What Keeps a Man Grounded
Folks often ask me, what do I do when I return from weaving MROPs or other events? Or what is the next event that is coming up for me? Sometimes folks ask what I do to recover or tend to myself, which is a lovely expression of care, but often I get the sense that folks are assuming I’m doing something “important.” I am, of course, but it probably ain’t what one might think.
When I return home, I find the normal chores of everyday life to be most helpful. I do laundry, cook, and clean the house, especially the toilets. There is nothing so healthy for the ego as to get down on your knees and shine a commode, and to be able to do it without minding at all, with a sense of love for the kids, and a sense that this is noble good work.
The rhythms of domestic life, rather than being a distraction from something more important, I find to be a gift that reorients me to what is most essential. They help me live into the understanding, as one of my directees told me recently, that “Rhythm, not productivity, is faithfulness.”
This fall, part of work here at home has been helping my second son, Truss, prepare his college application. It has been beautiful work to dream, pray, read his work, hope and plan with him. I’ve made suggestions of wordings and sat with him for hours in this process, but my greatest joy has been the numerous times when he has said, “Dad, that’s ok, but honestly I think these words would be better,” before turning a phrase that delighted me.
Truss knows the work of Illuman, having been through his own three week rite of passage, hiking 60 miles from the east side of the Olympics, all the way to the Pacific Ocean where he did a 60 hour solo fast. He got to serve as a junior counselor at Journeymen, a partner organization for Illuman of Washington that does rites of passage for adolescent boys. Finally, this summer Truss did a lot of volunteer work for the Elders Rites of Passage and served on the team. In the nine times we’ve held an Elders’ Rites, most of them have had a young person like Truss on the team, and the experience for them has always been transformational.
There are a lot of things in our world that are a cause for concern. For me, our society’s long term polarization is stretching us to a breaking point, and we’re all aware of the immense challenges facing young men especially. This month, as he turns 18 I asked Truss if he would share his college entrance essay with all of us, as a bit of a reminder that in the midst of calamity, there is still so much beauty and goodness amongst us. He graciously agreed, and so with nothing further, here is my son, Truss Abenroth.
A deep green ocean of leaves stretched far above my head while I fell, terrified, through the thick humid air towards the forest floor below. A week before my class and I had stepped off an airplane into this foreign land, unsure, disoriented, but full of hope. For this Waldorf service trip I had raised money, organized materials, planned ad nauseum, and imagined I was there to serve others. Sometimes you have to step off the trodden road to realize the direction you were walking wasn't important after all. In the midst of the jungle, parts of who I thought I was, fell away.
After a long bus ride we walked along a winding path towards our waiting host families. Nervous and curious, we approached the village commons, a large triangular roof over a rough wood floor. There the moms from the community greeted us, “¡Bienvenido a Costa Rica!” With that, our nervous energy dissipated. With loving hospitality these inspiring women welcomed us like family.
Communication was difficult: my Spanish was rough. In those first days, I felt adrift, straining to understand what was said around me. But in the midst of my service and through the simple cooking of meals and washing of dishes we formed a connection beyond and beneath language. At night a small bed in one room awaited me, while the entire host family, including their dog, slept in the other bedroom; their making space for my roommate and I spoke volumes.
Everyone embraced the pura vida way of living. Pura vida translates to pure or simple life, but means much more. This posture of greeting the world permeates the culture. I was honked at constantly, not from annoyance, but rather in a loving, “Hello.” Costa Rica showed me a beautiful way of living in the present moment, embracing the world and everyone around you in love.
In the consumeristic and screen obsessed frenzy of American life, we are increasingly disconnected from each other and ourselves. Algorithms shape our focus, individualistic “success” underpins our values, and materialism informs our desires. My dad is always talking about cultivating apatheia, which is a fierce indifference to unimportant things. In Costa Rica, this finally made sense, as beneath the noise of our modern world is absolute stillness, and in that stillness I could hear the song of the earth. It sings of the sufficiency of what is. For me, pura vida is a deep joyful yes to what is most essential.
Towards the end of our time, we drove deep into the jungle. Tall and expansive, the trees were draped in impossibly thick vines descending all the way to the rich soil below. At the river, we transitioned to boats, paddling through alternating sections of calm and rapids. Down river the banks rose up into steep walls and a waterfall sprayed down upon us. Loud, cold, and full of life, the water’s power swept away modernity’s grime, leaving me alive and in love with the world.
Soon after we found ourselves at the edge of a cliff on an enormous swing, invited to step into the void. Falling from high places terrifies me. Fear and apprehension constricted my body. A rope was strapped to me. I had to make the decision, only I could take the step off the edge.
With a deep breath I stepped into open space. A twisting wind rushed past me. Only a dozen feet above the ground the tension of the rope caught, and I swung out into the sky. Those 12 seconds were terrifying and liberating. Only beyond our comfort zone is growth possible
As I enter college, I’m wondering how to ensure technological and scientific advances, both which I’m passionate about pursuing, ultimately connect rather than divide us, and help us become more human and alive with the posture of pura vida? I want to use my education for the flourishing of all of life, not just a personal career, and in the midst of it all, to keep my ear tuned to the beautiful song of the earth.