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, 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.

 

Finishing One Drum

I haven’t been posting much lately because I am hard at work doing final edits on my novel, ONE DRUM.  Just for fun, I’ll paste the first couple of pages in here.   I am excited because a long winter of revision is over and I finally have an agent to take it to the marketplace.  I love this book and have been behind it for too many years. 

 

ONE DRUM
Chapter I

 February 27, 2003

 Cuny Table, a tabletop mesa in the heart of Lakota country, is an unlikely place for a restaurant. The mesa itself is a survivor, having held its ground as thirty-five million years of wind and rain eroded the land into what is now the Badlands of South Dakota. On its high top are a few scattered ranches, fields of winter wheat, and a view so wide it feels like the floor of heaven. Sketched along the skyline to the west are the Black Hills; and, on the northeastern edge surrounded by a few rough buildings, is the Cuny Café.

Agnes Stands Alone, the owner of the café, has been there as long as anybody can remember. She is an old, square-bodied woman with short, coarse hair and eyes like dark marbles that seem to see straight through you. The regulars call her Unci, or Grandmother in Lakota.  Most of them wander in not so much for the food (although the food is good) but for her company and the unusual tea she brews from plants gathered down in the Cheyenne River breaks. The old ones, especially, find Agnes’s tea eases their aching bones and makes the blood flow more easily to the toes. Oh, she makes no claims about her tea, but everybody who walks in gets a steaming cup slapped down before them with a brisk command to, “Drink up.”

The café, an old thirty-foot trailer, has been gutted, insulated, and made into one open space except for a back bedroom which nobody but Agnes has ever been in. The front has a single booth, two tables, and a plywood counter top covered with blue-flowered contact paper. Some strangers think the poor old trailer looks like a dislocated train car hooked to nothing, going nowhere.

Agnes never hesitates to give advice-or a solid scolding-when needed.  But, more than the tea or Indian tacos or advice or whatever is on the menu that day (everybody eats the same daily special), the locals go to the café for Agnes’s stories. She knows all of the old Lakota stories.  She knows the creation stories, the stories of Iktomi the trickster and the Seven Sisters who can still be seen winking down from the sky on a clear night.  Her favorite is the story of the Second Cleansing when Unci Makah grew tired of the antics of her human children and tossed all but a few off her powerful body.  According to the story, those She sheltered later emerged from Wind Cave as The Lakota People.

Agnes, however, doesn’t just tell old stories.  Sometimes she tailor-makes the story especially for the person hearing it. For instance, once J.J. Runs At Night had a new colt so sick it couldn’t stand.  Agnes told him a story about how a grove of young willows withstood the mightiest of storms by forcing their roots further into Unci Makah, Grandmother Earth. “Such smart, young trees,” she said, “to know just what to do.” By the time J.J. got home, the colt was running across the corral on four sturdy legs.

Another time, June Player’s daughter tried to die by cutting her wrists with the top of a tuna can. The poor girl nearly bled out before they found her.  For this dangerous moment, Agnes told June about a small ant who had lost his place in line-until the wind blew a single grain of sand across his path, forcing him to turn another way. The next day, June’s daughter woke up from her deep, uneasy sleep talking about needing to find her place-before it was too late.

A while later, the girl began writing poetry and gave Agnes this poem written in a smooth, pretty hand:

In the greater scheme of things

Only she who sings,

And learns to play the wind,

Will ever grow wings.

Now I play the wind.

Agnes took a pineapple-shaped magnet, stuck the poem to her fridge and said, “Good.” After that the young girl began hanging around the café helping Agnes peel potatoes and wipe off countertops.

Of the nearly forty thousand residents of The Pine Ridge Reservation, at least half of them have been in the Cuny Café at one time or another, not to mention visitors from Japan, Switzerland, Germany and many other places. Agnes keeps a guest book and feeds them all tea and stories.

On slow days, Agnes sits in an old rocking chair on the rough-lumber porch the regulars had built for her five years earlier and lights her pipe. When it’s not in use, she keeps the pipe in a small, beaded bag hanging on a nail beside the screen door like a good luck charm. The bowl is carved red pipestone from a quarry in southern Minnesota.  This particular stone, Agnes says, was once part of the Black Hills until it broke away and floated off during some ancient upheaval.

Agnes fills the pipe with a dried version of her tea; and while she smokes, she prays. Sometimes the praying takes her far off to what she simply calls “the other place.” The first time she visited this other place she had been only seventeen and drunk. Her uncle, a medicine man, had found her puking her guts out beneath an old cottonwood tree and taken her home and made her pray for three days straight without food or water. That ornery old man-he’d cut straight through her young spirit to the old woman already living there, and Agnes had never again been able to return to her ordinary life.

Now, when the locals drive up Cuny Table to grab a bite to eat and find her sitting so still with the pipe in her lap and the spirit absent from her eyes, they know not to disturb her and simply tromp up the steps to help themselves in her kitchen. Occasionally, the praying is so complete, so pervasive, that they find it impossible to cross her threshold and simply get back into their trucks and leave.

Agnes sees many things in the smoke curling up from her pipe; she sees the land, she sees distant places, she sees the beating hearts of the people, the breaking hearts of the people, the loving hearts of the people; and, sometimes, in the hazy curl she sees the old ones who once walked the earth but now watch from other realms. The old ones have stories of their own to tell; but Agnes never tells these stories to anybody except Bill Elk Boy.

 

It was one of these days, on the edge of winter, when Agnes cast her inner eye outward toward the weathered lands north of Cuny Table and saw the change coming. There, on a single square foot of dry, deserted earth in the Badlands north and west of Wounded Knee Village, a thin line of dust rose up from a single needle-mark in the sand. Agnes watched the whorl of dust curl upward like the smoke of her pipe.  It had no discernible color unless she used the very edges of her peripheral vision and then she saw the palest of pink light rising from a dark horizon. As she watched, the pale, moving spiral seemed to take shape, as if Creator was conjuring something from nothing, dancing dust into form. When the dust settled, she saw the form of a woman asleep in the sand and Agnes knew she had returned at last, the little one . . . the lost one.

Two young boys were walking toward the sleeping woman.

When the glaze cleared from her eyes and she again entered this ordinary realm, Bill Elk Boy was beside her. He took the pipe, the bowl now cold to the touch, tapped it clean on the edge of his chair, slipped it back into the beaded bag, and said, “It begins, Agnes. Today it begins.”