If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is, infinite.
William Blake
Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Into this house we′re born
Into this world we’re thrown
Like a dog without a bone, an actor out on loan
Riders on the storm…
There′s a killer on the road
His brain is squirming like a toad
Take a long holiday
Let your children play
If you give this man a ride, sweet family will die
Killer on the road, yeah…
Girl, you gotta love your man
Girl, you gotta love your man
Take him by the hand
Make him understand
The world on you depends
Our life will never end
Gotta love your man, yeah…
Jim Morrison
Many of us have looked for magic. We’ve looked for the person, place, or thing that would make us feel better, that would stop our pain and change us.
Melody Beatty, Codependents’ Guide to the Twelve Steps
A good friend of mine recently drew my attention to a wonderful video in which Ray Manzarek, keyboard player with The Doors, expounded, shortly before his death in 2013, the musical and contextual background of what many people regard as one of the greatest rock songs of the late twentieth century; the 1971 hit, `Riders on the Storm´.
While totally enchanted and inspired by his description of the creative process, – how the melody emerged from an already popular country song and became infused with a jazz flavour, the way the bass riff bubbled up, initially on the keyboards and was subsequently transferred to the guitar, and the way Jim Morrison immediately interjected with: `I have lyrics for that; Riders on the storm…´, – I found another aspect of the story even more riveting.
Much has been written about the tumultuous life and untimely death of Jim Morrison (1943 – 1971). From what I have garnered from the many biographies and documentaries over the years, he was, like me, a person who struggled with life through much of his childhood and early adulthood. As in my case, he sought, and initially found, a solution in intoxication, only to be cut to shreds by the boomerang he let fly in his mid teens.
Paul A. Rothchild, who produced most of the group’s albums is quoted as saying: `Jim really was two very distinct and different people. A Jekyll and Hyde. When he was sober, he was Jekyll, the most erudite, balanced, friendly kind of guy. He was Mr. America. When he would start to drink, he’d be okay at first, then, suddenly, he would turn into a maniac. Turn into Hyde.´
This is how I would describe myself during my twenty-six years of active alcoholism and addiction prior to the summer of 2003 when, at the age of forty-two, I quit drinking and using. This was the beginning of an on-going process of recovery from what had become a sad case of `suicide by instalments´. I feel a deep kinship with Jim Morrison, as with all addicts, active and recovering. So, my attention was drawn to the context of the lyrics of this song, penned, as they were, by Jim a few short months before his death.
In the first verse, we are told that we are thrown into this world, like a dog without a bone, an actor out on loan. This is the nihilistic viewpoint posited by Frederich Nietzsche and further explored by Martin Heidegger (1889 – 1976), using the term `thrown-ness´ (German: Geworfenheit).
According to this concept, the state of `thrown-ness´ in the present, with all its attendant frustrations, sufferings, and demands, such as social conventions or ties of kinship and duty, is one that we do not choose. The very fact of one’s own existence is a manifestation of thrown-ness. The idea of the past as a matrix not chosen, but at the same time not utterly binding or deterministic, results in a kind of alienation that human beings struggle against, and one that leaves a paradoxical opening for freedom.
Morrison explored such ideas. Like many addicts, he was a deep thinker. The trouble is that the thinking often becomes obsessive, a challenge we normally attempt to remedy with even more thinking. In my experience, it is not thinking that brings about resolution to our struggles, but action. We cannot think our way into a new way of acting: we can only act our way into a new way of thinking.
My take on the array of philosophical approaches (reincarnation, the chosen incarnation; thrown-ness; no overriding grand design, etc.) is as follows: More will be revealed to me when this incarnation comes to an end, – or not.
Meanwhile, I will operate on the principle of the self-fulfilling prophecy, drawing upon Viktor Frankl’s idea of individual agency and our calling, – even obligation, – to provide the sense of purpose for our respective lives. This approach fuels my continuing progress.
