The Passion & The Transformation

[Storm.3.1.14]

  In the culture of The Congo, an   ilunga (pronounced like “ee-eye-loon-gah”) is a person who is ready to forgive any transgression a first time and then to tolerate it for a second time, but never for a third time. In a way, I feel this touches on how I felt when I joined EX. I had freely forgiven so many past “slips” and relapses, without much admonishment or penalty. Then, I started wearily tolerating “slips” because I thought it was an inescapable part of the quitting process. But, then, I reached a tipping point where I knew all the old excuses were vapor-thin shadows, and that no “junkie logic” was ever going to be acceptable again. So, in a way, I fancy myself an   ilunga, of sorts: I forgave the first relapses, sadly tolerated the next few, but then refused to cower to another one.

  That set me at the gate of the right path.

  It’s an easy thing to say, “Stop smoking cigarettes.“ But, how does one   lean into a quit? Once someone decides to not smoke again, how do they   live forward? How does one   thrive within a life-long recovery? Well, the Greeks have a spiritual concept called   meraki (pronounced like “me-rocky”). It’s described as doing something with soul, creativity, or love — when you put "something of yourself" into what you're doing, whatever it may be. It’s so incredibly crucial, my dear newcomers, that you not think of your quit as something that has   happened to you. It is not. It is a   choice you made that opens doorways into self-discovery. On the hardest days, use creativity to explore the inventive paths   through the task at hand. Embrace the love of the people who freely donate thousands upon thousands of days of experience…just to help you get one more. Find a strengthening lesson in every single day you do not smoke. Find the joy, the resolve, the passion, the liberation in what you’re doing here. A quit can be a heavy burden on the shoulders of those who feel it as nothing more than that, and few of these backs stay strong for long enough. Instead,  journey with your quit. Teach it, train it, discipline it, nourish it,…put something of yourself into this live-saving force you are generating.

  The Spanish also have a word for fiery passion, creative energy, and soulful zest  : It’s   duende (pronounced like “dwen-day”), and I promise you that it can exist within every recovery. You can be  ignited by your quit, and the Better Self that you’re striving to be is just waiting to   catch fire.

  Which brings me to the doorway of my vault of self-discovery…

  There is a psychological concept known as   metanoia. In Greek, it roughly means “beyond the understanding”, as in the fundamental and profound emotional shift that occurs after someone   finally, finally, finally “gets it“. It’s the action that lies beyond that point where we finally understand what must be done. Metanoia is often demonstrated when an alcoholic hits rock bottom, then   finally blossoms upward into the truth of living sober for the rest of life. So, look at the Exers here around you. Metanoia is on full display! There are dozens of us who finally “  got it“, and now embrace our quits with   more attachment than we ever felt for the addiction.

  Are you ready to take one step inside the vault, to walk deeper into my thoughts?

  In theology,   metanoia can be defined as "a transformative change of heart, especially a spiritual conversion." Metanoia, in this sense, suggests repudiation, a change of mind, repentance, and atonement. "Conversion" and "reformation" are the most familiar forms of religious metanoia. Now, perhaps you’re reading this and thinking that quitting is   not a religious experience. After all, it’s just about not puffing a cigarette again, right? Calling a quit a “transformative conversion” is awfully over-blown and exaggerated, right? But, for a few of us (me, included), quitting has been a deeply spiritual journey   inside our broken selves. Mastering a recovery that supersedes one of the most destructive addictions known to man…well…that strengthened my heart and soul more deeply than anything else I’ve done in a couple of decades. It was therapeutic, physically. Cathartic, emotionally. Believe me when I say to you that I feel I have been “delivered” across the wall, where quitting cigarettes -   of all things! - taught me sooooo much about choices, promises, accountability, honesty, synergy, and conviction. For me, “transformation” is not a hyperbolic flourish of fancy words. It’s a personal fact.

  So, seriously, are you ready to save your life? Are you willing to experience   everything you must work through, to reach the loftiest milestones? If you’re willing to do all the work, then are you ready to sing through the gut-wrenching craves, and to rejoice on the toughest days? (Think about that one before you answer.) And, if you tackle this work with passion and love and conviction, are you willing to accept that you   cannot end up as the same person you were when you started? 

  I was willing…not only to quit smoking cigarettes, but to quit being the type of man who smoked them. I was willing to surrender   anything to   all the elements of my recovery, from smoothest day to roughest night. I went   looking for the struggles in my quit ("bring it on...show me what ya got!"), and I ended up finding the strength in the truth of my recovery. 

  I found the joy in living free, and it’s waiting for   you, too.

   STORM:990