Out on Bale

It has already been close to a month since we moved back up to northern Minnesota. I am beginning to settle into a nice pattern of writing, working, mudding, and the constant clean-up that seems to go along with building a house. Since I last wrote a personal note here, lots has happened. I have a new granddaughter–Sofie Florence Walla. I was able to spend a week hanging out with the kids and helping Nichol and her new daughter.

I finished the revision and publication of my book, The Lonely Place, Re-Visioning Adolescence and the Rite of Passage. Yesterday I gave the book to my niece Lori to read. She called me this morning and was very emotional. The book explores why young people form gangs and clicks in order to belong–will do almost anything to be able to belong. In the book I explore our cultural loss of formal initiation and rites of passage for our young people. I show how, when the adults and elders don’t take on the task of initiation–the kids will do it themselves. Lori could relate to the stories and ideas in the book and it triggered all of the many things she has done to “belong.” Unfortunately, the path was not always the best path.

I am so excited about finally having that book out in a beautiful way. If you look at my categories on this blog, you will see that I posted many of the early chapters (maybe the whole book, I can’t remember). Do look into it and as soon as copies are available I will let you know how to get a copy. The title has been changed to “The Lonely Place, Re-Visioning Adolescence and the Rite of Passage. Watch for it.
Jamie

Jamie

On Becoming a Woman . . .

The semester is blazing away-my last semester at Oglala Lakota College-such a mixture of sadness and the scent of freedom.  Since we are making plans to return to our Homestead MN project-building a bit of straw bale summer home, planting a garden, simplifying our lives-I decided to return to a batch of stories that I wrote from a collection called “Leaving Lake Country”.  I pretend that it is fiction, but it is pretty close to the bone–all about coming of age in the north woods.  This piece is one of the early ones.  I grew up in Northern Minnesota on the Iron Range.  When I was a young teen we returned to my parents’ home town in Cass Lake, Minnesota.  It was not an easy time for me.  Not many would recognize the shy girl in me today, but she is still with me.

Happy Spring!

Jamie

 

On Becoming a Woman . . .

 

It is policy for swimming.  That’s all.  Jackie and the other sixth grade girls enter the locker room and are issued up one red cotton-knit swimsuit (one size fits all) and a limp white towel.  They change near their lockers in quick hurried movements shoving clothes, shoes, and socks into cold, unfeeling metal lockers.  They line up by the pool door.  Their legs look white and skinny and the required bathing caps suck up all stray hairs and individual personality traits and make them all bald and desolate.

The red suits hang soggy and long in the crotch and tiny nipples poke and pucker beneath  unlined and unforgiving fabric that displays the exact size and shape of each sixth grade set of breasts.  Miss Hammer, the gym teacher, is in charge of the pool and gym areas.  She is a lean, mannish woman with short hair and sharp eyes.  She wears white shorts, white socks, white shoes, and a white jersey sweat jacket every day from fall to spring.  A silver whistle dangles between her breasts.  “You girls have got to work harder!” she yells each day, emphasizing the word girls in a way that makes it sound like boys teasing one another on the playground. “What are you-a girl?” 

Jackie has a particular fondness for water and swims the ten laps required warm-up by Miss Hammer.  And sometimes, she feels as if she should have been a fish, maybe a dolphin, skimming and slipping through the water for a lifetime or two-and then maybe, just maybe it would be alright.  But it is the legs and what is between the legs and no fins that make it all very difficult to deal with, and she is certain that dolphins didn’t have to worry about blushing with shame and fear and exposure every time they go into the water.  Of course, none of this ever enters her mind consciously. 

Not consciously.  Rather it twists around her thoughts and through her middle in tight little knots like cramps and has been doing so ever since her mother carried home that frightful thing, that white strapped cupped thing, and told her to put it on because she was becoming a woman now.  Breasts.  And bleeding. 

Or maybe it all came from earlier who-knows-what times when Jackie worried nighttime thoughts about Catholic Gods and pink pajama bottoms and sin-or when the boys in fifth grade starting teasing her and snapping her bra straps.    

And the way the health teacher shuffled the boys into one room to show them a movie and the girls into another room to show them the same movie like it was something they should all be ashamed of.  The girls got happy little books called, “On Becoming a Woman” and the boys got nothing but the giggles.  The book said it was some kind of celebration, but it Jackie didn’t feel like celebrating.

