Spiritual Aikido

David Brooks, a columnist for the New York Times, wrote recently, "In a culture that generally celebrates empowerment and self-esteem, A.A. begins with disempowerment. The goal is to get people to gain control over their lives, but it all begins with an act of surrender and an admission of weakness."

Brooks was recognizing the contributions of Bill Wilson, the founder of A.A., whose 12 steps has helped millions recover from their addictions, whether it be chemical, overeating, gambling or sexual.

As ironic as it sounds, the 12 step program is based on surrendering and admitting your weakness. The profound value of this honest act is that the ego or the I-can-fix-it mentality, is pushed aside, and replaced with a spiritual awakening that accepts things that cannot be changed. To many, this admission of weakness is an abject announcement of failure. But really, it is the door opening to a path of healing and wisdom.

Many of us come into this world thinking we are going to conquer it. When we don't our bruised egos don't surrender, but instead become absorbed in self pity and feelings of inadequacy, leading to an escape into alcohol, drugs, overeating, gambling. The ego is still driving the behaviour, albeit wrecklessly.

The ego is tenacious and usually does not give up until it is utterly defeated and we find ourselves flat on our back without any options. That is when we surrender and know that we are at the mercy of a power greater than ourselves. That is when the ego is replaced by grace and humility.

But maybe that is why as a culture we are at a crossroads, where the consequences of our collective unchecked hubris has put us face-to-face with environmental and financial upheaval.

During these times, I am wary of those beating their chests and their bombastic pronouncements. Instead, I am looking for the one waving the white flag of wisdom.

Artificial High

If you don't feel real good about yourself, then a casino is the perfect place for you. Whether you win or lose, it provides a perverse win-win situation: if you win your low self esteem is temporarily inflated, and if you lose, your can beat yourself up in fulfillment of your low self esteem.

People with low self esteem or poor self image have as much business being in a casino as a priest in a whorehouse. If you have a chink in your psychic armor, then gambling will exploit it. It is a trap that can only lead to compulsive behaviour. The boost of good feelings and the temporary state of well being that come from winning can be so reinforcing that the pursuit of it becomes addictive. Thus, the experience of losing only intensifies the compulsion to return to win, in an attempt to redeem the hurt ego.

This type of narrow, either/or thinking is compulsive, leading to a behavior "loop" where the mind is caught in a viscious cycle of "doing and undoing." Call it a rut; you can only go backward or forward, but never in another direction. Would you ever buy a car where you can only go in two directions? You can only revisit the same ground. There is nothing new. It is like a episode from an old "Twilight Zone." In short, you have lost your freedom, proving that gambling is probably the only contradiction to the adage, "freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose."

Gambling, as most addictions, narrows our choices in life. We are a rat in a maze chasing the cheese. It is difficult to get out of that rut. But it takes ceasing the behaviour, first. It takes stopping the two-directional car and stepping out of it to see the 360 degree horizon. Once you are out of the car, you can begin your new journey and try your hand at real life. You will get smacked down sometimes, but at least you will get up with something that was missing before, your pride.

Life Happens

Everyone is "whistling past the graveyard" to some extent or the other. Research shows the brain is wired to be optimistic. When something unfortunate happens to people, they tend to view the event, after the shock wears off, as being beneficial and "happening for the best." Considering that we will end up in the same place, making the best of this life is more than just a saying, it is probably healthy.

Then, why do we tend to fight those things we cannot change. Is it because size of our ego exceeds the scope of our wisdom. Is it because we have not learned yet we are the center of the universe? Didn't Copernicus disprove that in the 16th century?

Wanting things our way is a form of self deception, it is not wanting to believe that we are random events in the universe. Our intelligence teases us into believing we can have control, but we don't. When we don't accept this, we do crazy things, such as act out compulsively, become idealogues, see only black and white, and draw devisive lines in the sand. When we do accept this we act more sanely, even in the face of uncertainty. There are no guarentees in life. Get use to it Glenn Beck.

