The Teen Monologues, part 1

Here is an excerpt from the first of the letters I got from the young people at a treatment, minimum security facility outside of Custer, SD.  I’d like to hear from other teens.  Write me. JL

Dear Maam,

This could be for your “teen monologue”.  In November, 2006, my 35 year old father died of malignant melanoma.  It crushed my family.  I didn’t know what to do.  I still feel like it happened yesterday.  I tried to find God to help me but I did not put much effort into it.  this is when I started drinking and smoking pot.  It felt like I was not worth it anymore.  I was put on probation and I have a few probation violations.  That is how I got here. 

Now that I think about it, my dad would not want me to be here, but I think he knows that it is necessary.  I should be supporting my sisters and brothers-not getting locked up.  I miss my family dearly, but I should not be feeling sorry for myself.  I should feel sorry for my family.  I want to thank you for coming again.  I hope that maybe some day we could meet and we could talk 1 on 1.  Thank you.

C.T.

When Stars Can’t Shine

It has been several weeks since I posted.   Life is racing along at an unearthly pace as we prepare to empty our house of belongings and move to a spot of land in north Minnesota for the summer plus.  Regardless of where our path takes us, it has been challenging and freeing to unload years of belongings.  Tonight Milt was sorting boxes of slides and wondering where, when, and why he took so many pictures.  Many hit the circle file. 

Today we had friends over for a bit of chanting and meditation.  As I was sitting in that age-old posture, I kept thinking about the rest of my life.  I want it to be both meaningful and free of stress.  Just being.  Last week I went for a drive in the Black Hills to give an hour-long presentation to a facility that “houses” young people in need.  The facility is part lock-up, part treatment, and part . . . I find I can’t finish the statement.  The question I had on my drive home was, “What do they need–really?”   When I first got there I was a little nervous as I realized that writing about adolescence-and standing and talking in front of 150 adolescents are two totally different things.  I wondered if I would be in touch enough to speak to them and not at them.  I wondered how they would receive what I had to say.  Then, as the counselors and demi-guards brought the groups of young men and women in, I wondered what I would end up saying that would be against the basic philosophy of this boot camp atmosphere. 

It didn’t take long, however, to just focus on their young faces and talk as straight as I could to them.  I talked about ancient rites of passage versus the leftovers we have in our modern culture that sometimes forces the young to “gang up” and try to initiate themselves.  I talked about challenges and tests and what happens when we gain the strength to go through them.  I asked them what they needed in order to be able to face those tests and challenges.  It was a powerful thing for me.  They gave me words backed up by need.  Money, jobs, knowledge, support, love, time, understanding.  Discipline.  Choices.

My question.  Are we creating a world where these kids in need can fill in those blanks? 

During the last fifteen minutes, I invited questions.  Most of the questions that came my way were about being a writer.  What motivated me, what discouraged me, how did I get interested in writing, how many books have I written . . .   Finally one young man asked me what made me want to come and speak to a group like theirs.  That question touched me.  I thought a moment and said, “I like young people.  I like your energy.  I like your questions.  I like your spirits.  I like you-and I want to see you bloom.”  At the end I invited the young people to write to me and tell me why they are there and what they want.  I told them I had this idea to do a kind of “teen monologue”, kind of like The Vagina Monologues but with a very young voice. 

Friday, I got 20 letters in my mailbox.  Milt and I sat and read every one.  Even though I realized that the letters had probably been “commanded” by the teacher or counselor, I was moved by their stories.  Since giving that talk my energy has been cycling around those young people.  I realized that my entire adult life has been focused around education, developing humans, adolescence, and what we can do to help them become strong, resilient adults.  My first job was in the “trouble” room at a middle school.  My second job was in an adolescent care center.  Both ended when I could see that the systems that employed me were not at all tuned into the young.  It hurt me to even be there-and it wasn’t great for the young people either. 

I don’t think I am too much of an idealist to think that we could take a new approach with American youth.  I don’t think it would hurt us to see them and work with them AS THEY ARE instead of criminalizing or diagnosing or sentencing them.  Damn, it frustrates me.

So, I think over the next however many days or weeks, I will post one of those letters (or portions of them) in my blog so you can hear from them, too.  And I plan to answer every letter that comes!  The beginnings of my “Teen Monologues.”

Stay tuned.

Jamie

On Free Range Chickens

We have a friend who keeps laying hens for the eggs.  Every week or so a dozen eggs show up in our living room or on our kitchen table.  The yolks are large and so yellow.  She lets them range freely and lets the eggs get fertilized because she feels they have more “life force” that way.  She also tosses kitchen scraps and the hens eat it all.  We visited her coop one day.  It is amazing how patterned chickens are.  Every night they return to their roost and do their thing.  During the day they run free.

I don’t know why but these chickens are on my mind.  This was the last week of my semester and I’ve been considering either quitting or going half-time, so I have more time for my other pursuits.  How strange is it that after only five years with a “real” job I am suddenly worried about things like benefits and steady paychecks and health care.  Most of my adult life I’ve worked as an independent doing all kinds of things.  Together Milt and I have created over 100 unusual items like radio programs, films, Bead People International, a dozen novels and books, and, and, and.  Having the time for those creations was essential.  Now, suddenly, I’m a bit nervous about “free range” again.  The other night I wondered what would happen to caged chickens if you suddenly dumped them out in the long grass.  Would they recognize bugs?  Would they know their predators?  Would they be able to sustain life? 

Then I started thinking of children caught in the cage of NCLB being forced learning as if was feed.  No play, no roaming, no creation?  It suddenly occurred to me that we are creating cage syndrome in our kids at a time when creative and innovative thinking are absolutely essential to the survival of the human race. 

Milt and I were joking around the other night about The Little Red Hen.  If you remember, that little lady wanted to bake a loaf of fresh bread.  She wanted to enlist the help of her buddies who all wanted to share the bread-but when she asked could they help with this or that, they all said, “Not I”.  We were putting this story to modern times and realized that now if Ms. Hen wanted to bake a fresh loaf she’d have to call a committee together, design outcomes, determine resources, measure progress, report the progress, form a task force and then, because she ran out of time, forget about the bread. 

I think this is actually about four posts in one.  I should have stuck with the chickens. 

One of the things Milt and I continue to observe is the difference between the energy of creating and the energy of “problem solving”.  One is filled with lightness and electricity, one is a deadening, flat energy that brings you down. 

Oh dear, another post.  Maybe now that my semester break has begun, I will actually tame my teaming brain (it’s been caged since August) and get it working in a more orderly fashion. 

Apologies. 

Jamie

On This Thanksgiving Eve

Isn’t it an interesting thing that our “economy” is holding its breath hoping that we will all go out on the day after Thanksgiving and spend lots of money on things we don’t need.  I’m feeling bashed by the ads encouraging me to spend, spend, spend.  I keep thinking about the words I wrote in Re-Visioning Adolescence (which I recently uploaded here chapter by chapter)–about how we are teaching our children to become consumers instead of contributors.  Children need so much more than stuff, and I really think they need to find their own value as human beings participating in this thing we call life.

Today, at the college center, there was a memorial luncheon going on when I got there.  The memorial was for an amazing young man who taught classes for us and whose wife was formerly a student of mine.  Dacotah was 29 and working hard to maintain a traditional Lakota life in this fast-paced, modern world.  He died suddenly from a seizure.  I was supposed to be doing final testing for students but suddenly it felt like were were all in a sacred chapel and testing was the last thing on my mind.  I listened as Dacotah’s mother talked about how when her son was 10, he decided he needed to Sundance.  His elders tried to tell him that he was too young, but he insisted he needed to do this.  During the Sundance, when Dacotah was struggling to go on, two of his relatives (both ten years old) made flesh offerings to help Dacotah sustain his strength for the duration.  This was an amazing young man willling to sacrifice much. 

I guess, on this Thanksgiving Eve, my thoughts are with this powerful young man and the family he left behind.  We all need to make more sacrifices and be willing to do the difficult instead of just what is easy and pain-free.  There is so much that needs to be done to make our culture strong and healthy again.  Keep your wallets in your pockets and let your children (or yourself) discover who you are without all the stuff.  I think we pack it in because we are afraid to look at who we are on the inside.

Do something for someone else tomorrow.  And the next day, and the next day, and the next.

Good night and many blessings for all. 

Jamie

Re-Visioning Adolescence, Conclusion

CONCLUSION

 Before writing this book, before Hellinger, even before my children became adolescents, I had a vision. It came to me after listening to an ancient Lakota story about Makah, Mother Earth (mother of all), and the second cleansing of the earth. In the ancient story, Makah has become displeased with the people. They war and fight, take no care of her living body and no longer listen to the Elders. Makah, in her displeasure, brings only a few of the people deep within her body and then ruthlessly shakes the rest off the people off the planet. This event, the story says, is called the “second cleansing.” Later, those who were taken inside re-emerged from her belly as the Lakota people and, once again, began populating the planet.

When I first heard this story from a Lakota Elder many years ago, I began to think that Makah must certainly be frustrated once again with her angry, unaware, warring children. Perhaps she prepares to do a third and final cleansing. What, if anything, would keep her from shaking us off once again, I wondered?

The answer?  Love. Only love, massive amounts of love could convince her that we were worthy of living on her beautiful body. Love for each other, love for the earth, love for all other creatures. Love.

I began writing a story with the main plot con­structed around a revolution of love happening on planet earth. In my story, Makah is disgusted and displeased, ready to toss us off again when, unexpectedly, her sweet granddaughter asks for the opportunity to give the people one more chance to prove their ability to love. Makah agrees to let her try and sends her granddaughter down among the people in a human body.

I put the awakening scene in the beautiful Badlands of South Dakota because it seemed that here, for sure, magic could happen. Then I sent two small Lakota boys to discover the strange woman asleep under an embank­ment. Next I saw the spirits flying in like racing storm clouds from all corners of the earth to assist Makah’s granddaughter in bringing about this revolution of the heart.

At this point, I fell deeply in love with my own story. Its characters were people just like me trying to find the Good Road, but not always succeeding. I loved the image of the Ancestors, the Great Beings, the Sages and Saints, the Shamans and Medicine Men long gone, and the spirits of great human souls all arriving, unseen and invisible, to help save us from our own foolish selves. In a final scene, the two boys gather around a drum at the base of Bear Butte, a sacred mountain, to drum the new rhythm for all time.  They are surrounded and assisted by these Great Beings.

Today, as I read this beautiful story again, I see it not as fiction but perhaps as reality. My sight has grown keen. I see those wise ones all around waiting only for us to humbly ask, “Please help us.” An invisible hand is at work in the world; it guides this purple pen as I write, it inspires the amazing works of scholars like Senge, Fritz, Pearce, LeShan and others. I see it at work blurring the lines and bounda­ries between scientific study and spiritual pursuit, creating the crossover pioneers like Hellinger, Erickson, Bohm, Dossey, and many, many others. It is a revolution of the heart.

To all of these invisible beings, I ask humbly and directly, “Please help us to fashion a culture that supports its little ones, that reveres its old ones, and cares deeply for Mother Earth.” Our culture seeks a deeper solution than our task forces and small problem-solving armies can provide. We need the special language of the heart, embedded in story and ritual that only the heart speaks. Help is all around if we only ask.

On the day I wrote these final paragraphs, I had a phone call from a man in Iowa who heard one of the Oyate programs. Actually, he had heard the show a while ago, scribbled the number down on an old receipt, and then stuffed the slip into his glove box. When he called our 800 number, he couldn’t recall why he had written the number down so he opened the conversation by ask­ing me, “Do you know what you do?”

Of course, some days I ask myself the same question, so I laughed and said, “Yes, I think so.” As soon as I told him about the Oyate series, he immediately remembered hearing the program. He told me that when it began he had to pull into a parking lot to listen. Then he said something like, “I heard your heart in that program.”

His words touched something in me and, instead of taking an order, I found myself telling him about constel­lation work, kids and culture, this book-I even told him my astrological sign. We had an animated conversation that lasted nearly forty-five minutes. He agreed to help spread this work across the country.

What I didn’t tell him was that the night before I had asked all those unseen beings to help me with this work, to find the right people who can find the right people who will make a revolution of love. And then, a stranger was calling me from nowhere!

Let’s find each other, you speakers of the language of the heart who are out there reading books, praying, talk­ing to the spirits, and raising your children to be awake and aware. Lets put our heads together, our hearts together and make our families and culture strong once again. This is no time for sitting on fences, walking the middle road, or keeping your truest thoughts to yourself.

The next time a little girl falls in the hot sun, let’s catch her quick, before she falls.

