Dead Set on Living

by Chris Grosso

  Noah reminded me of the neuroscience involved in forgiveness—how neurons that fire together wire together. Repetition creates “new neural pathways, and it changes our relationship to internal and external pain. Often it will lead us from a place of shame about the past to a place of healthy regret. Sometimes we believe that if we have forgiven ourselves, we won’t have any regret about the past, but the people who have no regret about the harm they’ve caused are called sociopaths. That’s the spiritual bypass. When we’ve caused harm—I have as an addict—regret is healthy. That’s compassionate, that’s empathetic. It’s healthy to say, ‘I fucked up over and over in my life, and I regret all of the harm that I’ve caused.’

  “Forgiveness doesn’t get rid of regret, but it does get rid of the shame that says ‘I’m a bad person.’ Or the guilt that says ‘I’m unworthy’ or ‘I’m wretched.’ It enters a place where we can realize that we’re good people even though we’ve done some unskillful things in our lives—not bad, but unskillful. Then we can heal, recover, and begin a lifelong process of self-forgiveness.”

  I appreciated his perspective on regret. I once had a conversation with someone who insisted that having regrets was pointless and that it’s not “spiritual” to have regrets. I didn’t see it that way. Not for me. I’ve done some fucked-up things in my life, and I do have regrets about them. And that’s a launching pad for my growth.

  Noah shared his insights into a Buddhist teaching from the Pali Canon that translates as “a healthy sense of shame.” He dislikes the use of the word “shame” because of the connotations of being good or bad or unworthy. “A healthy sense of regret is a spiritual concept, and it’s a necessary one. The twelve-step programs teach ‘We will not regret the past,’ and I get it, because sometimes I feel that way, where everything has worked out well. Through all that confusion, I came out on the other side desperate enough to start meditating. If I hadn’t caused all that harm, then I wouldn’t have gotten the willingness to dedicate my life to trying to help others. I get that ‘don’t regret it, because you wouldn’t be here without it’ phenomenon of the grateful recovering addict or alcoholic, and I am grateful that I was an addict, which led me to dharma practice at such a young age. Nevertheless, I can hold that gratitude and the regret for the ways that I hurt people to get where I am.”

  I wanted to talk about that. What got Noah to where he is today? Where did it come from? In recovery programs, we’re taught to connect to a higher power. For me, it’s always been about acknowledging that I can’t recover alone. Like the saying in the fellowships goes, “I can’t. We can.” But I also believe in a power, a source greater than myself. Whatever label is slapped onto it means little to me because it’s just that, a label, and could never do justice to what my direct experience of it has been. What about Noah?

  He didn’t see the necessity for believing in any kind of external power. “We recover based on our own actions and our own efforts. I understand that some people’s belief in God helps them to take wise actions, and it’s a useful belief system because sometimes it inspires the positive, but as a Buddhist, I don’t believe that at all. It’s unnecessary. What is much more important is the commitment to practice and the commitment to relational practice—in sangha, community, satsang.”

  Noah brought up an interesting point: Even people’s belief in God could lead to a relapse. “If people are taught that there is a loving, caring higher power that’s going to take care of them, and then they find themselves in a difficult situation, they might feel betrayed by God and the philosophy that said that God was going to take care of everything if they just showed up and believed. For example, their son is suffering and relapses, and they feel betrayed by that, asking, ‘Where is my higher power now?’ or when a relationship ends or a child is sick. On some level, being told that God will remove your shortcomings, God will restore you to sanity, can be processed as a betrayal.” When it doesn’t happen, when people say the prayers and make the amends and they’re still experiencing suffering and shame, it can lead to disappointment or worse, and that can lead to slipping. Noah thinks that “a lot of people have probably relapsed out of a loss of faith, a crisis of faith.”

  I hadn’t finished with the idea of a higher power yet. What about spiritual community? I know that for me, as Noah and I have already discussed, community and not trying to go it alone is of paramount importance. At times, I’ve experienced that as a power greater than myself. What did Noah think about working with a sangha with regard to a power greater than ourselves, since it’s a group effort, a group support?

  Noah encouraged me to let go of the “higher power” terminology. “Most of my feeling—most of Buddhist practice—is internal. It’s training your mind and developing internal well-being and compassion. A core refuge is sangha, and what we’re doing is relational. It’s about living together, working together, having the forgiveness, the tolerance, the compassion, and helping each other. In Buddhism, there’s an internal meditative training and an ethical way of speaking, livelihood, and action, so it’s all about relationships. I wouldn’t call it a higher power, but I would call it a core part of the treatment process or the recovery process.”

  I liked that, because if there’s no higher power, then there’s no lower power either, but we’re still better off not trying to go it alone. In that sense, it’s all about community. According to Noah, the Buddha was passionate about this. “Whether it was the monastic community or the lay sangha of non-monastics, it was as if he said, ‘You guys must practice together. You have to learn to work together. You have to learn to forgive each other, because this is where the healing and awakening is.’ And when it’s real, when there’s conflict and disagreement, when there are different views, can we still come from a place of kindness, even when we’re disagreeing? That’s where the rubber meets the road.”