But it is getting out of the pool that is hard. 

After class the girls shiver and cover themselves and line up waiting for Miss Hammer’s whistle to give them permission to head for the warm showers.

Jackie stays in the shower under the warm stream as long as possible until she is all alone and the giggling girls can be heard from the locker area dressing and combing their hair.  The hair dryers are running.  She hates the wire baskets beside the shower opening where they are required by Miss Hammer to drop suit and towel and run naked to the locker areas.  And the way Miss Hammer stands there like a man watching er and fingering her whistle and smiling that makes the short distance over cold, slippery tile floors nearly impossible for her to cross.  The locker area might as well be a glacier with her nude and freezing to death and unable to make it across to the fire and warmth of her clothes.  Miss Hammer screams at her, “Get a move on it!” and Jackie chants to herself, “hammerhead, hammerhead, hammerhead shark.”  She hates the bulges on her chest.

When her period begins she is spared the naked spectacle but is then forced to declare her development in other, more painful ways by staying fully clothed and sitting on the hard tile benches beside the pool with a bulky, chunky, cotton thing between her legs, a foreign and hated intrusion. 

Later, in seventh grade, Miss Hammer makes the girls who are having periods go to a study hall on a special pass.  It isn’t a choice.  After the first time Jackie faces that room full of snickering boys who know exactly what is happening between her legs, she devises elaborate illness and ways to avoid that study hall.  She even takes one of her sister’s tampons and stands with one foot up on the toilet seat poking and prodding but never can get the thing tamped in.

On becoming a woman. 

Hadn’t she tried to bypass the whole works by pretending to be one of the boys in the neighborhood-by running, jumping, climbing, and skating faster than any of them?  Well, hadn’t she?   

But none of this goes through her mind in any orderly fashion because her brain is too full of how to get to the lockers without being seen, how to buy a Kotex pad for a nickel in the bathroom without being seen, how to get out of God’s line of vision without being seen, how to get past Miss Hammer’s eyes without being seen, because that is what it boiled down to-not being seen.

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

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, 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.

 

Re-Visioning Adolescence, Chapter 4

This is night four and here is Chapter 4.  I love this chapter and feel like if we paid attention to this, we really could recreate a vibrant initiation and rite of passage ritual for our young.  It would, however, ask a lot of us.  We’d have to shut down some equipment, say no more often, and spend more time talking to our children.  As I was proofing the chapter, I was thinking again of Dr. Rita Smilkstein’s book, We’re Born to Learn.  Do check out this book at www.borntolearn.net  And as usual, send me a note or sign up for my blog.  To those of you preparing to head to Hawaii for the Global Passageways retreat-keep me in your thoughts.

 Jamie

 

CHAPTER FOUR

The Five Common Elements of a Rite of Passage

 Bear Butte sits alone on the prairie along the western edge of South Dakota. Something in the wind at Bear Butte sim­ply makes you want to pray. On one of its upper slopes is the now-closed cave where the Cheyenne spiritual leader, Sweet Medicine, is said to have found the four arrows that were the foundation of Cheyenne law and tradition. There are endless stories of sudden storms arising fol­lowing the sweats and ceremonies on Bear Butte. Pairs of eagles may suddenly land mere feet from visitors and hover above the ground for several seconds before sailing off. Bear Butte is considered a place of power, the cathe­dral of the Plains Indians. The trees are adorned with the tobacco ties and colored ribbons from those who have come to pray.

It is to this mountain that Rick, a Lakota medicine man, now brings the young men and women who are bat­tling against drugs and alcohol. In traditional Lakota culture, “going up on the hill” is called a Vision Quest or Humblecha Ceremony1. This ritual, as well as the Apache Sunrise Ceremony and many others, are performed to introduce the young person to the other worlds where spirit and vision replace parental guidance. The rite of pas­sage may also include instruction on practical skills and values needed to survive in the modern world.

These beautiful ceremonies are culturally specific. We can’t snatch what has been practiced for thousands of years and plug them into our own culture as if it would have meaning and purpose for us. Besides, that would be stealing, and our native cultures have lost enough. How­ever, we can study these remaining rituals to see what it is that works to initiate our youth.

