It’s Time to Grow Up

What does it mean to grow up? Did we not become grown-ups when puberty arrived, when we stepped into large bodies and large agendas? Did we not grow up when we left our familial homes and stepped out into the world and said: “Hire me — I can do that job,” “Marry me — I will hold my end of the deal,” “Trust me — I can carry that responsibility”? Have we not been grown-ups through responsibly exercising parental, fiduciary, relational, and societal roles for years? And yet, when I have asked people in workshops — reasonable, accomplished, responsible people — “Where do you need to grow up?” why has no one yet asked me to explain that question, why has no one challenged the legitimacy of the assignment, and why has everyone begun writing in a matter of minutes, if not seconds? So, how is it that we play all these mature roles yet know in our heart of hearts that we still have to grow up?

All passages provide a transition from something that has played out, died, or ceased to be productive. That is what psychotherapy seeks to do in so many cases. Since few, if any, would willingly leave the security of home for the insecure status of adulthood, young people were not asked. They were removed, sometimes forcibly. The six stages of passage varied in form, intensity, duration, and cultural accoutrements, but essentially they were comparable around the world. They involved departure from home, not with an engraved invitation, not with a polite request, but suddenly and decisively. Second, there was a ceremony of death, ranging from being buried in the earth, to immersion, to an effacement of one’s known referents. Third, there was a ceremony of rebirth because an emergent being, a differentiated psychology, was dawning. Fourth, they were given the teachings, in three categories: the archetypal stories of the creation, of the gods, of the tribal history; the general roles and polity of adulthood in that culture; and the specific tools of hunting, fishing, child-bearing, and agriculture unique to that tribe. Fifth, there was an ordeal of some kind, often involving isolation in order that one learn to cope with fear and find internal resources. And sixth, after prolonged separation, there was the return to the community as a separated adult. Only in this way did young people transition from the naiveté, dependency, and avoidances of childhood to the expectations of adulthood.

Life’s two biggest threats we carry within: fear and lethargy. Every morning we rise to find two gremlins at the foot of the bed. The one named Fear says, “The world is too big for you, too much. You are not up to it. Find a way to slip-slide away again today.” And the one named Lethargy says, “Hey, chill out. You’ve had a hard day. Turn on the telly, surf the Internet, have some chocolate. Tomorrow’s another day.” Those perverse twins munch on our souls every day. No matter what we do today, they will turn up again tomorrow. Over time, they usurp more days of our lives than those to which we may lay fair claim. More energy is spent in any given day on managing fear through unreflective compliance, or avoidance, than any other value. While it is natural to expend energy managing our fears, the magnitude of this effort on a daily basis cannot be overemphasized.

On the other hand, lethargy takes so many seductive forms. We can simply avoid tasks, stay away from what is difficult for us, find ways to numb our days through the thousand soporifics and analgesics the world provides, or possibly worst of all, fall into fundamentalist forms of thinking that finesse subtlety, fuzz opposites, seek simplistic solutions to complex issues, and still our spirit’s distress with the palliative balm of certainty. Indeed, we have a vast wired culture to help us in this task, a connected twenty-four-hour distraction whose hum both stills anxiety and dims the plaintive cries of our spirit to be served. Drowning in distractions, palliated by simple solutions, and lulled by patronizing authorities, we can sleep our life away and never awaken to the summons of the soul that resounds within each of us.

Given the power, the ubiquity, and the subtlety of these projected contents, these transferred historic strategies, we expect others to take care of us, while we cavil against the inadequacies of our affiliations and wonder why our roles alone fail to confirm our maturity and provide continuing satisfaction. From this gap between the expectations of our projections and transferences, we may from time to time come to realize that we are accountable for how things are playing out. When that realization occurs, a heroic summons follows: What am I asking of the other that I am not addressing myself? I suspect that all of us have a sneaking suspicion that we are deferring this question, this responsibility, and have done so for a long time.

I call that question heroic because it embodies a shift in our center of gravity from the other “out there” to the other “within.” In other words, something in each of us always knows when we are shirking, avoiding, procrastinating, rationalizing. Sometimes we are obliged to face these uncomfortable facts when our plans, relationships, expectations of others collapse, and we are left holding the bag of consequences. Sometimes others get in our face and demand we deal with what we have avoided. Sometimes we have interruptive symptoms, troubling dreams, meetings with ourselves in dark hours, and then we have to face the fugitive life we are perpetuating. Something within us always knows and always registers its opinion. Naturally, we will avoid this subpoena from the soul as long as we can, until it knocks so forcibly that we have to answer the door. The moment we say, “I am responsible, I am accountable, I have to deal with this,” is the day we grow up, at least until the next time, the next regression, the next evasion.

The hero archetype is an energy we have lauded for millennia: a person who addresses a task, overcomes a fear, acts where needed, and provides an exemplum for others. But do we realize the presence of the hero archetype within us? To call it an archetype is to recognize its universal presence, found in all peoples in all eras. The task of the hero within is to overthrow the powers of darkness, namely, fear and lethargy. All those tales of defeating the dragon are mythopoetic versions of overthrowing the power of that which would swallow us, as both fear and lethargy do on a daily basis. Sooner or later, we are each called to face what we fear, respond to our summons to show up, and overcome the vast lethargic powers within us. This is what is asked of us, to show up as the person we really are, as best we can manage, under circumstances over which we may have no control. This showing up as best we can is growing up. That is all that life really asks of us: to show up as best we can.