Where are the Elders:
One man's experience in mentoring a boy's Initiation Process

   If we take a close look at an elder from a tribal society or from our own past “indigenous” origins, we may come up with a portrait of a man or a woman who plays a relevant role in the society to which they belong.  The elder is invariably “old” if not venerable; their life achievements are known to the people and retold in stories that, with time, acquire an almost mythological dimension.  They are often ascribed with special powers: either magical or supernatural.  They play essential roles in the initiation of the young.  They are sought after for their counsel and advice.  Even the leaders of a tribe will seek the Counsel of the Elders before undertaking important or dangerous ventures. 

   How different things appear in contemporary Western societies!     As we look around us today we may well ask ourselves what has happened to this ancient role. What has become of the notion that as human beings mature they can acquire valuable insights that may only come through with time, with the wisdom that one may derive from having lived through and experienced a larger span, a greater cycle of life?  Once great value was ascribed to such perspectives.  Is wisdom no longer of value?  Can it be that it too has become redundant?

   Maybe the problem is that our focus has shifted away from the cycles of the Earth and of Life towards the cycles of the stock exchange and economic growth.  Has lifestyle supplanted quality of life? Has the quest for ultimate personal comfort replaced the quest for spiritual meaning?

   Fast is best, we’re told. Speed is the new, urgent answer to our growing ‘needs’ - fibre optics, superconductors, and information superhighways - these alone (we are promised) will deliver us onto the brave new world of the future.
In all this blind haste what time can we find for the old, for the slow and for yesterday’s knowledge? 

   The conditions that have brought us to this perilous crossroads are also responsible for setting up those who have grown old under the influence of the great dream of ‘material-success-above-all-else’.  They have given their lives to this dream and, in the words of Joseph Campbell: they have climbed the ladder only to find that it was leaning against the wrong wall!  Many retire to a meaningless and empty life, cast aside by a younger world rushing past in pursuit of the same ephemeral goals.

   So where are the Elders of today?  Are our leaders also elders?  Can we find them in our Houses of Parliament, in the Senate, amongst our religious leaders or amongst our judges?  Maybe some are. But the truth of the matter is that in a society that does not respect its old, many grow old without respecting themselves. I suspect that in a culture that is as spiritually bankrupt as ours almost none of those who hold prominent positions will meet the criteria for true eldership. 

   Perhaps the saddest thing is that even though the whole of society suffers as a result of this lack, the ones that are most affected are the young.  Hannah Rachel Bell in a recent article calls out on their behalf:  “Where have all the navigators gone?  Where are the role models and visionaries to guide us into a responsible, fulfilling and better tomorrow?”   For many, I suspect, this call is met with silence, for how is one to find an elder in a society that does not endorse elders.  How is a young person to even know that there is a need? They may sense it as a vague, unanswerable fear or as an inexplicable inner lack, but how are they to name it if those who have passed before them haven’t?

   Much is spoken about the growing anarchy of youth, but it seems to me that often the responsibility for this is distributed in misguided directions. The mythology has it that it is our permissiveness and lack of “good old fashioned discipline” that is responsible for the kids running amuck.  I suggest that it is often simply because they find nothing worthy of respect in the world around them.  They are abandoned by a culture that, having chosen to ignore the spiritual needs of their young, has, perhaps inadvertently but nevertheless carelessly, cast them out to the wolves of drugs, youth gangs or unscrupulous gurus.  As David Tracey puts it: “The transition to maturity cannot take place in a moral vacuum, where society has forgotten its psychological and spiritual obligations and where the soul’s longing for development is neglected or left unattended.”

   The need for transformation experienced by young people is real and overwhelming.  I remember (and shudder at the memory!), as an adolescent, stepping out of a fifth story window of my parent’s apartment and standing on the cornice of the window beneath ours and looking down at the pigeons in the courtyard 25 metres below.  If someone had asked me why I had felt the need to do that, I would have been unable to give a coherent answer other than perhaps that “I needed to prove something to myself”.  It is what Tracey describes as “the call from the psyche to exterminate the old self” ; a ‘call’ experienced by all youths in some form or other and which signals the need for initiation.