The second verse (There’s a killer on the road….), when interpreted as a description of the addictive dynamic (`suicide by instalments’), sends shivers down my spine. The killer is killing himself and he knows this. The brain is squirming like a toad (this is a great metaphor for `stinking thinking´). Holiday and play represent the magic thinking in which we addicts invariably engage; something, – anything, – to magically relieve the unbearable despair. A further interpretation of these lines could be: `Engage in denial at your peril!´.
Then we come to the consequences for those closest to the addict; family and friends: If you give this man a ride, sweet family will die… Addicts are like tornadoes moving destructively across the plain. Those who get harmed the most are those closest by. Experience shows that addiction destroys not only the addict, but also partnerships, entire families, communities, and societies. The words: `If you give this man a ride´ point towards tolerating the destructive dynamic. They remind me of the aphorism: ` While truth without compassion is cruelty, compassion without truth is enabling.´
The common definition of a co-dependent is that of the enabler, the addict’s sidekick who, knowingly or unconsciously, helps keep the show on the road. This is done through a combination of covert support, or manipulation and deception vis-a-vis family, neighbours, employers, health service, state authorities, etc. The motivation may be obvious (financial dependence, fear) or hidden in the darkest recesses of the psyche (need to rescue, passive-aggressive motives, need to be needed, tacit mutual enabling, etc.).
A further definition of co-dependence which strikes me as very compelling is: `The inability to remain in my power when I enter relationship´, i.e., agreeing to being in some form of destructive dependence on the other.
This brings us to the third verse. As has been pointed out, the magic thinking of the addict is central to the obsessive quest for the relief from suffering. It says that some external factor, if successfully activated, will `deliver us from evil´, whereupon we can ride off into the sunset and a happy ending. Reality, of course, is very different; the only remedy for addiction is recovery, which is an inside job. It is not primarily about feeling better, but rather about getting better at feeling, which can be very discomforting at times.
My addiction career could be described as an intricate pain suppression strategy. Pain suppression may function for a while, but the feelings will eventually find a way of manifesting. Only when we do the inner work of self actualisation, which involves surrender, and changing how we think and behave, does the world begin to change. In addition to what was originally supressed, we need to confront all the additional pain, shame, and guilt that always result from active addiction.
As nobody in their right mind would voluntarily confront the raw pain of the human condition, we often first try an endless array of easier softer ways. They never work. My experience shows that resources such as Twelve Step Recovery, Positive Intelligence (PQ) Mental Fitness Training, and Mindfulness, – all bolstered by a robust self-care regime and good medical/therapeutic support, – are invaluable for such healing and growth.
Jim Morrison wrote the lyrics of this song shortly before travelling to Paris in early 1971 to be with his soulmate, the beautiful, inspiring, love of his life, Pamela Courson (1946 – 1974), with whom he had been having a strained `on again, off again´ relationship for several years. Pamela was, by all accounts, just as psychologically and emotionally challenged as Jim, and had also found a solution in intoxication. Jim’s appeal to Pamela is crystal clear:
Girl, you gotta love your man,
Girl, you gotta love your man
Take him by the hand
Make him understand
The world on you depends
Our life will never end…
`Fix me Darling!´, he seems to be saying. Or at least: `May the boon of our togetherness be sufficient to save me from perdition´. Either way, we know the outcome. Jim Morrison was found dead by Pamela in the bathtub of her Paris apartment on the morning of July 3rd, 1971. Though an autopsy was never carried out, it is safe to assume that the drugs had finally caught up with him. Not long afterwards, Pamela, herself, died of a heroin overdose, – on April 27th, 1974. The `Club of 27´ had one more member.
As the contemporary Irish poet, Paul Durcan, wrote on the death of Sid Vicious in 1980:
Some of us made it
To the forest edge, but many of us did not …
Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols. Jesus, break his fall:
There – but for the clutch of luck – go we all.
