godless Recovery

In the early fall of 2010 I sat cross legged on the floor of my apartment, as I had every morning for a year. It was around 10:00am and I was following a routine I stuck to as if my life depended upon it (because I had become convinced it did). Every morning and evening, I meditated as part of my process of recovery from drug addiction. And every time I engaged in this practice I was awash with peace. This morning was different from those which had preceded it for the previous year. I was adhering to a practice which had brought me serenity with one minor, yet profound, alteration.

As I sat to meditate, after skipping the preliminary prayer, I began to practice as usual. I began to focus on my breathing. I took notice of how the air felt entering my lungs, and how it felt leaving my body. I took notice of the change in temperature from being inhaled to being exhaled.

I was practicing meditation as I had every day. Only this time I made a mental declaration: “I do not believe in God!!”

Returning my focus to my breathing the answer to my inquiry arrived. What I had been referring to as a spiritual experience (a tranquil, cognitive euphoria) enveloped me as always, despite my denouncement of belief. A belief which I had been told was a crucial element of recovering from addiction.

I was conducting an experiment. Since I had entered recovery I had followed the directions to give myself over to the care of God (proper noun God). I had become convinced that the spiritual experiences I had enjoyed were proof of…