Substances

Today is Ash Wednesday in the Christian church: the first day of the season of Lent.  Traditionally Lent is a season of prayer, penitence and fasting.  Preparation for the season begins with Shrove Tuesday or Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday), when people usually have pancakes for dinner.  This was originally to use up all the butter and fattening foods in the pantry before the fasting of Lent. 

Lent is a season of preparation for Easter, the holiest holiday in the church calendar.  I think of it as a clearing out or clearing away of all the ‘extras’ that get in the way of seeing your path.  I think of it as a time of returning to simplicity.  Ideally, that is.  Amidst soccer practices and play rehearsals and meetings and and and it can be difficult to find the time to just let life rise and fall of its own accord.  At its best, however, I think of this season as a time of resetting my priorities.  Refocusing. 

As a form of discipline or fasting through Lent, people often give up something, often chocolate in these parts.  Other people give up other things.  One priest says he gives up coffee, alcohol, meat and chocolate during Lent.  I’ve considered doing the same but I think my family would have to clear out for at least a week so I didn’t do or say something I would regret later. 

My response to giving up all those things made me think about ‘substances’ and our need or want of them.  Tied up with substances would be our habits.  We all have reasons we choose to eat or drink or ingest things outside of purely sustaining ourselves.  They make us feel good or we feel we deserve them or they take the hurt away.  When we strip away the things we do to comfort ourselves we are left with our sometimes very raw emotions.  This can be a scary prospect. 

Each year my husband gives up coffee.  Last year and this one I have joined him.  This first morning was not pretty for me.  I do love my coffee.  I love the smell.  I love the taste.  More importantly, however, it is a comfort.  I can’t describe why.  Maybe it’s stopping to drink it.  Maybe it’s the breakfast or cookie I eat with it.  Maybe it’s having something to hold in my hand.  And I know other things don’t have the same effect as coffee for me.  I don’t enjoy tea as much as I enjoy coffee, although it comes in lots of flavours and doesn’t leave your breath smelling awful. 

I’m sure I can do it.  I know I’ll feel like I’ve accomplished something if I do.  The first few days are the hardest – building in new routines, getting over the loss of caffeine (no amount of tea seems to make up the difference).  I think about people who have to make similar changes on a permanent basis – whether for illness or addiction – and how challenging that would be. 

In some sense it comes down to control.  Am I in control or is the substance?  I know I’m forced to reckon with this question each Lenten season when I choose to change my behaviour, if only for a little while.  If I’m honest with myself, the fact that I have to think twice about giving up something like coffee means it has some sort of hold over me.  It makes me consider what other substances or activities I participate in that take charge of me.  Giving up something that serves a purpose to me, whether it is giving me comfort or altering my tired first-thing-in-the morning state, makes me think about all the emotions that rise to the surface when the substance isn’t there.  I have to deal with feeling tired on days where I have back to back meetings.  I am inconvenienced when everyone is ‘going for coffee’ because I cannot partake.  I have to face the headaches and the grumpiness that will be a part of the first few days of changing my routine.  The perspective I gain from the small show of discipline is very valuable as well as my gratitude that I can make the choice to abstain rather than being forced to by other circumstances.