When I was in college, someone once asked me, “Betsy, can you drink half a beer and walk away from it?”
At the time, I wasn’t drinking at all, so I said, “Yeah, I can.”
The person’s voice grew quiet. “I can’t. And I can’t just stop at one. Or two. Or three.”
It wasn’t until a decade later that I understood what the person meant. You see, I didn’t get drunk for the first time until I was in my 30’s. I remember three things very clearly from that night. I remember laughing hysterically, then sobbing uncontrollably, then declaring very loudly, “No wonder people are alcoholics!” The numbness, the freedom from inhibition, oh my god. It was amazing.
And terrifying. I suddenly knew exactly what that person had meant back in college. I could see myself wanting to do this again and again—what sweet relief!—so after that night, I vowed that I would have only one drink a day, something I’ve pretty much stuck to ever since.
In Buddhism, a shenpa is defined as an “urge” or “hook” that triggers us, leaving us feeling inadequate, restless, uncertain, vexed, afraid. This shenpa could be anything from that look that your father gives you to your boss making you feel like you are at the stupid end of a lemming parade. We don’t like feeling that way, so we look for something to relieve it.
This could be a walk in the woods or talking with a friend, but it could as easily be alcohol, opioids, betting, buying, exercising, sugar, potato chips, trying to be perfect in everything we do, or doing nothing at all because we are afraid we won’t do it right. The list is literally endless.
What matters is that a shenpa is sticky, pulling up all kinds of roiling emotions that we do not want to feel—and we often do whatever it takes (which is where it gets troubling) to get rid of those feelings.
In the Yoga Sutras, Patanjali speaks of something similar—a raga. Considered one of the kleshas or afflictions that makes us suffer, a raga is an attachment to a pleasure that we are afraid we won’t get to experience again. So, in my case, I was flooded with pleasure at the sense of numbness and freedom I received that one time I got drunk. I could have easily chased that pleasure anywhere and everywhere, letting that pursuit dictate my life.
And that’s the key here—with both shenpas and ragas, it’s all about the locus of control. The person doesn’t not control the behavior. The behavior (that pressing need for relief that is unbearable, that pleasure outside of us that we are sure will make us happy forever) is what controls the person. And one of the reasons sherpas and ragas strike so often and so hard is because of our inability to sit and be with those difficult emotions. Uncertainty, anxiety, feelings like we have no worth, and all of the different kinds of pain that we as humans can experience can be excruciating, so no wonder it’s tempting to take that edge off any way we can.
Let’s be clear. It isn’t that pleasure is bad. It’s that healthy pleasure comes and goes as easily as a cloud in the sky, whereas shenpas and ragas (which can quickly veer into addiction) come with a hook and a cost—this can be relatively small or take absolutely everything from us or somewhere in between.
I’ve heard people declare that things like yoga and meditation can be the fix for everything. I’m not that naive. These wants and behaviors that can turn into addiction are multi-layered issues, and there are many things that are at play.
For instance, you have to realize that it is a problem (it occurs to me if we don’t want to ask someone else if they think something is a problem with us, then it’s probably a problem).
Also, some addictions seem healthy—exercise, eating right, cleanliness—so they are easy to defend. But again, the question is, does the person control the behavior or does the behavior control the person?
While yoga and meditation are not cure-alls, both can help us navigate the hooks and afflictions that come with being human—because yoga and meditation ask us to stay. To stay with the thoughts, the anxieties, the discomfort. Don’t let anyone kid you. This is not easy. But, if you practice staying with that discomfort, breathing into it, knowing that it will arise and maybe storm but then disappear, if you can do that and stay, even when all of those feelings are roiling around inside, well, then maybe you can carry that ability out into the world, which might help you weather those sticky emotions.
It’s easy to let those emotions win. To keep our struggles hidden. I know I’ve done it before. But there is something about bringing our pain into the light of day. I swear it lessens the power it has over us. Being human is hard. I hope we can all find ways to manage the pain and uncertainty in ways that do not leave behind any damage. I hope we can all find ways to reach out for help when we need it, and to know we are worthy and enough, just as we are.
Live light, y’all.
Thank you for inspiring the courage to name those things.