Chapter 14 - Part 2
Humility: Stilling the Warrior
An
uninitiated man will usually react to a narcissistic injury, a
humbling experience, with rage. As in depression, rage then becomes
an obstacle to the initiatory humiliation that makes a man. If it
takes humility to cross the threshold of initiation, pride scoffs at
the whole process. Fr. Richard Rohr talks about one measure of a
mature man being the few times he takes offense. In the face of a
humbling situation, an uninitiated man will rage, thinking he is
righteous and manly. Rage becomes the anesthetic that takes away the
pain of perceived humiliation.
If a man
can learn to contain his anger and use it, he is well on his way to
maturity. Uncontained anger is rage. Rage is like a nuclear bomb,
uncontrolled and extremely destructive. Contained anger is like a
nuclear power plant, focused and powerful. Anger, as opposed to
rage, is a natural, self-defensive reaction. It is most often the
fuel that energizes boundaries. Anger can be looked on as a sign the
warrior is around, and may be needed. Anger sets boundaries. Rage
gets even.
The
warrior will arise whenever a man is confronted with his ego
failings. The warrior has spent the first part of a man's life
protecting his ego, allowing it to strengthen and grow. The warrior
has identified with the ego, almost fathering it. The warrior has
given his energy to protect a boy from any attack that would
seriously injure his ego, and his self-esteem. This relationship is
very similar to the boy's need for father protection and support as
he grows up and strengthens.
The
warrior has been around a lot longer that we realize. He has
protected us, or tried to protect us, from perceived dangers since
we were born. His energy has created our psychological defenses,
protecting us from being emotionally crippled by abusive people or
overwhelming life circumstance. I talked of the mother protecting
the infant from overwhelming pain as a crucial growth issue. The
warrior has provided a similar defense from the inside. He has been
like a safety net when our outside guardians couldn't do that job.
Like a fuse in an electrical system, he has kept us from being burnt
out by our emotional reactions to perceived or real emotional or
physical dangers.
When we
were younger boys, we lived in an ideal world where we couldn't yet
handle adult situations. We needed to feel loved and protected and
guided. We needed to feel safe. We also needed to feel good about
ourselves in order to have hope and motivation. Mothers and fathers,
extended families and tribes in the past, were there to give us that
feeling of goodness and motivation and confidence. If we were put
into unprotected situations, when young and lacking ego strength,
our ego felt deflated. Too much deflation too early, as in mother
neglect, can lead to serious depression. This depression is not
initiatory but destructive because the ego is not ready for the
complexity or the intensity. This depression can have long-term,
damaging effects. On one level or another, a boy could just give up
trying.
One of
the effects of being overwhelmed and depressed is the feeling of
worthlessness that is called shame. Shame is the feeling of having
done something wrong because one is defective at the core. It is the
feeling of not being good enough to be accepted by anybody who
counts. Shame is the feeling of the boy who is humiliated before he
is ready. It is probably the most insidious feeling a man can have.
This is
where the warrior in all of us steps in. The warrior tries
heroically to protect our egos from these devastating feelings of
worthlessness and shame and emptiness. When we are young the warrior
does this by telling us we are better than others and that we are
right most of the time. He tries to prop up our egos to make us feel
good about ourselves. Internally he does the job of trying to keep
us from not giving up. In the absence of good fathering, his is the
only energy that keeps us from giving up totally. He is the only one
to keep us from destructive, sometimes deadly, depression. We all
owe a great debt to our internal warriors for this protective work
over the years, work done when we were not aware enough or strong
enough to adequately protect ourselves.
In a
sense this warrior has saved our lives by doing what he does best.
The problem is that this warrior, on automatic pilot, will continue
to protect us even when we no longer need protection. If he stays in
an unconscious place he will only keep a man in a narcissistic
state, not letting the ego have time to react more wisely. He will
come across as prideful in the process of protecting us. All
injuries will be treated as lethal, leaving no room for initiatory
wounds. A man will take offense often. The warrior, not under
conscious control can be emotionally destructive and defensive for
no adult reason.
The
warrior will need to realize that his role has changed. He no longer
needs to protect the ego, the prince so to speak, in the same way.
With the conscious, wise help of the elder, he now must learn to
protect the mature man, the king, in a different way. The mature
energy of the king brings the warrior under conscious control,
instead of his being a loyal, but amoral, ronin samurai.