The common age for performing a rite of passage ritual is fourteen to sixteen years of age. This, as we know, is a potent developmental period for young people. These rituals were performed for centuries long before psy­chology and science had any observations to make about human development. The Elders just knew this was the right time. For women, the time was determined by the onset of menstruation. For boys, the age was simply chosen by the Elders. Even in modern society it is at about age fourteen that the young person passes from middle school to high school.

When I first punched rites of passage into a browser on my computer, the Internet sent me 25,000 possible entries. I narrowed the search by entering ‘adolescent.’ It gave me 555 entries. I spent a great deal of time scanning these entries as well as other sources on traditional rites of passage ceremonies from many cultures. While they vary widely, I noticed that several common elements of initiation and rites of passage ceremonies emerged over and over again. The five most common include:

 1.  A period of initiation with preparation and instruction by the Elders,

 2. A time of purification of the body and mind,

 3. A time of separation from family and community,

 4. The undergoing of a test or challenge given by the Elders,

 5. And finally, the welcoming back of the young person into the family and community and a recognition of his or her changed status within that community.

  In the following pages, we will examine each element separately with the intention of helping parent or adults to create stronger rite of passage rituals by incorporating the elements into existing rituals and initiatory moments.

Please note, however, that we must also be respectful in planning any ritual movements for our youth. Whatever our worn-out ideas might be about a tribal ceremony, we should be careful not to make the event humiliating. One young female client told me of a ritual her mother and another woman did for her when she began menstru­ating. Whatever good intentions her mother had, the girl found the ceremony humiliating and embarrassing. It is best when the ritual comes out of natural events after a long period of initiation-and not simply imposed on the young person in an unnatural, New Age way.

One summer Milt and I did a simple ceremony with a group of boys camping with their counselors. There were no fires or drums, no feathers or costumes. We simply had each boy make a ritual crossing over bare ground from the “sphere of the mother” to “the sphere of the father,” a crossing that Bert Hellinger, a German psy­chotherapist, suggests is the natural movement in adolescence. It was amazing how seriously those boys took that simple ceremony. Many of them had not seen their fathers for a long time, and some not at all, but their desire to make that crossing was powerful.

Don’t try to fake an Indian ceremony. Keep it simple and beautiful without too much fuss. Keep in mind what the intention is-to steer your child toward maturity.

For example, a very simple construction of a ritual that contains all the elements is to have your young adult make a trip alone across several states. This could be flying or driving but should be to go to something that he or she really wants to attend. Allow plenty of time for planning, and spend the time talking to him about how to get along alone. Tell him stories about your own initiatory moments and what they meant to your life. Have him earn all or most of the money himself, as well as make all the prepara­tions. Don’t even let him go with a friend. This is the challenge. When he has completed the trip, take the time to celebrate and give him a place of changed status within the family.  I use “he” here only to simplify.  The same applies for girls as well.

Many parents worry about liability and the dangers of the big, bad world. We’ve become programmed to believe that the world is a stark and dangerous place. If you believe this-and it rules your choices-you are not yet initiated yourself. What could be more dangerous than to contemplate a half-life entirely free of challenge and risk?

 Initiation

Initiation, the main topic of this book, is a multi-varied training conducted over the early and middle years of childhood. Initiation includes instruction, tools for prob­lem solving, a stirring of confidence, and a push toward self-identification. We are preparing the child to take his or her place as an adult in our society.

In essence, initiatory moments are what fill the days and nights of our lives. Each day is ripe with opportuni­ties to guide our children toward making choices, taking their strength, and even making mistakes. Sometimes it is difficult to recognize these moments as developmental turning points. We are too quick to do everything for them, make life easy, and take the conflict away so they can be more comfortable. When we do this, they cannot grow into adulthood. Initiation takes place from early childhood on. We must not wait for adolescence but raise the bar day after day, week after week so the child can stretch both physical and spiritual muscles.

Initiation takes place within the total sphere of the child, from parents to grandparents, and teachers to reli­gious leaders. We are all responsible for that child.

I want to distinguish this long developmental period from the critical initiatory moments mentioned earlier. Our ability to take large steps only comes after we have taken many, many small ones.

