A Practical Philosophy of Love Revealed in this Memoir

Posted on March 11, 2014 by Jerry Waxler

Author of Memoir Revolution: a guide to memoirs, including yours.

Martha Stettinius’ memoir, Inside the Dementia Epidemic, took me on a journey in which the author had to fulfill her new role as primary caregiver. By the time I closed the book, I felt inspired and hopeful. How could a book about Alzheimer’s have that effect? Clearly she wasn’t promising that Alzheimer’s would be cured. I wondered for months how to explain the effect the book had on me. What is it about her storytelling that could possibly convert the gritty realities of a failing mind into a reason for people of good will to band together and generate hope?

Based on these considerations, I offer four philosophical conclusions. Two of them are embedded in the book itself, and two of them arise from the very fact that the book exists.

Practical Philosophy Point #1: This is still the person I love
I watched my own mother drift in and out of dementia in the last weeks of her life. Even when her words were scrambled, she was still “there” somewhere. Because the experiences were brief, I did not need to dig within myself for a deeper understanding. I just rode through each episode, never doubting our connection.

In Inside the Dementia Epidemic the downward slide took place over a much longer period, forcing this daughter to come to terms with the notion of a person who exists on the other side of a cognitive divide. In her memoir, she painstakingly traces her own path from confusion to effort and hope. To maintain her own dignity as well as her mother’s, Stettinius focuses on the love between them.

She slows down to adapt to her mother’s new speed, and allows us to slow down with her. At this more intimate pace, she discovers a heartfelt connection, unencumbered by former, edgy patterns. By relying on this core of love, the memoir offers a perspective of the self that is deeper than the one visible on the surface. Despite her mother’s weakened cognitive ability, their relationship continues to evolve.

During Stettinius’ journey, we travel with the two women along a path toward gradually increasing wisdom about contact, mutual respect and love.

Practical Philosophy Point #2: Social support is the highest good
When I was growing up, I mocked the schmaltzy song lyrics, “people who need people are the luckiest people in the world.” My power came from pure knowledge. I never questioned the wisdom of this self-reliant philosophy until it pushed me into such severe loneliness I thought I was losing my mind.

To escape my isolation, I was forced to reach out for help. When I did so, a few caring souls noticed my need and reached back. The nurturing of friends and supporters ushered me into a much more satisfying version of adult life. My appreciation for interdependence continues to deepen.

Hillary Clinton’s book It Takes a Village to Raise a Child brought attention to our shared responsibility toward children. My disastrous experiment to grow up without social support revealed that it takes a village to raise a young adult. Over the middle decades of my life, I gained an ever-increasing appreciation for the importance of the village throughout adulthood, embracing the fact that our relationships are crucial for moral, mental, and emotional survival.

Early in my memoir-reading journey, I came upon an author who spent a lifetime trying to find words to explain this need humans have for each other. In her memoir Here If You Need Me, Kate Braestrup loses her husband in a freak accident and must raise her children without him. To support her family, she becomes a police chaplain, a job that requires her to console people after crime, accidents and other suffering. In her darkest hour, she recognizes that the support people pour out to each other is the crucial ingredient, the antidote to evil. Through her eyes, social support is the highest moral achievement. (See my article here)

And now, in Inside the Dementia Epidemic, Martha Stettinius shows how the village plays a crucial role in aging. To care for her mother, she needed an army of helpers. By highlighting the caregivers who participated in her mother’s care, the book lifts us out of isolation and into the support of the community.

In my next post, I offer two more practical philosophy points that I derive from the book Inside the Dementia Epidemic.

Notes

Martha Stettinius’ home page

Inside the Dementia Epidemic on Amazon

For brief descriptions and links to all the posts on Memory Writers Network, click here.

To order my book Memoir Revolution about the powerful trend to create, connect, and learn, see the Amazon page for eBook or Paperback.

Order my step-by-step how-to guide to write your memoir, click here.

Memoir of a commune stirs hope for a healthier world

Posted on June 18, 2009 by Jerry Waxler

by Jerry Waxler

Frank Schaeffer grew up in a commune on the slopes of the Swiss Alps. His preacher parents intertwined traditional Biblical Christianity with passion for sculpture, music, and painting. The idea that God presents Himself through Beauty attracted leaders and youths from all over the world, eager to learn, to drink in the beauty of the setting, and to be together with each other.

The commune described by Schaeffer in his memoir “Crazy for God” became a hotbed of intellectual buzz, where people gathered to invent a Christian philosophy and lifestyle that would offer a hip alternative to secular humanism. I can picture them huddled around the fireplace, staying up late into the night to make sense of life. The name of the place was “L’Abri,” French for “The Shelter.” It sounds like a seeker’s paradise.

Reading memoirs is like sitting in an eye exam. Each book lets me try on a different lens through which, more often than not, my own life comes into sharper focus. The improved vision lasts long after the book is closed. In another essay, I wrote about the lessons I learned from Frank Schaeffer’s adult life, but his description of L’Abri kept nagging at me, because I too lived in a commune.

