I was first introduced to the concept of the ha-ha in Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park. Ha-has are essentially a visual trick of perspective: ditches cut deep into the landscape to prevent cattle from grazing in the formal or pleasure gardens of estates, without the need of iron fences or brick walls to blemish the view. They were, by design, a hazard for all living things (falling into one frequently meant drowning: Ha ha, you’re dead!).
I think relapses work sort of the same way…. That addiction becomes a permanent part of the spiritual landscape of the life of an addict, ever-present, and always a danger, but more or less a threat depending on my awareness and perspective. In that way, it is similar to other dangers, like red-hot stove burners or meat that smells bad, but unlike them in that there isn’t really a part of me that wants to burn my fingers or get ill. I don’t need a daily reprieve from many other things I know to be dangerous to me. But this thing, addiction, I do need a daily reprieve from.
I don’t think stasis exists as a part of the spiritual condition. I am either growing stronger or I am growing weaker through each choice that I make each day. Most of the time, I find myself doing the next right thing without thinking about it—telling the truth when a lie would be more convenient or interesting, helping when I could not help without being noticed, reaching out instead of sitting back. That was not my way of being for a very, very long time.
The obsession to get high, to get drunk, is no longer an active part of my daily life. But I do not believe I have been cured of the addiction, rather I have been made aware of its nature, and as long as I maintain my spiritual condition by following the suggestions given to me, I’ve been promised the possibility of keeping the new freedom and happiness I experience each day. And I believe it.
And considering how truly fucked up I was, that’s nothing to laugh at.