When I was fresh out of high school, I went to college in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The summer after my first year I wanted to travel, so I arranged a trip to New Mexico to see a cousin through a ride service at the U of M. The trip went fine, but my ride only took me to Albuquerque and I needed to get to Farmington. I hitch­hiked (a stupid thing to do) and managed to get safely to my cousin’s house but realized, later, that I’d done a dangerous thing. However, this trip prepared me and gave me the confidence to travel alone and spend six months in Europe two years later.

We are not parenting a child but initiating him. In one sense, the act of “parenting” was done in a few quick moments. We are also initiating and preparing ourselves to let go of that child. We have to take a lot of deep breaths and deal with our own fears in order to let them take chances.

Major initiatory moments are preceded by smaller initiatory tasks. For example, in many native cultures a special ceremony requires the young person to undergo special preparations such as performing prayers and rituals, collecting certain plants, sewing ceremonial regalia or items, preparation of the site for the ritual, or the completion of intellectual tests.

For those of us who do not belong to such cultures, we can still create specific initiation tasks prior to an important event such as a trip or graduation. Encourage the young person to consider the upcoming event in terms of how it will affect his or her life. What are his expectations, what does he hope to accomplish, how will he accomplish this, what resources does he need, what does he lack? Push them to go deeper than whether they have enough socks or traveler’s checks. Allow them to make the preparations, raise the money, and become ready for the trip.

 

Purification of Body and Mind

Most rite of passage ceremonies include a time of ritual purification and preparation for the ceremony. This may include many different processes from entering the Inipi or sweat lodge, to fasting and/or ritual cleansing in baths. The hair and body must be cleansed, special foods prepared, and often it includes adorning the body or wearing ritual garments and jewelry. All of these move-ments are intended to enlarge the significance of the event as well as to prepare the initiate, inside and out, to receive what the ritual may have to give.

Certain teachings may be offered as well as advice on what to expect and how to meet the challenge. Each small step takes the young person closer to his or her entry into the new role prescribed for them. Part of the purification may include music and chanting to clear the mind and body of residue and to create a harmony within.

How does this purification ritual fit into our modern world? Obviously, we all have habits of purchasing new clothes for special events or bathing and adorning our bodies. It is not a stretch to make the moment even more significant for our young person by caring about what is beneath their skin as well as what is on top of it. Ask questions-many, many, questions. How is he feeling about this upcoming event, what changes does she fore­see, does he know what he hopes to obtain from this trip/ceremony/ritual?

When my two youngest were growing up, we were fortunate enough to spend several summers in an Ashram, a beautiful spiritual center in the Catskills Mountains of New York. It was a wonderful experi­ence to see my children prepare for this time. Sure, they wanted to look nice, but they also sensed that we all had a greater goal in traveling so far and taking this time to deepen our life experience.

One night at the ashram, when my son was about eight, we had participated in a feast and celebration with a dancing circle. There were probably three to four thou­sand people at the ashram at the time and my children had made some friends. During the celebration, Thomas and another little boy went around and around the dancing circle. I was enjoying watching them dance when suddenly they both broke away and went running off. I caught up with them and asked where they were going. “We’re going to the temple to give thanks,” they yelled.  They looked half-intoxicated from the dance.

Like other spiritual establishments there was a certain protocol about going “to the temple” and I was afraid my son and his friend would raise a ruckus, so I followed them. These boys were wildly high on life. They didn’t know I was watching them.

When they came to the door of the temple, they suddenly dropped all their wild energy, quieted their bodies and their minds, touched the floor in a gesture of respect, went into the temple and, in complete hushed silence, bowed deeply before the alter.

I was shocked at how quickly they had contained that wild energy. I stood outside watching in awe, touched and weeping for their tender souls and hungry spirits.

We needn’t fear introducing ritual and ceremony to our young people. They understand it. At the level of soul or spirit, they understand and desperately desire it.

 

Separation from Society

Another common element in a rite of passage ritual in traditional cultures is a time of separation. The Elders literally or symbolically separate the youth from the pro­tective umbrella of family and familiar territory. This time alone acts as a preparation for moving into a new level of being.  It is a time to leave the old structures behind and embrace new structures that will guide the individual into further maturity.

