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[post_content] => The other day, my 81-year-old neighbor told me that he was taking a shower when, over the sound of the rushing water, he suddenly heard a combination of yelping and snarling noises. He immediately knew what it was: coyotes attacking his little dog. He ran outside, scared the coyotes away, and started tending to his dog’s wounds. Then his wife came outside. “She tapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘Honey, you’re standing naked in the front yard.’ Oops! So I was!”
A few months ago we moved to a rural area. It’s the farthest I’ve ever lived from other people. While I looked forward to having more land to do things like raise chickens and grow our own food, I was also concerned that I would feel isolated and lonely. Then I met this gentleman. A few days after we moved in, he introduced himself with an armload of tomatoes and zucchini from his garden. He noticed that we hadn’t mowed our lawn yet, so a few hours later he returned on his tractor and mowed it for us. He’s a master gardener and woodworker, and offered unlimited horticultural advice and the use of his tools.
Many times I’ve said to myself, “What an absolute treasure.” The same goes for many of my other neighbors, most of whom are at least a generation older than me. I’m reminded of my earliest studies in psychology, when I was attracted to the developmental theory of Erik Erikson.
Erikson theorized that humans move through eight stages of psychosocial development. At each stage, he said, we are presented with a challenge or “crisis” between two conflicting qualities. One of these qualities supports our growth and evolution while the other thwarts it. If we choose to adopt the former, we develop a
virtue associated with that stage.
In the first stage (Oral-Sensory), roughly from birth to age two, all of our basic needs are met by our parents and other caregivers. We are utterly dependent on others, and we are faced with the crisis of Trust versus Mistrust, which Erikson characterized with the question, “Can I trust the world?” If our parents are consistent, kind, dependable, and loving, we are likely to develop trust in others and a fundamental trust in ourselves. This leads to the virtue of hope, which helps us navigate the upcoming stages. If not, we are likely to become mistrustful of the world – seeing it as undependable and unpredictable.
For the sake of space, I’m just going to give you the nutshell versions of the next handful – until we get to the elder years. The ages given for the following can vary somewhat.
• Stage 2. From ages 2 through 4, the crisis is between
autonomy versus
shame and
doubt. The existential question is, “Is it okay to be me?” And the virtue presented is
will.
• Stage 3. From ages 4 through 5, the crisis is between
initiative versus
guilt. The existential question is, “Is it okay for me to do, move, and act?” And the virtue presented is
purpose.
• Stage 4. From age 5 through 12, the crisis is between
industry versus
inferiority. The existential question is, “Can I make it in the world of people and things?” And the virtue presented is
competence.
• Stage 5. From ages 13 through 19, the crisis is between
identity versus
role confusion. The existential question is, “Who am I and what can I be?” And the virtue presented is
fidelity.
• Stage 6. From age 20 through 39, the crisis is between
intimacy versus
isolation. The existential question is, “Can I love?” And the virtue presented is
love.
Now we come to the age ranges of my amazing neighbors. From age 40 through 64, the crisis is between
generativity versus
stagnation. The existential question is, “Can I make my life count?” The virtue presented is
care. Erikson felt that during middle adulthood, the main task is to contribute to society and help guide and support future generations. Embracing this mantle makes us
generative whereas a self-centered life leads to
stagnation.
From age 65 to death, we face the crisis of
integrity versus
despair. The existential question is, “Is it okay to have been me?” As we become less productive and perhaps feel less useful to society, it’s possible to slip into despair, especially if we look back at our life through a lens of negativity, regret, or criticism. Alternatively, if we’re able to look back at the goodness we’ve enjoyed and shared, the ways we have served and accomplished, we experience
integrity and the virtue of
wisdom emerges.
Several years ago, as I witnessed the decline of some older patients who became bitter and sad, I began to recognize one of the primary fears of the elderly: to have nothing that the rest of the world values – being useless, wrinkled, irrelevant, confused, and a burden on others. And I thought, “What a horrible way to end life.”
But as I enjoy the company of my new neighbors, feeling anything but isolated, grateful to have healthy
elders as friends, I know such a course isn’t inevitable. These folks have clearly chosen
generativity and
integrity. They share their wisdom and worth with the world. And I believe they would continue to do so even if they were disabled and unable to help out, because it’s a state of mind, really. It’s inspiring and encouraging to know that such choices are available to me as I age, and that such individuals are available to help us navigate the way.
What has your experience of elderhood been? Are you an elder? What are your struggles and triumphs? Share your wisdom with our community!
Be well,
Dr. Peter Borten
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When I was in grad school for Chinese Medicine, I’d often see students hanging around campus engaged in related ancient Chinese arts, such as tai chi, qi gong, calligraphy, studying Chinese astrology or feng shui. It was also common to see a group of students hitting themselves and each other.
They were training in the toughening exercises of martial arts, which I had never witnessed before. This entailed repeatedly knocking the edges of their shins or forearms against each other, or whacking their bodies with a thick bundle of metal wires (called an “iron bundle” or tetsutaba). As I tentatively tried hitting myself with this implement, one of them told me, “You really want to feel your bones rattle when you do it.” Needless to say, they had lots of bruises.
