Michael Meade: Rites of Passage and Our Cultural Crisis

Such an excellent, illuminating and wise, and 

deeply important essay by my longtime 

teacher, Michael Meade. — Molly

 

This is a hard time to be alive. We are in the middle of a resurgent pandemic, in the midst of a public health crisis and on the edge of economic collapse. We are in the middle of civic uprising and a struggle against racial and social injustice. We are still facing a global climate crisis and in the thick of a critical election year. Because all things turn out to be interconnected, the transition we are all going through involves not a single change, but a cascade of complex changes, ultimately a genuine transformation of the world.

 

We are being called to a greater sense of meaning and purpose in our lives and such essential changes must come from a deeper level of understanding. The ancient sense of a rite of passage offers a “theory of transformation” and psychological perspectives that can help us find ways to navigate and orient our lives in the midst of radical uncertainty and rapid change.

 

Rites of passage begin with the sense of departure from one state or stage of life in order to arrive at a place of renewal and regeneration of life. Such an initiatory journey comes down to three basic steps. First, a phase of separation detaches us from the daily world and disrupts familiar patterns. The second step entails a period of undetermined duration involving uncertainty, ordeals and transitions. The third step involves a reincorporation of community at a level of deeper understanding and greater unity. An old name for that is communitas or deep community.

 

This process parallels our current state of multiple crises and social upheaval. The element of separation can literally be seen in forms of social and physical distancing as well as acts of quarantining to protect each other from Covid-19. The closing of businesses, shutting down of services and widespread loss of jobs also depicts a process of separation from normal life. And, separation painfully appears in standoffs between police and those protesting against the epidemic of systemic racism, persistent injustice and violence by police.  

The current controversy over wearing masks symbolizes separation in the sense that it has become emblematic of deeper social and political divisions. Refusing to wear a mask indicates a refusal to accept hard realities and the life-threatening issues we face. It also attempts to deny the important fact that we are simply all in this together. Not only that, but the need to close down areas that opened up too soon reinforces the sense that we have separated from the world as we knew it and there can be no going back.

You can get a sense of the second phase of a rite of passage when the protests following the death of George Floyd erupt and quickly spread across the U.S. and around the world. The protests are noticeably multicultural and multivocal as they exhibit elements of the changes in social unity and social justice that need to develop for a true cultural transformation.

Such “transitional societies” or groups appear in times of crisis. They become temporary communities and vehicles of change that align with the second step found in rites of passage. They must be at odds with the accepted status quo as they express and manifest the painful need to radically reform society. However heated they may seem initially, the point is not simply to oppose or depose prevailing hierarchies. The greater aim is to awaken a deeper sense of inclusive humanity that alone can find ways to renew and reform an otherwise stuck society.

It has become clear that we will be in the coronavirus crisis for months to come. It is also clear that the struggle for social justice and cultural healing will take time and continued attention. And the political issues will likely intensify before genuine solutions can be forged. In that sense, we will be in this period of uncertainty and transition between forms for some time.

 

We are already in a rare state of transition, a collective rite of passage that can not only shift our society, but can truly transform our culture. If we can imagine that the eventual outcome of all the disorder is a transition to a greater sense of inclusive humanity and social unity, we may find ways to navigate all the rough terrain. Meanwhile, we need to find and trust the unifying moments of sudden community that appear in the midst of protests and in the healing process where we agree to protect and care each for the other.

Please go here for the original essay: https://www.mosaicvoices.org/rites-of-passage-and-our-cultural-crisis

Sharon Olds: To See My Mother

Following the death of my mother on June 20th, my dear friend and soulful sister Bess Piñon gifted me with two poems by Sharon Olds which broke my heart wide open. This is one of them. — Molly

My mom days before her death

To See My Mother
 

It was like witnessing the earth being formed,
to see my mother die, like seeing
the dry lands be separated
from the oceans, and all the mists bear up
on one side, and all the solids
be borne down, on the other, until
the body was all there, all bronze and
petrified redwood opal, and the soul all
gone. If she hadn’t looked so exalted, so
beast-exalted and refreshed and suddenly
hopeful, more than hopeful—beyond
hope, relieved—if she had not been suffering so
much, since I had met her, I do not
know how I would have stood it, without
fighting someone, though no one was there

 to fight, death was not there except
as her, my task was to hold her tiny
crown in one cupped hand, and her near
birdbone shoulder. Lakes, clouds,
nests. Winds, stems, tongues.
Embryo, zygote, blastocele, atom,
my mother’s dying was like an end
of life on earth, some end of water
and moisture salt and sweet, and vapor,
till only that still, ocher moon
shone, in the room, mouth open, no song.
 

— Sharon Olds 
 

Sharon Olds: After 37 Years My Mother Apologizes for My Childhood

Following the death of my mother on June 20th, my dear friend and soulful sister Bess Piñon gifted me with two poems which broke my heart wide open. This is one of them. My mom did not begin the process of her apology, of courageously opening her heart to giving and receiving love, until the age of 87. This was a miracle that I had believed was impossible. And decades before 2013, I had begun my own healing journey which freed me to forgive and love my mama. So this poem is incredibly meaningful to me, as I believe it is for many others. Deep bow of gratitude for all that touches and cleanses my heart and the hearts of us all. In the end, love is all that matters. — Molly
 

Loving touch shared by my mother and myself

After 37 Years My Mother Apologizes for My Childhood
 

When you tilted toward me, arms out
like someone trying to walk through a fire,
when you swayed toward me, crying out you were
sorry for what you had done to me, your
eyes filling with terrible liquid like
balls of mercury from a broken thermometer
skidding on the floor, when you quietly screamed
Where else could I turn? Who else did I have? the
chopped crockery of your hands swinging toward me, the
water cracking from your eyes like moisture from
stones under heavy pressure, I could not
see what I would do with the rest of my life.
The sky seemed to be splintering, like a window
someone is bursting into or out of, your
tiny face glittered as if with
shattered crystal, with true regret, the
regret of the body. I could not see what my
days would be, with you sorry, with
you wishing you had not done it, the
sky falling around me, its shards
glistening in my eyes, your old, soft
body fallen against me in horror I
took you in my arms, I said It’s all right,
don’t cry, it’s all right, the air filled with
flying glass, I hardly knew what I
said or who I would be now that I had forgiven you.
 