Separation is the beginning of the journey toward adulthood. In America, however, statistics indicate that the kids are staying home longer, living with Mom and Dad, or running out briefly only to return to the fold without winning the grail.

Perhaps one of the reasons our young are having trouble separating is that the moment, the passage, is unmarked and unguided in our society. A first break from family is often haphazard and unintentional; a school trip, a weekend get away, spring break, going off to college, or camping. All of these informal occasions allow the young person to leave home, but are often heavily influenced by peer initiation.

This critical period of separation is not just a chance to party. No, the solitude and separation required during this time has an entirely different quality to it. In this contained space and time, the young person is often given tasks to complete or specific thoughts to hold and con-template. All distraction is carefully removed to allow the process to unfold from within. Separation might include long periods of seclusion and isolation that can last as long as 24 weeks (the Okiek people of Kenya)2 or a brief seclusion of hours or days.

Separating the child from his familiar (and comfort­able) world seems to be an important beginning of the rite of passage ceremony or ritual. It is both symbolic and literal. It brings to the surface the fears and doubts buried within us. Can I make it alone? Am I strong enough? What will it take for me to survive? The separation period is both a breaking of old dependencies and the formation of a new state which includes both independence and a greater dependence on higher realms.

In some tribal societies, taking the child from the mother is an integral part of the ceremony for both mother and child. Mother must also separate from the child and deal with the fear, grief and loss that it brings. She undergoes her own rite of passage as she leaves one stage of life behind and enters another.

For youth, the separation may be isolation in a hut or lodge, time spent on a mountain or, as we have seen in many adult initiation stories, a trip or journey. We find this most essential theme in all literature, poetry and mythol­ogy throughout time. The Three Little Pigs must go off to seek their fortune, the prince must undertake a challenge to prove himself, or the youth must leave the home of his or her parents to go on a quest. This theme is universal across cultures. In order to discover what is next, we must leave what we know behind.

Although we mark this with ritual in a formal youth rite of passage, we actually undergo this many times throughout life. This adolescent rite is offered only as an early teaching on how to separate and go on.

As I have grown in my work with individuals and groups, I see so many who suffer from an incomplete separation from the parents. This separation is necessary to continue on the human path. We must leave the parents and grandparents behind us, taking only our learning and our connection to the earlier generations. When we stay too long, we become entangled in the past, unable to move toward the future.

In my last year of college, I decided to study in Europe for six months. When I got on the plane to leave, my mother and father followed me right out to the plane. I was terrified but putting a brave face on things. I felt as if I had an orange in my throat. It took everything I had not to rush out of the plane and back into Mom and Dad’s arms. How important and how necessary that movement was for me. It allowed me to stretch and grow, to find my own imprint in the world.

 

The Task or Challenge

Most rite of passage ceremonies include the under­taking of some task or challenge that forces the initiate to face fear and doubt of his or her abilities. In ancient tribal societies, this was generally more severe and dramatic for boys as I mentioned in an earlier chapter. Historically, it has been the job of men and boys to protect and shelter the women and small children. In tribal societies the Elders knew that the woman would undergo her own challenge in giving birth to a child.

The inner intricacies of many still-existing tribal rite of passage rituals are often not shared with outsiders. They are closely held secrets that only the Elders know. Milt and I found, as we traveled in Indian country, that native people carefully guard their rituals and ceremonies. Generally, non-tribal members are not even allowed to attend or participate.

However, we don’t need to intrude on other cultures in order to design or discover the right test or challenge for our youth. Throughout antiquity we find numerous stories of great tasks and challenges. Of course, many involve confronting dragons and Orcs and such, but our modern world has its own equivalent scary creatures. We must all find and fight that demon we fear most. For some it is talking to a neighbor about his noisy dog, for others it is the job interview, for still others it is going six months without a boyfriend or girlfriend.

The test or challenge is the thing we must go through in order to get to the other side. When we have done this, we are changed forever. Offering a true test or challenge is difficult in our fear-riddled society. We are immersed in news and advertising messages that teach us to fear one another, fear our own inner being, fear the food supply, and fear the very world that contains us.