Re-Visioning Adolescence, Chapter 9

Counting down to my son’s wedding and the chance to see all of my grandchildren.  We leave Wednesday and I can’t wait. 

Jamie

 

CHAPTER NINE

What is an Elder-Based Culture?

 

Throughout this book I’ve made frequent references to our need to return to an Elder-based culture. It occurs to me now, at the end of this writing journey, that I haven’t actually defined that clearly for you or myself. Elder-based culture-it certainly sounds good, but what does it mean?

On the surface, the meaning is obvious. Elders are the old ones, the members of our families and communi­ties who have already passed through most of the life stages except one-death. In smaller traditional native commu­nities, these Elders have real status. Our experience in Indian country bears witness to this. The Elders are given first voice on issues. The children of the community are taught to bring food and drink to the Elders at any gath­ering before taking what they want. Elders are consulted on important policy issues and mediate conflict between younger tribal members. When we look again at main­stream American society, this status is not so apparent. Oddly, like our youth, the Elders have lost their rightful place in the world.

In the current culture, the Elders have become Elderly, often seen as frail, sickly, unable to contribute, and a burden on society and their families. This is a very sad indicator of the decline of a culture. I recently saw a Cheyenne quote on a website that said, “A Nation is not conquered until the hearts of its women are on the ground, then it is done. No matter how brave its warriors or how strong its weapons.” Perhaps the same could be said about the nation’s Elders. When the Elders are left out of the vital loop of life, no longer charged with the challenge of contributing their wisdom, understanding, and knowledge to the younger generations . . . they simply get old and culture declines as a result of it.

In early tribal cultures, the task of surviving from one day to the next was so arduous that the younger members of the tribe, those of childbearing age, were expected to provide for the food and safety needs of the others. The grandparents and older aunts and uncles were the primary caregivers of the little ones. It was also recognized that these more experienced members of the tribe had both more patience and more wisdom to give to the children. The circle of the family rippled out around the children in a sphere of care and influence. In Lakota country, this extended family is called the tiyospaye.

In many of the modern Indian communities we visited, this is still very much the general practice. Sadly, there are also a huge number of little ones in the care of grandparents because the parents got caught in the deadly web of alco­hol, gambling, or violence. This is true not only in Indian country but in all communities. When the grandparent takes the full role of parent, they lose their place as grandparent and Elder.

This topic, the erosion of the Elder status within families and communities, certainly deserves its own deep exploration as it echoes through the generations. Like our youth, the Elders have increasingly become a target of the drug companies. Recently a friend’s mother was in psy­chiatric care for depression. Over several months her medications were switched, rotated and stacked, one upon the other, until the poor woman finally went into a toxic overdose. She ended up in a coma in the hospital. Many Elders are under the care of multiple doctors with several medications being prescribed and no one overseeing the entire regime.

Like youth, our Elders need challenge. John Ratey (2001)1 in A User’s Guide to the Brain, wrote about an inter­esting research project done by David Snowdon, a University of Kentucky professor.  He studied a group of nuns living in a monastery in Mankato, Minnesota who were living into their late nineties and early hundreds with strong minds and bodies. Snowdon wanted to know why. He discovered that the nuns, operating on the belief that “an idle mind is the devil’s plaything,” had numerous weekly programs intended to stimulate the mind. They held reading groups and debates, brought in speakers, wrote in their journals, and had study sessions. Ratey (2001) wrote, “Snowdon, who has examined more than 100 brains donated at death by nuns in Mankato and other School Sisters locations across the nation, maintains that the axons and dendrites that usually shrink with age branch out and make new connections if there is enough intellectual stimulation, providing a bigger backup system if some pathways fail.”

It appears that the brain, like a muscle, atrophies without active use. If we shuffle our Elder parents and grandparents off to the side, limiting their involvement in our lives, the effects on their health and brain functioning can be disastrous.

This poses a great challenge to our culture. Our families are scattered like leaves in autumn. Even in my own life, my grandchildren live ten hours away. It is painful for me to not be available to assist my daughters during these early years of their marriage when they are both in college and still trying to find their way in the world. My place is near them. I feel that in my bones, and the telephone is a very poor substitute. As I’ve worked on this book over the past several years, it’s become clearer to me that to create a true Elder-based culture, families need to stick together. Holidays twice a year simply don’t cut it.

In this new millennium, the Elders are living longer, living alone, and living far from their families. We have this strange belief that when we finally get the kids out of the house, it’s our turn to play. Just as our culture is rife with social assumptions about our clueless kids, we have social assumptions that the relatives should butt out of the lives of our young ones. Strange. Like the missing rituals for adolescent rites of passage, it occurs to me that I have no clue what an Elder-based culture would really look like.

We operate under a notion of independence that makes no sense and serves us poorly. We act as if we don’t (or shouldn’t) need each other, and then wonder why we feel isolated and alone. However, creating this Elder connection is not the same as the undeveloped adult running home to have Mom and Dad take care of life for them. Except for a few very close-knit and small native communities I’ve visited, I have no model in the current culture to draw on.

During one of our collection trips to southeast Alaska, we met a Tlinget woman named Marge. Marge was probably in her early sixties, a beautiful and vibrant woman. As we talked with her, she told us that she was being prepared and initiated by her Elders to become an Elder herself. Marge was not taking this action lightly. Being an Elder in her community, she explained, was a true commitment and responsibility that is not simply given but must be earned. As I listened to her, I realized that, rather like the president of the United States, the fate of the younger generations rested on her ability to make wise and careful choices. In Lakota country, people are taught to consider their decisions based on how that deci­sion would effect the next seven generations.

As we’ve seen through these discussions on levels of development and the maturing brain, we don’t automati­cally get wise when we get old. We must strive for it. To become an Elder we must also be initiated into that status.

On our final night in southeast Alaska, we had supper with Marge at her house. After a wonderful meal of freshly caught halibut, Marge explained that she would like to perform a song and dance in honor of our visit. She put on her own mother’s button blanket, took up an eagle feather, and did a slow-moving dance in her living room while she sang. Her sincere offering touched my soul deeply. I’d lost my mother just six months earlier to illness and was still grieving her loss. Something about Marge and her slow movements evoked that grief within me. When she finished her dance, I started to sob. I was a little embarrassed but the tears were beyond my control. Marge was very sweet and comforted me.

When I woke up in the hotel room the next morn­ing, my lower back went into spasms. The pain was incredible. I found a chiropractor and a massage therapist, but the spasms only worsened. Thankfully, we were at the end of the trip, and I crabbed my way across airports and parking lots and finally made it home. I was completely taken over by my pain. For the next two weeks I couldn’t seem to do anything to relieve the spasms.

Finally, one night I was explaining to Milt that I couldn’t understand why I was feeling so sad-for no reason, I told him. He gently reminded me that my mother had just died and that perhaps my experience with Marge and my mother’s death were related. His words opened up this deep pool of grief. I started to cry again. I cried for hours, even crying myself to sleep that night.

I missed my Mom. I wanted her back again in physi­cal form, back in her chair in her little house working crossword puzzles and waiting for me to call. When Marge wore her mother’s blanket across her shoulders, sheltered and warm, I think my soul began to cry out for that. After crying the night through, I woke up the next morning and the back pain had completely disappeared.

Hellinger says we need the strength of our ancestors and our parents behind us if we are to stand strong in the world. I once heard him speak about low back pain resulting from not taking the support of the parents and ancestors. When we don’t feel supported, or are unwilling to take that support, it makes us weak. Honoring the Elders is not just a social nicety that says we should honor them. No, it is a deep need in us to have them back us up and make us strong.

In my work as a facilitator of family constellations, one picture I find particularly beautiful is to see a woman standing with seven generations of women behind her, or to see a man with seven genera­tions of men at his back. When we stand in this place, we see that our generation is just a small foothill in the great mountain range of our ancestors. We feel their strength.

One of the Ten Commandments of the Jewish and Christian religions is “Honor Thy Father and Mother.” Too often this commandment is taken as a social rule or courtesy (not deeply felt) that we extend to our parents out of respect. My understanding of this has changed with the study of the orders of love as observed by Hellinger; we honor our parents not for their benefit-but for our own. Our strength in the world comes from the two portals of our parents from which life flowed through to us. We need our Elders-they do not need us.

In many tribal and other cultures around the world, the spirits of the ancestors are treated as real entities that exist and surround us. The Elders take their guidance from this direction in prayer and ceremony, beseeching the spirits to assist them. The true genius and pioneering courage of Hellinger’s work has been in his willingness to consider that the influence of the ancestors and past gen­erations can extend beyond the grave into the present generations. In some religious and scientific circles, this is a cause of uneasiness.

This discussion, while seeming to stray off into the Mysteries, is of particular importance for if we are to define an Elder-based culture. Each member of a system must seek guidance from the ones behind him or her. To the three-year-old, an older brother of ten is an Elder. To a twenty-year-old, the parents or grandparents are the Elders. If you are eighty, your Elders may be in the spirit world. The stairway to heaven is generational, and only those on a higher tread can show us the way.

This natural order is dictated by the soul, not the head. Your head may be full of yes-buts. Yes, but my parents weren’t successful or smart, my grandfather was a railroad worker, my daddy a drunk. The soul doesn’t speak the language of yes, but. It knows life has arrived in this body only from these two parents. The deeper structures of the family system are like a giant reservoir far upstream, the larger body of energy that Hellinger chooses to call simply “the greater force.” The ancestral line and the two parents who give life are like the place in the dam where the water is released and allowed to begin its flow downstream.

The river of life is a river of love. It flows down to us from above. Without our Elders we, quite simply, wouldn’t exist.

 

Re-Visioning Adolescence and the Rite of Passage, Chapter 8

This is one of my favorite chapters.  I think it places a 911 call to our culture to pay attention and to begin to search for real solutions.  I’d love to hear from you.

Jamie

  

CHAPTER EIGHT

What Shall We Do Here?

 The first teacher I had in my study of the family con­stellation work was a German named Heinz Stark. For one year I followed his work in the United States, and I even did some organizational work for him. I always loved the way he would first face a client in a constella­tion group, look at them, and say in that strong German accent, “What shall we do here?” His query was so simple and non-threatening, so open-ended that we would natu­rally begin to allow for any and all possibilities to unfold as we entered the work.

So, what shall we do here? These are our children. These are the little ones we guarded, watched over, and nurtured as babes. Every heart should break when one of them dies because they could find no reason to go on living. Every heart should break when we pick up a newspaper and see a lousy three-paragraph article about a child who has shot and killed another child. These are not juvenile delinquents, not wasted remnants of a no-good society. These are our sacred children! In Lakota country, there is a saying common in ceremonies: Mitake Oyasin. It means we are all related. One could say we no longer live in tribes-or one could say the tribe just got larger.

I had a friend who, when she was feeling down or apathetic, would say she had the “why bothers.” Our society has had a bad case of the why bothers for too long. We have to solve the right problems and not dump endless resources into trying to solve the secondary problems that arise from not solving the true problem. But when it comes to adolescent behavior and develop­ment, we are like the blind men describing the elephant. One will say it’s a long, flexible appendage; another will say it’s a huge wall with a rough exterior. And while we are all attempting to determine the nature of the beast, we have an ever-growing population of angry, disillusioned young people who thirst for honest guidance.

We have traveled quite a distance in this book, you and me. We’ve wandered around Indian country, and we’ve taken a look at what is left of our mainstream rite of pas­sage rituals. So, what shall we do now? Let’s start talking, and figure it out.

 Mental Models and our Current Culture

A few years ago I borrowed my stepson’s car to run an errand. It was after dark and I only had to go to the store. At the time he drove a sporty silver Mazda with heavily-tinted windows. On my way home a patrol car came up behind me with lights flashing. I pulled over and waited until the officer had approached the car before I rolled down the window. I still remember the look on his face when he saw he’d not stopped a punk kid but a forty-plus grandma. I’d not been speeding or doing any­thing wrong. The officer stumbled awkwardly through checking my license and registration and then mumbled, “Have a good night, Mrs. Lee.” After parenting six young people through the teen years, I knew why he stopped me. He figured I was a young person up to no good.

Peter Senge (1994), a management consultant and author of The Fifth Discipline, said that in order to build a learning organization, in this case a learning society, we must challenge the underlying assumptions or mental models that flow beneath the decisions we make. Mental models, according to Senge, are “deeply ingrained assumptions, generalizations, or even pictures or images that influence how we understand the world and how we take action.” (p.8) He goes on to explain that most often we are not even aware of the mental models that rule our actions. They must be made visible.

 What are the cultural and social assumptions under­lying our treatment of the young? What do we believe? How have we constructed mental models that push our young out of our care?

