We admitted we were powerless over alcohol and our lives had become unmanageable. —The First Step, Alcoholics Anonymous

In late January, I sat for a 10-day silent meditation retreat in northern India. On the first day of the retreat, we were introduced to the three causes of suffering according to the Buddha. Two and a half thousand years ago, he said (and I am not quoting here; this is what I recall) that there are three causes of suffering:

• Clinging
• Aversion
• Ignorance

Since that retreat, I have been deeply pondering this because it intersects with my work as a performance psychologist and with my personal history of addiction and recovery. What did Buddha mean by clinging, aversion, and ignorance?

Clinging

Clinging is simply what we’re attached to: what we would like to happen, what we want things to be like. I want to be happy. I want to be rich. I want to be successful. But it can also be material things: I want that car. I want to live in that house. And it can be relationships. I want my children to be a certain way. I want my spouse to treat me better. I want my boss to be nicer.

Aversion

Aversion is the opposite. It’s when we don’t want something. I don’t like that it’s cold outside. I don’t like the way my co-worker speaks to me. I don’t like that I have limited funds. I don’t like this. I don’t like that. It’s anything we wish were different because we’re not happy, satisfied, or fulfilled with what is.

Ignorance

Ignorance, the third cause of human suffering, is a bit more opaque. At least it was to me at first. However, as I contemplated it more, I came to understand, in my own way, what Buddha meant. Ignorance—and again, this is my own interpretation—is the failure to recognize that everything is in a constant state of flux and change, which means that every moment is a new moment. Every breath is a new breath.

Think about a movie (if you still go to the movies). What you’re watching on the screen looks like a continuous story, but really it’s one frame after another, after another, after another, going on for an hour and a half, two hours, or more. Each frame is a moment. Stringing them together creates the story.

In fact, during the first 10 minutes of the retreat, I had a realization: There’s the moment, and then there’s the story about the moment.

This reminded me of a Laurie Anderson lyric: This is the time. And this is the record of the time. Each moment is singular; linking them together is the record.

What this means is that we create a story and then we get attached to it. We like it—clinging. We don’t like it—aversion. Our lives become a story we tell ourselves, really just a stringing together of individual moments over a long period of time.

Performance and the Present Moment

How does this relate to my work as a performance psychologist?

For the past 40 years, I have focused on what people need to do to perform at their best. I work with elite athletes, surgeons, first responders, and others who must perform at their peak under intense pressure.

The central core of my work is presence: being in the present.

On a certain level, it doesn’t matter how the Olympic swimmer did in her last meet or how she’s going to perform tomorrow. What matters is right now, this moment, and pouring all of her skill, talent, and drive into it. Shaquille O’Neal could make free throws in practice, but under the pressure of the present moment, he struggled to do what he already knew how to do, shooting just 52.7 percent from the free-throw line over his career. Clinging to what happened before, avoiding what is happening now, and forgetting that every moment is a new moment—all of these take us out of the present.

Lately, I have been focusing my work as a performance psychologist on visionary founders, people who have a genuine vision for a product or service that could genuinely help humanity, particularly those who could not otherwise afford the goods or services that privileged people can. But founders are under enormous pressure and may revert to addictive habits of alcohol, drugs, pornography, gambling, or some other behavior to get away from what they are feeling. Instead of facing what is happening right now, they escape it. We work to break through unproductive habits that have developed through clinging, aversion, and ignorance so they can be fully present to deal with each challenge as it arises, no matter how big or small, no matter if it’s wanted or unwanted.

Addiction and Recovery

I have learned this through my own story as well: overcoming two addictions and being in recovery for 37 years, regularly attending 12-step meetings.

The wisdom in “one day at a time” reflects what Buddha was talking about. Each day is new. Every day affords possibility.

Certainly, clinging and aversion run very deep in any addictive process. Speaking personally, after hearing the stories of countless people over the years, one deep root of addiction is that we’re unhappy with our circumstances and our lives, and we seek quick relief through alcohol, drugs, pornography, gambling, shopping, however we can get a “hit.”

So we have this toxic cycle: aversion (“I can’t stand my life, I don’t like myself”), clinging (“This is what I need to make me feel better”), and ignorance (“I’ll never get out of this”).

The only way to break out of the cycle is one day at a time, one action at a time, moment by moment: not to have the drink, not to log on to the pornography website, not to place another bet.

Now. Right now. In the present. Bring the cause of suffering—ignorance—out of the shadows and into the light: What is the story I keep telling myself? How do I rerun that story over and over again?

The Freedom of This Moment

To keep ourselves from sinking in the quicksand of our stories (“I always want to be this happy” [clinging]; “My life’s a mess, I can’t stand it anymore” [aversion]), we need to break through our ignorance about how life works. It’s one fresh moment after another. It is the inhale and then the exhale. The blink of an eye. The touch of the breeze upon our face.

We can break through the chains of our controlling story-driven self. We can live the life we were created to have.

Right now.