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I’d like to make a case for wisdom.

When I was young, leaders of culture, leaders of institutions, thought leaders were all “older folks” – to me! That’s who we looked to for answers, for experience, and for guidance.

I grew up in the 50’s and 60’s in the Midwest – Milwaukee, Wisconsin – a member of the first generation after WWll, a generation whose first President was General Eisenhower, a generation that mostly had stay-at-home moms and fathers who could support the family with a decent job.
Later, my generation would receive the name: Baby Boomers. We were a generation that was expected to listen to adults, even strangers, to respect teachers, to sit in rows of wooden seats in classrooms with tall windows inside brick buildings that had been built before the Depression, taking in the learning of the educators, not speaking unless called upon. When we passed a police officer, we said, “hello, Officer,” with respect.

Was it the 60’s? What changed all of that?

While I remember those times, and I sometimes go back for visits in memory, I am not writing to say those times were better. I am a Boomer, entering The Wisdom Years, but I am not “old fashioned.” I know that something is lost and something is gained with the passage of time. Sometimes, I long to be young, to be starting out in the world, to be able to wear the latest styles without being stared at, to have a whole life ahead of me. But then, I think, would I really want to go through all of what life is, again???!

The point I do want to make, however, is that something is lost when the wisdom of the elders is not in the mix. Yes, computers, the Internet, and quickly changing technology does give us all something new, every day. Yes, startups make millionaires in just a few months. Yes, personal invitations are received via email and text now. Yes, it seems inevitable that expecting moms register their babies to receive the latest things babies need. Yes, it seems inevitable that we need new laws to make sure we don’t “text and drive.”

I could go on, but you can make your own list!

When I was young, I thought I knew everything! Who didn’t, who doesn’t?!
Now that so much of living has passed, I have at least a shred of humility, enough to say, I don’t know everything. It takes a lot for the Ego to even think that!

I guess, “something’s lost and something’s gained, in living every day…”

What is the Wisdom we have that’s worth sharing?

“He will not go beyond his father’s saying, and he likes having thought of it so well he says again: ‘Good fences make good neighbors.'”

For most of my life, the only wisdom I knew was the wisdom that rolled around in my head, unconscious, all the time. This was the “wisdom” I’d been given by those who came before me, primarily my parents. Some of the wisdom they bequeathed to me was even deeper than the unconscious phrases that guided my life; some of the wisdom was truth that was unspoken, truth that shaped my view of the world. For example, I learned that the world was a big, scary place, and that my place in the world world was very small and without power.

“Oh Lord, thy sea is so big and my ship is so small, have mercy!”

I learned also that no matter how good I was, my own voice was not important, not as important as the voices of others, more powerful, more privileged.

My parents were good, decent, hard-working working class people who loved me. My parents wanted me to have an education, something they did not have. My parents wanted me to be successful. Still – I learned other, deeper things in their home, in their energy, in their presence.

As I get older, I find that I’m not as clear as I was in my earlier years about it being my parents fault for my own unconscious voices. I know my parents did the best they could, gave the best they could, and that they were proud of me. And so I accept them, as they were, and as they are, in my memory, in my cells, in my soul. Still, I wonder if another child would have grown up as I did, taken their first steps into the world, and be plagued with other demons than I have/had?

Some of the truths I took for granted during much of my adult life are changing. Although I like to think I’m right, I know that others are just as right – in their politics, for example. The great moral balance of right/wrong, good/bad, righteous/evil isn’t as clear to me as it was. A judging “God” who places some on the left side and some on the right side of judgment doesn’t make sense to me, if it ever did.

I love my parents, and my memory of them. I love the deeper ways we will always be connected, perhaps the ways we have been connected forever. But I no longer have to live out of their own view of the world, as I did when I was younger. I can move “beyond his father’s saying,” and come up with my own sayings.

For me, growing up means questioning even the most precious values I was given as a child. So many “adults” in the world – even powerful, visible “adults” – have not done that. For me, growing up means questioning all the little rules and guidelines I was given to make my way in the world – the rules and guidelines of my culture, religion, education, morality, sex, social standing, and beyond.

What does “growing up” mean for you?

Poem in Thanks, Thomas Lux

Lord Whoever, thank you for this air

I’m about to in- and exhale, this hutch

in the woods, the wood for fire,

the light – both lamp and the natural stuff

of leaf-back, fern, and wing.

For the piano, the shovel

for ashes, the moth-gnawed

blankets, the stone-cold water

stone-cold:  thank you.