My lodging, not as picturesque as Schaeffer’s, was situated in the woods in Pennsylvania, and though our thinking was based on an Eastern philosophical foundation, our goals were remarkably alike. We were there to develop a thought system that would help us understand ourselves and our place in the world, and like the Schaeffer’s we were trying to link together the best of ancient wisdom with the power and excitement of modernity. In each other’s company, while we sought Truth, we also found friendship. And living together saved money, reducing the pressure on our material needs. I didn’t realize until much later that I was also receiving a crash course in the nuances of human interaction in groups.

While my group experience enriched me, it never occurred to me to write about it. Hippie and spiritual communes made most adults nervous back in those days, and the final blow to their reputation was delivered by the horrors of Charles Manson and Jim Jones. By the nineteen seventies, such a pall had spread over the notion of communal living it was no longer mentioned in polite society. The subject became taboo, and communes were relegated to the junk heap of the 60’s.

Looking back, I now see that negative attitudes about group living were inevitable in a society that worships individual enterprise. We grew up watching John Wayne conquering the west single-handedly, and most of us assume there’s something wrong with us if we can’t make it on our own. And anyway human beings are messy and hard to get along with. It’s easier to retreat into homes with only one or two other individuals.

The problem is, we’re social creatures, and if we lean too far towards individuality, we undermine the foundation of family, community, and country. This is, in fact, a danger near whose brink we seem to be teetering. According to the scholar Robert Putnam, our civic engagement has been on a downward slide for decades. In his book “Bowling Alone,” Putnam says we are neglecting the communities that sustain us. The lack of participation could be a recipe for disaster, especially considering that aging boomers are supposed to overwhelm our social systems.

So what will save us from this ominous prediction? Frank Schaeffer’s memoir reminds me that the solution may already be locked away in the memories of millions of boomers who at one time were an idealistic bunch, trying to find new ways to work together to solve the world’s problems. By resurrecting our former passion for groups, we may be able to solve Robert Putnam’s civic disintegration as well as the boomer drain on society.

Communal situations are not as far fetched as they might sound. Retirement communities as well as other types of shared living reduce loneliness at the same time that they reduce expenses. My mom lived in a high rise building until the end of her life. It was a community in a building, much more fun than a single-dwelling home. Mom routinely made friends in the elevator, the lobby, and the swimming pool. And living together reduces our impact on the environment. (See notes below for further reading)

And we don’t need to live together to solve social problems. All sorts of groups let us join forces. There are writing groups, education groups, support groups, and senior service groups. Volunteering may sound impractical, but community service can also open doorways to a new career. (To learn more on this potential, read this article.) And you can also gain valuable skills, perhaps the most important one being the skill of working in a group.

It’s ironic that communes have been stereotyped as anti-social. In fact, living together requires sophisticated social skills, and many of us have already learned these skills, while all of us could benefit by learning more. Getting along in groups may actually be the key to world peace.

Frank Schaeffer’s memoir, “Crazy for God” reminds me that it sometimes takes many years and much experimentation to learn how life really works. Those lessons are tucked away in memory. Memoirs help us learn from our history, learn from each other, and grow. Armed with our individual and collective experience, we can work together to change the world, one story at a time.

—

Writing Prompt

Have you lived in a dorm, had multiple roommates, a high rise, a closely knit row of homes, lived in a barracks, commune, or hostel? Describe situations when you lived with or near a collection of people. What was it like? Write a scene of exceptional harmony, and another one of tension.

Consider how the groups have helped you cope and thrive. When did you reach towards people? What were the frustrations? Why did you do it? How did you negotiate the complicated interactions?

When did you feel belittled, undermined, or unsupported by a group? Write about the experience. When did you feel helped, supported, encouraged by a group? Write about those experiences.

Note
To read more lessons from Frank Schaeffer’s memoir “Crazy for God” click this link.

Note
To read more about how volunteering can open a door towards a new career read this article.

Note
Here’s another essay about how a memoir helped me understand some of my own thinking style more about myself.

For Further Reading about Contemporary Communes
http://www.ic.org/ Intentional Communities
http://www.cohousing.org/ Co-housing Association
http://ecoshack.blogspot.com/
“Cul De Sac” Communes featured on an NPR interview
New York Times Article about Elder Communes

Note
Groups of people are as varied as human experience, from the monasteries and nunneries of the Catholic Church to Ben Franklin’s Juntas that were the foundation for American society, to Israeli Kibbutzim, a movement of agrarian collectives in the irrigated desert that were a pillar of Israeli society. Americans get together in volunteer fire companies, Kiwanis, Lion’s and Rotary Clubs, in their religious and spiritual groups, and the list goes on.

Notes
In the 1970’s, psychologists were riveted by group therapy, which was seen as the magic bullet that would cure all social and individual ills. In my course on group therapy, I was profoundly moved by the depth of therapeutic work that was accomplished in a few months of meeting with 12 other people. To learn everything there is to know about Group Therapy, read Irvin Yalom’s amazingly readable text Theory and Practice of Group Psychotherapy.

