to repeat it. When we get hungry or thirsty or lonely, we seek out that which sated our longing the last time. After a while, as Robin Henrietta Barnes tells us in her book, Hijacked Brains, that seeking becomes automatic.
“As an animal becomes more effective and efficient in performing a sequence of behaviors like searching for food, these responses become automatic or habitual, and the neural pathways to achieve them become ingrained.” [1] Being able to find food without having to think too much about it is important. Unfortunately, when ice cream is available right in our kitchens or when we dabble in substances whose lure is even stronger, this automatic behavior can become addictive. Once we become addicted, then not even negative consequences will stop us from pursuing pleasure.
This is how we can become addicted to our dreams and goals. Prestige, status, and wealth, or simply the longing to be remembered after we die, can drive us to work relentlessly, to lie and cheat, to betray loved ones, and to forsake the needs of our own bodies. Not only drugs or sweets hijack our brains. Anything that brings us pleasure and satisfaction will do, even something as simple as shopping, solving puzzles, or finishing a project.
King Midas’ Addiction
After we reach our goal, however, we may feel let down. We will need something new to keep us excited, such as another mountain to climb or another pot of gold to find. Once addicted, we can never get enough.
We see this in the story of King Midas, whose lust for riches so overpowered him that he begged the god Dionysus to make everything he touched turn to gold. Of course, Dionysus tried to dissuade the king, but Midas would not listen to reason. Obsessed with his dream of limitless wealth, he had lost his ability to think things through or listen to advice.
As Dionysus warned him, his wish turned out to be a bad idea. The king’s food turned to gold before he had a chance to chew it, and when his beloved daughter ran into his chamber and hugged him, she became a golden statue. What had he done?
When our choices lead to betrayal, loss, and regret, we may wonder why we were so foolish in the first place. If only we had “played the tape through,” as they say in twelve-step circles. Yet our minds rarely work so coherently, especially when “hijacked” by our desires. We are more like Homer Simpson, who, when he wanted to do something right now that would cause headaches for him later, would minimize his concern by saying, “That’s a problem for future Homer.” He might not “envy that guy,” but he wasn’t going to worry about him.
The Lure of Our Dreams
Yet Midas was addicted to gold and Homer to beer. Can we really be addicted to dreams or goals? And aren’t these good things, our plans for the future? Besides, if we’re dwelling on some distant goal, we are thinking ahead. We’re helping “future Homer,” right?
Maybe and maybe not. It depends on how we imagine and pursue those goals. A heroin addict may spend his day at work planning his next fix, fantasizing how it will feel, enjoying the twinge of eagerness and anticipation. We can do the same when dreaming about cars, homes, and diamonds, or about lovers who will fawn over us. Or maybe our fantasies run more toward fame, deference, power, and influence.
Regardless, our imagined future is almost never like the reality. Yes, we might use drugs, accumulate wealth, enjoys accolades for our performances, yet that empty place inside us, that place that longs and plans and dreams, is never satisfied. When we strive from a longing for fulfillment, we will be let down. Besides, such automatic and addictive pursuits come with a cost.
By seeking security in drugs or wealth, we often lose friends and family. We relinquish our dependence on the sacred, on that which keeps us humble, whole, connected, and can fill our emptiness. If we’re looking for something to help us forget our troubles and bring us joy, nothing works better than the sense of oneness that comes from a connection with nature, or god, or the mystery, or a larger purpose, or holiness.
The Lure of Our Goals
Yet even some greater purpose, such as a ministry to the poor or a search for the unified field theory in physics, can become addictive. Indeed, perhaps we should be glad that some people are willing to give their lives to develop great ministries or achieve scientific discoveries or produce incredible works of art or even build successful businesses, for many of the people we remember throughout history had a touch of obsession or addiction about them.
Yet what if we are content to live a life of quiet goodness and simple kindness, to work at our jobs, raise our children, love our spouses, volunteer in soup kitchens, and support our church community without feeling special or important? What if we long for balance, wholeness? How do we pursue our goals without losing ourselves in them?