Once a
man has moved to the gateway to initiation he must learn a new way
to deal with his warrior within. Moving toward the wilderness means
moving away from the world of the ego. If the warrior has done his
job well, the ego is strong and vibrant, no longer in need of
constant protection. At this point a man must learn to temper the
warrior's need to protect ego integrity. He must learn to still the
warrior, when the warrior intuits an attack on the ego. Stilling the
warrior means allowing a humbling situation or remark to filter into
the psyche without getting automatically defensive. Stilling the
warrior means containing the anger instead of blindly striking out.
It means not automatically seeing every negative comment as an
attack. Stilling the warrior quiets him, allowing for truthful
self-reflection and wise action. Stilling the warrior frees him to
set healthy boundaries, while restraining him from just getting
even.
When I
feel angry, brought on by a feeling of powerlessness or humiliation,
I try to still the warrior, and reassure him that I no longer need
him to protect me from those feelings. I tell him I'll be fine for
now, but be ready. I especially know he is trying to protect me when
I get feelings of competitiveness. These times come about when I
find myself comparing myself to others to find ways I am better. Or
when I find myself feeling oddly good about other people's
misfortune. When I feel defensive, moving towards arrogance, I try
to stop both him and me. I honor him for all the times in the
present and the past he has warned me of ego danger. I then tell him
I no longer need that kind of protection. I no longer need to feel
better than or more powerful than other men. I try not to berate
myself for having these competitive feelings. For in berating myself
I berate my warrior who is just doing his job.
I also
still the warrior when I start to feel angry. The anger is my
warrior's way of saying that boundaries have probably been violated.
Someone is possibly trying to take advantage of me or those I love.
Stilling the warrior means stopping. It means asking myself from a
position of strength why I am angry. Is the anger justified, or is
the warrior protecting me from a humbling time I must go through? Is
there truth is what the other is saying? Is there justice in how the
other is treating me? Is this a dark humiliation or an initiatory
humbling? The warrior will always feel anger in protecting the ego.
The anger is part of the adrenaline rush of battle position. But
anger is not always a sign of the need for protection.
Stilling
the warrior as a habit gives one the time to measure the seeming
boundary violation. Then the warrior can be used in a measured
response. I have found that stilling the warrior, while honoring his
natural inclination to protect the ego, is part of turning
humiliation to humility. Stilling the warrior, while honoring him at
the same time, is a necessary discipline to bring a man to the edge
of the wilderness, to the place beyond his ego, beyond his
narcissism. There, instead of taking offense, he will be on the
offense, moving with a measured confidence towards the truth beyond
his ego.
Humility And Counsel
When a
man comes in for counseling I realize that this is one of the
hardest things he has ever done. Often a man will make a remark to
that effect. I tell him I recognize his courage. I then try to elder
him by talking of how this first step of humility is the key to the
answers he is seeking. And I tell him honestly, as in all
initiations, that he is not submitting to me. He is submitting to
something bigger than both of us.
In
counseling I try to show men that feeling powerless is a normal part
of growing. The object of growing is not winning or being perfect or
being in control. Embracing error and humiliation is on the road to
something much more satisfying. I also try to show him that the
shame he feels is needless. There need be no shame attached to
admitting confusion or making a mistake or feeling powerless. Shame
is the result of a dark humiliation, the work of the dark father.
Accepting powerlessness in the realm of the soul is a sign of
wisdom.
In
counseling I talk of healthy examples of submission and ritual
humiliation. One of the most powerful examples is in the 12-step
process. This process started through Alcoholics Anonymous. The AA
movement has a lot of similarities to the initiatory process and is
one of the healthiest and most vibrant parts of our culture. Scott
Peck says, only half jokingly, that the most important function of
most churches is to have AA meetings in their basements.
The
first four steps of the 12-step process involve ritual submission to
a higher power. Jung called this submission part of a spiritual
cure. The alcoholic admits he is powerless in dealing with alcohol
and vows to rely on a higher power to combat his disease. He
forsakes his egocentrism, his prideful reply of being able to quit
on his own at any time. He then humbly goes about the next steps,
rigorously finding and admitting to previous errors and trying to
make amends for them. He doesn't promise not to make mistakes again.
He makes a good faith commitment to stick to the process of
submission and humility. These are hard but very courageous steps.