Recently I was in a Wal-Mart rest room where a young woman had taken her two small children. She had her hands raised like a surgeon who has just scrubbed for an operation and was yelling at them with a panicked voice, “Don’t touch anything.” Her little ones were fear­ful-both of her and of the hidden enemies in the bath­room.

Fear has become a controlling factor in how we parent and challenge our children. It’s disgusting. We’re under a wicked spell, controlled by fear. This is, perhaps, the meanest dragon we must face-fear.

In the fall of 2002, Milt and I made a trip to northern Austria to interview Bert Hellinger, the grandfather of Family Constellation Work. I was stunned at the easy pace and relaxed atmosphere of the small town of Kufstein where we stayed. The shops closed for lunch, kids roamed the streets at all hours, and there was a general feeling of safety around us. I hadn’t realized how fear-driven we’ve become in America. Muggers, shooters, germs, bankruptcy, the IRS, job loss, smallpox, terrorists-we are bombarded with messages of fear. We’re afraid to touch one another, afraid to challenge our children appropriately, afraid for our lives it would seem. The first time I went to New York City, I was so under the spell of television that I expected muggers to be handing out business cards at every subway stop. Instead I saw only friendly people going here and there. Never once did I feel threatened.

Fear is not the answer. One of the goals of the test or challenge embedded into the rites of passage ritual is to overcome fear. Castenada (1968)3, in his classic journey book, The Teachings of Don Juan, is told by his teacher that fear is the first of four enemies that we must be overcome in order to become a person of knowledge. Don Juan tells Carlos that the “four enemies are fear, clarity, power, and old age.” When Carlos asks Don Juan how we can overcome fear, the old man answered:

 

The answer is very simple. He must not run away. He must defy his fear, and in spite of it he must take the next step in learning, and the next, and the next. He must be fully afraid, and yet he must not stop.

 In my own experience, fear is often the stuff of illusion and not based on current reality. Fear comes from what we imagine will happen, not what is actually hap­pening. To overcome fear, we must be based in reality.

Early in my training in Neurolinguistic Pro­gramming (NLP), I made plans to study out in Santa Cruz for five days with two competent practitioners. My plan was to travel to California, rent a car in San Francisco, and drive south to Santa Cruz. While having a cup of cof­fee with my neighbor lady, I told her about my trip. She was completely baffled, even horrified, that I would make this huge journey all alone. “Aren’t you terrified?” she asked me. I wasn’t-but clearly she was.

Parents and adults need to confront the reality of their own fears. Robert Fritz (1989)4 wrote about how “fear of imagined negative consequences” can rule our lives.

Much of my work with clients these days is more coaching than counseling, and I’m struck by how many people feel that making a real life change in career or relationship will destroy the world as they know it. Within ten seconds of contemplating the change they imagine themselves homeless, broke, living under a bridge-and all alone. This unreasonable fear, I believe, is caused by our own lack of initiation. Perhaps we should occasionally destroy life as we know it.

Challenge yourself. What is that thing you fear? What is the reality of that fear? How will you be able to chal­lenge your children if you are unwilling to challenge your­self? If we take our fears and inspect them closely, they generally disappear, melting into the bath of non-reality.

 A Public Welcome and Acknowledgement of the Changed Status of the Youth

The final element of the formal rite of passage cere­mony is when the youth returns to the community with public acknowledgement of his or her changed status. This, for many tribal communities, is a time of feasting, dancing and celebration. With this change comes recog­nition, acknowledgement, and a shift both in position within the community and expectation. The child is now an adult-expected to take his or her place as such.

How our modern youth must long for that! The high school graduation ceremony is perhaps the strongest link we have to this element of the ritual rite of passage. Our children are polished and cleaned, adorned in colorful robes, gathered together before the entire community and honored as they take their hard-earned diploma. There is a moment in the ceremony where the entire class switches the tassel from one side of the cap to the other as a visible signal that this change is now complete. After the public ceremony, there is often feasting and parties in the homes of the graduates where the adult child again is celebrated by family and friends.

There is no intention here to disparage this very impor­tant moment in the adolescent’s life. They’ve worked long and hard to obtain that diploma and paid a price for it. However, it is possible to boost this important movement by paying careful attention to the above elements and perhaps add (in the senior year?) a more significant chal­lenge that would test them not only on the level of intel­lect but on the level of personal integrity, spirit, and soul as well. We could simply call it “The Senior Challenge” and make it as holistic and all encompassing as possible with special status recognition for those who choose to undergo it.