 Several underlying assumptions are increasingly apparent. One is that being an adolescent has nearly become a crime in our society. The juvenile centers and jails are full of young people. The insurance companies penalize young people for getting a speeding ticket by bumping their insurance rates sky high. We look at the young with suspicion and distrust. A second apparent assumption is that adolescence is in danger of becoming a psychological disorder in our society. When a child does not fit within the tight parameters of “normal,” we diag­nose them as disordered rather than widening the parameters to help us understand them. A third assumption flowing under public attitudes is that young people are clueless. We need to take a moment and  challenge each of these assump­tions with great vigor.

 The Criminalization of Youth

One year at my children’s high school, security peo­ple were hired to wander the parking lots and to enter any open car to search for drugs or weapons. My son, Tom, said one of his teachers had left his keys in the car and the security guard brought the keys to the teacher during a class. The teacher was outraged that somebody would enter his unlocked car and search his glove box. He claimed it was a violation of his rights.

Periodically, the school goes into what they call lock down and all the students and teachers are required to stay in their rooms while the school is searched. The students have no idea whether the lock down is a true crises situation or a routine search.

We need to guard the rights of our children as we would any other innocent person and protest when they are harassed and invaded as if they are criminals. That officer had no real call to stop me the night I drove the little Mazda. He was just looking for trouble. I’m not naïve about these powerful energies that arise in adoles­cence, but I do object to making it a crime to be young. I believe that the harassment is worse for adolescent boys than it is for girls, but both are targeted.

What shall we do here? We could take notice in our neighborhoods. We could begin to challenge our own beliefs and assumptions about our young people. Are we automatically suspicious and distrusting of a person sim­ply because he or she is an adolescent? We should resist irra­tional fears and policies that treat our young as if they are up to no good.

Once when my son was in high school, he came home with a new ID card that he had to scan into a machine at lunch to make sure that he was on campus and not out there up to no good. We had a good laugh because the picture on his ID was not that of my son. Later, a security guard literally cut the pass off of him with a knife, and then sent him to suspension for not wearing his ID.   Can you believe that?

 Adolescence as a “Disorder”

There is a massive advertising campaign going on to put people on very expensive drugs for social disorder, uneasiness, sleeplessness, and on and on. Patients have literally entered the doctor’s office having made their own diagnosis and practically written their own prescription based on some cute television commercial. My teacher, Heinz Stark, once told me that “All diagnosis is a hypnotic induction.” Remember that we need all of the subtle signs and signals of the body in order to steer a course toward the life we want.

Our health care system demands we have a diagnosis in order to be treated, and so we have millions being diagnosed with one disorder or another. Children are the current targets of many marketing campaigns by the pharmaceutical industry.

A large percentage of the popular media have wholly accepted the idea that depression, ADD, bipolar disorder, and many other disorders are caused by chemical imbal­ances in the brain. This position is quicksand, unsupported by the data, yet we have all bought the advertiser’s message. The human brain, by its chemical nature, is constantly in varying states of balance or imbal­ance. Skip breakfast and you’re imbalanced. Get only three hours of sleep and you’re imbalanced. Worry about a test and you’re imbalanced. In fact, we are seldom, if ever, in perfect balance.

Peter Breggins, in his book Talking Back to Prozac, (1999)1 points out that all of these powerful psychotropic drugs have been tested on the normal brains of animals. Essentially, their effect is not to cure a chemical imbalance but to cause one. He tells a most surprising story of the original FDA chemical trials of Prozac. Breggins says that the popula­tion chosen for the FDA clinical trials was cleared of anyone with serious depression or suicidal tendencies. Additionally, no old people and no young people were included in the study. Additionally, the published results did not include the fifty percent of the tested population who dropped out of the trials because of the severe side effects. The theory that depression and other mental disorders are caused by a lack of serotonin in the brain is being seri­ously challenged by current research, but the public thinking has already drifted in that direction.

We have what amounts to designer disorders being created to establish a viable market for the drugs that are being designed. These drugs introduce powerful and extremely toxic chemical compounds into the fragile developing brains of our youth. It is a dangerous situation because of the vulnerability of child and parent alike. Having the problem identified as a disorder does some­thing to relieve the guilt parents feel that they have some­how done something wrong.  However, it stops all genuine inquiry into the direction of soul building and development.

What can we do here? Just say no. We can begin to take the signals and cues of the body and brain seriously, reading them for meaning and texture and discovering what language of the soul they speak. An agitated, depressed youth is a billboard. His symptoms don’t arise from nowhere; they come from something happening in the life around him. If a teacher bores her students, should we drug the student? Parents, adults, teachers, and the general population have an obligation to educate themselves on the realities of these so-called disorders and discover what is truth and not truth.

Adolescence is not a disorder. It is a natural and potent developmental age that carries the young person to the next place in life. They need guidance, support, resources, and challenges from the Elders around them.  They do not need to have those adults place the burden of a troubled society on their young shoulders.

 Adolescents are “Clueless”

A third trend that is on the rise is the social assump­tion that teens are somehow clueless. This damaging image is promoted and pushed on the ridiculous television programs and in the advertising that we have today. Movies with a deeper content like Good Will Hunting or Dead Poet’s Society are rare events.

One night my son and I were having the strangest conversation. He was about ten at the time. He said, “God is everywhere, right, Mom?”

I didn’t know what he was thinking about, so I said, “Yes, as far as I know God is everywhere.”

Then he said, “Well, if God is everywhere and in all things and people, do you think he ever gets crowded?”

His words entranced me. I thought about the under­lying constructs of what he was asking. Not only was he thinking about God, he was thinking about the ultimate comfort-or discomfort-of being God.

Young people are not clueless. True, they are given little opportunity to express or explore these higher realms of thought and philosophical inquiry. Like initia­tion, they hunger for it. They want to know how the universe is built, where they fit in the larger scheme of things and what, if anything, it all means. Is there Good? Is there Evil? Is there some omniscient operator some­where running this software of human life?

This deep inquiry is an example of the earthbound mortal self trying to extend itself into larger realms, into the unexplored and massive interior of unused brain cells that are the key to unlocking mystery, fostering under­standing, and extending the human capacity to create the kind of world we all want. Somehow we’ve very cleverly constructed a negative public relations campaign aimed at adolescents in our society. How could this be?

What shall we do here? We should think and speak well of the young. Rupert Sheldrake (1995), a well-known biologist and researcher, pushes us to understand more fully the power of the “expectancy effect” in scientific research. Study after study indicates that what the scientist expects, he is likely to find. The same is true of parents, teachers, and adult community members who deal with youth. This negative public relations campaign encour­ages adults to expect very little of our young people. Likewise, it encourages youth to expect very little of themselves-or the adults around them. This is a dangerous attitude that, sadly, produces results. If I expect my adolescent to be clueless, I’m likely to get what I expect.

I once joined a task force for a program called “WISE” (Wise Individualized Senior Experience)2 that creates a way for high school seniors to select, design, and undergo a program of their own making. The program, designed to beat the senior blues, is a mentorship and apprenticeship program that builds a bridge between high school and real life. As I got involved in our local WISE program, it became clear to me that we need more programs like this, and we need to intensify their efforts to encourage students to take charge of their educational pursuit and not sit like robots in a classroom. WISE students have built handcrafted canoes, worked with doctors, EMTs, and fireman. They’ve crafted programs for themselves that bridge the uneasy differ­ences between adolescent youth and the adults of their community. Both have gained from this experience.

We can build more bridges of this type. We can give each young person a chance to stand and be counted, to prove that he or she is not clueless and is, in fact, a deep well of ideas, thoughts, and resourceful thinking. The next time someone rolls his eyes as if he knows all about parenting a teen, simply say, “It’s the most wonderful part of parenting, to watch my young child become a man or woman before my very eyes. A miracle!”

When I entered the Master’s program with St. Mary’s University in Minneapolis, I was stunned by the learning experience they offered me. Rather than follow a set out­line of courses, I was encouraged to chart the course of my learning. I was told to “Do no busywork.” For two years I followed a program of my own design, trashing what didn’t fit or work for me, and adjusting my course accordingly. Because I could enter deeply into topics that were of profound interest to me, learning was easy. My courses were not slotted into categories but integrative, all encompassing, taking small side trips into topics that related to my main subjects.

With the internet and the need we have for inte­grated learning-the push to get the brain to access those marvelous frontal lobes-I see no reason we can’t employ this with students as young as sixteen. If I were asked to redesign the educational system, it would be in this direc­tion. Sadly, programs that allow a student to pursue his or her subjects independently are reserved for the “at risk” student and carry a stigma.

 Creating a New Public Relations Campaign for Youth

One day on my counter top I noticed that the large and pretty bowl of tomatoes I’d picked in my garden was swarming with fruit flies and had a bad smell. I gently began pulling the tomatoes out of the bowl and washing them under cold water. They were so beautiful. Sure enough, one large tomato had ripened too quickly and was causing the problem. With this rotten tomato I had to take serious measures (I threw it out), but the rest were still perfect. I also had to recognize that it was my own neglect of the bowl of tomatoes that had caused the problem.

It’s so important not to paint all young people with the dark brush and palette of a few unfortunate or trou­bled teens. This public relations campaign against youth must be contained and controlled by any or all means possible. We act as Dr. Frankenstein must have reacted when his creature first sat up on the laboratory table; “Oh my God, what is this I have created?”

Much of the problem-solving our society engages in has to do with trying to squash symptoms rather than resolve fundamental cultural issues. Rising rates of teen suicide, gang membership, violent crimes perpetrated by young people, teen pregnancy, overflowing prison and juvenile centers all point a hefty finger at the need for a lasting cultural change. We can’t afford to wait. Every year, the already-staggering amount of resources required by our society to deal with these overwhelming problems increases.

What shall we do here? A few suggestions:

  •  Allow a natural, strong image of the young person and his or her role in society to emerge and grow stronger.
  •  Listen more and stop blaming the young for what they did not cause and cannot change alone.
  •  Recognize our loss of power as parents, and stand again in our place behind and not against the youth.
  •  Offer respect and honor for their stage of life and not poke fun or ridicule them.
  •  No longer allow televisions and movies and maga­zines to create the common image of the “teen werewolf.”
  •  Give them their right place within our society.
  •  Challenge our social assumptions and redefine the normally developing energy of the adolescent as magnificent.
  •  Redesign our educational systems to encourage brain development and not stunt it.

  Adolescence is poetically layered with the language of the soul. The questions, Who am I? Where do I belong? and What is the cost of my belonging? lead to deep feelings. Sometimes these feelings disguise themselves as depres­sion, sadness, despair, anger and grandiosity. This is the stuff of soul building, the directional finder that leads the way toward greater integration and wholeness. The call of the higher realms of thought and being are the carrot in front of our cart. It’s important we not judge the disguised appearance of the soul’s deepest movements.

While researching the themes of this book, I stum­bled across another book by Pearce called Evolution’s End, (1992)3. Pearce is a thorough researcher and has been a favorite writer of mine over the past decade. In the pro­gression of his books, he has perhaps looked more deeply and holistically at human brain development than most other individuals. After writing The Magical Child (1986), he came back with expanded understanding of what he calls postbiological development-or development beyond biology-and wrote The Magical Child Matures. Evolution’s End extends his understanding even further. Pearce is always interested in what nature had in mind for us. What is her blueprint? What has been coded into us  regarding our own human development?

In the book on evolution, Pearce suggested that the brain is not just a processor but a receiver linked into larger bodies of information which he lightly calls “soup sources” that exist beyond the body. With proper growth and development and an adequate push from the envi­ronment, the brain can actually extend its neural receptors to receive information from these larger sources of information outside the body. This was the goal of tribal Elders when they took the boy to the mountain and left him there for three days without food or water. They wanted not a compliant, good boy but a young man con­nected with the ancestors and the realms of spirit and soul.

Initiation and the rite of passage are not only about contributing to the community; they are also about finding the powerful links between this, the mundane world, and the larger realms of spirit, soul, and the greater forces of creation itself. This moment of human devel­opment cannot be forced. It can only be prepared for, like tilling the soil in preparation of the later harvest. The opening of adolescence is the beginning of this moment.

 A Cultural Resurrection-Reinstating Initiation and A Rite of Passage

I never did build a rite of passage ritual for my daughters. As I’ve explained here, we took off on the trail of our ancestral line through the constellation work, sto­rytelling and initiation. However, I did slowly become alert to what I call “initiatory moments” in my adolescent children. In fact, as I think about it, it is exactly what I do for my clients and workshop participants. I watch for a soul on the move toward some new level and try to sup­port that movement whenever possible.

