The Tao of Knowing

“Any fool can KNOW, the point is to understand.” – A. Einstein

Or, to comprehend.

I used to know all sorts of things. At one point in my life I wanted to know so much that I could help others who were struggling to know too. So I became a counselor. Which in retrospect seems a little strange since my life was seriously messy. You know, like it always is. But I was pretty convinced that I could light up the way for those lost to addiction. I developed a professional demeanor, which meant wearing a tie and learning to ask open ended questions, while projecting great concern.

You know, developing co-dependent relationships with the flock. “Oh great counselor, what should I do next?” And I would wisely tell them to stop using drugs and alcohol. And how much better their life could be, just like mine. But except for the fact that I was in remission, my life was like everyone else’s life, messy, with ups and downs that no one can explain or fix. Every counselor I knew had a messy life, some much messier than their clients. (One of my brand new counselor’s during his first week on the midnight shift at an inpatient facility in Pontiac, decided to have intimate relationships with one of his clients on the office desk. I must admit, walking in on that changed my perspective of him as a counselor, and my office desk as an office desk. And stopped me from showing up at work early.)

I was very impressed with my job of giving answers. Someone’s life would unfold into a big mess, they would tell me whatever selected information they decided was appropriate, and then I, from my great font of wisdom as a drug addict in remission, would guide them to those higher golden ponds and fields. And of course they would be eternally grateful.

But nothing ever worked like that. The one person I counseled that had some substantial recovery became a counselor, married one of his clients, who immediately divorced him and threw him out of his own home that he had lived in with his mother all his life. The last time we spoke he was renting a single room and using again. I suppose it was a momentary success story. Like all success stories.

Eddie knew he was an addict, but he never understood what it meant as a process. It’s harder to see the deeper meaning in things, past the words. “I am angry,” as a thought, is never the same experience as “I feel angry,” is it? Eddie was caught between these two worlds, knowing what a remission based experience needed to be cognitively, but never quite coming to terms with the way being in remission FELT. Most drug addicts are delusional about the way life is SUPPOSED to feel. They simply forget that life sucks sometimes, it doesn’t matter if you’re using or not, it just sucks now and then, get used to it to whiney spoiled brat. Being clean comes with absolutely no guarantees. You know, like being human. It’s a crap shoot.

I can think and believe what I want about life cognitively, and it will never quite match up with the way living life feels as an ongoing experience in time. And for me, it’s important to bring those two events together in attention. To experience how life is thought about and the way it feels simultaneously woven together in these passing moments. How we are in reality is so precious, so real, breathing the air, and tasting the earth, while having very human bittersweet feelings.

A warm and muggy day in Michigan. A day of unfolding wonders and sensing’s.

Bryan Wagner