An African story about two brothers might help us figure this out. [2]
Setting Off to Climb the Mountain
Once upon a time, there lived a boy named Mkunare and his younger brother Kanyanga. Their family were very poor. They owned not even a single cow. Both boys longed to find a way to help the family prosper. In and of itself, this is not a bad goal. Why shouldn’t we desire to take care of our families? It’s only responsible to do so.
So when Mkunare heard that up on top of Kibo mountain there ruled a king who was generous to the poor, it made sense that he would want to climb up there and ask the king for help. Mkunare’s desires were normal and even compassionate. He loved his family and wanted to help them.
So the young man headed off up the mountain. Unfortunately, though he cared deeply for his family members, he felt little compassion for anyone outside his community. Nor could he be bothered with anyone who got in the way of his task. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to get it, no matter what.
Refusing the Call to Serve
Along the trail toward the king’s village, sat a woman, her eyes swollen, raw, and thick with mucous.
Mkunare greeted her.
“Why have you come here?” the woman asked him.
“I’m looking for the king who lives on the mountain,” he said. “I hope he might help my family.”
“If you lick my eyes clean,” she said, “I will tell you how to find him.”
But Mkunare was so disgusted by the idea, he turned away.
I don’t know about you, but I would have a hard time licking the woman’s eyes. Disgust is a natural reaction to that which might make us sick. We humans evolved to avoid disgusting things. Yet in the world of this story, what matters is not our own plans or even our own needs, but rather our willingness to take care of those who suffer.
Mkunare was not willing at all. He was too obsessed with finding his way to the king, so he refused to stop to help the woman.
Treating Others with Disdain
Mkunare climbed on. When he was almost at the mountain top, he came to the country of Konyingo, which means Little People. There he saw a group of short men who looked to him like boys. Not taking the time to really see them, to notice the wisdom in their faces, the maturity in their stances, unwilling to look at what was right in front of him, he asked the little men where he could find their fathers.
This offended the Konyingo, so they told Mkunare to sit and wait until their fathers returned.
So Mkunare waited. And waited and waited. When night began to fall, the Konyingo slaughtered a cow, cooked it, and ate it. They gave none to Mkunare. He was to wait until the fathers appeared.
Of course, the fathers never showed up because they were already there. So Mkunare left the camp, annoyed at the rudeness of these strange people. Tired and hungry, he stumbled around looking for a trail to the very top of the mountain, but never found one. Finally, he turned back, getting lost on the way home. It took him a month to refind his village. There, he complained to everyone who would listen about the selfish people who refused to help a stranger. He had no insight into his own behavior.
Unable to let go of his plans long enough to pay attention to and care about the suffering of others or to look with interest into the eyes of the people he came across, he failed in his task. He was too focused on succeeding. Once back home, he refused to let go of his story of innocence. Unable to honestly examine his own behavior, he clung to resentments.
The Younger Brother Tries
His younger brother was different. When Kanyange climbed the mountain to seek financial assistance for his family, he, too, came across the woman with swollen eyes. Like his older brother, he told her he was looking for the king who lived on the mountain top. Unlike his brother, when she asked him to lick her eyes, he felt compassion for her and licked the mucous completely away. He thought about something besides his own desires. He took the time to help another.
In gratitude, the woman explained what Kanyanga must do. Near the top, he would come to the village of the king. There he would see some men the size of children, but he must not be fooled. He must treat then with respect. They were the king’s council.
So when Kanyanga reached the village and saw the tiny men, he spoke to them respectfully. Not only did he trust what the woman told him, but he took the time to see who they really were. Pleased at being treated with respect, the Konyingo men brought Kanyanga to the king. The king listened to the young man’s request and gave him a meal and a place to sleep for the night. In the morning, grateful for their kindness, Kanyanga taught his hosts some potions and incantations that would help them grow crops and protect themselves from enemies. Delighted by the wisdom they’d received, the Konyingo people gave Kanyanga a dozen cows, which the young man brought home to his family.