  Cool. If we can apply that to ourselves as well as others, we have a better chance of not falling back into self-destructive behavior. But what else can we do to protect ourselves from relapsing?

  “Most of what comes to mind is the pretty simple stuff, like staying engaged in the community even if you’re bored with it, even if you’re no longer inspired, even if you’re the person in the room with the most time sober. It’s important to say, ‘I’m going to remain a part of this community. I’m going to keep going even when I don’t want to.’ It’s like with meditation practice. I don’t feel like meditating every day, but I do it. And I don’t feel like going to meetings or being a part of community all the time, but I do it.”

  Noah says it’s important to have that balance in one’s life and recovery—serving and helping others, but also places of allowing ourselves to be served, of seeking out people who inspire us. “I’m with my teachers and I’m accountable to them. And then there are the people who are accountable to me. There are upper-, lower-, and peer-based relationships—making sure we have teachers, mentors, sponsors, peers, and that we have people who are in the earlier stages where we are that teacher/sponsor/mentor for them as well.

  “I like staying engaged long-term, but I don’t think it needs to mean that you’re required to attend a meeting every day for the rest of your life. It certainly hasn’t been that for me, but what has happened is that I’ve stayed in spiritual communities for almost thirty years now. Sometimes those have been twelve-step groups, and now it’s much more Refuge Recovery and Against the Stream—my Buddhist communities—but I’ll still go to a twelve-step meeting when I need it. I like going to them because those are my people. I don’t like some of the philosophy, but those are my people, so I stay connected.

  “This applies to meditation as well. Deep, long-term, internal meditative training is going to do something to ensure that we get through the difficult times that are coming, whether that’s death or some sort of loss or illness—those core preparations people often use as excuses for relapse or that lead to relapse. For example, saying, ‘Well, this is painful. I’m getting high.’ If w
e have a deep meditative training, we can say, ‘This is painful, but I know how to meet it with compassion. I understand impermanence. I understand the importance of forgiveness, and I’m going to apply that in this moment.’ We have that ability.

  “Sometimes we get to a place where we don’t have that ability. I can remember my first trip to India twenty years ago. Some of the time I was so lonely and suffering. I couldn’t sit, and so what I would do was blast loud music as a distraction. I couldn’t access my practice, but I had enough wisdom to at least avoid the deep, unpleasant, afflictive emotions and give impermanence time. Twenty years later, when I returned to India, a part of my trip was looking at that. I got divorced this year; my father died a couple of months ago. I could sit with difficult emotions and loss and reflect on midlife experiences and see that twenty-eight years of meditation practice makes a difference. I have much more space, much more tolerance for sadness, loss, loneliness—for all that stuff. Not that emotions don’t come, but after almost three decades of meditation, I’m able to meet them. There’s been a lot of progress. This shit actually works.”

  PRACTICE

  The Three Directions of Forgiveness

  Noah taught me a powerful forgiveness meditation that has worked for me when I find myself struggling with forgiveness—for myself or others. Who, me? Of course—this shit still happens to the best and the worst of us and always will, because we’re human beings. What else would you expect?

  The practice is divided into three parts:

  PART ONE

  • Start by naming a person you have harmed. Reach within yourself to a place of humility and acknowledge, “At times in my life, I have been the one causing harm.” Reflect on that and ask yourself:

  1. Why did I lie?

  2. Why did I not show up?

  3. Why did I cause harm in the ways that I did?

  • Connect to how you were in pain, confused, scared, or filled with craving or addiction. Then begin asking for forgiveness, perhaps reciting, “Please forgive me for having caused you harm, whether it was intentional or unintentional. Whether it was through my words or my actions, I ask for your forgiveness.”

  • Sit with that request, and then move on to the next individual you have harmed. And then the next . . .

  PART TWO

  • After asking forgiveness, we strive to understand that all harm comes out of confusion. We reverse the direction of the practice, offering forgiveness to the people who have harmed us.

  • We say, “I forgive you as much as I can in this moment for having caused me harm, whether it was intentional or unintentional, whether it was through your words or your actions, whether it was out of anger or fear or greed or delusion. I offer you forgiveness as much as I can in this moment.”

  • Noah says, “The importance of saying ‘as much as I can’ is to remind ourselves that we don’t get to control this but, rather, it’s our aspiration, it’s our intention to forgive, but perhaps it’s not going to all be done right now. This is a process.”

  PART THREE

  • After asking for forgiveness and forgiving others, we turn toward ourselves and say: “I forgive you as much as I can in this moment for all the ways that I’ve caused myself harm through my judging thoughts, through my actions, through my speech. Whether the harm was done intentionally, unintentionally, out of anger or fear, greed or ignorance, I offer myself forgiveness.”

  I’m grateful to Noah for this one. Genuine forgiveness can be such a challenge for so many of us, but if we take Noah’s advice and forgive as much as we can in this moment, whether that means forgiving ourselves or others, it’s a start, and that’s what matters most—taking that first step.

