In traditional indigenous societies the elders were held in a place of esteem. They were perceived as the carriers of wisdom, and within the wisdom were the seeds of culture that would be passed on throughout the generations. But somewhere along the way we forgot about wisdom, and in forgetting about wisdom we also forgot about the elders.
Elders are not merely old; they are people who have lived many years acquiring wisdom along the way. But in the march for constant exponential economic growth we have come to celebrate the “new” more than the “old” — the latest device, technology, or fad more so than the traditions or the meanings contained within them.
In a place of wisdom there is room for both the new and the old, the innovative and the traditional. Because wisdom is not about knowledge but understanding, and with understanding we come to know what to value from the past while adopting the new.
Maria and I were recently visiting with friends who shared a story of one of their friends who passed on a few years ago. She was a woman of intelligence and experience. After a long career as a nurse she became a homesteader and even a prepper. They described her as “very advanced” in her knowledge of homesteading. But they were troubled by the extreme extent of her stockpiling of food. She and her husband had numerous refrigerators and freezers, all full. They had walls of shelves, floor to ceiling, filled with canned goods, storerooms with bulk grains, which seemed excessive to our friends who recounted her story.
And while their friend was intelligent and experienced, storing years of food, she was an alcoholic and addicted to prescription painkillers. So, while this woman and her husband obsessively stored food so they would never run out, there was a glaring unaddressed problem staring her right in the face: alcoholism and drug abuse.
It was her addictions that took her life far too soon.
There are so many human afflictions that we learn to live with as best we can without ever addressing their root causes. We bump around into each other, creating drama and conflict, becoming estranged from the ones we love, and unconsciously choosing to remain blind to so many things so we can merely cope with one more day of the grind.
This is due in no small part to casting off the wisdom ways and respect for elders, not merely old people but those who possess the understanding together with compassion and empathy to carry us forward into the future without disintegrating our way of life.
Learning how to live is the most basic aspect of culture. For example, many indigenous cultures have complex systems of clans, clan identifications, affiliations, and regions, together with a strong cultural value of never marrying within a clan. From the outside this may seem rigid and controlling, but if we think about it more carefully we can perceive the wisdom in it. It’s about genetic variation.
All indigenous cultures have their origin stories. They are often colorful and poetic, but not literal, and they provide children and young people a way of deriving some meaning from their very existence. Instead of rote learning and indoctrination into a modern lifestyle they are given meaning.
Another is the adolescent initiation into adulthood, something all traditional indigenous cultures used to have in which young people were challenged physically, emotionally, and spiritually to discover deeper dimensions within themselves. But today we initiate young people in ways that are more geared toward status and comparison.
I’ve been oriented toward spirituality, depth, introspection, and wisdom ways for nearly my entire life. But I’ve been recognizing of late that there are certain aspects of living that I’ve missed along the way. Basic things I’m still learning that will help round out the corners of my life in such a way where I can function more fully in the world.
If you’ll indulge me for a minute, I’d like to digress with a little story.
There was a white man, a black man, and a Native American man traveling together across the southwest. After some time they were tired and needed rest. So they stopped for a spell. During this rest the white man felt something in the sand next to him. He dug it out and found an old-style oil lamp. In effort to clean the lamp he rubbed it, which is when a large puff of smoke emerged, and a genie formed from the smoke.
And as legend would have it, when a genie forms from the confines of a lamp there are three wishes to be granted, in this case one for each of the three men. The white man being the one to find the lamp went first. He began by asking the genie if he could wish for anything. The genie reassured him he could have whatever he wished for. So the white man said he liked it out in the wide-open spaces, but he yearned for a time when there were less people and less development. So, he said he’d like to go where there are less people. And with such a request there was a puff of smoke, and the white man was gone.
Then the black man pondered the question and thought, yes, going back to a time and place with less people and more open space would be great. The genie asked, “Is that your wish?” The black man said, “Yes, that is my wish.” And again, in a puff of smoke the black man was gone.
Then it was time for the Native American man to make his wish. He began first by asking the genie, “So, are they really gone?” And the genie replied, “Yes, they’re really gone.” “Great,” said the Native American man, “I’ll take a diet Coke.”
Funny, perhaps? Racial? Yes.
But the wisdom of this story comes from where I heard it and from whom it came.
Some years ago Maria and I were attending a Sundance ceremony and were invited into the sweat lodge with the elders before the dance began. Maria sat in lodge with the women and the elder woman conducting, and I sat with the men and the Sundance chief conducting.
Sundance ceremonies are incredibly beautiful and powerful. There are lots of protocols to be educated on and to carefully observe so as to maintain the integrity of the ceremony. One of which is that the elders are the supreme authorities, next to the Creator. It is said never to interrupt them and to follow their instructions carefully.
So, being invited into the lodge with them was somewhat of a breach of protocol but also a high honor in such a sacred space and time. And it was there that I sat with hot rocks having been brought and placed in the pit in the center of the lodge, the door closed, darkness having fallen over us, the Sundance Chief poured a few ladles of water over the rocks to produce steam, and after we sat together for a few long moments in silence the elder Sundance Chief shared the story of the three men and the genie.
The incongruence of time and place itself led to an eruption of laughter and an unfoldment of lighthearted time together for men in the sacred lodge space.
Humor . . . fun . . . lightheartedness.
Such are basic aspects of living we were meant to experience. Elders are wise, compassionate, empathetic, and usually very fun and funny.
I’m sharing this because this is another layer of the onion for me. Not that I haven’t known this for many years, but knowing and living are two entirely different animals.
Being so driven toward accomplishment of every kind gives rise to the old saying, “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” Being driven all the time also means we forget how to have fun because work and accomplishment have become the habit.
This past Sunday I made the decision to accomplish absolutely nothing. Not a single chore, or write a single paragraph, or check off a single item of client work, and to follow my whims moment by moment.
For many people this is not hard to do, but for me it has been, and I’ve come to learn more fully that it’s a good practice in letting go. By letting go, I can practice having more fun and experience more joy. And with every practice we get better at it over time. Which means that I’ll be able to infuse more fun and lightheartedness into everything I do. Maybe even the DEEPER side of things will become a little more fun.
With the woman who possessed everything material including years of stockpiled food and acquired expertise, she succumbed to a mere addiction gone awry, unaddressed and therefore deadly.
And for me . . . a daily practice of lightening up, allowing more space for fun and lightheartedness — not taking life so seriously all the time.
If only we invite the wisdom of the elders back into our lives and culture, value the wisdom traditions (including fun and laughter) we will learn again how to live.
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