Wisdom? What Wisdom?
What does our generation have to offer the next?
As the world becomes more and more distressing, I find myself baffled by the idea that we older folks are supposed to have wisdom to pass along to the generations coming behind us. My son and daughter-in-law, my niece and nephew, my friends’ children, and my clients are much wiser parents than my husband and I were. Although nothing can really ease the chaos of two parents working, daycare, discipline, feeding, and getting their little ones to sleep, they seem to have a better support network and more of a handle on the process than we did. Similarly, as we see one horror after another occurring in the world, I find that I have nothing to offer, no helpful suggestions, no soothing comments. Like Lara in Ann Patchett’s popular novel Tom Lake, I have no response when a young person tells me, as Lara’s daughter told her, “The planet is fucked. There’s nothing I can do about that.” Or when they tell me, as Lara’s children told her, that because things are so bad, they will not have children of their own.
A young client recently shared his concern about having brought his children into this world. My first thought was that I would feel the same way. My second was that I did feel the same way, years ago when I was pregnant as the United States was bombing Kuwait. Watching the news, I so worried about the world my child was entering. As a psychotherapist, I am tasked with helping my clients untangle their fears through self-reflection. But while I knew that this client had some psychological difficulties that we needed to address, I did not think that an exploration of his psyche or personal history would be enough to diminish his reality-based fears.
I could tell him that I got it, that I understood, but I couldn’t tell him, as I might have done in the past, that I believed that things would get better. I couldn’t offer advice or guidance.
I am frightened and distressed by the level of hatred and self-centeredness that has created and continues to create the horrible circumstances all around us. Psychoanalysts have been trying to understand the darkness of human nature for more than a century, with little success, albeit with some absurdly fascinating explanations. Religion has been trying to explain the same thing for much longer, with equally little success, so far as I can see.
Conversations about what’s going on in the world are difficult. We all commiserate with the pain and suffering, but we have different opinions about what to do, what can be done, what should be done. As has occurred frequently in the past decade, friends and family hold wildly conflicting opinions and can easily be inflamed by differences. I am constantly hearing stories about good friends who can no longer speak to one another because, as one woman put it, “if you don’t agree with me, I can’t talk to you anymore.”
Do we older folks, caught in the same storm of fear and discord, have anything to offer?
I think the answer is yes, but it’s not exactly our wisdom. In fact, as I suggest with the title of my blog, we’re traveling this new path of our own lives without a map or knowledge of what we’re doing. So what do we have to share, besides years of experience that may or may not be applicable to the current situation?
What we have, if we’re lucky, is an ability to connect. When we let go of the idea that we’re supposed to know something, that we have something to share that will shine a light on the correct path to follow, we can provide a sense of human relatedness that is, as therapists now understand, one of the keys to emotional well-being. I was reminded of this the other day when I was talking with a friend who is going through a rough time. “I wish I could do something,” I said to her. “Nobody can do anything,” she said. “But knowing that you wish you could makes me feel better. Knowing that you’re out there thinking about and caring about me helps.”
I think that’s what is behind this severing of relationships with loved ones and old friends who are on different sides of a deeply meaningful issue. It’s hard to feel connected when we feel that someone doesn’t understand or doesn’t seem to “get” something that feels so emotionally consequential to us. It’s very hard to feel ourselves into a connection with someone whose beliefs are antithetical to our own. But I think that’s where we old guys may be most useful. If we can find a way to connect despite these powerful differences, if we can feel our way into a caring and shared emotional space with someone with whom we strongly disagree, then we might deserve to be called “wise.”
Now that I know how to open up the space for comments, I’d very much like to know your thoughts!
Warmly,
Diane
*names and identifying info changed to protect privacy
123rf stock photo image # 122879218 photographer: weedezig
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I was fourteen in 1965 when I first heard the protest song, Eve of Destruction coming through on my transistor radio. (Give it a listen!) I was walking home from school past familiar neighborhood buildings that had government issued “Fallout Shelter” signs on their facades. Nuclear war with Russia seemed imminent for all my childhood, and we were taught that when it happened, we should take cover in one of the cellars of the buildings that offered “shelter”. The world was a terrifying place and seeking wisdom from elders never even crossed my mind. Why would oldsters have any solutions or good advice? Somehow, we believed we would have all the answers, and they would reveal themselves as we grew older. Silly us! One of the most placating, condescending, demeaning phrases in western culture today is “OK Boomer”.
I’ve been told that my generation was self-centered, and even hedonistic. That we did a terrible job of repairing the world in which we came of age. In fact, I feel like I’m constantly defending and apologizing for my race, religion, gender, and age. But I sincerely feel like we tried…are trying, to bring in light as we witness victories of the dark forces of our human experience.
Is life worth living? Is life worth giving? Yes! There is so much beauty in this fucked up world.
A principle in physics called critical mass is the threshold point where a seemingly small action transforms a large mass.
We try to be an energy of light. To show, by example, to our children, grandchildren, and everyone we come into contact with, what a decent, empathetic, compassionate person looks like. To stay hopeful that in the precarious balance of good and evil, a new world view will emerge, and light will prevail.
Thank you for this piece, Diane! I don't have any meaningful suggestions or solutions to share, but I appreciate the opportunity to sit with this. I had a similar conversation with a client earlier and we explored what sitting with it entails and sometimes allowing ourselves to be with whatever our feelings or perspective is in the moment without judging gives way to compassion and space for those who we aren't necessarily in agreement with.