  19

  WE’RE ALL WE’VE GOT

  CONVERSATION WITH DERON DRUMM

  Deron Drumm writes and speaks about the need for a more holistic and compassionate way of supporting people experiencing emotional distress. He is the executive director of Advocacy Unlimited and the founder of Toivo, a wellness center in Connecticut focused on mind-body-spirit healing that provides statewide and national classes, workshops, and conferences. At its home base on Franklin Avenue in Hartford, Toivo is a center where people can engage in expert-facilitated yoga, meditation, fitness and strength training, creative writing, expressive art, walking/running groups, nutrition workshops, qigong, drum circles, and more! Toivo represents a celebration of the human experience in all its forms and believes in the unfathomable power of looking within for direction. The organization also believes that no one should be denied the benefits of healing modalities because of socioeconomic standing, psychiatric history, or experiences with addiction.

  Deron and Toivo hold a very special place in my heart. The organization’s core intent is to meet people where they are in their recovery and help them learn how to go more profoundly and realistically into that process and ultimately thrive. My connection to and respect for Toivo grew over the years as I taught workshops and created a web series exploring the ways people experience pain and the means and methods with which they can recover.

  After my last relapse, I returned to my hometown in Connecticut. About a week later I received a call from Deron. He was checking to see how I was doing. Then he asked about my plans. “Are you staying in Connecticut for good now?” I knew exactly why he was asking, and he knew I knew exactly why he was asking! We both chuckled, which was a good thing, because at that point in my life I needed all the laughs I could get. I told Deron I was indeed back for good.

  Toivo provided the perfect place for me to heal and grow into this new stage in my life. I still host the web series and teach workshops at Toivo’s home base in Hartford, and now I also visit prisons, rehabs, psychiatric units, and more with the Toivo team—Deron, Hilary, Annette, Laura, Linda, and Kali (as well as our extended family at Advocacy Unlimited)—and bring meditation to those who wouldn’t otherwise have access to it. It’s a group effort built on hope and a commitment to helping others turn their lives around.

  Along with these duties, I’m working with Deron and the team to create a holistic health coach certificate program based on the highly successful and celebrated teachings that Toivo offers. So that’s where I am as I write this book. It’s been a tremendous blessing, one that affords me the opportunity to serve my community. It’s incredible how this life thing can align itself if you’re simply willing to show up, put one foot in front of the other, and do the damn work. To close this book, I wanted to introduce you to Deron and shine a light on some of the things I’ve learned from him and the rest of the Toivo crew as they’ve developed into a point of focus and passion for me.

  One thing I’d seen brought to light in so many ways during our work—from sessions in psychiatric units to community lectures—is the toll emotional pain takes on us all. It’s obviously part of the deal of being human. There’s no way to escape it, and yet the Western mind-set encourages us to escape feeling our feelings, rather than using pain to heal and teach us. I’ve seen time and again that turning escape into big business—from liquor to video games, social media to Big Pharma—has become a way to reduce levels of awareness of what is happening in our society and to keep us in check.

  Deron had tremendous insight into this. “The human experience is painful by nature. Yet our society has normalized the need to run from and seek relief from distress rather than find ways to navigate and heal. The medical-disease model has reduced emotional suffering to biological problems in people’s brains to be treated with diagnoses and drugs. This reductionist standard is far better at generating revenue than healing. I’ve heard it said that Western medicine ‘mops the floor without turning off the faucet.’ Clearly, we need a cultural shift away from the disease model. Holistic approaches like the ones we use at Toivo aim to focus on root causes, not on symptoms.”

  The folks at Toivo believe that focusing on symptom abatement is shortsighted and ultimately makes experiences worse. This approach ignores the roots of emotional distress: th
ings like trauma, poverty, racism, gender discrimination, bullying, and one-size-fits-all educational systems. Healing and self-awareness are about facing pain and suffering with openness and curiosity and seeing distressing experiences as opportunities to grow and heal.

  There’s no doubt that people are reaching out for support in dealing with their difficult emotions, but in many cases they’re given a “diagnosis” of mental illness, and along with that often come prescriptions for psychiatric drugs, which can further the societal inclination to institutionalize escape. I was impressed by Deron’s thoughts about how we can begin to change this paradigm both locally and nationally.

  “Toivo uses a two-pronged approach. First, we compassionately raise awareness of the outcomes of the medical-model approach—such as the people who enter the mental health system dying at an average of twenty-five years younger than their peers.1 Second, we create healing communities—places where people can be seen, heard, and connected with others. We offer ways for those who are suffering to soothe their nervous systems through yoga, qigong, meditation, sound healing, and creative expression. We believe that to be of healing service to others, we must embody the practices we teach.”

  Sounds like my kind of people, right? I wondered what Deron thought about the role that things we can’t sell and doctors can’t prescribe—like love and compassion—play in the recovery process. How can we make sure we’re not deadening our hearts to those who are hurting?