As parents, our job is to make them face the difficult questions head on. We can push them out when things get a little too soft. We can close the pocketbook quietly and ask them, “What is your plan for getting that car/trip/stereo that you want?” We can tip the balance scale of give and take back in our own direction-give less, ask (or demand) more of them. Additionally, we can get more involved in our communities and neighbor­hoods and speak up when the negative public relations campaign against youth gets too noisy.

I’ve asked many adults what they think about youth and they say such conflicting things as, “Age envies youth” and “Age idolizes youth.” It seems ironic: if we envy or idolize youth, why do we treat them so badly? Perhaps the truth of this is that we adults are clueless and uninitiated.

What are those dreams and visions that you had as a young person that are as yet unfulfilled? What is your greatest fear, and what could you do to test and challenge that fear? What is it that you long to be doing but are nto? What stops you? When I ask this of a group, I don’t allow them to use time or money as convenient excuses about why they can’t seem to bring about the kind of life they most want.

One of my spiritual teachers says that the only thing we can give to another is our own state. We cannot give what we have not obtained. We need to hunt our own whale. As adults, we need to look inward towards our own soul-building and our own development to find the gaps and fill them in like chinking in a log cabin. We need to discover our own sense of self, our own courage and responsibility. How can we teach accountability when lurking in our purses and pockets are credit cards maxed to their limits? How can we teach restraint and self-disci­pline when we overeat, over drink, and overuse the resources of this planet? How can we teach compassion and understanding when we so quickly dismiss our own young people? We must complete our own initiation.

In the current state of our culture, it’s as if the young people are to blame. Senge says that a common archetype of organizations is to “shift the blame” to another part of the organization. Have we taken the problem of our own lack of initiation and laid it on the shoulders of our youth? To challenge the assumptions that are breaking down the foundation of our culture and society, we need to look into the mirror to discover what fears and unre­alized longings are sunk deep into our own hearts. We need to strip down to a loincloth and a bare stretch of ground and have our own vision quest.

It has been my experience with clients, both young and old, that a step back is easier to make than any step forward. Forward movement takes a tremendous gather­ing of resources and great courage. When confronted with the possibility of bringing forth our brighter, higher nature, we are faced with a fear that is so universal as to send us running for the shadows again.

Initiation is not an event but an ongoing alchemical process. Each fear, doubt, and pocket of self-hatred must be brought to the surface and burned. We need to be purified and tempered in the fire of experience if we are to gain any strength of soul or self.

Do a personal inventory and be painfully honest with yourself. Ask yourself the following questions:

  •  Am I able to build and sustain intimate relationships with my partner or other people?
  •  Am I giving any of my vital energy to old angers, resentments, and relationships that have ended?
  •  Do I have work that satisfies all parts of me and supports me in the world?
  •  Do I have patterns that take me to the edge of something brand new only to pull me back again, and keep me in the old way of being?
  •  Do I have a future vision that extends beyond this week, or this month? What is it?
  •  Am I able to take the strength of my ancestral line on both my mother and father’s side? Do I respect and honor their fate without childish resentment?
  •  Am I a victim of circumstances-or do I have a sense of strength, power and choice in my life?
  •  What do I have to contribute to my culture, and am I doing it?
  •  Am I able to do my life without addictive support from substances, gambling, shopping, etc.?

 If your inventory reveals the uninitiated youth in you, consider that buried within your own soul is an unfin­ished child or adolescent seeking a way out. We find our way to those lost aspects of our Self by examining our darkest thoughts, our fears, sadness and grief, and the greatest yearning of our own heart. We don’t wander into our stored memories to uproot or remove them or to find whom to blame, but only to complete what may have been left incomplete so that we can re-engage our own initiation. We approach our past with respect and curiosity to discover what those hiding younger parts might want from us. We, essentially, initiate them.

Another revealing technique for self-discovery is to scan the qualities and characteristics in others that irritate and infuriate us. For instance, if your boss is stubborn and must always have her own way, perhaps you are stubborn and insistent on having your own way. If your four-year-old leaves his junk all over and it makes you crazy, see where your own junk is. This simple mirror technique asks, “How am I just like that person who irri­tates me so much?” It can sometimes be painful when we uncover our own flaws and weaknesses, but it is worth the effort.

Finally, don’t forget to discover and strengthen the parts of you that are vitally alive and burning like warm flames within you. Look to your own creativity, the sim­ple desires, the love of beauty, nature or music that sleeps within. I remember when my daughter had her senior picture taken we pulled my old senior portrait out and were both stunned to discover how we resembled one another. It was most shocking to me because I think of my daughter as pretty and very loveable. This was not a feeling I ever had about myself at that age. I’m not sure why, but I was never enough to myself: not thin enough, smart enough, ambitious enough. It’s a lesson I’m still learning as I continue my own initiation.

When I was in my early twenties I decided to attend a writer’s retreat to see what it felt like to be in the com­pany of writers. I was a closet writer and had been for many years, but I was afraid to test my tender talent before the eyes of real writers. For three days I went to the phone to register for the retreat. I’d lift the receiver only to drop it again in its cradle. It was awful. I was terrified that I’d somehow find the tiny flame of my desire doused by criticism. I spoke harshly to myself saying things like, “Who do I think I am, anyway?  What kind of a fool . . .”

The self-torture was terrible. Finally, like the seventh grade me who finally tried out for the play, I made the call and even entered a short story to be critiqued by the experienced writers in the group. I attended the retreat and was stunned (and elated) when the older woman who critiqued my manuscript called me an accomplished writer. And, almost miraculously, for the first time, I believed that about myself.

Initiatory moments require something of us. In all we have explored, the rite of passage must have a test or challenge if we are to win the prize of the initiation. We have to do that thing which scares us, which we think we are incapable of doing, which some nasty voice in our head tells us that we are crazy to even attempt. Go ahead and start that business, take that trip alone, go back to school, or take up that paintbrush. Just do it.

When we have done this, then we may, at last, have something of value to offer our young ones. The care of the young soul, whether it be our own or that of our child, includes supporting them through the anguished periods of darkness without judging harshly-and without automatically thinking that we must be doing something wrong as parents. This is a selfish stance concerned only with our own measurement as parents. If our children are in a dark moment of the soul, it may mean we have done it exactly right. In our deepest fears and longings are our greatest gifts. If we never turn in their direction, the gifts remain undeveloped and languishing. This can only lead to real despair and depression.

When we have attended to our own inner initiation, we could also consider what, in this modern society, is the whale we must hunt? From studying many of the futuris­tic books that predict the trends of the 21st century, we can see that our children need to be able to think freely with those little-used frontal lobes of the brain. Our chil­dren need to see beyond their own small world and to think holistically and systemically in order to better judge the effects of a decision in the moment. They need to be flexible, able to cope with changing economies, changing careers, and a constantly shifting global society. These are the whales that our children (and yes, we ourselves) must hunt.

When the twin towers of the World Trade Center collapsed during the terrorist attack, my son pointed out to me that the date of the attack was 9-11, the same num­ber that we use to call in an emergency. Tom was already looking for patterns that connect and speculating about what the larger meaning of this date held for our society. He was beginning to hunt his own whale.

 

Re-Visioning Adolescence, Chapter 7

When I looked at my “revised chapter” tonight, I didn’t like it.  I went back to the original chapter and decided it was much stronger and to the point.  So, in the endless schizophrenia of the writer, I brought it back. 

Tonight I am in a motel in Rushville, NE with meetings at Piya Wiconi scheduled for tomorrow.  All is well in the world.

Jamie

CHAPTER SEVEN

Five Levels of Human Spiritual Development

Years ago I worked in a juvenile care center and a young person, Scott arrived at the center when he was fifteen.  I had taught him years earlier in a diagnostic classroom when he was in third or fourth grade.  Scott had me mystified.  He was considered borderline retarded and looked and acted that way and yet, during his first few weeks in the center, a strange anomaly appeared.  Scott was into wires.  At one point I was walking up to the house and a loudspeaker wired to the roof of the house greeted me loudly.  I was afraid to talk anywhere in the house because our wire whiz had every room bugged.  I didn’t even know where or how he was finding the materials to do these things.  Borderline retarded?  It didn’t make sense. 

One night on a night shift, I took his cumulative file out and started sorting his life out piece by piece.  The file was thick.  Scott had two violent, alcoholic parents and a younger brother and sister.  When he was five, the family went into crisis and the kids were pulled out of the home.  Scott had tried to be Mom and Dad but couldn’t.  Scott was in preschool.  During this time his intelligence was tested by some “test giver” and found to be borderline.  When he entered school, he was placed in special education.  He had never, in ten years, gotten out of special education.  In the previous five years he had been in seven different foster homes.  He was amiable, friendly and a complete people-pleaser.  His primary goal, at fifteen, was to be left in the same foster home until he graduated. 

I could find no other test results in his entire file.  It appeared that Scott’s entire school career had been determined (or predetermined) by a test given to a confused, scared, unhappy five year old.  It made me furious.  I tried to take Scott to Alateen-the agency managing the care center would not permit me.  They said it was not a part of his treatment plan.  I was furious with the system and decided to teach Scott “how not to be retarded.”  We had great fun.  We worked with how he held his head and shoulders and how he avoided eye contact.  We practiced new speech patterns, trying to develop more confidence and assertiveness in his tone and presence.  Scott began to feel as if maybe he wasn’t retarded.  We had a great time and I hope, in my heart, that his goal was realized.  When Scott left the center, so did I.

The developmental trail is very delicate and should be treated with profound care and respect.  In the following pages we will trace this path, giving fullest attention to how each stage relates to us as children or adults.  The information presented here is taken from several sources and describes five levels of growth and development.

 Stages Versus Levels of Development

 Could a child be more highly developed than his or her parents?  Could he be more intelligent than our best tests would indicate?  If we actually adopted this line of thinking, it would force us to let go of the idea that we always know what is best for our children. 

Dabrowski and Piechowski, two researchers, gave some intriguing answers to some of these questions.  Their information set up a small aha in my mind as I studied it, and I present a gross simplification here.

Most of our common thought about human development is that it occurs in a linear A to B to C progression and that one stage leads naturally to the next; creeping leads to crawling which leads to walking.  The research done by Dabrowski and Piechowski disagrees.  They say that the brain operates at various levels of thinking as well as stages according to the neurological processing and the way that the brain interacts with itself.  As we mature, the old brain connects with the midbrain, which connects to the new brain  (this is a painfully simplified description).  Primitive thinking comes from the primitive old brain system, and abstract thinking emerges from the new brain.  They further state that what pushes the brain to form these higher-level connections is the amount of conflict experienced by the individual.  Conflict, by their definition, rises from a discrepancy between “what is” and “what ought to be.”  In other words, we have a higher vision of our lives that doesn’t match our current reality. 

As the brain develops, it must make a leap from one level of functioning to the next.  Once we have made this leap, the old brain system becomes unavailable.  It is rather like having an outage to disconnect an old power system prior to firing up the new system.  This is called the “theory of positive disintegration” for good reason.  The movement to a higher level of development is often caused or aided by crises.  Likewise, children or adults making this leap have what Dabrowski calls several types of “overexcitablity.”  It is as if they are charged in the body, mind, or emotions with the special energy needed to make this leap. 

I introduce this material here for two reasons.  First is that we must consider that our young people may be making a leap that we have not ever made.  It is possible that because we have done a decent job as parents, this higher level of development is available to our child.  Secondly, we must be careful not to misdiagnose this “overexcitablity” as hyperactivity.  How awful to consider labeling such precious brain development as Attention Deficit Disorder and putting the child on drugs that may bring the leap of development to a dead end. 

Piechowski lists five different types of overexcitability: psychomotor, imaginational, sensory, intellectual, and emotional.  When a child displays one form of this overexcitablity, we must pay careful attention.  The current fad of diagnosing children with “brain dysfunction” is frightening.  We may be killing the potential before the leap is made.  It is a terrible mistake to make-treating spiritual growing pains as if they were an aberration or an illness.  The movement described here is a spiritual and emotional movement from concrete, logical thinking to higher, nonlogical realms of spirit, creativity, and philosophical exploration.

The levels of development presented in the following pages are much simplified in order to create a framework for identifying where we are on the path.  As is true of all descriptions of human experience, these are not absolute truths but descriptions and guides. 

A chronological stage depends upon where we happen to fall on some predetermined timeline: infant, toddler, teen, etc.  A developmental level depends upon how capable our brain is of making the right connections.  One of the primary distinctions between the higher and lower levels of functioning was, as mentioned earlier, the ability to notice “what is” and have a desire for what “ought to be.”  This information appears in the research and writing of Dabrowski, and Piechowski as well as the work of M. Scott Peck, Joseph Chilton Pearce, Abraham Maslow, and Joseph Fowler.  Below, I summarize to create a framework from which to view levels of spiritual and emotional development.   