Some philosophers say this is form of anosognocia, a condition in which a person has something wrong with him but fails to recognize it. True, there is much that we will never know, but do we fill the anxiety with hubris? Seeking more control in destructive ways? Perhaps we should accept that that we are limited creatures and not supernatural. As Noam Chomsky says we are after all biological organisms not angels. He goes on to say, "If humans are part of the natural world, not supernatural beings, then human intelligence has its scope and limits, determined by initial design. We can thus anticipate certain questions will not fall within [our] cognitive reach, just as rats are unable to run mazes with numerical properties, lacking the appropriate concepts. Such questions, we might call ‘mysteries-for-humans’ just as some questions pose ‘mysteries-for-rats.’ Among these mysteries may be questions we raise, and others we do not know how to formulate properly or at all.”

Mr. Chomsky's point is not lost on this fool. Our highly evolved brains have given us the ability to reason, reflect and ponder our future. But that capacity comes with an existential double edge-sword: contemplating our existence does not come without anxiety and a sense of dread. But if we are wise, we will have acknowledged the spiritual part of our conscience which allows us to be thankful for the "present" and accept the mystery each moment brings. It is a huge responsibility to stand naked in the face of the unknown. Some people cower wanting to grasp for the nearest guard rail that presents itself as the illusion of control.

After Hours

You never know who you really are until you are anonymous.

When I am out of town on business, I am anonymous after hours. If someone meets me, he or she does not know my personal life and its details. If I choose to go to a casino, it is between me and my conscience. Separated by many miles in a foreign town, I can easily keep secrets from my family and deceive them.

If you are living a lie, then you are an imposter. When we lie, we think we are invisible, or at least, we wish to be, but we are not. Eventually, the two selves collide like a cold and warm front, producing an emotional storm where everything is turned upside down. Ask Tiger Woods about this collision.

If the person you are when no one knows you is the same as the one who is everyone's friend, then you will always be at peace with yourself.

Every Breath You Take

Many gamblers are by nature "Type A" personalities. They are action oriented, risk taking and impulsive. It is hard for them to be in the moment. Asking them to do so is like expecting Black Sabbath to come and do an acoustic set.

I am the same way. To be in the moment is nearly impossible, but in fact, it is where everything is possible. I read where God does not reside in the past nor does he live in the future, but he is found only in the present.

I preferred living in the past and future because I could accept less responsibility for my life. If I worried about the things I could not control, such as the future and past, then I did not have to take on the only things I could which lay in the present.

A wise mentor once told me that all God guarentees us is our next breath, and the reason is because we can't handle anything more. I'd like to add that most of us can't even handle that. To live in the moment is the greatest responsibility we have as humans, but to be fully present is something most people choose to run from. They rather flee in fantasy or be paralyzed by the past, primarily because most of us are not totally comfortable in our own skin. We have been nicked and cut so much along the way that we abandon what we perceive are our imperfect selves. When we can't hide the shamful parts of ourselves in the shadows, we beat ourselves up with guilt over past regrets, or we displace them by ruminating about "what if's."

Either way, we do not accept ourselves totally and fail to open up to the great mystery of the moment where lay the seeds of all things possible.

Pimp My High

Alright, gamblers, this is how it goes: money is the drug and it is what we abuse to get high. It is as intoxicating as sex, food, drugs and alcohol. The problem is like all addictions, it really doesn't satisfy you. Even when you win a bundle you're are really not satisfied until you come back for more action. Money means nothing, it is a pimp pushing dopamine to the pleasure/reward part of your brain. Play cards for a twenty-five cents and you're likely to fall asleep before the river. Play cards for twenty-five dollars and you're lit up like Christmas tree.

I worked on the race track as a jockey's agent, turf writer, and PR official. During that time I was like a guy hooked to a dialysis machine. The track was my life. The money I made legitimately only supported my addiction to betting the horses. That's where my motivation lay and that's where I kept score. How much money I brought home from my job, my savings, my money for vacations was subordinated to how much I won and loss at the track. In my mind, that was where my success and failure rest. It was also in my brain where I was seeking to repeat countless times my dopamine rush. Since I am not a neurobiologist and really don't understand the neurochemistry of my compulsion, I gave meaning to my addiction by keeping score with the money. If I was losing, I obsessed to get even; if I was ahead, I would fantasize about winning more. That was the only way I could make sense of the compulsive life I was living.


Of course there is a huge infrastructure and institution set up for people to gamble. Casinos, off track betting, card rooms, and online gaming provides opportunities to gamble anytime and anywhere. So it doesn't take much for someone with faulty wiring of the brain to become obsessed, abuse it and attempt to rationalize it.


But in the end, you understand it's not the money we are after, but what its pimping.

