The weariness of habit

I love Diet Coke.  I'd drink it every day if I could.  But I know it is unhealthy.  So I don't.  Well, I try not to.  Really, I do.  But sometimes, when I see it in a store, I just buy it.  Buying it gives me joy - it gives me a rush.  I've been drinking Diet Coke for decades.  I just associate it with pleasure.

I open it with that satisfying snap (I only drink it from cans - occasionally from fountains), and I start to drink it and...

It's awful. It's just fizz and has this weird taste and it leaves a disgusting film on my tongue that defiles everything else I eat for the rest of the day. It's not good.  It doesn't make me feel better.  Sometimes I feel worse.  It's gross.  I hate Diet Coke.  I vow to never have it again.

Until, of course, I see it again.  In the refrigerator of a cafe.  And I know it's unhealthy.  But gross?  Never.  I love Diet Coke. I have for decades.  I buy it - I get endorphins just from the purchase.  I open it - that fizzy sound tells me the most dependable pleasure of my life is only moments away - and I drink it...

And it's awful.  It's gross.  I hate Diet Coke.

Until, of course, I see it again.

*     *     *

In this week's chapter, "The Shadow of the Past", Gandalf returns to the Shire .  When we last saw him, though he suspected Bilbo's ring was more than it seemed, he did not quite know precisely what it was.  In the intervening years, he has discovered many things, and has returned in haste to alert Frodo: It is not just one of The Great Rings, but in fact The One Ring.

Gandalf then recounts to Frodo the story of The One Ring and how it came to him.  There is a long description of Gollum's possession of The Ring.  Or does The Ring posses Gollum?  The text is clear - Gollum serves The Ring.  The Ring changes the one who holds it.  As Gandalf explains:

"A mortal, Frodo, who keeps one of the Great Rings, does not die, but he does not grow or obtain more life, he merely continues, until at last every minute is a weariness.... [Gollum] hated it and loved it, as he hated and loved himself.  He could not get rid of it.  He had no will left in the matter. "

I both love and hate Diet Coke.  But I absolutely hate what Diet Coke does to me.  And yet.  And yet.  I cannot get rid of my desire for it.  I have no will in the matter.  I will drink it.

Philosophically, we can say "Alex, of course you have a will - you can choose not to.  Don't buy it.  Ever.  Fill up on water, or juice, or even another soda!  Just don't buy Diet Coke.  Is that so hard?"

Yes.  Yes it is.  The abstract argument makes so many false assumptions.  To quote the comedian Mike Birbiglia:  "[My girlfriend once said:] 'We can't choose who we love.'  Which is true.  But that doesn't mean it's good."

I love Diet Coke.  I know it's bad for me, but oh I love it.  So I buy it.  It gives me a feeling, however brief, of bliss.  Unlike anything else.  And I want that feeling.  So I buy it.  Even as I know it is bad for me, the feeling I get from the purchase is unparalleled.  So I buy it.  I've liked it my whole life.  Maybe the past few times have been flukes.  So I buy it.  I'm rarely pleased.  But I buy it.

I do not mean to imply Diet Coke is The One Ring, or that the Coca-Cola Company is Sauron, or that Atlanta, Georgia is Mordor.  That takes the analogy is too far.  But I know, in a way, Gollum's pain.  I understand that need.  I understand how a thing you possess can possess you, preventing your growth, turning all existence into a weariness.  I understand how a precious life experience can become a burden, and yet it is still "The Precious."

I'm quite sure we all have had this experience.  The most obvious example I can imagine is a break-up.  Break-ups are hard, especially when it isn't on your terms.  That special person leaves you, and now all of those happy memories you have are bitter.  And you might, willingly or not, find the memories swirling around in your head.  You used to think about them all the time!  It is only habit.

(When Lindsey and I broke up, for several weeks later, I'd be driving home from work and be thinking, "I'll have to call Lindsey to tell her about..." and then I'd realize she wasn't part of my life any more.  It wasn't even a conscious thought.  It was just a habit.)

Everyone you meet reminds you of your past love in some way.  When you manage to date again, you might find yourself comparing your date to your old partner.  You are stuck - stuck on a thing that once gave you great pleasure, but is now nothing more than a burden.  It prevents us from meeting others - it prevents us from growing.  We merely continue, until at last every minute is a weary reminder of what once was.  We love the memories, even as we hate them.  We cannot get rid of them.

How, then, might we overcome these things?  How might we overthrow from our mind a thing that is so ingrained that even when it gives us pain, we crave it?  I wish I knew.  It's not like you can just "cast it into the fire."

In 2004, I was deeply in love with a girl who had rejected me.  I held on fiercely to the good times we had had, even as recalling those times prevented me from moving on, prevented me from enjoying the present.  I didn't even talk to her any more.  I just dragged myself, day in, day out, on thoughts about her.  I endured.

When the summer started, I went to Genesis (an interdenominational Jewish leadership program), and I wasn't much better.  For the first few weeks, it ate at me constantly.  One evening I was sitting by a pond, brooding over the injustice of my heartbreak with my friend, Katie.  I suddenly became consumed with rage.  As I recorded in my journal:

  I jumped to my feet.  I tore into my pocket and pulled out my keychain.  There was a small flashlight on it.  Focusing my hatred on the pond, I freed the flashlight from the ring.  I gave the pond a menacing glare and clutched the light in my hand.  Then I threw it into the pond.

I sat down, suddenly filled with relief.  Katie  slowly edged her way towards me and slipped an arm around my shoulders.  I was breathing heavily.  I stared at the pond.  It had robbed me of my flashlight.  A flashlight I had never needed anyway.  A flashlight I had found on the ground some time before.  A flashlight that I had cherished despite its failing battery.  A flashlight I could do without.  Katie rocked me gently.  I let my head fall on her shoulder.

It never bothered me again.

So what's the lesson here?  I don't know.  I wish I knew why throwing a small flashlight into a pond made me feel better.  I just took all that was bad about the situation and just... threw it away.  And it worked.

I wish this story had a lesson.  I wish I could tell you: "It worked for me, it will work for you!" like so many late-night infomercials.  I wish I could even tell you it worked for me in future heart-aches.  Nope.  So I don't know.  I certainly don't recommend throwing things into ponds.

As humans, we desire control over our lives.  Actions are fine if you know why you do them and genuinely enjoy them.  But if you do them just because you've been doing them for years - that's when they become empty.  And that's when life becomes a weariness of habit.  When we remember our lost loved ones without building relationships with new loved ones.  When we continue to eat or drink a food we used to enjoy, even if we don't any more.  When we go to work in a place we once loved and believed in, but now only go because it pays.  Acting in such a robotic manner drains the energy from our lives, and we wake up in the morning only to find ourselves exhausted by the thought of enduring another day.  And another day.  And another day.

The best I can say is: be aware.  Notice what gives you joy in the world and notice when it doesn't give you that joy anymore.  When that happens, react as quickly as you can.  Take control!  Find something new that gives you joy - do that thing instead.  And maybe that old thing will give you joy again if you return to it from a hiatus.  Or maybe that old thing will never give you that kind of genuine joy again.  Just don't become addicted to the nostalgia of what it was.  Don't live in the shadow of the past.