 Level One:  Chaos

 Chaos comes in many forms.  To the child, a wonderful chaos is the result of an immature brain being asked to absorb so much information.  The child bounces around reality like a red rubber ball bumping up against whatever is presented and learning along the way.  For the most part, we accept and forgive their chaos because it is cute and fun to watch, and because they are children.  It is their nature to explore, experiment, and bond with the world around them.  When this process is allowed to unfold naturally, the child quickly becomes aware of and moves into the next level-the rules.

Adult chaos, however, is quite different.  Although a physical maturity has been reached, the brain is still unable to make sense of all the input it receives.  Confusion rules.  The chaotic adult can’t seem to get it together on the inside, although outwardly they may look great. 

Chaos can be quiet-or noisy and destructive.  For me, chaos was directed inward, the confusion most apparent in my isolation and depression.  I had no bar brawls, no DUI’s, no obviously bizarre behaviors, but still I lived in chaos with minimal coping skills.  I was still the shy, quiet child that had spent her developmental years with her nose in a book. 

For examples of noisy chaos, one need only hear an AA speaker or read a newspaper.  Violence, car accidents, and families in complete turmoil top the list.  Two men shooting it out on an interstate highway, a woman cuts her baby’s head off because she thinks he is a clone, a woman on a date gets raped.  There are endless examples of noisy chaos. 

The chaos, be it inward and quiet or noisy and violent, is still chaos.  The brain, like a runaway train, is out of control.  We do not so easily forgive or accept the chaos in adults as we do with children.  We expect that because their bodies are adult bodies, their brains must be also.

By adulthood, when we should be standing on a firm foundation, many of us end up on a table with weak, wobbly legs.  What Maslow calls the “good preconditions” needed to develop full humanness were not present.  The adult, essentially, is operating at the level of the child, except the pressures are intensified by his or her so-called adulthood.  This flawed and faltering development cannot hold us steady and strong enough to do any further explorations of the Self. 

Recognizing Level One chaos can be difficult because it has become our normal.  For many years, I roamed around in my quiet chaos wondering what was wrong with me.  I could find no solid reason for how I felt.  Many of us cannot.  Only a tiny percentage of people experience the noisy, violent end of chaos.   

Crisis is the chariot of change. It blocks all the exits, closes off all alternatives, and forces us to admit powerlessness.  With any luck at all, the crisis does not kill us but moves us to the next level of development.

 Level Two:  The Rules

 When the child begins to see himself as a separate being (about age four), he moves out of chaos and into Level Two.  He notices that not only is there a world separate from his own body, but that world seems to have a form or structure, an order to it.  At this stage the brain becomes sophisticated enough to begin sorting out all of the various aspects of reality and how the pieces fit together.  There are rules in the language, rules in the family, rules for staying safe, and many rules that are just rules.  The rules and routines allow the child to feel safe and secure, to know what is going to happen and when.  The brain is still not much good at abstracting or going beyond these simple forms.  It needs structure. 

A child perceives things in an immature way.  For example, when I was about four my dad remodeled our house and moved the basement stairs.  I remember seeing him in the basement with the missing stairs.  My fear was overwhelming.  My Daddy was trapped in the basement.  My poor immature brain was unable to comprehend how he would get out of the basement. 

When I had the day care center, I was constantly amazed at how the kids thrived within the routines we created.  With no knowledge of how to tell time, the three, four and five-year-olds alike knew within five minutes when it was time for snack, lunch, nap, or Mom to arrive. Vary the routines and they would grow agitated and anxious. 

Adults in Level One chaos often enter Level Two with a bang.  The chaos has become a flood, and the Level Two Rules a lifeboat.  M. Scott Peck often refers to this rapid entry as a conversion experience because the chaos is instantly laid to rest when the rules are embraced.  The classic examples are the alcoholic who joins AA or the individual who finds a spiritual path and is saved.  Even the tight family structure of Amway can sometimes provide the firm rules and structure that allows chaos to fade.  This transition is often marked by a dramatic, “I see the light at last” type of experience or “I once was lost, but now am found.” 

With this ordered structure comes a time of renewal and rest.  Anxiety fades and is replaced with a sense of peace and belonging.  Adults are every bit as attached to the Level Two structures as those children in the day care center became attached to the daily routines.  The structure represents safety, stability, and a place to grow.  To test this, simply poke a bit at an alcoholic’s program or a Christian’s religion and see how they respond.  They will fly out in full defense of their chosen set of rules.

This response is exactly right.  While we are immersed in this stage of our development, the adopted rules are our lifeline.  Like the infant monkey that clings to its mommy’s back, we ride along in this structure to buy the time we need to grow. 

In the meantime, we educate ourselves, learn to better manage our brains, take risks with other humans, establish intimate relationships, build new social skills and practice being real.  We come out of hiding and, perhaps for the first time, get an inclination that we may not be as flawed as we secretly suspected or that the world may not be out to get us.  With any luck at all, we may even learn to laugh at ourselves and our need to take it all so seriously. 

For me, those early years in recovery with Alcoholics Anonymous were like a love affair.  I lusted for more and more of what the program had to give to me.  I knew real joy and pleasure for the first time in my adult life.  The meetings, coffee times, and potlucks were the highlights of every week.  For the first time, I truly entered the university of the self and became the subject of my own study.  The knowledge that AA was everywhere on planet Earth shrunk the globe for me and taught me that I could go anywhere in the world and feel the same safe acceptance I felt here in western South Dakota.  It was liberating.

Oddly though, as I turned more and more inward, my love affair with my Level Two structure began to fade, and I became restless and dissatisfied once again.  I questioned what was wrong with me.  I didn’t know that a new movement was underfoot. 

Before describing Level Three, I want to make a final point about Level Two.  The process of separating from any structure we adopt is frightening.  As children, we stay within the supposed safety of the family for many years as we grow and develop.  The same may be true for our second family structure, but just as the teen must begin to find ways to separate off from the nest of Mom, Dad, family, and home in order to seek his fortune, so do we arrive at the same point as adults in Level Two.  Our continued growth depends upon this successful separation. 

A majority of our society hovers in Level Two unable or unwilling to make the break to Level Three.  We know the rules, we know how the game is played, and yet within us there is still an ache, a longing to go on.  Unless we respond to and fully understand the nature of that longing, it is easy to misread it as “something is wrong with me.”  

How terrible to treat these vital signs of human growth and flowering potential as a mental illness and dump lithium or Prozac on our desire to know the truth.  At this moment, I know too many people who have prescriptions from psychiatrists to medicate what are, in truth, spiritual growing pains.  Pharmaceutical drugs may have an important part to play for the individual whose chaos has become life threatening, but the vast majority of people on these drugs are displaying symptoms of spiritual growth-not mental illness.  My suggestion is, “Buyer Beware.”

Restlessness, sleeplessness, depression, despair, an inner ache, a longing for more, dissatisfaction with life, as well as real physical symptoms of migraines, low back pain or illness are often attempts to break through the barriers of our own limited existence. 

As I studied these levels, I realized that this pull away from firm structures and rules is the natural energy of adolescence.  When we have done a good job as parents, the child is ready to make this leap at age fifteen or sixteen.  Moms and Dads, when your young teen begins to rebel and question every rule, when they try to dump the religion you have so lovingly given them, when they seem to doubt and wonder and contemplate, it may only look like depression or rebellion.  However, it may be the child’s attempt to make the magical leap toward what you so badly want them to have-a love of self and others, compassion, a sense of union with the world, and an intimate, personal knowledge of God.  Relax.  Know that if they are displaying these symptoms of growth, it could mean that you have done your job well. 

It isn’t designer jeans, a car, or better grades that will fill their need.  Support them into this next level.  Give them challenges, choices, models, and support.  We are too quick to fear these dramatic changes in our children-changes that result from this expansion of self.  We have been indoctrinated into fearing the changes and thinking our child has gone astray.   

Unless we feed the need for knowledge, unless we provide models for further development, unless we willingly wonder with them, it is at this critical point that the spiritual energy nature so generously provides can go astray.

 Level Three: Testing the Rules

 Level Three of the life adventure is when the road turns inward.  No longer can we just blindly accept the rules.  Now we must make our own.  Nature has built in an inner sonar of the self, like a tuning fork that vibrates or refuses to vibrate when a note is struck in the outside world.  This vibration, if we make the transition to this level, becomes our personal guide. 

I remember the emergence of this level for a brief period in my late teens, before it was driven underground for two more decades.  I drove my parents and teachers crazy with my questions and opinions.  War, racism, Vietnam, social structures, rules and rules more rules-all simultaneously came under critical attack.  It is such an irony-my rattling of every cage was the very best indicator that my parents and teachers had done it right.  I was exactly where I was supposed to be developmentally, but because most of society hovers comfortably in Level Two, they didn’t know what to do with my energy and endless questions or my strange overexcitability

In my earlier work as a practitioner of Neuro-linguistic Programming, these levels of development explained many missing links.  I didn’t understand why my clients couldn’t reach for a larger vision, why they clung to the rules, or why they wanted me to spell out for them what needed to happen next.  On occasion, I would get a client who actually was ready for Level Three investigation, but rarely.   

The levels of development must be climbed in order.  We complete Level Two and then we go on to Level Three (although the lines are not so clear).  The astute parent or therapist must be able to recognize which developmental level the individual is approaching.  Now when a client asks for the rules, I try to direct them toward healthy groups and structures.  When they feel constrained and restricted by their groups, I encourage them to stretch out and make new rules based on an inner guidance. 

Level Three is about defining the rules by which we choose to live.  At this point, we choose our belonging and become self-defining.  This can be a demanding and surprising examination that often requires action and change.  We may discover earlier life choices were made for all the wrong reasons: to please others, for prestige, because we couldn’t say no or we didn’t know what we wanted.  At this point, if we belong to a group that no longer fits, we must drop it.  If our career was chosen with the criteria of former chaos or  set of rules, we must leave it.  If friends don’t fit, we move on.  If we don’t like a person’s tone of voice or how they treat us, we speak (out loud and to that person) our dislike of the pattern.  Every discovery requires risk and courage.  It becomes increasingly painful to not be true to the self.  Our familiar hiding places are fouled and useless. 

There is no grand conversion to Level Three.  Instead, we tentatively pick our way through a lifetime of old behaviors and beliefs.  In Level Two we re-cover, but in Level Three we un-cover.  Not an easy task. 

The longer we refuse to risk this level of self-examination, the more life loses meaning and purpose.  In Level Three we begin to strike a note that sets up a wonderful vibration in the inner tuning fork.  From this growing inner connection with the self, we cross the border into Level Four where we display what Maslow termed “self-actualizing” behaviors. 

 Level Four:  Making the Rules or Self Definition

 Level Four is where we begin to grow solid in our new ways of defining life.  Essentially, we now make the rules by which we live, but we make them from a greater sense of connection and compassion.  The peak experiences and actualizing indicators Maslow spent much of his life studying are fairly common occurrences in Level Four.  Dreams, intuition, inner communications, visions, ideas from nowhere are all a part of Level Four. 

Science, unable to capture the elusive characteristics of this level of development, for the most part gave it up as an unlikely subject of study.  Science cannot find the facts to support the existence of Level Four reality.  In fact, even those of us that have had these powerful experiences are at a loss for words and have great difficulty not sounding crazy when we talk about them.

So much of the New Age thought would have us believe that there is no work involved at this level of development.  This is wrong.  There is no lazy way to realization, no short cuts.  However, what we begin to discover is that if attitudes and beliefs change, there is tremendous pleasure.

 Level Five:  The Re-Evolution of Soul

 The journey from the head to the heart is a long road.  In Levels Three and Four, the rules and values salvaged out of Level Two settle into the heart and become (or already were) a part of who we are.  They no longer stay in the brain as a thought but sift into the being and become our experience.

Love thy neighbor as they Self.  Love others unconditionally.  To thine own Self be true.  In Level Five these are not rules but ways of being, deeply embedded in who we are.  One of my teachers said that only one in a thousand arrive at this place-and only one in a thousand of those who arrive find real attainment.   

M. Scott Peck, at a workshop in Billings, Montana, spoke of our tendency to consider Jesus Christ five percent human and ninety-five percent divine.  Elevating him in this way makes his attainment impossible for the common man.  If we reversed these percentages and considered Christ to be five percent divine–and ninety-five percent human-suddenly the pressure is on.  It means that every human on earth has the potential to reach the same level of development as Jesus Christ.  How much safer it is to continue to elevate him, to endlessly wish for high levels while cataloging all the convenient excuses and reasons why it is not possible for us to reach his lofty height. 

