Randall reached out to me seeking assistance because he found himself trapped in a state of perpetual misery, utterly clueless about how to escape its clutches. Although he had encountered moments of profound joy and a deep sense of unity with the world at various points in his life, these instances were few and far between. Randall yearned for more of these elusive moments but was at a loss when it came to summoning them.
Randall was undeniably a highly intelligent individual, yet paradoxically, he sometimes employed his own intellect against himself. The crux of the issue lay in the fact that whenever he did experience those fleeting, genuine connections, he immediately embarked on a mental quest to dissect and decipher how they had occurred. Regrettably, this analytical journey into his mind resulted in the abrupt dissolution of the very connection he so ardently craved.
The underlying reason behind Randall's intellectual pursuits was his insatiable desire for control, which eclipsed even his longing for the profound spiritual connection he sought. His wounded ego led him to believe that he could harness the spiritual connection through his intellect – if only he could unravel its inner workings, he could then manipulate it. What Randall was unwilling to do, a crucial step in connecting with the spiritual realm, was to relinquish the incessant churning of his thoughts. Randall had developed a deep-seated addiction to thinking, a means to shield himself from confronting his inner turmoil. Thinking served as his armor against emotions such as isolation, loneliness, and his perceived helplessness in both interpersonal relationships and his spiritual connection.
This addiction to thinking is a common affliction. Many of us harbor the conviction that by meticulously dissecting situations, we can exercise control over others and shape outcomes. We yearn to regulate how people perceive us and interact with us by crafting the perfect words, often entailing relentless rumination. Ruminating, in essence, entails obsessively mulling over a matter in the hopes of finally unearthing the 'correct' answer or the 'right' course of action that will bestow control over others and the unfolding of events. Moreover, ruminating also serves as a coping mechanism to assert control over our own distressing emotions, which lies at the heart of most addictions.
In my work with Randall, his automatic response was to plunge headlong into analysis the moment emotions surfaced during our sessions. Repeatedly, I had to redirect him from the labyrinth of his thoughts and steer him back into his physical sensations and emotions. These feelings were so terrifying to him that he could only bear to dwell in them for fleeting moments before retreating to the safety of his mind – where he'd explain, theorize, and intellectualize away his emotional experiences. His profound dread of soul-deep loneliness and isolation had led him to employ his mind as a shield against these emotions. However, until Randall was ready to confront these lingering, childhood-borne painful emotions, he remained trapped within the confines of his intellect. As long as his primary motive was evading suffering rather than embracing the lessons it had to offer, he couldn't transition into the spiritual connection he so fervently desired.
It's crucial to recognize that the root cause of all our addictions is our aversion to pain, especially the profound soul loneliness that pervades our society. Paradoxically, our detachment from our emotions, our Inner Child, exacerbates this sense of isolation. Our emotional core, our Inner Child, languishes in solitude with no one tending to its aching emotional wounds. Only when our intention shifts toward learning about how we might be contributing to our own anguish do we begin to unlock our inner experiences. This newfound intention to learn also opens the door to our spiritual connection, a door that remains shut when our sole aim is to evade pain through various addictions.
Randall's journey toward embracing his painful emotions was a protracted one, spanning several months. However, he eventually discovered that confronting these emotions wasn't as daunting as he had initially feared. In fact, by ceasing to abandon his Inner Child to the incessant machinations of his addictive thinking, he no longer endured the agony of isolation from within. Reconnecting with himself enabled him to forge a more consistent bond with the spiritual realm. Rather than trying to engineer this connection through thoughts and control, he was gradually learning to attain it by simply being present in the moment with his inner experiences – by surrendering to the present. Randall came to realize that, while he couldn't manipulate others or dictate the outcomes of life's events, he did possess the power to alleviate his own misery. This transformation was achieved by choosing the intent to learn rather than guarding against pain. While he couldn't dictate the whims of the Spirit, he did possess mastery over his own intent, eventually paving the way for his spiritual communion.
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