Christianity, and the Abrahamic tradition, stresses ritual
humiliation and the power of redeeming pain. Christ "emptied himself
and took the form of a slave", not relying on a powerful persona to
convert or intimidate. He "did not grasp at equality with God" as a
form of narcissism and ego inflation. He talked of the "humbled
being exalted", walking that talk. He suffered the overwhelming
humiliation of the crucifixion. He accepted death as the gateway to
transformation. He said "not my will but thine be done", humbling
himself before the God of the wilderness. He pointed to the
spiritual answers to our problems and asked all people to follow him
in that humble spiritual journey.
The
prophets before the time of Christ were continually called by God to
humble the kings of the Jews, many of whom suffered periodically
from hubris. They did this at considerable risk to
themselves. To most, the risk was so considerable that, like Jonah,
they ran the other way. Yahweh had to humble them first before they
learned to humble kings.
Vader
and Humiliation
In the
Star Wars myth, Darth Vader tries to initiate Luke to the dark side
by humiliating him. Luke's ritual wound, the cutting off of his
right hand, came after he would not submit to the dark power. Darth
desperately wanted Luke to become angry and cynical through this
wounding. He wanted him to rage. He also wanted to trigger Luke's
hardwired need to submit to an older, stronger man.
Back to
the promontory, the heart of Luke's test of father separation: Darth
tells Luke he is his father. Luke is devastated. He had idolized his
father. His father was the motivation for his life. Luke suddenly
suffers a life shattering betrayal. It would be so easy to submit to
the man who has humiliated him, the man who seems so crucial to his
initiation. He still loves and honors his father. And his father is
asking him to join him in ruling the galaxy as father and son. Luke
could do much good as ruler if he submitted to his patriarchal
father. As Darth says, "Your destiny lies with me."
Luke is
in the grips of a strong temptation to egocentrism and power and
misguided loyalty. Darth tells Luke he can "end the destructive
conflict and restore order." This seems certainly a good end, even
though the means are questionable. He need only submit to his
father's lead, to the dark humiliation, for stability to return,
especially the stability of the marketplace. How many cultures have
sold their soul for the sake of supposed safety and stability and
marketplace gain. There is such a parallel here to Christ's
temptations in the desert. Power and pleasure would be given in
return for loyalty to a dark force. And the power could be used for
supposedly good ends.
Obi Wan
had previously warned Luke that this high road of dark submission
and uncontrolled anger was the road of hate "that leads to the dark
side." Yet Luke was hurt and angry. He was angry at Obi Wan for not
telling him about his father. He was angry at Vader for his
devastating humiliation. He was angry and miserable and ready to
take his anger out on someone. Vader had him where he wanted him.
The combination of filial loyalty and humiliation seemed to be
working. Anger was turning Luke. Separation from father meant only
death. Submission meant survival for both Luke and his friends.
How many
men, in Luke's position, have felt their only choice was to submit
to a system or a boss that they couldn't believe in? Maybe they
thought they could right the wrongs later, when they achieved more
power. Maybe they felt they had no choice because of their need to
provide for and protect their families. In any case, they felt it
best to submit to the dark patriarchy, feeling they "couldn't fight
the system." How many then took their anger out on subordinates in
frustration and self-contempt? How many more men succumbed to a
numbing, devastating depression? In many ways this dark submission
is at the heart of most male depression.
It is
not good or appropriate to judge these men, for they are us. We are
all struggling with these depressing choices. We have all made
choices we are ashamed of, or had to live with choices that depress
us. Like Luke, we have been confronted with great pressure to submit
to a dark patriarchy that we may not believe in. Our egos have been
sorely tempted. The up side seems so ego satisfying, the down side
too intimidating or too humbling.
Luke
does courageously separate. By patriarchal standards he becomes a
fool. He gives up everything that is important in the father's
world. By the standards of the Jedi warrior, he has started the
final stages of his initiation. He has contained his anger. He has
submitted to the death that Obi Wan and Yoda had taught him about.
He plummets down in to the abyss, out of control and out of answers.
He moves to certain death. He risks everything for a higher purpose
that he has only heard about from his elders.
Beyond the Ego
The
power of initiation is to submit to something beyond the ego and the
patriarchy. In the initiatory process the egocentric man dies and is
replaced by the humble, self aware man. This emerging man is humbled
before new realizations. He doesn't need to pretend anymore that he
is important. He doesn't need the respect of the marketplace. He
finds that making mistakes is part of the mystery of manhood. This
man has taught his adolescent to have reverence for powers beyond
himself and his friends. He is humble enough, now, to learn. He is
ready for the heart of his ordeal.
Larry Pesavento ©2005