 What is the ‘Whale’ in modern culture?

Always, I come back to the loaded question of what a modern day rite of passage ritual would look like, After the many years of working on this book, I have come to despise that question.

What would a modern day ritual look like if it con­tained all the above-mentioned elements? In how many ways can we steer this sinking boat of culture toward one of our own design? It’s here that we lean our heads toward one another and ask the following questions:

  •  What is the modern day equivalent of hunting the whale?
  • What would make a rite of passage relevant and meaningful to young people?
  • What is the right age for a rite of passage in our modern culture?
  • Should there be a process that begins earlier as well?
  • Is the rite of passage ritual different for girls and boys or the same?
  • Should the final rite of passage ritual be individualized or done as a group?
  • What characteristics, values, and challenges do our young people most need in today’s world?
  • How can we create actions that satisfy the need for initiation and rite of passage, and cause positive ripple effects into the future?
  • How can we sweep our current culture of the broken shards of dead ritual-and strengthen the remnant rituals?

 Unfortunately, I have no easy answers to these ques­tions and invite you to join me in attempting to redefine our culture. This is no easy task.  There is no quick pill to swallow, no page to turn, no buck to pass-not any more. Our children are dying or entering adulthood unprepared to deal with its challenges.

Several years ago I went back to my hometown to work with a group of community members interested in revitalizing the downtown. It was a strange experience, walking those streets the afternoon before I was sched­uled to speak. Cass Lake, Minnesota, is a small town on the Leech Lake Reservation. It’s a beautiful bit of earth with lakes, rivers and forests, but the town suffers eco­nomically and socially. The school I had attended is gone. The stores I wandered in as a child are burned, boarded, or demolished. Grass grows wild in the places that still mean something to the child in me. It was profoundly sad-and yet somehow liberating at the same time.

When I rose to speak to the community that night, I felt very lighthearted. I looked out across those people who were my friends, teachers, and family and told them, quite frankly, there is nothing here to rebuild. What we have is a blank canvas. This community is free to become anything it wants to be. We are free-free from whatever it once was, free to be creative, inquisitive and energetic.

I feel the same about our American culture. We keep trying to fix old failing systems and boost weak structures when we could be focusing our energy and vision on what we want it to be now-in this time and place.

Cultures are constantly razed-and constantly rebuilding themselves. The sooner we turn from the razing-the sooner we can rebuild. The past one hundred years have so dramatically altered the slate of our communities that we can, essentially, pretend the slate is blank and begin anew. It’s time to create a new culture based on this new world. We can begin by asking what do we want rather than what is wrong?

How creative can we be with educational systems, economic systems, rituals and rites? It will take a lot of work between us. It will take a lot of energy and ideas. We will have to stop simply measuring the problems with endless task forces and committees. Measuring the prob­lem does not solve the problem. Instead we should analyze our existing rituals, whether they are church, school or family-related and strengthen what is already being done.

As this book has evolved, I’ve discovered that many great minds are at work on this issue. It will take many great minds to begin to shift the culture away from one that dismisses the needs of its young to one that encom­passes and enfolds them.

I’ve chosen to focus my own work on strengthening the core of the family with constellation work, which is described in a later chapter, and my writing and teaching. Others are working at the legislative level, in politics, in business, and in schools.

Perhaps critical to this discussion is the way in which we approach education. When I entered a graduate program at St. Mary’s University program in Human Development, I had the richest educational experience of my life. I was allowed to choose my courses and, essentially, to track the course of my own learning.

Learning does not happen in slotted chunks but should flow naturally. In this modern world, the entre­preneurial mind-the mind that can see patterns and connection-is the mind that will take us to a new level.

Initiation, the test or challenge, purification, the ritual moment, and the celebration of a changed status-all are part of the whole treatment of the child. As a culture, we have a giant whale to hunt. We must kill off old systems and create new ones. I welcome hearing about any and all means that communities are currently doing to create this new world. The following chapters outline a few of the worst and a few of the best approaches I have found.