— Sharon Olds 
 

Opinion: I’m a Black Climate Expert. Racism Derails Our Efforts to Save the Planet.

Connecting these dots of how the racial inequality crisis 

is intertwined with the climate crisis is something 

essential for us all to be doing. — Molly

Stopping climate change is hard enough, but racism only makes it harder.

 BY AYANA ELIZABETH JOHNSON

Here is an incomplete list of things I left unfinished last week because America’s boiling racism and militarization are deadly for Black people: a policy memo to members of Congress on accelerating offshore wind energy development in US waters; the introduction to my book on climate solutions; a presentation for a powerful corporation on how technology can advance ocean-climate solutions; a grant proposal to fund a network of women climate leaders; a fact check of a big-budget film script about ocean-climate themes, planting vegetables with my mother in our climate victory garden.

Toni Morrison said it best, in a 1975 speech: “The very serious function of racism … is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being.” As a marine biologist and policy nerd, building community around climate solutions is my life’s work. But I’m also a Black person in the United States of America. I work on one existential crisis, but these days I can’t concentrate because of another.

The sheer magnitude of transforming our energy, transportation, buildings and food systems within a decade, while striving to reach net zero greenhouse gas emissions shortly thereafter, is already overwhelming. And Black Americans are disproportionately more likely than whites to be concerned about — and affected by — the climate crisis. But the many manifestations of structural racism, mass incarceration and state violence mean environmental issues are only a few lines on a long tally of threats. How can we expect Black Americans to focus on climate when we are so at risk on our streets, in our communities, and even within our own homes? How can people of color effectively lead their communities on climate solutions when faced with pervasive and life-shortening racism?

Even at its most benign, racism is incredibly time consuming. Black people don’t want to be protesting for our basic rights to live and breathe. We don’t want to constantly justify our existence. Racism, injustice and police brutality are awful on their own, but are additionally pernicious because of the brain power and creative hours they steal from us. I think of one Black friend of mine who wanted to be an astronomer, but gave up that dream because organizing for social justice was more pressing. Consider the discoveries not made, the books not written, the ecosystems not protected, the art not created, the gardens not tended.

How peer pressure can fight climate change 

It’s hearing police sirens and helicopters in my Brooklyn neighborhood and knowing those who sound them do not always aim to protect and serve. It’s walking the back roads near my mom’s home Upstate New York and being more scared of the local white kids in the pickup truck with the Confederate flag on the bumper — in a state that was never part of the Confederacy — than I am of the local black bears. It’s spending my weekend writing these words.

Here’s the rub: If we want to successfully address climate change, we need people of color. Not just because pursuing diversity is a good thing to do, and not even because diversity leads to better decision-making and more effective strategies, but because, Black people are significantly more concerned about climate change than white people (57 percent vs. 49 percent), and Latinx people are even more concerned (70 percent). To put that in perspective, it means that more than 23 million Black Americans already care deeply about the environment and could make a huge contribution to the massive amount of climate work that needs doing.

I did get tiny tasks done last week — emails, (virtual) meetings. Because we are taught the show must go on, I mustered the composure to conduct an interview about the importance of planting trees. But none of the deeper work got done, none of the work that could be a significant contribution to how we think about climate solutions and how fast we implement them. Instead of working, I was checking in on my people, staying informed, doom-scrolling.

Now I’m totally spent. Not from the day, but from the week, the month, the year, this presidential administration, this country that keeps breaking my heart. We are resilient, but we are not robots.

Five myths about climate change 

People of color disproportionately bear climate impacts, from storms to heat waves to pollution. Fossil-fueled power plants and refineries are disproportionately located in Black neighborhoods, leading to poor air quality and putting people at higher risk for coronavirus. Such issues are finally being covered in the news media more fully.

But this other intersection of race and climate doesn’t get talked about nearly enough: Black Americans who are already committed to working on climate solutions still have to live in America, brutalized by institutions of the state, constantly pummeled with images, words and actions showing just us how many of our fellow citizens do not, in fact, believe that Black lives matter. Climate work is hard and heartbreaking as it is. Many people don’t feel the urgency, or balk at the initial cost of transitioning our energy infrastructure, without considering the cost of inaction. Many fail to grasp how dependent humanity is on intact ecosystems. When you throw racism and bigotry in the mix, it becomes something near impossible.

Look, I would love to ignore racism and focus all my attention on climate. But I can’t. Because I am human. And I’m Black. And ignoring racism won’t make it go away.

So, to white people who care about maintaining a habitable planet, I need you to become actively anti-racist. I need you to understand that our racial inequality crisis is intertwined with our climate crisis. If we don’t work on both, we will succeed at neither. I need you to step up. Please. Because I am exhausted.

Please go here for this article: https://billmoyers.com/story/opinion-im-a-black-climate-expert-racism-derails-our-efforts-to-save-the-planet/