Imagining our Future" FORWARD INTO THE PAST - A New Birth: Interbeing

"You can never have an impact on society if you have not changed yourself."

Nelson Mandela

"Be the change you want to see... My life is my message."

M.K. Gandhi

Preface

In my last essay in this series, I offered two possible worldviews as alternatives to the fragmentation which is so pervasive in our time - "indigenous wisdom" and "interbeing".

However, when you think about it, the concept of interbeing is a spatial metaphor: we inter-are with other people, trees, with the planet and the Cosmos.

There is another aspect to interbeing - a temporal one. We inter-are in the dimension of time with both our past and future. And we can be disconnected from both.

The series title itself - "Imagining the Future" - invites us to consider the flow of time. The subtitle to this section - "Humanity is Giving Birth" - suggests the possibility of a new birth. This new birth will involve shifts in our perception of time as well as space.

In this piece I will be speaking more personally by first sharing an adventure of discovering more about my family's past. I will also focus on a resource that, due to our contemporary atomistic orientation, we sometimes overlook: our ability to draw strength from mentors and allies - from our spiritual ancestors.

Context

Titanic forces are converging at this time in human history. Powerful adversity trends appear to include global climate change, rapid extinction of species, depletion of key resources - such as water and cheap oil - a burgeoning population and the growing gap between the poor and the rich.

This convergence has been called a "whole systems crisis" and suggests that we are headed for an evolutionary crash.

Yet there are equally significant "opportunity trends" already present, many of which can be predicted to increase in power. These include the current communications revolution, including the Internet, and a rejuvenated awareness that our cosmos itself is alive. And by the middle of the 20th century Abraham Maslow and Roberto Assagioli had offered new, deep, and inspiring visions of human emotional and spiritual growth - of our potential, of "who we may be."

We may yet experience an "evolutionary bounce".

Awareness of consequential geopolitical issues is growing. These planetary-level issues will include the impending eco-crisis. We may, in fact, be experiencing the first intimations of an awareness that we have entered a canyon from which there is no escape except self-transformation. The specter of global death that hangs over the postmodern era may be fueling a profound psychic transformation of our species.

While the possibility exists that, after peering into the abyss, our species may experience a quantum leap in consciousness, it also seems crystal clear that, as Martin Luther King said, "There will be difficult days ahead."

As we engage in the "struggle" (to use an old political term) to create a world that works for all living beings, those of us who feel called to help heal the Earth can expect to be sorely challenged.

We will, of course, need to focus externally. Yet, if we are to actually address our planetary predicament, might we also need to look inward? Can we hope to create significant, lasting social change without gaining a deeper self- knowledge?

It seems naïve to think that a dysfunctional culture will not also result in dysfunctional families or that massive, multigenerational, social dis-regulation will not result in longstanding traumas which beg to be healed. From this perspective - in terms of growing our awareness and healing our own traumas - we all have much work to do: in essence, "cleaning up our act."

What is the relationship between person and planet? If we want to help humanity view itself as a family, might we need to look more deeply at our own families of origin?

Re-connecting with our Personal Past

We will need all the strength we can find.

And my sense is that we can all benefit from an awareness of our family's historical roots. We will also need to draw sustenance by consciously recalling the wisdom of elders and allies. In doing so, we will realize that we are not in it alone.

All in the Family

I want to begin by sharing a bit about my own search into the past - an exploration of my "family tree".

Some decades ago, in my early thirties, I began individual treatment with an innovative family therapist who was widely considered one of the luminaries of the family therapy field.

The therapist's name was Norman Paul. I found him to be extraordinarily skilled. However, his approach to psychotherapy was like nothing I had ever encountered.

Paul believed that our understanding of ourselves will be incomplete until we become familiar with the lives of those who came before us - our ancestors. His approach was to ask the patient to research their family tree and to learn about the specific life experiences of his or her predecessors.

The basis of Norman's approach was the idea that to fully live in the present, the past has to be acknowledged, its secrets revealed, and its losses mourned. It also viewed many individual-oriented treatments as overlooking the role of the multigenerational transmission of trauma in the perpetuation of emotional distress. From this perspective, trauma in the family can only be transformed and resolved if it is seen in the context of the flow of time.

**

My family of origin fit snugly into the dysfunction of our culture. Sadly, I cannot describe it as a healthy family... but then, these days - whose is?

I had plenty to work on. So, it was that I embarked on a journey that took me places I had never expected to go.

Norman first asked me to construct a detailed genogram - a visual representation of my family over four generations. This itself was a revelation of sorts. Acting as my consultant, he aided me in perceiving patterns of interaction that extended into the distant past.