Collective Addiction

America's addiction to oil is lot like my addiction to gambling. It comes at a big price. When we do any thing compulsively, we are on automatic pilot regardless of the consequences - until we are knocked off our feet and realize the damage our behavior caused. The earth warming and environmental disasters are consequences to burning fossil fuels, and yet we carry on as if we have had no impact. If we become extinct, history will show how our unchecked actions led to our demise. How is that any different from the demise of a gambler or alcoholic, who in denial, refused to see where he was heading?

Such denial is accompanied by hubris. We have plenty of that. It is also accompanied by a sense of entitlement. The revenue from oil has provided enormous wealth for nations, companies and individuals, as well as provide the grease for a corrupt and bloated political system in the US. We are so fat from its spoils that we are numb to its dangers.

For our nation to switch from fossil fuels to alternative energy sources will require sacrifice and an honest assessment of ourselves. Tell me one addict who is willing to do that?

We use the phrase "addicted to oil" metaphorically, but I don't think this is a literary exercise any longer.

Defying Gravity

One of the misgivings I had when I gambled was how much of my time it wasted and how I could be doing something more constructive. Of course these pangs of guilt were like bugs hitting the windshield of my car at 80 m.p.h. They never slowed me down or made me change my direction. The momentum of the car could only be stopped by crashing into a tree or having a blowout, either scenario having the same effect: leaving me stranded and feeling pissed that I could not get to where I was going.

When we are in the throes of compulsion, our lives are like a car speeding down the highway out of control and we are just the passenger. We want to slow down or stop but we can't. It takes a blow out or a crash to stop us, but just as in the literal interpretation, there is always damage to ourselves and/or others. Our reputations and finances are in ruins, our friends and families hurt and betrayed.

I've stopped and started gambling many times and what I've learned from these experiences is that if I start again it is as certain as the sun coming up in the morning that I will continue gambling. I can't not stop on my own unless I wreck. It is like jumping out a 10-story building and saying I want to stop at the fifth floor. The laws of compulsive gambling are as immutable as the laws of gravity. You ain't stopping until you land on your posterior.

As gamblers, we are not stupid. We know the difference between good decisions and bad decisions. However, when we are gambling our powers of discernment are suspended. But if we gamble long enough and crash enough times we start to see the folly of our rationalizations. After a while we see our justifications as nothing more than lies that are as porous as a paper umbrella.

If you are lucky, your crashes will outnumber your rationalizations by one.

Unfair Fight

I ran into a poker playing friend of mine, who visited the same card room I did. He is retired military, having served his country during the Vietnam war. He lamented he was losing too much money at the card room, expressing it in a way that betrayed a hint of desperation. I understand what he was feeling, I didn't need to be standing in his shoes. I know the feeling all too well, the tight hold gambling grips you with in that brief moment when there is a flash of reason urging you to get up before reaching into your pocket for another hundred dollars. But you are pinned under a superior wrestler and it is hopeless.

You lose and regroup at home. Reason makes a valiant charge to try and take the enemy's other flank: next time I will only lose two hundred dollars because that is all I can afford and when it is gone I will get up and go home. Such a neat and tidy strategy, except in the full force of gambling's fury, your spitball of a reason hasn't a chance. And after being made a liar to your best angels, that is when you know it has nothing to do with reason or willpower. On the contrary, on this battlefield the best you can do is throw down your weapons and surrender.

There are many who gamble who do not fight the war that we do. To them gambling is not the enemy. It does not bewitch them as it does us. To them the gambling whore is just a flirt, passing in the night. To us she is our mistress, we follow her in the early hours of the morning when we should be home nurturing our bodies and minds.

When we are at the card tables or sports book, it is too late. Our dick is already hard and there is no turning back until we climax or lay exhausted attempting to.

My friend is still in the throes of his passion and will turn himself inside out trying to figure out how to cool off the raging volcano. The inferno usually wins, consuming us until our egos are immolated and we are nothing but spirit, which ironically, is when we are finally liberated.

Go Back, Jack, Do It Again

Recent studies have shown that gamblers do not learn from their mistakes. Italian researchers found that gamblers possessed a "cognitive rigidity" that predisposes them to the development of impulsive or compulsive behaviour, leading to pathological gambling.

