Evolution or Devolution: There is no Arrival

Here is a great passage from Rich Roll’s Finding Ultra, one that could provide us with some spark at the cusp 2021. Incidentally, the book is an engrossing read about personal fall, redemption, and adventure.

As you continue to grow and begin to see results, the impulse to pause and take a breath will naturally creep up. It’s an itch to exhale, tempting you to release the pressure, ease up on the gas and coast. I made it. I’ve arrived. Take a load off. Relax. 

A moment to reflect, honor the progress you have made, celebrate your victories, and connect with gratitude is important. Seize it. But don’t make the mistake of allowing that momentary pause to impede the important momentum you worked so hard to create. Instead, use it to gird resolve to seek even further and galvanize your strength to go deeper. 

Because, unfortunately, you haven’t in fact made it. There is no destination to which you have been delivered. And as long as you are living, work remains to be done. 

When I celebrated 90 days sober while in rehab, I was ecstatic. At the time, I thought, I got this. Then a counselor dropped a morsel of wisdom on me that I have pondered every day since: the notion that every thought and action I took from that point forward would either move me closer to a drink or distance me from it. I have found this edict to be both true and profound, applicable across every aspect of my life—a gentle reminder that mastering this experience we call being human is a lifelong pursuit. It’s a pursuit that requires constant attention and relentless rigor. 

Indeed, every breath you inhale, every impulse you indulge, action you shoulder, behavior you undertake, and exchange you navigate either moves your life forward or retards growth, plotting a course back toward the old self you so desperately seek to transform. 

There is only evolution or devolution. Growth or regression. There is no cruise control. 

Because stasis is an illusion. 

So enjoy that breath. But only for a moment. Then get back to work. With mindfulness and persistence, continue to inventory your thoughts and actions—are they elevating you or pulling you down? 

Keep moving forward. And never stand in the way of momentum. A constantly renewing, self-sustaining propulsion system, it’s your best friend. It’s why going to the gym is effortless when you’ve been hitting it consistently, and so challenging to resume when you’ve suspended your routine by taking a break. So don’t let the impulse to coast interrupt your flow. Protect momentum. Respect it. Then harness that powerful wave, ride it with all your might, and never let go.

The Importance of Bright Lines: When Clean Breaks Might Be Necessary

Anyone dealing with addiction or strongly entrenched habits realizes sooner or later that gradualist approaches might not do the trick. Of course, only we can know whether that is the case with us. Personally, I have benefited both from incrementalist and radical gestures, the latter coming to the fore when more moderate strategies failed to do their job. In that regard, I found the concept of “bright lines” that Tierney and Baumeister mention in their book Willpower incredibly helpful. Bright lines, on their terms,

are clear, simple, unambiguous rules. You can’t help but notice when you cross a bright line. If you promise yourself to drink or smoke ‘moderately,’ that’s not a bright line. It’s a fuzzy boundary with no obvious point at which you go from moderation to excess. Because the transition is so gradual and your mind is so adept at overlooking your own peccadilloes, you may fail to notice when you’ve gone too far. So you can’t be sure you’re always going to follow the rule to drink moderately. In contrast, zero tolerance is a bright line: total abstinence with no exceptions anytime. It’s not practical for all self-control problems—a dieter cannot stop eating all food—but it works well in many situations. Once you’re committed to following a bright-line rule, your present self can feel confident that your future self will observe it, too. And if you believe that the rule is sacred—a commandment from God, the unquestionable law of a higher power—then it becomes an especially bright line. You have more reason to expect your future self to respect it, and therefore your belief becomes a form of self-control: a self-fulfilling mandate. I think I won’t, therefore I don’t.

Eric Clapton discovered that bright line in one moment at Hazelden, and he appreciated its power once again when he chaired an AA meeting not long after the death of his son. He spoke about the third of the twelve steps—handing your will over to the care of a higher power—and told the group how his compulsion to drink had vanished the instant he got down on his knees at Hazelden and asked for God’s help. From then on, he told them, he never doubted he would have the will to remain sober, not even on the day his son died. After the meeting, a woman came up to him. “You’ve just taken away my last excuse to have a drink,” she told him. “I’ve always had this little corner of my mind which held the excuse that, if anything were to happen to my kids, then I’d be justified in getting drunk. You’ve shown me that’s not true.” Upon hearing her, Clapton realized that he had found the best way to honor the memory of his son. Whatever you call his gift to that woman—social support, faith in God, trust in a higher power, a bright line—it left her with the will to save herself. (185-186)

I can relate to these words, viscerally so.