The search for information about my ancestors took me far and wide.

I travelled to the National Archives in Manhattan and Waltham, Massachusetts. Feeling much like a detective, I scrolled through countless microfilms in search of the passenger manifests from the ships that brought my grandparents and great-grandparents to America. I searched through census data from the early 20^th century - learning the names of people, most of whom I had never met.

Spurred on by Norman's coaching, I sent letters to various city clerk's offices requesting birth and death certificates.

Speaking honestly, this work simultaneously felt like an exhilarating adventure and a time-consuming slog. Through patience and persistence, I had a measure of success.

I was also invited to embark on other forays: travelling with video camera and notebook in hand to discover my great-grandparents' graves. This was an undertaking that propelled me to obscure graveyards in search of illuminating details.

A story: I found myself in Newark, New Jersey, which at the time was an impoverished - and dangerous - city. Burned out automobile husks dotting the street made the city look like a crime-ridden war zone.

With some effort I found the cemetery which housed the remains of my great-grandparents on one side of the family. I proceeded to the central building and once inside was directed to big, dusty, old books, listing names and gravesite locations. The fellow in charge helped me leaf through their crumbling pages.

When I finally glimpsed the listings I was seeking, I asked the fellow if it was safe to walk through the property. He replied, "Not after dark... and it will be safer if you have a gun." Somewhat incredulous, I asked him if he carried one. His reply, "Sometimes..."

I did not - and needless to say - I trod carefully and with a wary alertness as I made my way through a plethora of old gravestones....and quit when the day's light faded!

**

I sought out cemeteries in other states and one day found myself wandering amidst long-abandoned rows of gravestones. The chart I had been given was not accurate and I was moving from stone to stone, determined not to give up.

At last, through a process of elimination, I realized that the last stone in a section had to be the one I was looking for. But there was a problem: it had fallen over and was covered by another very heavy gravestone. I was not pleased. But having come this far on a nippy autumn day, I'd be damned if I was going to leave without finding what I came for. "What to do?"

"OK, I think I can find leverage by leaning my back against this other stone and using my legs to push the slab off." The situation felt quite absurd, but by now I was stubbornly determined to accomplish my goal. Exerting significant effort and feeling like a relic hunter, I managed to move the ancient slab, revealing pay dirt: the resting place of my great-grandfather. I took pictures, copied some rather obscure inscriptions into my notebook, and uttered a few thoughts into my cassette recorder.

But my journey didn't end there.

Norman also suggested that I seek out older relatives - both those in good standing and those "on-the-outs" with the larger family system. He noted that people who were disaffected might have valuable knowledge about long-buried family secrets.

I pursued this course, having conversations with blood relatives across the country who I had not seen in decades, and some of whom I had never met. I collected and carted around old family photos, eliciting descriptions and stories of days long gone.

In one instance, I created a mini-reunion which brought together close relatives who had had no idea that they were living in the same town. It was a surprisingly joyful occasion.

**

Meanwhile, checking in with Norman every few months was what in the old days would have been called "a-trip -and-a-half." Visiting his office was like dropping in on the Wizard of Oz - an unusual experience, to put it mildly.

Instead of the usual two-chair arrangement of the traditional therapist's office (and my own!), I sat on a couch, while Norman sat some feet away at a console, pushing buttons as we spoke. The console regulated a video camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling. It whirred as he fiddled and flipped switches. Strange...

Sessions might last two hours or more, as we surveyed my latest voyages. Meanwhile, Norman guided the discussion into the most vulnerable and often hidden emotional areas. Trained as a physician, Norman operated like a surgeon, skillfully cutting away artifice and penetrating defenses. It was often uncomfortable.

As if this were not enough, he would frame the most emotionally fraught moments in our dialogue, and then ask me to watch carefully- selected moments of the conversation, while he left the room. When he returned, we would discuss his observations and my insights.

I was often exhausted after these marathon sessions - tired, yet wiser and more illumined.

It was an unusual approach to therapy conducted by an unusual man. This was certainly not "Your Father's Oldsmobile.".

In contrast to the usual therapeutic fare of supportive dialogue, Norman understood the value of shock and surprise in dislodging stuck places. I don't know if he was familiar with "confusion technique" - a highly effective intervention popularized by Milton Erickson - but he knew how to use it. Both men understood the ways patterns - whether in individuals or family systems - can become stuck and rigidified - and the way shock, surprise and humor can serve as a laxative to free up emotional constipation.