(www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/03/080326190802.htm)

Translated from the scientific to a layman's explanation, it means that when gamblers are getting their brains bashed in at the dice or blackjack table or riding a losing streak betting sports or the horses, they just can't grasp the logic or common sense that they ought to give it up.

By our own admission we are hardheaded and insistent. We usually have a big ego and want things to go our way. What's that part of the Serenity Prayer I have the most difficulty with? "Accept the things I cannot change."

Perhaps I will take a lesson from this and apply it to all aspects of my life. When my computer seems to have woke up on the wrong side of the circuit board and feels like aggravating me by operating at a snail's pace, I will not threaten it with a hammer, but I will find another option, perhaps walk to the store and get my news the old fashion way from a newspaper. Or when I am assembling my son's bike and I come to that screw that just doesn't seem to fit, I will not force it to the point of a coronary, but instead take a break or move on to another part of the bike.

Anger seems to be an accomplice to this trait. When we doggedly make a point either with our spouse or loved one, either of whom doesn't seem to agree with us, we don't seem to have the flexibility to compromise and instead we tend to go ballistic.

It is good to make this connection between gambling and anger as it provides insight that gambling is not just a one-off function or aberration of our personality, but in fact part of a deeper neural circuitry as revealed by the Italian study. But I also believe we are not destined by neurobiology. By learning the value of spiritual traditions such as "letting go," and "giving it up," the grip of our ego-driven, "rigid" behavior is loosened and we discover other options.

Dancing In The Dark

"We are as sick as our secrets," the adage goes. As gamblers, we protect our secrets with lies, double lives and a lack of integrity (integrity is defined as the person you see on the outside is the same as the person on the inside). Our secrets are part of our dark side, those elements within us that we disown and which we are ashamed.

As long as I could not integrate my gambling into who I was and remained in denial, I was destined to keep gambling. Once I brought my gambling into the light, then I was able to deal with it, integrate it and saw what it represented to me.

For me, gambling was an escape and a drug that anesthetized me from having to deal with day-to-day stress. It allowed me not to have to deal with feelings of inadequacy, low self esteem, and invalidation.

Once I started to admit and acknowledge my compulsive gambling, I was able to see what feelings and other elements of my dark side I was repressing. It was my first step towards mending my fractured self and becoming whole again spiritually and psychologically.

The process led me to discover what psychologists and shamans have said for generations, that it is in the dark and disowned parts of ourself that we find the paths to our salvation (integration of selves). For most of my life, I suffered from a low self esteem and a fuzzy identity of who I was. I compensated by creating a false self, one that sought affirmation through people pleasing and fixing other's problems. Underneath the false self, lay an insecure identity riddled with thought processes that always compared itself to others. Insecure with who I was, I abandoned myself to seek the approval of others by morphing into what they wanted. Psychologically, this takes a huge toll as I was easily blown about by the uncertainties of life. I sought to control others around me in an attempt to feel secure. In most circumstances, unless I was playing the role of rescuer, I never felt I measured up.

It was when I quit gambling that I began to "feel' my feelings again, however uncomfortable. I decided to take control of my life and no one else's. I challenged my self with this: If life is a play (existentially speaking) than who do I want to be, the lead or the supporting role? I also realized this immutable truth: We born and die with ourselves, then why shouldn't we live with ourselves?

Gambling covered up my sense of inadequacy. Uncovering my gambling gave rise to the phoenix.

Love Gone Bad

The gambling whore will flirt with you anytime. When you're driving in your car, at home or at work; in the morning, afternoon and evening. She even creeps up on you when you've just made love. She whispers in your ear, "let's you and I have a little fling." (ever notice how the euphoria of climaxing feels suspiciously similar to the anticipation of gambling) "No one has to know," she continues. "You deserve a little thrill, after all it's your life and you have the freedom to do what you want."

As Bob Dylan said, "Go ahead and run to her you can't refuse." And we do. Because she is so compelling as she appeals to our weakness. Forget trying to come up with a defense, there are 100 reasons more to give in. And you don't even like her any more than you do getting your teeth kicked in. And that's when you realize its not about her. She is an illusion. Hold the gambling whore up to the sober light of morning and she is ugly, nasty and could give a damn about you. As beautiful and charming she was the night before, in the morning you are left exposed,vulnerable, needy, unanchored and without resource.