Think of the implications if we were to take on actually living in this highly developed way.  Can we risk building true intimacy without gossip, or blame, or judging others?  The most common form of pseudo-intimacy is when two or more gather at another’s expense.  Sometimes the discussion will even have overtones of concern but is still just gossip.  Tight bonds form even as they wrap around another person’s neck.  He, she, they or even it will permeate these discussions. 

Do we dare to be different?  Can we be our real selves even in the face of conflict and rigid disapproval?  Can we be strong enough or will we simply comply?  The responsibility of higher levels of development–of the heart– requires that we monitor thought, word and action. 

Why have I presented this lengthy discussion on the Levels of Development here, in a book on adolescent initiation and rites of passage?   When we bring this discussion back to our earthly concern about how to turn children into highly functioning adults, we are faced again with the need to challenge the child. 

Most important to our discussion of youth initiation is that one characteristic of this upward movement is the tendency to question all existing rules and ways of being.  The dark periods of adolescence-and the pushing against constraints-are indicators both that the child is advancing and that the parents have provided the right environment for that to happen.  In other words, when we associate rebellion with adolescence this may be a good sign.  Making the developmental leap requires that we question all that has come before and run it up against a world that we envision as ideal.  Otherwise, how can we ever make real changes in this world?

I remember this feeling from my own adolescence.  Out of the safe nest of my family, I awoke up one day with a million questions about the life they offered me.  I drove my parents crazy challenging our society, our religion, and our government.  My parents began to think maybe they had done something wrong as parents.  My teachers tried to get me back into line with the current thought.  Now I see that challenging existing systems was the natural movement for my own higher development. 

 Overexcitability as a Diagnosis

In our current culture over five million children have been diagnosed as Attention Deficit Disordered (ADD) or Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD).  Recently at Borders bookstore I counted thirteen books dealing with this issue.  In A Blueprint for Success: ADHD and the Family, a booklet published in 2002 by The Shire Company (manufacturers of Adderall XR, a Ritalin look-alike) the company assures us that “We can now safely say that ADHD has a neurobiological basis-that is, there is a physical problem in the brain.  Therefore, ADHD is not the result of bad parenting, divorce, sibling rivalry, or other family-related environmental factors.”   

This is a terrifying and informative sentence.  It frightens me that conferences and educational materials intended to educate are actually advertising products for the drug companies.  This same booklet makes no mention of food, allergies, eating habits, educational systems, or ways to ensure our brain stays “balanced.”  Of course human development has a neurobiological basis, but according to this statement, we must look for the problem in the brain when the child is excitable or distressed.  

We are in a time when children are being diagnosed disordered by the millions.  How terrible to consider treating the potential movements to the higher levels of brain development as if they were an aberration or illness.  A recent issue of Time Magazine (August 2002) had an article about bipolar disorder and spoke of diagnosing a two-year old with this disorder and putting him on drugs.  This trend must be stopped.  Parents have a responsibility to read and study the facts of these potent psychotropic drugs before allowing their children to be placed on them-and not depend upon the research provided by the drug companies themselves.

The fragile, developing brain is still a relatively unknown creature.  I anticipate a terrible backlash from this rising trend twenty years from now-but by then it will be too late for many of the children now taking these drugs.  In all fairness, I don’t deny the existence of true neurological problems.  The brain is still a great mystery.  In a recent conversation with a psychologist friend, he reports that in the twenty years of his practice, he has never before seen the level of disturbance that he sees in some of the children that have come to see him in the past two years.  “Some of these kids are crazy,” he said to me.  How does a six year old get crazy?  There are many factors that need to be studied in open, independent research (not product based).  We should be looking at the food and water supply, the actual neurological effects of video games, television, and other imputing sources.   All are players in this game of the brain. 

My reason for including Dabrowski’s theory of positive disintegration is to emphasize that when things look darkest, sometimes that is the moment before the greatest leap of development.  We have to take care not to abort the new birth before it has a chance to complete itself.  Our young people should question and challenge.  And we should question and challenge them back.  Diagnosing their distress as a psychological disorder is a fundamental error that we can’t afford to make.  Our world needs their bright minds and highest functioning brains.  We need them sharp, ready, and fully initiated. 

 

Re-Visioning Adolescence and the Rite of Passage, Chapter 6

It seems almost unfair to try to explain Family Constellation Work in one condensed chapter like this.  I’ve been doing this work for the past ten years and have never experienced such deep, soul-level work.   If my botched explanation touches you in any way, please do look further into this approach.  It has changed the lives of hundreds of people that I have worked with.  It has changed my life. 

 I’m tired and my son’s wedding is looming (we leave a week from today).  I am excited about it but also looking forward to it being behind us.  Tom and Erica are going to Hawaii for their honeymoon.  Wish I was heading to the Global Passageways retreat next week myself.  Instead, I’m sending a Bead Person for each attendee.  I’ll be there energetically!

 

Jamie

 

 CHAPTER SIX

The Art of Separating

 I once heard a Lakota medicine man give a wonder­ful talk about how the tiny spirit finds its way from the spirit world and into the body of his or her mother. This wisp of life travels a great distance and then, at concep­tion, is given a human body following an explosion of sperm into the fertile womb of the woman. At birth the body of the woman mobilizes for another explosion as the child enters this world and is separated from the mother. This separation is necessary if life is to continue.

Adolescence is like a second birth, perhaps even more complex and difficult than the first. In this second birth the child is not an unaware infant but a participant in the separation. A tremendous tension builds between hanging on and letting go as the child, once again, attempts to separate.

In the work of people such as Bert Hellinger, Milton Erickson, Virginia Satir, and many other insightful engi­neers of this important event, they observed that the fail­ure to separate from the parents and the family of origin could bring about neurosis, mental illness, physical illness, and even death. As I’ve deepened my study of this important developmental moment-of separating-I’m willing to risk saying that 98% of the clients I see are trapped in the tense pull of this separation either from their own parents or from their children or from a way of being that no longer allows for further growth. This movement away from the family and into our own uni­verse touches some deeply fundamental force that seeks resolution.

In fact, there is a universal tension that builds within all of us between the need to belong and the need to separate. In the age of adolescence, this tension is like a guitar wire, tight and singing. We seek a firm membership in our culture and family-and simultaneously seek to wander off alone into the forest to discover the higher truth of our aloneness. This becomes a combustible mixture that, when left alone and uninitiated, will burn its own trail through the forest.

 On September 11, 2001, we were all shocked by the terrorist attacks and the subsequent collapse of the World Trade Center. Strangely, just three days before this event I’d checked out a book called The Psychology of War, by Lawrence LeShan. The skinny little book was riding in my van the day of the attack so I picked it up and began reading. All around me there was the trembling energy of a nation about to either collapse, as the towers did, or to rise to something new. I wondered which it would be.

Dr. Lawrence LeShan speaks about a universal tension between the desire to belong and the desire to be an individual that is shared by all human beings.  Since our country was on the edge of war, I read on, surprised at how clearly he explained this tension:

 Historically and anthropologically, there  are two different means (both of which appear in nearly every known human culture) available to us that promise to   sat­isfy both of these drives, simultaneously and without contradiction . . . . A very small part of the human race turns to one of the schools of esoteric or spiritual development . . . .There is a second means of resolving this tension, between our need for singularity and our need for group identification. This means also appears in nearly every culture, and it too promises to fulfill both of these needs simultaneously, without contradiction; it promises to enhance our individuality and heighten our existence and, at the same time, increase our sense of being part of a group; to lessen our separateness at the same time it increases our individuality. Further, it pro-mises to do so with full social approval and without the arduous discipline required for meditation, which apparently can only be followed by a few. This second path is the way of armed group conflict-of war.

 LeShan says we resolve the conflict in one of two ways: by seeking spirit-or by making war.

One of the largest whales our children will have to hunt is that which will insure the safety of planet Earth. If we are to survive all of us, both young and old, need to become conscious of our own belonging and the forces that drive it. I hope someday to explore the full impact of blind belonging versus conscious belonging but, for our topic here, it’s enough to say that teaching our youth about this powerful tension system is an essential part of initiating them into adulthood.

 The Power of Exclusion

In ancient native cultures, the greatest punishment meted out to a member of the tribe was to be excluded. In some ways, even death was more merciful than full exclusion. We, in our archaic souls, understand the power of inclusion and exclusion, yet we also seek separate­ness.

Most romantic literature and poetry is about finding what the heart most desires only to lose it again. Coming and going. Essentially we are programmed genetically, biologically, and spiritually to find ourselves safe and embraced by what we love only to turn and leave it behind. It’s the driving force behind initiation-to leave the known, familiar territory and to discover something new.

 The Power of Mother and Father

In adolescence, this tension between belonging and aloneness can take on mythic proportions. To let this dynamic tension unfold and allow the child to be born again into adult life, we need to understand the subtle forces at work within the family. 

Many tribal societies recognized the intensely deep pull that a mother has on a child.  Separating mother and child, as we have explored, was often the first part of a rite of passage ritual.  It’s as if a second umbilical cord, invisible and made of steel, needs to be cut.  We think of adolescence as the time when the child pulls away from the mother, but mother must also be willing to let go of the child.  If, in the early years, the bond between mother and child has been fully formed, the child can move more easily away from the mother.  If for some reason the bond was incomplete, both mother and child find separation difficult. 

In The Magical Child, Pearce (1986) explores this mysterious bonding process in full detail.  He recognizes that many innovations in our modern society have suc­ceeded in weakening the bond between mother and infant; medical births, drugs in childbirth, mothers at work, day care centers and television are just a few of the intervening forces he examines. When I first read Pearce many years ago, I found this bleak picture of the future of the human race to be almost unbearable. All of the eroding fac­tors he lists have been the standard for decades. Even in choosing to birth my own three children naturally, with­out drugs or extreme medical intervention, I still had to fight the hospital staff to allow nursing on demand, in-room care etc. 

What does this mean, for our society, I wondered?  Although natural childbirth is in vogue again, is it enough?   Our economic structures still force women into full employment. They return home exhausted and over­worked, their children warehoused in childcare centers day after day.

 The Family Constellation Work of Bert Hellinger

When first introduced to the intensive family work of German psychotherapist, Bert Hellinger2, I recognized that he had, perhaps, found a solution to the incomplete bonding within families.  By returning to the deep river of love and connection flowing beneath families, we can restore what has been broken.  The truth is parents love their children.  And children love their parents.  On the level of the soul, there is no stronger force operating.  Whatever negative factors have influenced the way we act in the world, this love remains true.  Hellinger (2001), in summarizing his decades of experience with family systems wrote:

 The most important thing I’ve seen is that love is at work behind all human behavior and, however strange this may seem, behind all our psychological symp­toms.  This means that it’s essential in therapy to find where the clients love. 

 Working energetically with the family system, Hellinger recognized the soul’s desire to complete what has been incomplete. He discovered that the obstacles to love flowing within the family could be resolved and removed by a variety of means. 

Consider the young infant wanting only to reach out for mom and to be taken. When this natural movement is interrupted somehow, through sickness or separation, the infant enters childhood constantly trying to complete the movement. Hellinger observed that he could place a sur­rogate or representative mother in front of a client and that the client could, at last, complete the movement that the soul has longed to make for a lifetime.  He calls this “a completion of the reaching out movement”3

Hellinger developed a tool now called the family con­stellation as a way of working with families. The family constellation makes visible the hidden ties and connec­tions that flow naturally out of love and loyalty within a family.  He called these connections “the hidden orders of love.”  According to Hellinger (1998):

 The systemic orders that allow love to thrive in families are difficult to define precisely. They have far greater flexibility than social or moral laws that have been invented by societies or individuals and that must be obeyed to the letter. They are also different from the rules of a game that can be modified to suit the circum­stances or according to whim.  The orders are simply there.” 

 A family system includes children, their parents, the grandparents and great grandparents on out.  Others may be considered part of the system as well, such as former spouses or partners or someone whose fate affected the system.  For example, someone from whom a member of the system gained something significant either by their death, loss, or misfortune.  

Within this loosely defined system, there are certain natural orders that must be maintained if the system is to thrive and flourish.  Hellinger (1998) wrote,

 As we have seen, love succeeds in our relationships when belonging, a balance of giving and taking, and a good order can be maintained.  This is also true for the extended family, but five additional dynamics constrain the success of love in family systems:  (1) honoring the right to membership, (2) maintaining the com­pleteness of the system, (3) protecting the hierarchy according to time, (4) following the order of precedence between systems and (5) accepting the limitations of time.  