At one point Norman strongly proposed that I write a letter to my parents who, at the time, lived out of state. Without getting too graphic, I'll share that he advised me to write a detailed letter strongly suggesting that my parents purchase better dishware for the cats. I laughingly responded that I couldn't do that. Norman's response: "You-can't-write-those-words?" Needless to say, I did, and then followed it up with an equally serious phone call discussing the details of this farcical recommendation. Norman had said to me: "We've got to get you differentiated out of this zoo...!"

He had a wild sense of humor. What a trickster! On the coffee table in front of the couch was a small tchotchke upon which was mounted a marble mushroom and a plaque that read, "I must be a mushroom because everyone feeds me bullshit and keeps me in the dark."

In the bathroom above the toilet hung a most peculiar coat of arms, comprised of two crossed implements - a plunger and toilet brush. The herald below was in Latin. Its translation: "From sh*t comes the truth."

Only recently did I discover that Norman had learned about the secrets and ghosts locked away in the unspoken recesses of his own family's history. Murder, suicide, infant death, family upheaval and disintegration had cast a pall over his life, which he reported was lifted only after fastidious research revealed the true origin of his family's and his own pain.

"Take Aways"

And what of this work? Did I make discoveries or find buried treasure in this four-generational-odyssey? Yes.

As you can imagine, this can be a fascinating and consuming pursuit.

When I moved on to attend to other priories, were there still unsolved mysteries - issues still unexplored and in the dark? Yes.

Was this journey worth the effort? Definitely.

Perhaps, more than any one detail, what was most valuable was the journey itself, the opportunity to expand my perspective by re-connecting with my past. I certainly came away with a visceral, felt-sense of my heritage, particularly its eastern European roots. Besides giving myself the gift of a free adventure and an intriguing puzzle to solve, I came away with a stronger sense of self.

**

Like many people in my mobile generation, I had left home and continued to move away from my family of origin. My focus on was on autonomy, being my own person, finding my own direction. I had been aware that my sense of family was rather diminished but frankly, I didn't much care. Other than idle curiosity, I simply had little interest in my extended family or ancestry.

Like so many families in America. mine was dysfunctional - and the truth was that I couldn't get away fast enough. I wanted to create an alternative to the climate in which I had grown up.

Up until my early thirties my focus had been on autonomy and establishing myself in the world.

My work with Norman Paul brought "family matters" home on a visceral level... family came alive in a whole new way.

The work with Paul also helped me to reflect on the reality that, despite the benefits of many middle-class Americans' desire for independence - moving away from family, geographically or emotionally, had its own costs.

I could see that absence of a "family web," which is still intact in many other cultures, had contributed to the plague of isolation and loneliness in our culture. I began to reflect on what is now being called, "the epidemic of loneliness".

In his extensively publicized speech delivered in --, U.S. Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy declared that:

"Mental health is the defining public health crisis of our time, and for many Americans, loneliness is at the heart of that crisis. More than just a bad feeling, loneliness is a corrosive condition... [leading to] increased risk for depression, anxiety, and suicide, as well as... stress-related physical ailments like heart disease, stroke, and [even] dementia."

It became clear to me that, in more traditional and indigenous cultures, the presence of extended family meant that grief could be spread around, as could childcare and often even economic security.

This helped me to think more critically about western culture's ethic of individualism. I had read Philip Slater's The Pursuit of Loneliness years before, but the work with Norman brought home the atomization of our social units in a vivid way. Slater suggested that, particularly in the U.S., "individualism is rooted in the attempt to deny the reality of human interdependence".

Which is to say, our "inter-being".

Mentors and Allies

Researching our genealogical roots is one a way of reconnecting with our past and transcending the pervasive isolation in contemporary culture.

A second strategy for overcoming fragmentation is recalling and drawing strength from persons we think of as allies. Some of these may be mentors we've known; we may encounter others only through their written words. Allies are often not members of our biological lineage. We can, however, think of them as members of our spiritual family. And, just as we can be enriched by discovering our genealogical roots, so we can benefit from graciously acknowledging our "spiritual ancestors".

Meeting an Ally

Some allies are "elders." These are people who have grown wiser and not merely older; as such, they have tuned into deeper truths. True elders have a desire to serve and enhance all life. They become deep repositories of wisdom and possess an inner authority, whether or not they have external positions of power.

In traditional cultures elders are known to embody essential values and enduring truths. They will have gained a deeper, wider vision because they have faced whatever they needed to deal with in their own lives - and in the process developed insight into the intricacies and struggles of all human life.

In reality a person of any age can function as an elder; some children can be described as "old souls". Yet, the truth remains that all societies need wise elders --- and elders, by their nature, function as allies.

**

I initially met Carol Smith when she interviewed me for a job as a therapist/case manager in a clinic serving schizophrenic clients and their families.