But still, we pursue the charlatan even as we make our way back to her doubled over in guilt and shame because we will suffer this to touch immortality. Our affinity for the gambling whore is like love, which imbues us with the feeling that anything is possible. When we win we are magical and we are complete. And like love, gambling endows us with meaning, value and immunity from the mortal world, albeit ephemerally.

But unlike those lovers who are lucky enough to descend from the heavens to make a soft landing, and begin to deal with the realities and limitations of love, gamblers never learn there are curbs to the gambling whore's promises. They insist on being taken to the promise land every time, and if they are not, they spend every dollar, and even more emotionally and spiritually, trying to get there. But she just laughs her fickle laugh. And unlike a loving woman, who tells us she can not be everything to us, the gambling whore lets us believe the lie.

Mind Games

It is said that many gamblers care not about the winning and the losing, but instead are involved in a little existential game of "do or dare." Gambling, to these people, is a way to confront the chancy nature of existence within safe and comfortable bounds. If they win, they feel they are the masters of their universe and if they lose they go home strapped with no real penalty. It's as though they rationalize whatever money they have lost by simply reminding themselves that everything in their life is still in order. Risking money becomes a surrogate to the uncertainties of life.

I've played that same little mind game, too, but with taking the rationalization one step farther. I would tell myself that I was gambling because I was following an innate evolutionary programmed behavior to take risks; that gambling fulfills the impulse that fueled the pioneers and explorers, but since we are domesticated desk-jockeys, we have to find an outlet for that proclivity. It sounds reasonable, but its logic is flawed.

If I truly want to take risks, I can learn to rappel, sky dive, or scuba where there is an authentic sense of exhilaration. These are activities that if I come back in one piece I can truly feel content and high. Tricking the mind's pleasure/reward mechanism through gambling is like eating artificial sugar: the need is never really satisfied, and in fact, a greater craving for sugar is created.

And as far as playing the little mind game of "confronting the chancy nature of existence through gambling," that is like practicing a bad habit. For if one is to believe the great psychologist, Eric Fromm, the exact opposite is required to live a psychologically healthy life. Fromm says, "the great psychic task in life which a person can and must set for himself is not to feel secure, but to tolerate insecurity." This has been expressed many other ways, but perhaps its most common expression is found in Frederich Nietzche's quote, "that which does not defeat me makes me stronger."

Either bromide underscores the importance of confronting reality and our frailties, for that is where we gather our true strength.

Gamblers like to think they are risk takers, but what they are really doing is running from risks.

Life Is A 6/5 Proposition (Against)

Damyon Runyon once said life is a six-to-five proposition - against. According to the World Health Organization’s latest study that reports that half the world’s population doesn’t reach the age of 40, Runyon’s betting line appears pretty accurate.

Indeed, we are lucky. So what are you going to do, press your luck? Damon Runyon wouldn’t. Percentages are the universe’s way of keeping order. That’s why we have the normal curve or Bell Curve, a statistic that says of a random sampling of 100 people 60 percent will be average in height, weight, and intelligence while 20 percent will be below and 20 percent will above. Put another way. You and I have a 60 percent chance of being like the next guy or average.

Percentages are guided by the law of averages: Flip a coin ten times and it should result in five heads and five tails. Casinos operate and prosper by the law of averages. They figure what the break-even percentage is in a game and give themselves small “edge.” Such slight favor in percentage allows them to grind out a profit at the end of the day.

Once I was playing golf with a friend in Florida. On the first nine I sliced four shots into the pine woods, and as if by magic, the balls ricocheted off a tree to land safely back into the fairway. My friend, who was losing a small wager, called off the bet on the back nine, intimidated by my good fortune. Too bad for him, the odds were in his favor. Sure enough, I sliced four shots into the woods on the back nine and never saw the balls again. As far I know they could have sailed into another area code. Once again, order is restored to the universe. Somewhere in the universe it is written that no one shall have an unfair advantage over another. That is the law of average, the great equalizer. Take a cue. Never fight the percentages. If you play the ups and downs of the stock market every day, unless you know something, the best you can do is break even – but that’s only if you’re not paying commissions. Like the wise man said, you’re gambling if you don’t have the odds with you, and gamblers usually end up with a case of the “shorts”.

For me there seems to be a psychological corollary operating in all this. Winning at gambling or the stock market is no guarantee for happiness or contentment. Recognizing that, I have come to believe that the law of average is more than an immutable statistic, it is an existential principal that when learned protects fools like me from themselves.

