...
First, in most cases, bad habits -- such as hard drinking, in particular -- are not our way of escaping from some hidden psychological problem. They themselves are the problem and the cause -- not the effect -- of many serious problems. Extremely well-designed and thorough studies of hard drinkers and alcoholics -- some of the only really good "studies" out there -- have shown that these men do indeed have all sorts of problems, but these problems are the effect of hard drinking, not its cause. Prior to being hard drinkers, these men are not more troubled, on the whole, than others; it is only after years of hard drinking that many very serious problems, both physical and psychological, come to the fore.
The same is true of failings of various other kinds: the cliche is that of a man who takes to the bottle after he's lost his job, been betrayed by his wife, and so on. While that does happen occasionally, the sequence is more often the reverse one: the man loses his job or fails at his relationship because his bad habits have progressed so far that they are impairing his ability to function in society, in either subtle or obvious ways. The chain of causality mainly proceeds from the bad habit to its deleterious consequences, not the other way around. Even when the bad habit was initially formed as a response to some real or perceived calamity, its consequences are often longer-lasting and more significant than that initial cause.
We are too eager for purely psychological explanations, and give insufficient credence to very simple mechanical or biochemical ones. The malaise experienced by the man who drinks to excess, takes other drugs, or otherwise abandons himself to bad physical habits, is not some psychological substrate that these habits are meant to hide or distract from; more often than not, it is the direct or indirect effect of those very habits. And the prescription is also a simple one: remove the bad habits and replace them with good ones, and so many of these supposedly deep or hidden problems will simply go away.
We want to give our problems the prestige of being deep and hidden, and regard our habits -- the day to day physical texture of our lives -- as relative trivia, at worst a distraction that keeps us from seeing ourselves as we truly are. But this is not so. We are our habits, to a very large extent. Change these habits -- really change them, in a gritty way that takes the kind of perseverance that most men lack -- and you change a great deal about how you feel about your life every day; and what had seemed an intractable problem is not even "solved", it simply falls away as something that is no longer of use or relevance.
A related point is this: it is quite true that a man who gives up drinking will often feel extended periods of emptiness, boredom, and what I like to call fallowness -- I have written about this often in this thread. And it is also quite true that these periods represent a great opportunity. But this is not for the reasons that you might think.
The opportunity is not to get in touch with oneself, with your ineffable inner core. That is indeed what men will try to do -- they will turn inward and they will seek self-definition and self-knowledge of one kind or another. But what they will discover if they are honest -- and that is really the great opportunity -- is that these things come to an end very quickly. The self -- any self -- is a quite limited sphere; there is really not that much there. Your emptiness and boredom when you are left alone with yourself are well-justified; you are a boring subject. Introspection has its uses but they are rapidly exhausted. And what then?
Then -- perhaps -- you might remember that there is a whole world of things outside the self; otherwise known as life, or the world. And once you've exhausted every other possibility, you just might, out of utter boredom, desultoriness, and the belligerence of having nothing better to do and nowhere else to turn to, actually check out that world outside the self. You might sit on a bench one day in the late summer, completely dry, completely done with all the things that have preoccupied you for so long and so uselessly, and simply look out, in a very pure way; look out with a slug's or lizard's eye, an eye that is ready to take it all in because it's got nowhere else to turn to.
And it's then -- at that humble moment -- that the real opportunity presents itself. Because the world outside the self is, in fact, the source of all interest, variety, knowledge, of the greatest and deepest pains and pleasures. And there is nothing that makes, over time, for a more enjoyable and interesting and fulfilling life than turning away from the depredations of the self and turning towards the world, in a modest attitude of relaxed concentration. There is beautiful comedy in this conjunction: when a man is so stupefied, so dully and completely bored out of his mind, that in his exasperation he turns to the source of endless depth and interest that was there all along, always there for the taking but seemingly too mundane and modest to ever take notice of until there was literally no other choice. That is what the wagon can do, for those who are willing to follow the trail all the way to the desert, and past it.