The interview was scheduled for one hour; we ended up talking for two. At the end Carol informed me that she would need to interview other candidates.

Some time went by.

One day I knocked on Norman Paul's door in preparation for my appointment. At that very moment a client appeared who was leaving a session. It was Carol. For a few moments we were both stunned. Then she quipped, "I guess it's time for a second interview."

I got the job and Carol functioned as my supervisor for almost seven years. This was my first full-time job out of graduate school. Carol turned out to be a powerful ally and catalyst who supported my personal as well as professional growth.

The Setting

By the early 1980s E. Fuller Torrey had written:

"The magnitude of schizophrenia as a national calamity is exceeded only by the magnitude of our ignorance in dealing with it... Schizophrenics are the lepers of the twentieth century."

Schizophrenia is known as a "thought disorder". Attention span and logical thinking tend to be radically impaired; and patients frequently experience an inability to think, accompanied by an almost unspeakable sense of emptiness. Delusions and hallucinations are not uncommon. The disorder usually appears in late adolescence or in one's early to mid-20's, and patients with chronic schizophrenia usually do not fully recover.

When untreated, this condition can lead to profound states of inner chaos, anguish and disintegration. Describing this state R.D. Laing wrote: "He is a stranger, an exile, signaling us from the void in which he is foundering, a void which may be peopled by presences we do not even dream of."

Chronic mental illness has been one of the lowest priorities areas in the mental health field. These patients tend to be politically powerless, as well as traumatized and difficult to reach. This is not a "sexy" population. In a parallel process, therapists who work with these individuals can also experience themselves as if they are at the bottom of the professional totem pole. Therapist burnout is not uncommon.

Yet, joining this innovative community aftercare program, I was immediately intrigued by a sense of vitality, dynamic optimism, and clarity of purpose which appeared to bond colleagues together. The agency, of which our team was a part, also housed a drop-in center and activities program. Clients gathered daily to participate in milieu, group, family, and individual therapy, to spend time with one another, and to soak in a sense of belonging. Clients' family members eagerly participated in groups designed for support, education, and self-help. Frequently, they expressed their sincere gratitude to staff - strongly contrasting with numerous past instances of feeling accused or ignored in dealing with mental health professionals. Clearly, something was working.

When I came on board, Carol had already developed a network of groups, including two multiple-family groups, composed of adult patients and their parents, a parent support group, a client support group, a sibling group and a family education evening. Although led by therapists, these mutual aid groups focused on participants' capacity to help each other.

I was thrown into the water and needed to swim: before I knew it I was up and running. I soon was functioning as an individual, group and family therapist.

Carol as a Mentor

Carol ran the clinic and was my clinical and administrative supervisor. Yet, on meeting Carol for the first time, I recognized her as a highly evolved person. It's not typical for these two to go together. For me the experience turned out to be a rare and fortuitous blessing... and an occasion for deep learning.

In today's skeptical, utilitarian, "every-person-for-themselves" world - and due to our society's difficulty in celebrating wise elders - it can be difficult to envision the possibility of highly developed beings. We may have trouble even believing that such people exist. The following account, which is not idealized, is clear evidence that these beings do in fact exist. If you detect my appreciation, you will be right. I am profoundly grateful for this life experience.

Perhaps for these reasons it has been challenging to describe Carol. What immediately came to mind is the metaphor of a jewel with many facets.

The first and most obvious facet was Carol's laser-like focus (as she often put it) on "empowerment" - of clients, families and of the team she supervised. She had designed a program that empowered a patient population that was often ignored and dismissed. The program also empowered our clients' families. Beyond this, she empowered the clinicians who worked for her - and in the process inspired us to empower our patients.

The game was all about growth.

In the seven years we worked together I co-led therapy and psychoeducation groups with Carol.

Throughout that time, I witnessed someone who embodied compassion, love and a dedication to truth. It was an extraordinary experience.

What I immediately noticed was that Carol had no need to wield power over others. At the same time, by example, she generated a climate in which others could discover their own power - finding it both within themselves and in supportive relationships with other people. I was reminded of Gandhi's statement that he sought the power that was within every everyone and over no one.

Carol encouraged the members of our team to write, publish, and present our work at conferences. I was fortunate enough to present our work in Montreal and Toronto, as well as at the state conference of the Alliance for the Mentally Ill.

The empowerment continued: she and I acted as consultants to a group of mothers whom she had encouraged to write their own stories to help other families. This was published in 1986 by Norton and titled Families Helping Families - Living with Schizophrenia by the Families of the Mentally Ill Collective.