Letting Go of Goals
Because he was not obsessed with the pursuit of his goal, Kanyanga ended up fulfilling it. He did not get lost in fantasies of success. He did not care about being rich. All he wanted was to help. So when he came across people who could benefit from something he had to offer, he set aside his own needs to serve them, not thinking of what he might gain.
What allowed Kanyanga to let go of his goals? Perhaps it was his compassion, his generosity, his ability to live in the moment. He did not lust after some future dream. He enjoyed his life as it unfolded.
Goals are a good thing. We need to make plans. It helps to live with purpose, to seek tasks that offer us a sense of meaning. Yet Mkunare was filled with dreams of wealth, of what he might gain. So full was his mind and heart with his goals that he had no room left for anything else. He had no room to care about the suffering of others.
So we might want to hold our dreams lightly. We might want to focus on the present moment. By this I don’t mean we ought to think about our immediate pleasures, but rather that we should consider who and what is right in front of us and focus on doing the next right thing. If we drive ourselves too hard, if we show disdain for others, we might reach the top of the mountain, but that doesn’t mean we will reach our goal.
Letting Go and Coming Home
In such a way did Mkunare fail, and his failure had bitter consequences. The story tells us that he was ostracized by his friends and neighbors, shamed and taunted. To some degree, this is appropriate, for shame can be an effective way for small communities to manage behavior.
Yet could the young man not be reconciled?
When Midas discovered how foolish he had been, he begged Dionysus to undo what had become a curse. So the god gave him a way out. All Midas had to do was bathe in the River Pactolus. Weak from hunger and thirst, he dragged himself for miles and miles. In the end, he crawled on his hands and knees, but he made it. Once at the river, he submerged himself in the waters, and they washed him clean of his curse. When he made his way back home, he found his daughter alive again. He repented and was brought back into community.
Yet Mkunare never repented of his foolishness. He clung to his story of victimhood. Therefore, he didn’t heal from his addiction, and he could not mend the relationships he had damaged.
No matter what we do, we may find that some losses can never be regained. Some relationships can never be mended. Some communities will never embrace us, no matter what we do. Yet if we return home in body, but refuse to grow in our heart or spirit, we will remain stuck. Letting go of our addictions, and of our obsessions, means we must be willing to acknowledge our mistakes and ask for forgiveness.
Reaching One’s Goals
So how do we reach our goals without sacrificing ourselves and others?
On his journey, Kanyanga not only climbed the mountain, but he made friendships. He served others and gave them what gifts he had to offer. He maintained his integrity. Unlike his brother, he felt happy and comfortable, trusting in others and believing in the essential rightness of the world.
Like Midas, we can reach our goal in life and end up miserable. We might even become president, but still be shallow, bitter, frightened of reality, hurt by little things, and too ashamed to show weakness. What a miserable way to live. If our hearts are empty and our souls shriveled, wealth does us no good. Status and power are worth little.
There is much we must let go of in this world. On our life journey, we may lose youth, health, safety, ignorance, jobs, friends, family. If we pursue our goals as if they were addictions, we will lose even more. We will lose love, freedom, sanctity, even our humanity. Surely that is not worth it.
Hold your dreams lightly. Pursue them with dedication, but with balance, kindness, and compassion. Then you might find that not only do you reach your goal and gain your reward, but like Kanyanga, you might make friends along the way.
In faith and fondness,
Barbara
Credits
- Barnes, Henrietta Robin, Hijacked Brains: The Experience and Science of Chronic Addiction, Hanover, NH: Dartmouth College Press, 2015, 34.
- “A Myth of Two Brothers,” adapted from Greene, Liz and Juliet Sharman-Burke, The Mythic Journey: The Meaning of Myth as a Guide for Life, New York: Fireside, 2000, 182-185.
Photo by Sanketh ???? on Unsplash
Copyright © 2018 Barbara E. Stevens