On Asceticism

Today I completed 108 days without alcohol. It’s the first ascetic practice of my life, though when I made the decision, I never called it that. I didn’t make a wish either, as tradition supposedly requires — so the potential rewards had to be left to the universe.

It’s not that I drank heavily, but a steady habit had formed: wine with dinner, a glass — or two, or three. At some point I understood two things. First: it had become a habit, and the habit seemed to be running me rather than the other way around. Second: when something becomes regular and ordinary, its value fades. All the wines had blended into one taste; the shades were no longer as vivid as they once were.

That said, I’ve always considered alcohol a form of addiction and held no illusions about its benefits — but, as they say, some evils are necessary.

The general takeaways:
— We’re taught to keep our word to other people, yet agreements with ourselves we often break — citing changed circumstances and so on. A system of double standards. Real responsibility starts from within.
— Before taking on a commitment, it’s worth spending time, while still on shore, mapping out the scenarios: what could go wrong, and what the plan of action would be. The plan can be anything — what matters is that it’s been discussed and accepted. No rushing here.
— Going into something new, don’t swing for the maximum. Try sensibly, draw conclusions fast. Adjust.
— Any radicalism is bad. No limits or boundaries is chaos; total prohibition is suppression. The truth lies in balance — through awareness and discipline.
— Taking on several ascetic practices at once is too much for the psyche; moderation applies everywhere.

And the curious observations about my own state:
— The body is in absolute delight; the mind rebels.
— The start is easy; toward the third month, the heat turns up.
— My Oura ring numbers, especially HRV, improved — though not dramatically. Sleep became deeper and more stable. Medical bloodwork didn’t change.
— The dopamine receptors clear out, and there’s less cheap dopamine: first comes sadness, and much later — joy from simple things.
— The mind got better at synthesis — connecting thoughts from different fields of knowledge.
— Without alcohol I’ve become less of a “worrier” and wind myself up less. Or maybe this stretch of life just happened to coincide.
— The restaurant bill is half what it used to be.
— I immediately met a lot of new people who don’t drink at all, and they have a whole world of other pursuits — mostly sport. Sport, especially running, is dopamine too.
— The stream of thoughts is hard to slow down. Wine used to help me quiet it, at least sometimes. Here I’ve heard two diametrically opposed views. One: if you need doping for that, you simply haven’t learned to handle your own thoughts. Two: you can run barefoot, but sneakers are more comfortable.
— I realized how many patterns in my life were tied to wine: a flight — a drink; something to celebrate (and there’s always something) — a drink; a hard day, a trip, and so on. Hardest of all is vacation, especially on a beautiful sunny day. Breaking patterns is fascinating in its own right.
— Not once did anyone try to talk me into drinking: no “come on,” no “today doesn’t count,” none of it. Respect, friends!

What’s next? I’m already choosing a new, harder “deal” from several options. And for tonight’s dinner, to go with the meat, I’ve prepared a bottle of Argentine wine I’d been keeping for about eight years. We’ll see… they say a full-on aversion can set in — and then the matter closes itself.

Here’s to trying to strike a deal with ourselves — give something up, or take something on, for a time — and savoring the experience! 😎