 Such a concise summary of these hidden orders of love can be misleading. When applied to the depths of our family systems, they become a complex web of ties and loyalties that give rise to our life experience. The sug­gestion is that a family system is just that, a complex system of relationships that are in a constant state of balancing, forming, and reforming while always flowing forward toward the next generation.

For our purposes here, we’ll focus primarily on the orders of belonging and precedence. 

We all have a place within our system and must keep that place and be included if things are to flow in a good order.  When we lose our place, a disorder or an imbal­ance is created and the larger system automatically begins to adjust for the imbalance. In other words, the first to enter a system takes precedence over those who enter later.  For instance, Mom and Dad enter a system before the first child, and the first child enters before the second, and third, etc.

Hellinger also explains carefully that there are orders of precedence between two separate systems. For instance, when a man divorces and marries again, his sec­ond system takes precedence over the first.  To compli­cate matters further, however, if there is a child from the first marriage, that child still holds first place before the second partner. If the new wife attempts to take first place over the child, the marriage will begin to rock and roll. 

The goal of this discussion is to stress that each member of the system holds a particular place and love flows more easily when the orders of precedence are honored. In fact, everybody just feels better when all who are a part of the system are included. 

Likewise, each member must carry or be responsible for their actions or feelings. When an important event causes grief, guilt, or other reactions and the responsible person doesn’t take their part, the event may begin to echo through the system. When this happens, a younger member may take on the feelings of an earlier member thus becoming entangled and unable to move forward. 

Hellinger’s vast inquiry into such systemic distur­bances gave me an entirely new pair of spectacles with which to view adolescent development.  It’s possible that many of us can’t separate from our system of origin or our parents because, through no fault of our own, we are entangled-caught in the web of love, loyalty and strong emotions.  The issues are multi-generational and thus very complex. I also want to stress at this point that Hellinger was very careful to advise us not to attempt to rigidify or formalize these orders of love.  Each relationship system must be approached individually and with a willingness to see what that system has to say. 

Having said this in such brief terms, we find that tracing a disorder or disturbance is not a simple task.  The tool of the family constellation provides us with a way to see what may be invisible within the hidden orders of a sys­tem. A constellation uses representatives to set up an energetic picture of the family within what is called by some facilitators the knowing field. A trained facilitator learns to read the movements within the system and adjust, by trial and error, as a means to find and restore the proper order and resolve the imbalance. 

Here is a simple example.  A man had struggled his entire life with a deep sadness for which he can find no reason.  In a constellation, he chooses representatives for himself, his mother, and his father and then intuitively moves them into the open space of the circle without thinking about it. He places mom facing away and looking far out of the circle, dad at the opposite end looking on, and himself in the middle watching mom.  The facilitator then gathers a verbal report (and nonverbal) from all representatives to see what feelings or thoughts come to them as they stand in place.

We find that mom’s representative feels very sad and has a strange longing in her heart. Dad’s representative feels disconnected and helpless. The son’s representative is angry-longing to get mom to look at him.  The client has provided information that mom lost a little sister to early death and so a representative for the little sister is chosen and brought into the existing picture. Immedi­ately, Mom’s representative feels a great relief and love for the little sister.  At last, she can now see her husband and her son and feel love toward them.  The resolution is to make sure the place of the little sister is firmly held in the family and then mom can be more present for her family. 

This is an extremely simplistic example of a very complex process, but it is intended to give you a picture of what a constellation looks like.  By way of explanation, we surmise that the early death of the little sister caused a painful storm of grief in the mother’s family of origin.  Her parents found it easier to not think about the loss but to set it quickly aside.  The place held by the little dead sister eventually closed up and her place no longer held in the family. However, the soul of the older sister (our client’s mother) felt the loss and sought to hold a place for her little sister. This created a sadness and depression in mom that stopped her from being fully available to her new system.  She was entangled in the grief and loss and had passed that burden on to our client.  To resolve the entanglement, we put the little sister back where she belongs or “longs to be”. 

Signs of systemic disturbances may be chronic sadness or depression, a loose anger or violence floating around the system, an inability for an individual to go forward into life, and even illness or suicidal thoughts. 

The powerful suggestion of this work, and one that is consistent with many traditional native cultures, is that we do not operate alone but are intricately connected throughout our lives to those who came before us, both the living and the dead. It is possible for us to be inti­mately and invisibly connected to the fate of an aunt, grandfather, or even a great grandmother who suffered a difficult fate. This connection, formed out of deep love and loyalty, is the cause of our current life circumstances. 

Although we did not suffer this fate, we willingly and lovingly carry the burden of it. These burdens must be passed back to whom they belong if we are to go free into our own lives.  It’s the tender hearts of the young that are most vulnerable to taking on the sad fate of those who came before. I see that these heavy entanglements are often at the root of suicide, mental illness, physical distress, chronic sadness, depression, or rage.  Such entanglements stop development in its tracks.  Instead, we give a significant portion of our personal energy in service to the system and thus have none left for our own life struggles. 

When a family member seems caught in depression or loops of anger or self destructiveness, scan the family system for any who may have died early, been pushed out, or have been otherwise excluded.  Take special care if you divorce your child’s other parent because they will remain loyal in the soul. Hold firm to your place as parent and simultaneously as the child of your parents.

 If, as you have read these many pages, a child (or yourself) may be entangled in this web of family, I strongly suggest you learn more about Family Constel-lation Work.  I feel in my heart that when a young person does a suicide or suffers severe illness, they often serve some hidden purpose for the larger system.  If a child is so entangled, we must do all we can to release them.  

Likewise, look to your own entanglements.  Are you caught in a web of loyalty to your family of origin?  Do you feel somehow unable to be fully present to your spouse or children?  Do your relationships end prema­turely or seem deeply dissatisfying?   

We’ve only begun to research and look into these larger, echoing effects within the family system, but to witness a family constellation is to become aware of these larger forces at work.

Search for repeating patterns as you scan your system.  There can be some strange surprises.  For instance, my oldest daughter was the only great grandchild to be born on her paternal grandmother’s birthday.  Grandma had married on August 15, and my daughter got married on August 16. Grandma had five children by age 22, and my daughter had four children by age 22. Some of these coincidental patterns can be just plain interesting.  Occasionally, they can be a warning signal that the child has taken on the fate of another. 

Ultimately, our job as parents is to do all we can to prepare the child to leave us.  It sounds somewhat callous but that is the truth. When systemic issues prevent that separation from happening, all will suffer. We can’t attempt to explain how or why these hidden orders of love operate as they do within families. Hellinger calls it “phenomenological” because it cannot be explained.  The tribal ancestors, perhaps, understood it more clearly. 

During our time with Bert Hellinger in Austria, I asked if he felt that the family was the kernel from which all else grows and he said only, “Yes, of course.” In 2002, the international conference on systemic work was on ethnic conflict.  It was entitled Fields of Conflict-Fields of Wisdom.  From our deepest entanglements and conflict, comes our greatest wisdom. 

 

 

Re-Visioning Adolescence, Chapter 5

It has been a challenge to eek out this time each night to proof and prepare this post, but it feels right and good.  Sometimes it seems like my thinking is about a decade ahead.  This book feels even more important to me now than it did when I wrote it.  Just today a good friend of ours who has worked in the healing arts her whole life told us that her son tried to commit suicide a month ago.  The young people need everything we can muster to help them gain strength and place in the world.  Even though I can’t attend the Global Passageways retreat in Hawaii next week, it excites me that 100 great thinkers from across the globe are coming together to address the very issues that I have spent 20 years pondering.  I know from reading many of their resume’s that they have put their beliefs and observations to work in real, active programs in many nations.  We need to multiply their efforts and get to work.

 Today I made my first trek of the week to Pine Ridge to teach my classes.  It was so windy out there that half the prairie was blowing across the road.  I’ve never seen so many tumbleweeds.  They looked alive-dancing across the road-and I thought maybe I should have included a “prairie clan” in my little Bead People book.  By the way, we have just had The Wind of a Thousand Years translated into Spanish and ordered the first copies.  We’d love to have others with language ability help us to translate it into other languages.  It is a short book so not too large of a task.  You can see it at www.thebeadpeople.org 

 One more note-Milt and I went to see a speaker who is a psychic and healer tonight.  It was fun-we had him hold one of The Bead People and he said it would be used for a charitable purpose and that he saw “upper 7 figures” coming in to the right organization using it for a fundraiser.  I think he may be a real psychic!J   The other day in my mind I visualized 1,000,000 Bead People out wandering the world.  Naturally, I don’t want to build them all myself-so get on board.  Order a kit or instructions, a pile of Wind books and pitch in and help.  In November I plan to offer a special on kits and the instructional DVD.  Visit the website a week from now to see it.

 Good night-God Night.  Remember, Chapter 5 is below this wordy post.

 Jamie

 

 

 CHAPTER FIVE

Where Have We Been?

 

Today, although we know so much more about what happens in the wiring and firing beneath the skull and the blood flowing in the bloodstreams of our young, we’ve grown stupid about what is going to happen when the child reaches a certain age. We hope it can simply happen without us.

What is this strong, powerful force that enters our young and changes them from happy, light-hearted chil­dren to a brooding, changeable alien species? Don’t misunderstand my words; I love the power inherent in this reservoir of youth. I simply want to better understand it, to move consciously through its twists and turns. We know that adolescence is a confluence of many forces at work including biology, spirit, mind, social environment, and something even larger and more mysterious. Many fields of study have attempted to unravel the mysteries of this confluence. As Furstenberg (2000) noted:

 Our disciplines have drawn artificial boundaries that are not extant in the natural world. Many disciplines have left biology out of the picture and have acted as if individual differences do not matter. Others have focused on individual differences while neglecting the culture and social structure. This balkanized approach to the study of adolescence serves us poorly.

 As parents and teachers, we often turn to the sciences to assist us in deciphering the coded mysteries of this powerful period of human development. The information sifting out from these sources, however, can be conflicting and confusing. The sciences, when they split and turn and separate from one another, truly do “serve us poorly”.

 

 What’s It All About, Mr. Natural?

When I was in college we had a little cartoon called “Mr. Natural”. Mr. Natural was a wise old hippie man who had many things to say. In one cartoon (this has stuck in my mind for decades) a devotee came to the sage and asked him, “What’s it all about, Mr. Natural?” The old man turned to the younger and said, “It don’t mean shit.” Often, in moments of profound confusion, I see this cartoon in my mind again and laugh. It gives me breath and relief once again to reconsider the nature of things.

Attempting to understand the vast fields of science and research relating to the brain and to human develop­ment can be vastly overwhelming. It would, perhaps, be to our great benefit, both with our own health and the health of our young people, to return to a simpler and more obtainable path. The path of natural observation and simple inquiry can take us a great distance toward the desired outcome.

To begin with, we know that the human brain and the path of human development move from the simple to the complex. Beginning with Piaget’s (1970) well-known definitions of childhood development, we know that the movement is from concrete operations to formal opera­tions spanning the first decade and a half of life. His observations, oddly, end at the very moment that these forces gather. It’s as if adolescence itself makes the most dedicated observer speechless. If we consider that the formal thinking stage is not the end of development but is simply another beginning, it makes sense. Pearce (1992) calls this stage postbiological development, or development beyond biology.2

Between the ages of fourteen and sixteen, the child is being prepared for something greater, something perhaps unheard of. Joseph Chilton Pearce (1992), in Evolution’s End, wrote, “Just as the failure of bond­ing at birth is the adult’s responsibility, not the infant’s, the failure of adolescents to follow our discipline is the fault of the adult models.” 

In other words, the vast amount of developmental research suggests, as this book does, that our young peo­ple need support, care, and initiation from and by their Elders. The brain may not be the seat of the soul, but it is certainly one of its containers and requires care, feeding, rest and stimulation in order to hold the contents of human spirit.

Instead of the support and care, we have, as Pearce wrote, “created a holding stage that keeps young people in a limbo, into which children enter earlier and adults stay longer year by year.”

Michael Meade (1993), author of several books on adult male initiation, commented about the men attending his gatherings:

 It is no accident that the average age at these gatherings is about forty-no accident because the ‘midlife crises’ repre­sents another period of initiation, when all the smoldering issues of previous life stages as well as those of the present are ignited.  

 Although we explore primarily adolescence here, it’s important to recognize that all of life is a series of initia­tions. With each new change we enter, initiation to that change must happen. I remember standing at the foot of my daughter’s hospital bed as she gave birth to my first grandson. It was terrifying. For the first time, my daugh­ter went to a place completely alone. I couldn’t follow her and there was nothing I could offer her except my presence. Birthing that child was her territory alone. This experience caused a deep break in my life as mother and plunged me into the life stage of grandmother.

