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1. Initiation is a part of our legacy.

The initiatory experience of separation-ordeal-homecoming has been around as long as human beings have existed so it is a very natural part of our lives. Why was it developed? So we could have a framework for becoming resilient and able to bounce back from adversity.

2. Initiations are essential for growth.

How do we learn to be independent in life? We start out being separated from our parents by going to school. Through the ordeal of school (ordeals don’t have to be terrible; sometimes they are merely challenging), we learn about the world and ourselves, slowly gaining maturity. Graduation is a homecoming where we are celebrated for all we have learned and our new status as an adult.

As we continue life as an adult, initiatory experiences help to teach resiliency skills and to mature us even further into valued members of our “village.” While I did not want to go through the initiation of grief over the loss of my partner, I do honor and value the lessons I learned along the way that have allowed me to help others in their grief. I also learned what I need to be resilient in adversity: loving friends and family, the ability to accept the moment as it is, and the understanding that new perspectives bring. These lessons have helped me make it through tough times that followed my time of grieving.

3. Initiation brings purpose and meaning to life events.

One of the essential skills of resiliency is learning to find meaning in life events. This is what Joe discovered as he faced a new initiation in his life. The process of being separated from what we know and are comfortable with, going through some kind of challenge or ordeal, and then bringing our new knowledge home helps us identify this purpose and meaning in adversity.

Takeaway points: Initiation is a vital part of the human experience in that it helps us to grow, learn, and find new meaning in life’s challenges.

Next time: Examples of initiation experiences in movies and books.

What have you learned about resiliency through your own initiations?

It’s natural to start asking “Why? Why me?” when we’re crossing the dry deserts that arise in life. There are never any easy answers but it’s helpful to have a framework for working through the tough times.

There is a particular resiliency framework that has been used for eons that is still helpful for us today. This process is known as initiation. Our ancestors created and honored this practice and many indigenous peoples today still use it. Initiation rites in villages are practiced to help the young people mature into adults, complete with their own unique gifts that are vital to the strength of the village. There are three parts to an initiation:

Separation

The young person is physically separated out from the tribe to face the adult world on his* own.

The Ordeal

Tribal elders often set up challenges for the young person to face which, while sometimes harrowing, elicit the person’s Core Gift and usher the youngster into adulthood.

The Homecoming

The young person returns to the village and a great celebration is held to honor his return. The tribe sings and dances with joy because a new adult has joined the village with a Gift that will strengthen and bless the tribe.

In our world, we go through initiations frequently. Some of them are good. Going off to college can be seen as an initiation. The young person is separated from her tribe (family and friends), goes through the ordeal of college and studying (which can be a mix of fun and stress), and returns (homecoming) with not only a diploma, but a new knowledge of her strengths and her Gift to bring to the world. Usually, a celebration is held to honor the new graduate.

Often, though, our initiations entail periods of pain in our lives. Becky Phillips endured an agonizing ritual when she lost her family members in a train crash.

Her initiation was very long as she experienced separation not only from the family members that she lost, but from the world as she knew it and from friends and family who could not possibly understand her pain.

Her ordeal consisted of raw, raking grief and the struggle to create new meaning in life and her world. Yet, somehow, she made it through.

Becky’s homecoming was also a slow process and somewhat subtle. She allowed her family to gently welcome her back as mother and wife. And now, she is providing herself with a homecoming as she celebrates the lessons that she learned along the way: how valued her late family members were to others and how they touched lives, how much she loves and cherishes the people in her life now, and how short and truly precious life really is.

Becky is now a stronger, quite gifted member of our current “village.” She has the ability to encourage us through our own adversities, having been through one of the worst ordeals one can imagine.

My client, Joe, is entering into his own ordeal as he experiences the degenerative disorder with which he has recently been diagnosed. He will likely feel some sense of separation from others as he adapts to his new reality. My hope for him, and for all of us, is that he enjoys a wonderful homecoming as he comes to terms with – and becomes gifted through – his adversity.

Takeaway points: When you face a challenge, the framework of initiation can help you view your experience as a way to not only learn to endure, but to bounce back stronger and with more focus on the Gift you bring to the world. “Why me?” then becomes “Why not me? This is an ancient and honored process.”

What about you? What kinds of initiations have you experienced? Tell us about them and especially if you are experiencing one now.

*While young men are often the ones who experience the most rigorous initiations, young women have their own types of initiations as well, usually at the onset of menses.

I worked with Joe over a year ago and now he returned to see me with a new problem. He had just been diagnosed with a rare degenerative disorder that would eventually rob him of the use of his limbs as his muscles weakened over time. Joe wanted to talk about how he could prepare himself for this decline.

What am I going to do?

Joe is in his sixties and has worked in high tech for a long time. He loves it. A bit of an extrovert, he loves going to work every day with younger people who are smart, capable, and fun. He has a mentorship role with several of these co-workers that he really enjoys. And he loves to sit at his computer and solve difficult software problems as his fingers fly over the keyboard.

“What am I going to do in a few years when I can’t use my hands anymore?” Joe asked me. “And I won’t be able to drive to work. I’ll most likely be in a wheelchair . . . what then?”

Does resiliency fit with chronic illness?

I had pondered these very questions after Joe emailed me to ask for an appointment, explaining about the newly-diagnosed degenerative disorder in his message. I thought about my tenets of developing resiliency: acceptance, build a support system, gain perspective, see what is to be learned, and find the gifts in the moment. These fit well for someone who is overcoming temporary adversity, I thought, but what about someone with a chronic condition? And now, with Joe in my office, what about someone who just became aware that he has a chronic condition?

And then, as I’ve experienced so often in the therapy setting, Joe answered his own question and some of my own as well.

A new mission, a new meaning

“I can imagine,” he began, “that someday I’ll be sitting in a wheelchair in an assisted living facility. I won’t be able to move very much but my mind will still be active.” He looked up at the ceiling as he leaned back in his chair. “I think I’ll just have to develop a new mission statement for myself, a new way to make life meaningful for me.”

I was beyond moved by Joe’s response. I was really expecting him to bemoan his fate and anticipate a difficult life with disability. That’s what most of us would do. Instead, Joe combined his inner scientist’s discipline with his own optimistic personality and immediately moved into acceptance and perspective mode. He accepted what this disorder would eventually do to him and sought a new way to look at what his life would be about. And, in so doing, Joe found hope.

Will Joe always be upbeat and optimistic about his physical condition? My guess is he’ll have some pretty rough struggles along the way. But we’re already talking about his new mission statement. The disorder isn’t going to affect his ability to talk, so we’ve been discussing ways he can still mentor others and be involved in the career he loves.

Making life meaningful. Isn’t this what resiliency is all about?

What is your mission statement in life? What brings you meaning and purpose?