Another writer who helped me understand the psychological power of groups is Sandra Bloom, M.D. who developed a system of trauma treatment that involved the support of a group of therapists and peers. Creating Sanctuary: Toward the Evolution of Sane Societies by Sandra L. Bloom

Be Here Now by Writing a Memoir

Posted on August 10, 2008 by Jerry Waxler

by Jerry Waxler

When I first heard the phrase “Be Here Now” in the early seventies, it was from the title of a book by Ram Dass. According to the book, the best way to live a full life is to savor your direct experience, whether smelling a flower, watching a sunset, or even when experiencing the sadness of a loss. By paying close attention, you can penetrate the mysteries of the cosmos. As a hippie, I had little interest in learning from the past. And I certainly wasn’t spending much time planning for the future. So I didn’t think Ram Dass was telling me anything new.

Then I went to work for a living and staggered under the pressure. No wonder I had avoided working for so long. This was hard! I looked for tools to help me regain my poise and one of the most powerful turned out to be the one I didn’t think I needed — To Be Here Now. I started to meditate, and with practice I did occasionally spot glimpses of peace right there in the office. I was grateful to take advantage of this ancient technique from the East. But the mystics never said success was easy. It may take a life time to get it right. Meanwhile, I continued to look for additional ways to make each moment better.

One evening I complained to my therapist about feeling anxious. She said I would feel better if I brought my attention back to the moment, and she taught me a trick. Use words to describe my immediate surroundings. She said this verbal exercise would stimulate the cerebral cortex and put my conscious mind back in control. I looked around her office and noted her diploma hanging on the wall, her desk piled with papers, and her compassionate face. Her dog lying on his side slapped his tail against the floor. Sure enough, describing the office calmed me then, and when I see it now in my mind’s eye I feel reassured once again.

Despite all the valid reasons for staying in the present, however, the past plays an important role. I don’t want to forget the achievements that still give me pride, and I certainly don’t want to brush away the hard-won lessons that continue to help me find my way today.

The problem is not that memories exist but that there are so many of them, pulling me in a thousand directions. The more years I try to ignore them, the more confusing they become. As I grow older and watch some of the graces of my body fade, rather than wanting to let the memories go, I want to make sense of them.

I line my memories in order on a piece of paper and begin to notice sequences that make sense. Step by step, I increase my understanding of who I was, who I am, and who I am trying to become. Once I see myself taking shape on the page, I realize my life is turning into a story. I already know about the power of stories. Every time I read a suspenseful book or watch a movie, my attention is collected within the author’s tale. I am “Being Here Now” inside their story.

I gain that same benefit for my own life by writing about it. Writing reveals my role. I’m the hero in this story, and as the main character, I create an inner continuity that allows the past to flow into the present. Looking at the past isn’t an escape, after all. On the contrary, organizing my life into a story helps me collect my energy and apply myself with conviction to living in the world today.

—

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Note
The “Be Here Now” philosophy was expressed beautifully in William Blake’s poem “Auguries of Innocence” which starts out with the following quote. “To see a world in a grain of sand, And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour.” The poem is famous for its implication that all of eternity is within grasp in the moment. When reading the rest of the poem for the first time, I made the remarkable discovery that it is mostly about animal rights. It’s as if he has revealed how the Eastern notion of souls can help Westerners find a new relationship with their world, replacing domination with harmony. Within the moment lies eternity, and within the compassion for a horse lies the ocean of God’s love. Who is this man Blake, and why is he so intrigued by the souls of animals and the human responsibility to care for them? He passed along the insights he had 200 years ago. Which Now is real?

Since it’s in the public domain, I’ll copy it here in its entirety:

Auguries of Innocence
by William Blake

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.

A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.

A dove-house fill'd with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell thro' all its regions.
A dog starv'd at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.

A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.

A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipt and arm'd for fight
Does the rising sun affright.

Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.

The wild deer, wand'ring here and there,
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misus'd breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.

The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.

He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be belov'd by men.
He who the ox to wrath has mov'd
Shall never be by woman lov'd.

The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.

The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the last judgement draweth nigh.

He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.

The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of envy's foot.

The poison of the honey bee
Is the artist's jealousy.

The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.

It is right it should be so;
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Thro' the world we safely go.

Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.

The babe is more than swaddling bands;
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;

This is caught by females bright,
And return'd to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar,
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.

The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes revenge in realms of death.
The beggar's rags, fluttering in air,
Does to rags the heavens tear.

The soldier, arm'd with sword and gun,
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.

One mite wrung from the lab'rer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands;
Or, if protected from on high,
Does that whole nation sell and buy.

He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mock'd in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.

He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.

The questioner, who sits so sly,
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.

The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.

When gold and gems adorn the plow,
To peaceful arts shall envy bow.
A riddle, or the cricket's cry,
Is to doubt a fit reply.

The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.

If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.

The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation's fate.
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding-sheet.

The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Dance before dead England's hearse.

Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born,
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.

Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.

We are led to believe a lie
When we see not thro' the eye,
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.

God appears, and God is light,
To those poor souls who dwell in night;
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.



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A Practical Philosophy of Love Revealed in this Memoir

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