The Temptations of Innocence; or Facing What Is…

This week, enjoy reading this reflection by Suzi Tucker, faculty member of the West Coast Constellations Intensive, which starts this Saturday.

When things fall apart, they can always fall apart a little more. We are learning this.

We make a mistake in talking about the “new normal,” our sweet wishful thinking trying to trick us into complacency. Oh, yes, I am used to this now … no touch; compassion dismantled at lightening speed; personal beliefs reassembled into nightmarish convictions; mobs of fellow beings marching to the drums of white supremacy; waters rising, landscapes on fire, glaciers melting; people crushed under the weight of the faulty economic architecture; a present without a certainty of a future. It’s okay, we’re okay. 

Adaptation is key to survival. However, it also can signify the slow drip of acquiescence – thinking we are standing on the shore but suddenly realizing that the powerful undertow has drawn us into the deep water.

Over these days into months, I have seen it in myself many times. Ignoring headaches, fatigue, feelings of sadness or anger ignited by random encounters with the world … it’s okay, I say, resilience is key, others are doing worse, no right to complain! Busier than ever, busy every minute, as though breath resides there. It does not, of course.

Lately, I have seen Bert Hellinger’s face in my waking dreams. He sits across from me at dinner or while working on some passage in a book. I recall his seriousness and humor, and these days I often wander into the many corners of the thinking he shared. In 2008 in Louisville, I recall his observation about the world not quite arrived, especially in the United States, something menacing rolling in. He whispered, It is coming. He was just a human being with normal brilliance, not prescient, but an observer, a tracker, continually allowing the veils to drop. And, Bert knew well the price of naiveté, of denial, of not confronting ourselves as we have been and are. He knew that only one trajectory could be possible in making that chronic choice. The United States, the quintessential innocent child.
Bert’s whisper is oddly calming somehow. If we can connect the dots to reveal the path that led to now, if we are willing to, might we be able to envision the way out of now? We know that Bert spoke a lot about innocence, not only the innocence of children, but the innocence of our later on, the one that keeps us tethered to the familiar “what was” – sometimes defending it with violent passion – rather than growing into the next. The compass for an individual (and for a nation) seduced by the narrative of innocence is set to “hold on, hold back, hold out.” It is not set to an emergent future. 

I am grateful to Barry Krost for posting this quote to Facebook recently, which invites me to use some of Bert’s exact words rather than paraphrasing through the filter of memory: “When we try to avoid what is unpleasant, sinful and confrontational, we lose precisely what we wanted to keep, namely our life, dignity, freedom, and greatness. Only he who confronts the dark forces and accepts their existence is connected to his roots and the sources of his strength.” (From Bert Hellinger, Insights: Lectures and Stories, 2002, page 25)  

This is especially important to me as I attempt to speak into this moment.I am one who uses the phrase “radical inclusion.” Those who know me understand that I am not suggesting some sort of Constellation bypass; in fact, inclusion is specifically about facing what is unpleasant, sinful, confrontational – in our history, in ourselves. Many and much are lost when we choose the habit of turning away, sometimes in the guise of positivity, over standing for and with one another. Including all parts of our history marks the beginning of reparation, the beginning rather than the whole. Including all parts of self marks the beginning of responsibility; deep action must come next.  

Aspiration without assertion becomes hypocrisy. 

A couple of years ago I received a query about a statement made by a person in the field of Constellation work who questioned the truth of Sandy Hook. Newtown is next-door to me. I felt nauseous. The incongruity between the fiction and the trauma reverberating through the community was difficult to process – the viciousness, the violence, the distortion of it. It was the first time I realized that the conspiracy theories I had assumed were “out there” are actually right here, everywhere. And the danger of not interrogating our own culpability in our history and present is effectively obfuscated once we enter the realm of conspiracy. Conspiracy is the superhero-supervillain onto which we displace all responsibility, thoughtfulness, empathy. It is a contagion – and it spreads much in the same way any virus does.  

This moment for me is one of reflection and contribution. I must settle into me beyond the din of fear and loathing. I recall Bert’s versatile thinking and clarity. I recall what my parents, and their parents, and theirs, had to navigate to arrive at the moment of my arrival. The betrayals of war and hunger, and the forever razor’s edge between life and death. I gather my loved ones, friendships, interests, allies, teachers, mentors, those who have thanked me for some small bit of support that made a difference, and those who have made a difference for me though they may have no idea. I gather it all. I claim my parts, and do not let them fragment and scatter across these hate-driven fields. So, yes, I know something about the nature of reflection even now; to recollect, as Bert liked to say.  

Contribution is more emergent, each step known only as my foot lands. It is clear that a good path cannot emerge simply in opposition, hatred meeting hatred. Still, even as I write, the boundaries form before my eyes. I will stand in the largest circle, keep checking where I am … among the beings of the every way. And, yes, there is an against housed within – against those who attempt to silence the pulse of the largest circle, who attempt to break apart, and then erase, the rich and varied wellspring of the future. 

The West Coast Constellations Intensive starts this Saturday! For more information and to register, go to www.westcoastconstellations.com.

Note: In addition to the pictures of Suzi Tucker and Bert Hellinger, the other photos are from our 2019 Intensive at Mt. Madonna Center outside of Santa Cruz, CA, USA.