Picking up the million little pieces

Addiction is a vehicle for spiritual transformation. This truth was recognized centuries ago through the Chinese philosophical concept of “Wu Li” – namely, that crisis equals both opportunity and danger. The danger, of course, is that the addict breaks down totally and dies – but addiction also presents the opportunity for transcendence to a higher state of conscious awareness and freedom.

Based on the sales figures of recent books that tackle this subject – the publishing industry and book-buying public appear not to understand this, or worse, not to care. Through the success of Augusten Burrough’s Dry and the media blitz surrounding James Frey’s A Million Little Pieces, it appears that America is hungry for this subject matter, so long as it doesn’t delve too deeply into mysticism and spiritual transformation. America seems interested only in the morbid, dark side of addiction – the Lifetime TV version of scandal and despair. If there is recovery, then it’s shallow, unexplored, and without a spiritual element.

Burroughs’ tome doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of recovery. Without any significant exploration of soul-searching or truth-seeking, Dry ends with Burroughs chasing his next hit of crack. The message to the gay community, so riddled with addiction, is bleak and hopeless. Combined with the debacle surrounding A Million Little Pieces, it appears that the message of spiritual transformation and the opportunity for transcendence through the process of recovery has gotten buried deeper.

The sensation these books have created underscores America’s discomfort with spirituality. After all, Americans are renowned around the world for liking happy endings. And yet, with this genre, the public seems to prefer vague, uneasy endings – triumphs of those who attempt to recover without spiritual introspection, those that fight the system. And the results speak for themselves.

Having overcome drugs and sexual and other self-abuses myself—resulting from self-rejection over my sexuality—I embarked on a spiritual recovery memoir project five years ago. I felt I had a positive message of hope to share with others suffering from the same symptoms. I wrote and edited and wrote and edited and hired two different professional editors, and wrote and edited some more, polishing my memoir of addiction and transcendence into a jewel. The effort didn’t go unnoticed. My finished product, a self-published book titled Breakdown: Diamonds, Death, and Second Chances, has received critical acclaim. It was awarded winner of both the “Memoir” and “Spirituality” categories of the 2005 Fresh Voices book awards, presented by the Writers Marketing Association. It was awarded winner of the “Gay Non-Fiction” category of the 2005 USA Book News awards. It was runner-up in the Do-It-Yourself book awards. And it was named “Best Spiritual Memoir” by InSight Out, the national gay book club.

Is anyone listening? Not really. Neither publishers or agents will touch it with a pole. Don’t know how to market it, they say. Go prove its commercial viability by selling a few thousand copies, then come back. Too deep and spiritual, I’ve also heard. Maybe it was one of my conclusions that gays, because of their inherent integration of male and female energy, can act as trailblazers in the evolution of consciousness. Who knows. But regardless, I wasn’t shocked when books like Dry and A Million Little Pieces came along. They don’t delve too deep, don’t reach for spiritual transformation – they keep within America’s comfort zone.

Breakdown is published by iUniverse, and available through all major online retailers. www.BreakdownBook.com 

Comments

[Alan P.]

"This truth was recognized centuries ago through the Chinese philosophical concept of 'Wu Li' – namely, that crisis equals both opportunity and danger."
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That's a myth. For details, see this:
http://pinyin.info/chinese/crisis.html