Fear dares not see...

The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure that you seek.

James Campbell said that quote above, and I read it a few days ago. It struck me deeply as a long-term recovering alcoholic/addict, because of all the things that have held me back in my time sober, fear is under them all.

I’m in long term recovery from alcohol, drugs and codependency, and if you told me decades ago that that I would still have paralyzing fears, I would not have known what you were talking about. The big, earth shattering fears, of death, of being abused or harmed, of using again, of speaking in front of crowds, of failing big time — they are all gone. What remains are the “secret” fears…the ones I buried long ago, the ones that come along with the developmental stage of aging and coming to the end of life. Have I accomplished what makes me feel I have succeeded in my life? Have I met my “calling”? If there is someone to answer to on the other side, will I be able to answer affirmatively? Is there anything I consider necessary to this spiritual life one earth, that I have not finished?

As I age, one thing has become clearer to me. Most of my regrets or unclearness in life have to do with a conflict between what I think I “should” do, according to how I was raised or what the outside world asks of me, versus how I feel I must live, according to my inner values, which have become increasingly clear as I have lived out my life.

There are also niggling fears that hit me in the pit of my stomach, when I get triggered by things that feel like they have popped out of my past. Things that feel like anger, that grip me in my jaw, or in the pit of my stomach, when I’m asked to do something that goes against my values but is required by work or a deeply loyal commitment to a relationship. Sometimes these gut feelings come out of no where as I’m about to act without thinking, or when words fall out of my mouth before I’ve paused. If I’m “lucky” they blow by without my seeing them. I’ve escaped the pangs of guilt and conscience for a moment. But my recovery program has come with a built in inventory process, so I’m likely to be caught up short later on, in my quite meditation time.

I feel I am blessed to have had a recovery program and found a faith that defines my life, with this in mind. By faith, I do not mean a particular organized religion, but an openness to many paths, an insight into the common paths of many faiths, and an organizing principle in my own values that has evolved over the years since I began recovery. My initial recovery was organized around a 12-step program which utilized some basic spiritual principles: acceptance, hope, faith, courage, honesty, patience, humility, willingness, brotherly love, integrity, self-discipline, and service. While in the formation of this program, these were Christian principles, I didn’t adopt these principles in any Christian manner, being an agnostic at the time. I found my spiritual base in nature, in the humanistic love of others and in identifying that without accepting help outside of myself, I was doomed to keep repeating the same nihilistic, self-destructive patterns over and over until death. These spiritual principals are very adaptive, I’ve found over the years, as I’ve explored Native spirituality, Quakerism, Buddhism, new age spirituality, traditional Christianity and a host of others. Today I would call myself an amalgam of the lot, practicing mindfulness meditation daily, calling on the silent contemplation of the Friends, and walking in the daily Beauty of the Native practices.

I did see pretty quickly, that just not using and drinking was not the answer either. When one is raised in an acutely dysfunctional family, there’s a lack of parenting and basic skills that occurs. So, taking the substance out is not the answer to the problem. Sponsorship and working the steps can go a long way to provide basic skills, but even the big book, Alcoholic Anonymous, admits that members should seek outside help when it is needed. Years of therapy of various kinds taught me how to overcome the PTSD symptoms and integrate into a whole self, become my own parent and stop projecting my issues onto the nearest close person in my life. Eventually I found out that I actually had a gift for helping others do the same, beyond just sponsorship.

Over the 40 some years I’ve been sober, I’ve been amazed at the number of therapies, somatic practices, tools and self-help books that have arisen to help those of us who are in need of “outside help”. It’s a blessing to have so many choices, albeit sometimes over-whelming to choose. I feel grateful that all these things didn’t exist in my early recovery, because I was forced to do the steps first, take my time before going back to school, pushing my career, forcing myself to “make up for lost time!” “It takes 5 years to get your marbles back and another 5 to learn how to use them,” was the saying, so at 5 years sober, one felt good about being able to navigate social situations, speak in front of AA crowds, chair a meeting and hold down a menial job. No pressure to become president of one’s company, really!

I do understand that the 12-steps and we were meant to evolve and grow with the times. I believe in that. I just think that spiritual and emotional sobriety coming first places us in a better position to navigate our mega-speed culture with better grace and dignity. It helps us to make courageous and wise decisions based on our inner values not external pressures.

The cave you fear to enter holds the treasures that you seek… What cave do you most fear to enter? What are the real treasures that you seek?

I for one have gone seeking treasures that once I found them, were absolutely the opposite of what I was actually seeking. And oh, the energy I spent on overcoming those fears, only to find I was not in the place I thought I was. Granted, there is a lot to be said for the seeking. I guess that, as I get older, I’m tiring of finding myself off on a wild goose chase!

Where was that cave I was originally seeking? Vanished, as in a mist. The fog of bright lights, the mist of dazzling, dangling carrots, have hidden from me that trail that leads to the things of greater value. I must dare to look beyond, to have the courage to still myself, to ask the deeper questions, to look beyond the well-lit path to the road not taken. Will I look for the trail to the cave I fear to enter?

Loading...