Thank you, Lord, coming for

to carry me here – where I’ll gnash

it out, Lord, where I’ll calm

and work, Lord, thank you

for the goddam birds singing!

“Good Poems, Selected and Introduced by Garrison Keillor,” Penguin Group,

      Viking Press, New York, 2002 (page 3).

   Amsterdam

Several months ago, I traveled to Amsterdam. I have wanted to visit Amsterdam since I was young. Amsterdam is a city for the young. The coffee shops and streets are filled with young people, the sweet smell of pot smoke fills the air, young people ride their bikes over the canals, tall, slender buildings with old, old apartments, home to young people, line the streets. As I walked on the streets and over the canals of Amsterdam, I felt a kind of longing. I felt that longing to be young that comes to me from time to time in this time of my life.

To be young – the longing is a mixed longing, to be sure. My longing in Amsterdam was quickly met with the memory of what is was to be young. My longing was met with the reality of all those lonely days and nights, those meaningless times, those struggles to be true to myself. That’s what it means to be young, after all. No, I don’t miss being young.

It’s a cliche to say that we are a culture obsessed with youth. Images of perfectly made up, skinny movie stars, forever young, come to mind. Internet headlines boast: “she still looks good, at 42!” Buy this car, and you’ll be young again. Eat right, and you’ll never get old. Stay healthy, and you’ll never die.

All of these are not true. I know that now. But I also know that I once believed them, if I’m honest.

Why not wisdom? As the politics of this time unfold, it seems to me that we could use some wisdom. Where are the wisdom-keepers? I don’t mean the old politicos who have lost their positions and now say what is wrong. I don’t mean those who want to hold onto the institutions we have as if nothing needs to change. I mean those who have struggled and lost and now, in maturity, know that the losses in life were more valuable than the gains. I mean those whose lives have brought them to wisdom.

And who would listen?  It’s the purpose of being young to be young forever.  And perhaps the purpose of the old to bring wisdom, to be the wisdom-keepers.

Why not wisdom as a value we cherish? Why not???

Autumn is here, even in dry northern California.  Today as I meditated, I had a strong sense of “return,” of “return” to autumn in the place I came from, Wisconsin.  I allowed myself to fall into the nostalgia of the desire to return, and I allowed myself to feel the sad/beautiful/longing of that time when your heart is torn apart by the beauty of the moment.  In a climate with cold winters, the coming of autumn carries with it a longing for what is past and a heralding of what is about to be.  These last red and yellow and brown days of autumn give way to a long, cold, dark winter.  Autumn here, in dry northern California, carries a  longing also, although the hope here is for rain.

When I was young, life was not good unless it was full.  Full then meant a calendar with dates and meetings and parties and meals out with good friends.  Full meant a relationship – whether or not that relationship was fulfilling.  Full often meant lots of drama, “lots going on,” on all levels.

In my working years, I noticed that when colleagues gathered at meetings, as old friends and colleagues met again, hugged awkwardly and briefly, and reconnected, conversation turned quickly to how busy we all were.  Conversations were lists of the meaningful and even burdensome schedules we carried.  Sometimes there was mention of not having had a day off in weeks.  Work was not good unless it was full, full calendars, full of meaning, full of emotion, fullness that somehow proved our worth.

Now that autumn is here in my own life, I’ve come to see these things differently.  I don’t like “full” as much!  I like one or two things in my day.  I like to have a cup of coffee with milk in the morning.  I like to take the time to think about what I’ll be doing on this particular day.  I like to consider whether or not what I have chosen to do may or may not be what I do.  I like to take a few moments to be grateful, no matter whether my emotions are up or down that day.

Now that autumn has arrived in my life, I find that “full” means the fullness of time.  This moment is the fulness of time.  Autumn is as lovely as spring.  This moment is as important as the next.   Sometimes I’m present for the moment, and sometimes I’m not.  When I can be, I am present.

I’d like to give this gift to those who are younger, this gratitude for being able to notice the passing of the seasons.  I’d like to tell them not to miss the light in the trees as the sun goes down over the Pacific.  I’d like to say “be grateful” without it sounding like a command.  I’d like to say “be grateful” because I know the gift will be yours if you have a moment to be grateful.

But that’s not what it is to be young.  There are too many things to fill the days, too many important – and they are important! – meetings and dates and outings and activities.

Now that autumn is here, I am grateful to watch the passing of the seasons through the branches of the birch tree outside my front window.