The Fifth Precept: Intoxication and the Path of Mindful Living
When Shinzan asked me to write about my presentation on the Fifth Precept—the use and overuse of intoxicants—I found myself reflecting on the year-long journey of our newest "Buddhas" as they prepared for the Jukai ceremony. This formal taking of the precepts marks not just a ritual, but a profound declaration of commitment to living as a Buddhist.
To begin, I turn to the wisdom of our ancestors. Bodhidharma, who brought Buddhism to China and shaped what became Chan, said: "In the sphere of the originally pure dharma, not being ignorant is called the precept of refraining from using intoxicants." Eihei Dogen, the founder of Japanese Zen in the 13th century, expanded on this: "Not being ignorant. It has never been: don't be defiled." In modern times, Phillip Caplow reminds us: "Not to cause others to use and weaken the mind."
The Buddha taught that the use or overuse of intoxicants mildly breaks the Fifth Precept, but selling or giving intoxicants to others fully violates it. The American Zen teacher, John Daido Loori Roshi, captured the essence of the precepts: "The Precepts contain the totality of the teachings... They are the Buddha Way, the heart of the Buddha." (The Heart of Being, p.67).
At its core, intoxication leads to heedlessness (pamada). Even a single drink clouds clarity. The cultural myth of a harmless glass of wine has been debunked, and studies show that even small amounts impair judgment. Beyond legal blood alcohol limits, the true concern lies in how intoxication distances us from our True Self—our Buddha Nature, that boundless, interconnected reality.
The descent into heedlessness is deceptively easy. Intoxication numbs moral awareness, disrupts families, and poisons relationships. It weakens our ability to act with integrity and tempts us into breaking all other precepts—lying, stealing, or harming others. As one juvenile detention teacher shared with me, the recurring theme in her students' stories was clear: "We got really messed up on drugs or alcohol, then we..."
But intoxication isn't limited to alcohol or drugs. Modern society is rife with addictive distractions—smartphones, compulsive internet use, overeating, and the relentless pursuit of fleeting pleasures. As Kevin Griffin, author of One Breath at a Time, observes, these obsessions scatter and fragment the mind.
Addiction often begins subtly, with patterns that tighten their grip over time, often unnoticed until they become deeply entrenched. For some, the first drink is an instant hook; for others, it’s a slow, almost imperceptible descent into chaos. My own path was marked by denial, repeated missteps, and mounting consequences. It took reaching a personal bottom—a profound moment of clarity—to recognize that I needed to change.
In recovery, the first step is crucial. As an old timer said: "Get Step 1 completely right, or none of the other steps will work." This aligns with the Buddhist concept of "right"—not in a moralistic sense, but as a harmony with the universe.
In early recovery, we are often told not to trust our thinking—our "stinking thinking." Instead, we are advised to follow simple, structured actions. Yet, a key element of Buddhist recovery is learning to trust oneself again—cautiously, patiently, and with mindfulness. Kevin Griffin and other authors like Therese Jacobs Stewart and Mel Ash speak of reconnecting with the True Self—that expansive, interconnected part of us that transcends ego and addiction.
The Buddhist path and the Twelve Steps share deep intersections. Both emphasize awareness, honesty, and compassion. Both teach the importance of pausing before reacting. Therese Jacobs-Stuart describes this as hitting the pause button. With regular meditation, the brain rewires itself, strengthening the ability to override emotional impulses.
In her book 8 Step Recovery, Valerie Mason-John offers a simple pause practice: Aware (notice sensations and thoughts), Gather (focus on breath), and Expand (broaden awareness to the whole body). At first, this might seem overly simplistic for life’s monumental problems, but with practice, it becomes second nature.
Kevin Griffin suggests tracing our recovery journey back—not just to the day we surrendered, but to earlier moments of skillfulness. Were there times we served others, acted selflessly, or felt a deep connection to something greater? These moments remind us that we were never entirely lost.
I still face addictive tendencies—the lure of the internet, overthinking, or clinging to distractions. But now I notice them. I pause. I practice. And, as they say in AA, I "keep coming back."
Some people—"normies," as we call them—can drink socially without consequence. But for those of us on this path, the stakes are simply too high. The Fifth Precept isn’t just about abstinence; it’s about waking up, staying present, and honoring our True Self. It’s about walking the steep, narrow path with clarity and integrity—one mindful step at a time.
May we all walk this path with courage and compassion.
Blair Mushin Whitcomb