Once I went on an incredible run at a casino. The money I won exhilarated me. There may have been more esteemed people than me in the place, but no one thumped their chest more loudly than me. But, the instant high and sense of well being with which I was flushed from winning was temporary and could not be sustained unless I won more. Thus, I gambled more. However, given what we know of the odds against winning, it was certain that if I kept playing I would eventually lose money and not be able to sustain my sense of well being. But, to many people as with myself, my sense of well being had become associated with and supplanted by winning and instant gratification instead of the traditional means of work and accomplishment. The hard wiring in my brain that regulates my well being had been short-circuited to respond to the stimuli of gambling and it seductive rewards of instant gratification. Why work and earn a sense of well being when you believe you can get it with the roll of the dice and the spike of stock price? Or, if you aren’t playing the stock market or visiting the casino, there is the lottery that teases our collective conscious with the “gold at the end of the rainbow” which we believe, if won, will somehow exempt us from all our problems.

Thus, the law of averages is a safeguard from those grandiose feelings ever being anything more than just an illusion. To me understanding those dynamics answer the psychologists’ dilemma over what comes first, accomplishments or self esteem.

If I want to live a truly satisfactory and rewarding life it will have to be earned the old fashion way through a work ethic that provides for accomplishments. Work and assuming responsibility for oneself are the only percentages worth playing.

Be Careful For What You Wish

"Gamblers and fools bet, smart men play the percentages," my father once said.

My father was a bookie and he made a living from balancing the bets among bettors and taking the 10 percent commission. It was a business to him, nothing glamorous. Somewhere, along the way I got my wires crossed and fell on the wrong side of the equation and my father. I became a bettor myself, taking the worst of it just for the privilege of picking between two teams, rolling the dice or playing black Jack.

What I never understood was there was a huge difference between gambling and being the house. It took me a long time before I knew why a fool and his money were soon departed while casinos everywhere were raking in huge profits.

If there is a line between recreational gambling and compulsive gambling it is not only a fine one but also a slippery one. It is a line that I never was able to keep in front of me. I crossed it at 15 when I made my first bet on a horse which won paying $33.00. Until then life was ordered and made sense. I was a child athlete who had countless adrenaline rushes playing sports. The adrenaline rushes of competing athletically were accompanied by a sense of accomplishment, pride and well being. But winning $33.00 on a two-dollar bet short-circuited my brain's reward system, providing me a sense of well being 10 times more intense as hitting a game- winning home run and I did not have to do the hard work as well. The intense rush of winning pushed out any need for a sense of accomplishment and pride. Well being, I quickly learned, could be pimped for a winning bet.

What it took me years to figure out after getting my teeth bashed in at the casinos, race track and card rooms, suffering from guilt and shame over the losses was that gambling was a drug. Every bit as compelling, addictive, and illusory in its promise as crack cocaine. Winning money at the end of the day was not the prize, it was just being able to have enough money to go back again and be in action, to be lost in the haze of the action in search of that intense rush.

I can only imagine the pain my father felt when he saw my eyes after winning my first bet.

The Glory of Imperfection

In all my readings on human growth and consciousness, the single most persistent theme that emerges is this: To be fully human we must be independent. Another way of saying this is dependency is a killer of the soul.

In spiritual (not religious) terms, the soul, the intuition, our creativity flourishes when they are not bound by matters of the mind. Worry, obsessions, and ruminations about problems (people, work, finances) rarely bring the solutions we need to move past our troubles. Yet, we rely on our problem-solving abilities, our neo-cortex thinking to find solutions to our difficulties.

The thinking part of our brains are phenomenal for discovering new vaccines and for space exploration, but when it comes to matters of love, friendship, family, and personal direction, we are best to trust them to the quiet vestibules of our heart and soul. It is in that sacred space where we learn to trust and let go, rather than exhausting ourselves running on the treadmill of worry.

We have all laid awake in the middle of the night with the slide show of rumination clicking endlessly through our minds. Our minds will never let go enough to allow the fluffy clouds of sleep carry us away if we are problem solving. Worry is a form of mental alertness, requiring certain chemicals that keep us in "fight or flight" mode.

To trade such a scenario of worry for the escape of gambling is no bargain. Gambling relies on the same mental infrastructure and dynamics as worry. The only difference is that gambling replaces the previous "worry loop" with a new one complete with its own built-in system of rewards/frustration and high/lows, making it equally if not more compulsive.