The other day I ran into an old friend I hadn’t seen in several years. She’s a counselor in the school system and we were both attending a program on suicide prevention. G. walked up to me and said “Oh my god, Jamie. I’ve thought of you so often since that day you were out to my house. I made it back, FINALLY.”

I had no idea what she was talking about and thought perhaps she’d moved far away for a period of time or taken a long trip. She laughed and said, “You don’t even remember, do you?”

I was still confused. Then she told me that the last time we met we’d been talking about life issues over a cup of tea in her kitchen. Evidently, I told her she should go into the furthest, darkest corner of her being and stay there for a while. I’ve no recall of having said that or whom I stole that wonderful advice from. My friend explained how she took these words to heart and had spent the last several years clearing out her darkest corners-and that it was damned difficult. She was amused that something that had brought such a profound change for her I didn’t even recall. It was clear, however, that it was good advice. She had a bright and shining look about her that she’d not had previously. Initiation is being courageous enough to go into those dark corners and to see what may be hidden there.

The Lakota people have an ancient teaching that once guided and directed all of life’s paths. It is, “As above, so below”. The teaching is that all that happens on earth has a corresponding response in the larger universe, and vice versa. We are intimately and forever connected to the larger forces that operate outside of our physical or visible awareness. In order for life to go on well, we must align our selves with these higher forces. We don’t exist in isolation from all that is around us. It’s up to us to find out in what ways we are connected, or not connected, to the natural world.

 Reaching For God

Below is a passage from a novel by Sue Harrison called, My Sister the Moon. It relates the story of the rite of passage of a young Aleut whale hunter in the far north. In the ritual, Samiq must become the whale that has been speared and is being pursued by hunters on the great sea. To prove his manhood, he must take on the pain and injury of the whale itself, to follow the giant beast into the sea as it suffers and dies from the poisoned spear lodged in its side.  His thoughts as he enters this pain offer us a glimpse:

 How long would he be in the hut, one day, two days? How long since he had eaten? Since the day before his ceremony? He should sleep; though sleep seemed elusive, pushed away by his need to become the whale.

 But perhaps the only way to become the whale was in the same way he had become otter-through his dreams.

 Samiq, Whale Killer, closed his eyes; let his thought go to the cold gray of the sea. He saw waves, dark as shale, solid, shining like wet rock. But then that image was swallowed by the pain of his hunger until the pain grew into something that stretched beyond him­self, and it pulled him down, into the dark­ness, through the waves, away from the wind.     

 I use this fictionalized account both because it is beautiful, and because it exemplifies rituals in which the young person is carefully tutored then removed from his society and urged to enter into the transforming experi­ence from which he re-emerges as a man. In this, as in many rituals, it is the goal of the ritual to connect the initiate with both natural and supernatural forces. In this story, the boy must become the whale before he can become a man.

Without any knowledge of biology, neurological processing, or genetics, the Elders of thousands of years ago knew from experience what would happen when a child reached a certain age. They knew that the time would come when the child would put aside childish things, leave the sphere of the mother, and move into his or her rightful place as a productive member of the commu­nity. Ventura (1994) said, “Unlike us, tribal people met the extremism of their young with an equal but focused extremism from adults. Tribal adults didn’t run from this moment in their children as we do; they celebrated it.”

Meeting the extremism of the young with our own equal but focused extremism-this phrase speaks to the heart of initiation. We can’t be soft and safe with initia­tion. We can’t spare their feelings or do it for them. Soft­ness from parents causes the young people to disrespect their Elders. We are weak when we should be strong, and they see this. The young challenge-and we fold.

We see this again and again and again. Instead of ini­tiating them, we allow them to become master manipu­lators and “too big for their britches.” How often have you stood in a checkout line and seen some tyke win the battle of the checkout? Whining, crying and screaming, with mom yelling no, no, no-and then the toy, candy, or what­ever, ends up in the cart. The child is rewarded for bad behavior, and the parent is weakened by the exchange. This is not the power of true parenting. Children can’t develop fully when they are given too much power.

What is it in our current society that allows us to think that if we give the child anything he wants, we are somehow a good parent? There is a joke in our family about me sitting on my children. This story came out of one or two events in which my daughter got out of con­trol with her anger; she was quite young, maybe eight or nine and to insure her safety and my own, I sat on her, held her hands down and waited it out. My reasoning was simple and basic-I needed to win this one. Eventually she calmed down, and we were able to reason with one another again. That I only had to “sit on her” once or twice is a testament as to how effective it was, but the story has become somewhat of a legend in our family. My daughter now tells her children to be good or, “Grandma will sit on you.”

 

 Spirit-The Greater Goal of Initiation

Initiation is about coming of age and taking the full challenge of adult life. Our Elders once recognized that initiation was also a unique opportunity, a moment in time in which the young could be connected and linked to the larger sources of life itself. Not only do the Elders of the community guide the young, but those Elders also look to the Ancient Ones to assist the process.

In our travels into Indian country, we encountered many traditional people who still talk to their ancestors and the spirits that they sense are easily within reach. Often we could not record a community member without the Elders first praying and gaining permission from the spirits. This reliance on the larger forces, on unseen ancestors and spirits, is something that science and even religion have too often forgotten or abandoned.

Once we were asked to produce a video for a project on South Dakota’s Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. The organization cares for children and adolescents who were struggling, but before we were allowed to do anything, the woman in charge asked if we would be willing to make offerings to the spirits and ancestors before begin­ning. She explained that in her culture the children are sacred and that the spirits must be involved in anything having to do with the children. This was not a simple request on her part-but an integral sub­structure to their healing plan.

Later, I began doing constellation work with another Lakota group.  Again, before I was required to do an Inipi ceremony so we could ask the spirits if this was the right time to do this work-and if I was the right one to do it. The spirits agreed, and I began working with their group.  The spirits had some conditions, however.  They said that before every session we were to pray and smudge and, following the work, we were to enter the sweat lodge (Inipi) to thank the spirits and ancestors for their help.

Whether we call that great mysterious source God or Wakan Tanka or Allah does not matter to me. Never has a human word adequately named such a mystery. I only know that communication with higher forces, the ances­tors and the Creator, are fundamental to many tribal cul­tures and to all cultures.

A second common element we encountered often in Indian country is the deep and loving care of the earth. The tribes who still honor the old beliefs recognize that it is the earth that pro­vides for us-not the other way around. The land is the Mother. She wipes our tears, heals our wounds, takes us to the center of life, and then allows us to rest with her until we return to the earth once again. We can take the energy of both our ancestors and the earth as a form of guidance in caring for both our children and ourselves.

For example, Elena Avila (2000), the author of Woman Who Glows in the Dark, tells her story as a psychiat­ric nurse who returned to her tribal roots in Mexico. She became a traditional healer or Curandera. Curanderismo is an earth-oriented medical practice grown out of the blended indigenous cultures of Mexico at about the time the Spaniards arrived. Avila began to integrate her ancient ways into the modern when caring for her patients. In her book, she speaks of using the earth to heal the trauma of a woman who had been raped:

 I would bury the woman in the earth, all but her head. Then I would stay with her throughout the experience, protecting her from being hurt, wiping away any insects that might come hear her face, and reassuring her if she felt any panic. When a person has been so badly traumatized, being enveloped in the earth for a few hours is purifying and allows us to surren­der our heaviness to the earth.

 On reading this passage, I felt an intense inner com­fort at the thought of giving such pain and sorrow to the earth. It seemed right, somehow.

During one of our trips to a small village in Mexico we were allowed to participate in an ancient Amazonian ceremony that is performed to renew the earth so that we can continue to live on her surface. I can’t speak of the intricate meanings of this ceremony but can only share the effect that it had on me.

The ceremony began at midnight under a full moon with three dancers coming out of the dark wearing some kind of fronds that clattered like sticks as they walked. They wore cone-shaped hats and were completely covered in the regalia (they looked like small huts). Humming a low rapid chant that sounded breathy and rhythmic, the three dancers were then joined by a woman. They bowed to the woman and chanted and, at some point in the chant, the woman began to wail. Her wail reached far out into the night and caused my heart to skip a beat. I thought of a woman birthing a child, bringing new life into the world. The wail came from so deep within that the woman coughed and choked and then began wailing again. This went on in rounds for over an hour until I felt suspended in some faraway place, con­templating the very universe coming to life. I walked away from this ceremony truly feeling renewed.

It may seem strange in this age of science and tech­nology to consider returning to the ways of taking our learning from spirits, nature, or from the very earth. Our belief systems and our minds want to minimize the power of these natural and supernatural forces and rely instead only on science or medicine to give us our answers. The suggestion here is to take both-but to recognize again that nature (earth) is the mother of all science.

It’s as if we are making a full circle from the seven­teenth century when scientists broke out of the strait­jacket of religious dogma to forge their own way. Now, centuries later, we find ourselves wearing another strait­jacket-the dogma of science. There is no suggestion in these words to reject all the wonders of science and return to the land, but only to expand our thinking out to include, once again, the larger forces at work.

Earth, with her natural cycles, patterns, and solutions, is a great teacher. Water, wind, fire, earth-leaves blow­ing, trees growing-all have the ability to touch our soul and make it strong again. We have also witnessed her fury when care is not taken with the natural resources-the air, water, soil.  When we read the work of Galileo, Einstein, David Bohm and other great minds of science, we see that they also have learned their most important lessons at Earth’s knee.

A Hopi man we interviewed for the Oyate series told us a story. He and his grandfather were out tending a field of corn.  He was about ten-years-old at the time, and he went to get a drink of water from a jug. His grandfather stopped him and said, “You’re children are thirstier than you are”.

The boy said, “But, Grandfather, I don’t have any children.”

His grandfather pointed to the young corn plants standing in the field and told him, “Those are your chil­dren. They do not have the legs to go to a drinking place to get their water. You do. So you, as a parent, must give them water first, and what­ever is left out of that water, then you can drink. If there is none, then you can walk to a place where you can drink.”

In Hopi Country, that way of being is called the hardway. I was very impressed with this teaching. In main­stream society, we make life too easy for our children when we should be teaching them the hardway. We should be meeting their extreme energy with our own extreme energy in order to prepare them for all that life will hand them later. To do this, the parent must have great strength.

What I’ve come to understand, as this decade-long book project has unfolded, is that we can find the right way toward initiation and a culturally appropriate rite of passage if we return to our own common roots, that of the land, the spirits, and the ancestors. In our souls, we are all indigenous, tribal people. We don’t have to figure it out alone. The true goal and the ultimate prize of a rite of passage is to recognize the larger spiritual forces at work, and to understand that, ultimately, we are not alone.

As a people, we yearn to shift away from the purely mechanistic thinking of the age of science and find again our metaphysical and mysterious links with nature. This movement back toward the natural forces of the earth and the universe appears not just in the crystals and essential oils of the New Age but in books on education, ancient healing arts, and modern physics as well.

In the late eighties, I spent a year and a half living in Tucson, Arizona. I was actively seeking something, both for my soul and for my career. At that time, the “New Age” was considered the seventh largest industry in Tucson. I remember chuckling at that. Who but Americans could turn soul-seeking into an industry? And yet that bit of trivia also says something about what we desperately long for in this new age.

Even some big business books speak of care of the soul, such as Stewardship by Peter Block (1993), The Soul of a Business by Tom Chappel’s (1993), or Spiritual Enterprise by Marc Allen.  The movement is toward holism-seeing the totality and interconnectedness of a system-and not just its small component parts operating in isolation.

 Hunting the Whale in a Modern World

Our children face a very different world than that of our ancestors or even the world into which we were born. The changes are astounding. When I took college algebra, I couldn’t afford a calculator. Now I can buy a sophisticated calculator at any checkout counter for three dollars. Technology, the Internet, the sophisticated weap­onry-all of this is new to this age. Our children have to deal with the changes these things are bringing. Added to this, we must recognize how technology has affected the climate, the food supply, and the earth itself. We have one challenge stacked upon another. Our young may not have to face a whale on the open sea, but there are other whales that they must be prepared to hunt. And they depend upon the parents and Elders for this guidance and preparation.

The chapters to follow examine several different models of human development that I’ve found to be the best tools available for assisting our young people (or ourselves) into becoming strong adults. I choose these models because they are consistent with the idea of standing and observing the nature of things and with whole system thinking. They also help us to become bet­ter and better at reading the book of human behavior and being. This examination begins with the large generational systems of family and then moves into smaller and smaller observations of patterns of human behavior. See them not as separate models, but as many threads on the loom that will help us to weave something beautiful for our children and our selves.