   But who is there to initiate the young in our society?
If no one steps forward for the job they may try to do it themselves. And yet they are not qualified to complete their own process and often the transformation that they try to effect ends in tragedy.  The alternative, one that has been adopted by many, has been to act ‘as-if’ they are grown-up, and thereby become adults in body and appearance only. Unfortunately the mask cannot change one’s true nature and deep within they remain emotionally immature, unable to have functional relationships or to become responsible and empowered members of society.

   All this leads to one question: what can we do to compensate for this lack? This is where all of a sudden I find myself plunged into a squirmy and uncomfortable place. It’s easy to shine light on problems, but coming up with solutions is another matter. And if I must speak the truth (and I must) then I would have to answer that I’m not sure, that I don’t really know. This is where I have had to leave thinking behind and navigate on gut feeling, letting intuition be my guide.

   For ten years I’ve looked at this issue and squirmed around it. Too hard, had been my assessment. Too scary, was actually closer to the truth. Recently, and I can’t really say what it was that triggered the decision, I took the bull by the horns and ran a first initiation process for boys in the hills near Perth. Did I feel suddenly ready? I didn’t. Was I suddenly fearless? Far from it. But one thing I have learnt in my chosen work arena is that sometimes the best way to learn how to do a thing is to just plunge into the deep end, ready or not.

   I centred the initiation process around one of the most powerful tools at my disposal: the sweat lodge. All activities revolved around this single event. The boys lugged the wood from the trailer, split it and made kindling. They assembled the bonfire, placed the rocks within it and lit it. They draped the canvases over the arching sweat lodge poles, they filled the cauldron with water.

   Everything they did kept constantly turning into play. As I had suspected getting young adolescents to go within was no easy task. ‘Out there’ is so enticing for them, so alluring; any kind of stillness soon becomes boring and triggers restlessness.

   I interspersed the physical activities with drumming – they would not chant – and with sharing the talking stick.

   I asked them questions and they answered. Questions about their childhood, about their parents, about girls and about what they thought it meant to become a man. Questions about the sweat lodge experience they were about to have. They responded readily to this process, for the most part sharing thoughtfully, revealing insights that surprised me. They showed me that they had very clear ideas about things and were grateful for the opportunity to express them. Of course they showed off and giggled, especially when they talked about girls, in fact that seemed to be the one area where their thinking seemed less fluid, more entrenched and somewhat defensive.

   Then it was time for the sweat lodge. Suddenly everything changed. The boys grew quiet and still, their playfulness ended; they listened and followed instructions attentively. I had banked on this to happen. We were approaching the unknown, an experience of an otherworld, one outside of their experience to date. This was the trump card for the whole process. During the planning stage I had been mindful that to merely talk about significant issues would be little more than an intellectual exercise without a trigger that would bring the boys powerfully into the PRESENT, into the HERE and NOW. The sweat lodge did that. And as I facilitated the lodge, I found that relevant information began to pour out of me, towards them. I spoke to the spiritual warrior within them, the one who acted without destroying and without avoiding, but who faced the things he feared. I spoke of the importance of championing the Earth, our mother and to always honour and respect the feminine. I spoke of the importance of living a life filled with vision. It became clear to me as I listened to what was emerging from me that the day’s work had touched me as well as them, it was as if something had loosed inside me and I felt an energy move through me, through and out of my body.

   After the sweat lodge we shared some food. Other adults were present and the boys ate quietly. There was the usual stillness that follows a sweat lodge, only more so. There seemed to be no room for words.

   I spoke with the mother of one of the boys a few weeks later. She told me that he had been much more reflective since the ritual. He didn’t talk much when she first asked him about it, she had said, but as the days wore on different things would remind him of some details and he spoke about them as they came up. She thought it had impacted him greatly.

   I don’t know what the ultimate outcome for these boys will be. But I do know that they will remember this experience for the rest of their lives and I believe that it may be of benefit to them as they grow. I pray that the seeds that were planted will germinate into generous life giving qualities. I know that I am grateful for the experience and that I will continue to offer it and refine it.
         

Claudio Silvano

Campbell, J. 1994. The Way of Myth, Talking with Joseph Campbell.  In Bell, H. R. (1995), ‘The Redundancy of Wisdom’, Gathering Women & Men’s Work, 3 (1) p. 6.

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