In addition, the parents in the clinic's family education group were originators of the local Alliance for the Mentally Ill, a self-help group committed to political advocacy and mutual support. Beginning with less than ten members, in time it functioned as a seed organization for the creation of more than 38 groups, as well as the state alliance chapter.

These conditions served to break down the barriers between professionals and families. It became common for family members to lead workshops on mental illness - both with and without professional co-leaders. This state of affairs reflected what I would describe as Carol's unspoken motto: "There's nobody here but us chickens."

The level of safety that emerged was remarkable. Typically, few clinical teams will feel secure enough to open up about their own families: such activity might be seen as "too personal" and "unprofessional". Yet this is exactly what we did. There was such a high degree of trust that we felt able to share our family genograms and discuss the darker areas in our own "family trees". Our purpose was to become more aware of our potential blind spots and transference reactions in our work with patients. It took courage, but was also very freeing.

Amidst all this there was an easy humor and plenty of laughter within our clinic. I am reminded of Ernest Kurtz's comment that:

"Humor, humility, humanity... we cannot work on one without working on the others. We cannot have one without having the others. To attend to any one of the three begins the process of bringing us home-- home to ourselves, to the mixed-up-ed-ness of our human be-ing."

Some of our laughter arose when we observed the abuses of power within the mental health system itself. Carol had an unflinching, keen appreciation of the "ego-trips" and distortions exhibited by some of our colleagues from other agencies - and especially the "area office", which governed our clinic. And she also had an impressive skill-set for dealing with dominators. She was able to speak truth to power in a way that avoided power struggles. I participated in plenty of battles.

In the process I learned at least as much about using "partnership-power" to skillfully deal with people embedded in a "power-over orientation," as I did about psychotherapy.

It became clear that the transpersonal quality we call "humility" was an antidote to those obsessed with power. Humility involves, among other things, the refusal to coerce - and the absence of a need to control others. Without even trying, Carol's ability to inspire, rather than control, held up a mirror that confounded those stuck in a power-over orientation. And, rather than trying to "one-up" those who were focused on a top-down approach, Carol would position herself "beneath" them in a judo-like fashion. Think of the revolutionary Jesus saying, "The last will be first" and" "If any man would take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also."

All of this occurred in the context of the power of love.

I am reminded of Gandhi saying, "The British must leave India, but they must leave as friends."

**

Carol exited her body (died) in 2016. She is no longer a mentor but now has become an ally.

What I observed was that it was the people who sought to dominate others who found Carol frightening. Although some people were threatened by her, I was not. Not in the least. Apparently, because I was ready for this kind of opportunity, I soaked up what she had to offer like a sponge. Not only did I seek to emulate many of her qualities: in time I absorbed them. They became a part of me... and not just her psychotherapeutic and teaching skills, but also her wisdom.

In revisiting this period of my life, I have experienced a profound gratitude and appreciation of the gifts I received. I can also glimpse a "larger hand at work." Regarding this, I'll simply say that this vast, mysterious, synchronistic force tipped its hand when Carol and I unexpectedly encountered each other outside of Norman Paul's office.

Takeaways: Carol Smith as Ally

Today, I can do more than merely recall Carol. In some real sense, she is with me, even as I write this. She was and is a true ally. And, now in contemplating a being who played such a pivotal role in my own growth I have experienced a deepening within myself: a growth of both understanding and compassion.

The "will to good" that Carol embodied is best taught by example. Motivated by compassion, it can take on great force, gaining power in a contagious way. I see Carol as embodying an archetype of love and power exemplified by others whom I think of as allies: M. K. Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Desmond Tutu and Nelson Mandela.

In this unique situation love, power and creativity were expressions of the same energy. Quietly, steadily radiating this energy, Carol brought forth the same in others... like one candle lighting another.

Perhaps what I gained most was an appreciation of the joy of serving others' growth.

As Gandhi said:

"Such service to others can have no meaning unless one takes pleasure in it. Service which is rendered without joy helps neither the servant nor the served. But all pleasures and possessions pale into nothingness before service which is rendered in a spirit of joy."

Summary

My hope in writing this essay has been to illustrate how I have worked to counter the prevailing fragmentation in our fractured time and grow toward wholeness.

Through the process of exploring what it might mean to "inter-be" with the past, I experienced a "re-linking" with the temporal dimension of life.

**

Expanding this frame, it is clear that things in our world cannot go on as they have: that "business as usual" will merely be a formula for disaster.

Those of us who feel called to help create a new world will need all the help we can get. We will need to continually renew our vision of what is possible, and this itself will only be possible if we: 1) gain an appreciation of our personal history, and 2) practice drawing upon the wisdom of elders and allies - beings who have embodied what Gandhi called satyagraha or truth-force.

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