So what does all this have to do with independence? Let's go back to our discussion of the difference between the problem-solving mind and the soul. The thinking mind is always trying to find a solution, an answer to the problem, a fix it. But do we have to? What would happen if we let go and trust that we are alright with whatever solution comes our way? Perhaps the gift of every problem is the lesson of acceptance even if it is not what we had hoped for. There are going to be many times we look into the darkness and see no solutions no matter how much we worry. But that is when we find our true character - our imperfect selves - and as the wise counsel goes, "That is what saves us from the darkness." And isn't that what we are all looking for -- an acceptance and love of ourselves independent of what is happening around us?

The Insidious Thief

I have explored the reasons I have gambled psychologically, emotionally, spiritually, as well as through the lens of family history. All of them have yielded insights, but the immutable fact is none have offered a lifeline to stop. When you are alone in the room with the vexing, alluring gambling whore, no amount of analyses of your relationship with your mother, father, yourself and God is going to prevent you from slipping into bed with her; her appeal is too powerful. Her husband may be outside with a shotgun, or your wife may be waiting at home with your child needing to go to the doctor, but the attraction overwhelms any reasonable protest rendering you defenseless.

But I have learned that succumbing to the gambing whore is not a moral failure any more than an alcoholic relenting to a drink. It may be more a case of a spiritual deficit, the failure to accept that we are powerless and imperfect as humans. In the complex neural circuitry of the brain, our willpower is as useless as using a wrench on a circuitboard.

Researchers in this field will tell you gambling is not about the money any more than bungee jumping is about rope and freefalling. Gambling is a state of mind where money is the medium to the adrenaline. Money is the subsitute for risk; risk leads to adrenaline rushes. And therein lies the real payoff. I know people who can afford to lose money or have "disposable" income. For them money is still associated with the risk, but because they have so much it appears they are not exposed to the greater risk of jeopardizing relationships with family, friends, and work because the pecuniary loss doesn't create a financial crisis.

But I argue that even in this cirmumstance, there is a hidden toll to gambling. It is as insidious and debilitating as the child who plays video games hours at a time. The "feedback loop" that is created in the brain is the end game. As I heard it said one time, the compulsion is fed by the "doing and the undoing--I'm up, I'm down, I'm even, I'm up, I'm down.

Another way to say this is that gambling is not meaningful solely because it leaves gamblers winners or losers, flush or broke, but rather it is the action, the excitement, the escape. We all know the skilled card player who may win at poker just to move to the black jack table and lose it all back.

Framed in this way, I ask what is the real loss of gambling? Is it the money or the time and the wasted spirit that could be spent on real passionate pursuits?

I would like to escape to a tropical island, unplugged from the demands of life. For about a week. Any longer and I would wither away. How is this not the same with a gambling addiction?

The Big Con

I'm doing this to keep myself sane. Keeping my mind focused so that I don't obsess about gambling, but instead stay real with myself. Gambling is like a worm that crawls beneath you skin causing an itch that can never be fully scratched; its like a low grade fever that doesn't knock you off your feet, but still saps your vigor.

It is every bit as compulsive as drug abuse, cigarettes, alcoholism, and overeating. It is actually more insidious because there is not the physical symptoms that usually accompany chemical abuse. But if you look closely it is there: the slight edginess, the hint of distractibility.

My father once said, "gambling is the real mistress," except what he didn't say is that mistresses eventually leave you or you leave them, but this one doesn't. The gambling whore is always there looking for a little action, sometimes leaving you high and sometimes blue, but she is always there because she knows you are coming back.

The gambling whore never really disappears. You can swear her off and she will go away for awhile, but she knows when you need her and she has the knack of showing up when you are desperate for her.

There is always a craving for her. It may not be as physical and as tactile as the urge to drink or use, but it is more psychological, expressing itself in a need to belong. To be among the boys at the track or at the card room. To lose yourself for hours at a card game or in front of a TV watching a football or basketball game. The one sure bet with gambling is that you will lose yourself; anesthetizing yourself from your feelings every bit as surely as if you were soaked with booze.

But there are ways to break the spell, from the con that is gambling. One of them is to do what we are doing here. Getting open and real. That's what this blog is going to be: a place to expose the con of gambling.