“Just as meditation practice depends on a limitless, ceaseless trust in ourselves, so too does our recovery.”
Did you get sober before, after, or overlapping embarking on a Buddhist path and becoming ordained as a Zen Priest?
I became interested in meditation, Buddhism, and Zen in 2009, and consider myself to have become a “Zen practitioner” in 2012. You can read a bit about that decision here.
In 2015, I received the Sixteen Bodhisattva Precepts from my then-teacher, Koan Gary Janka Sensei, in a ceremony called Jukai. I drank during that time, too, and considered my drinking “normal.” It was, but only relative to those around me. You know, those who spend all Saturday afternoon and evening at some microbrewery ordering expensive beer after expensive beer. Anyway…
Somewhere between 2018 and 2019, I suspected that my relationship with alcohol had become a serious problem and would cause tremendous suffering unless I admitted powerlessness and accepted help. But I did not, telling myself that everyone has weekends where they “tie one on” or that now, after this experience, I would get it together—anything to avoid meeting reality face-to-face.
The worst period occurred between 2021 and 2022. I resigned from my position on the faculty at Purdue University in early 2021 to hide my substance abuse, though I would be hospitalized twice for it in the fall of 2021. There was no hiding it then. By that time, I had joined the faculty at Pennsylvania State University and barely finished my first term. I fell apart completely in February 2022 and went on medical leave, checking myself into a thirty-day in-patient treatment program.
After I resigned in early 2021, I threw myself headfirst into Zen practice for six months by attending a number of online workshops and retreats offered by a certain Zen community. My apartment became a humble hermitage dedicated to sitting, walking, and quiet reflection. I had some small success in staying sober and started entertaining the possibility of becoming a priest, too. I found contentment moving with and through the world in that way.
While in treatment in 2022, I had a life-changing experience when offering a lovingkindness meditation to my fellow patients. You can hear some of that story in this talk from a few years ago, the first time I shared my recovery story.
It was then that I decided to pursue ordination as a Zen Priest and dedicate my life to service through Zen practice—and I did! I was ordained in 2023 by my then-teacher Meidō Barbara Anderson, Roshi, in a ceremony called Shukke Tokudo. As I write this, I am also 909 days sober.
As a Zen Priest, how does your own recovery inform or guide the support you offer others?
When I was drinking, I tried to control everything. Specifically, I would overextend myself by assuming responsibilities that I did not need to, but which led me to (temporarily) feel in control. In addition, I often meddled—though I styled it as being helpful and supportive—in others’ business. Again, that allowed me to (temporarily) feel in control.
What followed? Burnout, along with at least a dozen other associated conditions. I needed a way to stop—someone to tell me or something to help me. But no one told me to stop. That was alight because, unsurprisingly, enough alcohol proved effective.
I can see a bit more clearly now, and what I see tells me that I tried to control people, places, and things because I did not trust them. And I did not trust people, places, and things because I did not trust myself. That is where everything comes from and returns to today: trust yourself and trust others—completely.
It is for this reason that I prefer Kobun Chino Roshi’s expression of the Four Great Bodhisattva Vows and mention them often:
Sentient beings are infinite, they will save themselves.
Desires are infinite, they will reach an end by themselves.
Dharmas are infinite, so there is learning, study.
Buddha’s way is not above, so it is always accomplished.
It is also why I stress tending to what is right in front of you and why another Zen teacher’s admonishment to “focus on cleaning up your own life” resonates greatly with me.
Such teachings are not calls to inaction on behalf of others or to tolerate abusive behavior, nor are they captured by the increasing-in-popularity refrain to “mind your own damn business.” Instead, they remind us that letting go of fixations on attaining and knowing and practicing patience are the sure companions of trusting ourselves and others.
Do you view Buddhist teachings and practices through the lens of recovery? And/or as complementary or part of a whole?
There is a story about the Buddha and a few disciples standing together at the edge of a vast forest. The Buddha gestures to the forest, to its many trees and the many leaves on the many trees. Then, the Buddha tells his disciples that the Dharma is more vast than this forest with its many trees and the many leaves on the many trees, more vast than ten such forests together, than a hundred such forests together, than a thousand such forests together, more vast than…you get the point.
That might seem daunting or overwhelming; how can I possibly master and understand something that vast?! The disciples that the Buddha was speaking to felt this way.
Then, the Buddha picks up a handful of leaves from the ground and says, “But these are the teachings appropriate for you.”
Sometimes, the Dharma appears as a discourse on anger and other strong emotions. Other times, it reveals itself in someone sharing their experience with substance abuse or a process addiction. Still other times, we find the Dharma assuming the form of philosophical poetry on emptiness, a flower blooming on a summer day, or clouds “moving without anxiety on open sky,” to quote W. H. Auden.
The Buddha taught only one thing: the causes and cessation of suffering. Yet, we suffer in particular ways and need particular teachings to address the issue at hand.
What guidance would you offer folks seeking refuge and support for addiction recovery within the Buddhist community and teachings?
First, check out the Recovery Dharma program, which offers a “Buddhist-inspired approach to recovery from addictions of all kinds.”
There are hundreds of meetings, both in person and online, and resources are available to start your own meeting if you choose. That might sound intimidating—and it was for me—but you can do it.
Also, look for meditation or Buddhist groups in your area and consider joining them from time to time. You need not mention that you are in recovery; you need not tell them anything. Still, I believe that finding a group of people to sit quietly and walk gently with—to be at peace with—is essential to long-lasting sobriety. As I often say, we cannot do this alone; we do it together and with the support of all beings.
Second, develop a recovery program that works for you. There is a line in the opening readings for a Recovery Dharma meeting that says, “We understand that this [Recovery Dharma] is not the only path to recovery and many may choose to combine these practices with other recovery programs.”
There is no one path to attaining and maintaining sobriety. We each arrive at the door of recovery in our own way, with and through pain and suffering that is unique to us, born from our particular lived experience. It is crucial, therefore, that we cultivate an awareness of what we need, develop a program to meet those needs, and remain open to change as we walk the path. Nothing stays the same, even the shape of our recovery program.
Third, trust yourself. Just as meditation practice depends on a limitless, ceaseless trust in ourselves, so too does our recovery. You can do this and you are doing it. Trust yourself—and just keep going.
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