Thursday, September 1, 2011

Challenging The Elder Voices

As far back as I can remember, I’ve always thought of myself as fortunate. The sexier term “lucky” has never really resonated with me. Gamblers are lucky, and some might say stupid. Sometimes they win; mostly they don't. Although, fortunate and lucky are similarly defined, fortunate does not carry the pejorative connotation as luck does. Our desire to get lucky is often code for a sexual hook-up, or winning the lottery after investing years of hope, expectation, money, and other precious resources. In both contexts, and in other instances, we are often caught in cycles of having great hope followed by great disappointment. If we are critical of the voices we hear, our conversations with each other and with ourselves will change. We will achieve a greater sense of being fortunate; blessed. And maybe, lessen the need to get lucky.

Fortunate people, in business-speak, have value-added lives. The value added is often intangible, like ideas and experiences. For example, we talk about our personal philosophy by repeating the words or deeds that were imparted to us. Although it's not always the case, these are usually the voices of the elders. These are the common variety of authority figures, from the past and in the present. For the most part, we revere these voices. When fully integrated, it becomes the sound of our own voices. Parents talk about the surreal experience of hearing themselves saying to their children the same things their parent said to them when they were children. For example, “This is the last time I'll tell you to...” The voices of the elders, however, are not always benign.

Most of us would describe the voice we hear as neutral if not helpful. Yet, there are many examples of the elder voices that encourage us to live below our potential. In the words of the Poet Rudyard Kipling, they tell us “[a]ll good people say, All nice people like Us, are We And everyone else is They …” These are the seeds of hate. In another instant, they tell us is our lot to slave then to die; these are the words of despair. Having studied, however, and having been tested, we hear the words of Longfellow, “Life is real, Life is earnest, and the grave is not its goal, From dust thou art to dust returnest was not spoken of the soul,” In other words, in each of us is a innate need to progress or at the least, maintain the status quo. How, then, is this shift possible unless we exercise our critical faculties.

Our conversations will change and so will our sense of good fortune, only after we add the right measure of criticism to these dialogues. To accomplish this we must necessarily become dispassionate observers of our thoughts and behaviors, products of the voices we hear. I suppose that the iconoclast will have little difficulty challenging the voice of tradition. The puritan, on the other hand, will suffer great pains to act in a way that seems to disrespect the elders. Although, we might not self-describe as puritanical, some of us will struggle with challenging the voice of the elders. Yet, our spiritual, or what may be described as the enlightened self, calls us to evaluate the voices we hear.

It is inevitable that our voice will one day become the voices in the heads of our children. So, it’s in our self-interest to continue to raise the bar; to seek to understand more deeply who we are, and the impact we will have in the lives of others, now and in the future. Let us, then, check those traditions that have been passed down from generation-to-generation for efficacy, to see if there be any value.