They finished every session by taking out a jug of some pungent brown liquid and rubbing it all over the impacted parts of their bodies. As an herbalist, this was the most interesting part for me. Each guy actually had his own jug of brown stuff, and they often argued about whose was the best.
The brown stuff was called dit da jow (AKA die da jiu) which means something like “hit fall wine” and it’s sometimes just called a hit formula or training formula by martial artists. The purpose of the stuff is to help one recover faster after taking a bunch of kicks and punches. It’s made from a variety of herbs, resins, and minerals that have been soaked in alcohol for about a month. Famous teachers and martial arts schools often have their own recipes, many of which have been in continuous use for centuries and are often held in great secrecy.
Over years of begging and pleading with my fighter friends and hunting down obscure texts, I managed to procure about a dozen different recipes, then proceeded to spend more years studying them. I had hundreds of jars of my own “brown liquids,” made out of countless combinations and permutations of these formulas. Since most of my patients weren’t fighters I expanded the application to include the various ways we’re battered by modern life – athletics, poor posture, sitting for way too long at a desk, carrying kids around, using backpacks, sleeping on a crappy bed, standing on hard floors, wearing heels, etc.
By tracking people’s responses, I gradually moved toward what would eventually be our Muscle Melt liniment. It features a gigantic number of ingredients, but every one is in there for a reason. My high-performance athlete patients regularly tell me that it makes it possible for them to do a super intense workout and be back in action the next day with minimal downtime. If you’re feeling beat up by life, give it a try and tell me what you think.
Be well,
Dr. Peter Borten
[post_title] => Dit Da Jow: Healing Elixir or Ancient Myth?
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One evening several years ago, I was taking a walk and saw something big flapping in the wind. As I got closer, I realized it was a giant plastic bag that was stuck to a tree. I thought to myself, “Someone should clean that up,” and I walked on.
It was one of those thoughts where you actually hear the specific words in your head – Someone should clean that up. And one word in particular stuck in my mind: Someone.
Then it felt like my body was compelled to slow down, and a higher part of my consciousness seemed to be telling me, “Look more closely at this pattern.”
Someone should deal with what I dislike. Make it better for me.
I turned around. I disentangled the bag from the tree. I balled it up, found a nearby dumpster, and threw it away. And though it was just one bag, it was symbolic of a shift. The shift wasn’t that I now pick up all the litter I see wherever I go. It was a recognition of how I want the world to be different without participating in the process, and it was a reminder of my ability to choose my perspective and to act on my own behalf.
Then there was one more insight from that soul place: This is (part of) what being an adult means. As children we expect our caregivers to make the world right for us; as adults, we act on our own behalf. It struck me that growing up has little to do with how many years you’ve been alive. You could be 80 years old and still expecting the world to make things right for you.
Over the following months, I paid closer attention to people who were active in consciously shaping their world. It was so inspiring. I noticed that sometimes this approach to life issued from an attitude of optimism and empowerment, like, “I have gifts to share!” or “I want to be an active participant in changing my environment.” And other times it came from an attitude of mistrust and pessimism, like, “You can’t count on anyone; that’s why you have to do everything yourself” or “People are going to mess it up if I don’t step in.”
Gradually, another characteristic of growing up was revealed: letting go of fixed positions. In those who strove to improve their world, there was always flexibility and a willingness to see more than one side of an issue, because the truth is rarely black-and-white. Children like things in absolute terms: this superhero is good and the other guy is bad; broccoli is healthy and candy is unhealthy; sharing is the right thing to do and not sharing is wrong. But adults recognize that such formulaic ways of thinking often fall short. Only by engaging with life openly and organically, with a strong appetite for the truth, do we stand to grow and evolve. This brings lots of grey and apparent paradox, but the adult mind can handle it.
How do you define growing up? What challenges you about being an adult? Share in the comments section below.
Be well,
Dr. Peter Borten
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[post_content] => The other day, my 81-year-old neighbor told me that he was taking a shower when, over the sound of the rushing water, he suddenly heard a combination of yelping and snarling noises. He immediately knew what it was: coyotes attacking his little dog. He ran outside, scared the coyotes away, and started tending to his dog’s wounds. Then his wife came outside. “She tapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘Honey, you’re standing naked in the front yard.’ Oops! So I was!”
A few months ago we moved to a rural area. It’s the farthest I’ve ever lived from other people. While I looked forward to having more land to do things like raise chickens and grow our own food, I was also concerned that I would feel isolated and lonely. Then I met this gentleman. A few days after we moved in, he introduced himself with an armload of tomatoes and zucchini from his garden. He noticed that we hadn’t mowed our lawn yet, so a few hours later he returned on his tractor and mowed it for us. He’s a master gardener and woodworker, and offered unlimited horticultural advice and the use of his tools.
Many times I’ve said to myself, “What an absolute treasure.” The same goes for many of my other neighbors, most of whom are at least a generation older than me. I’m reminded of my earliest studies in psychology, when I was attracted to the developmental theory of Erik Erikson.
Erikson theorized that humans move through eight stages of psychosocial development. At each stage, he said, we are presented with a challenge or “crisis” between two conflicting qualities. One of these qualities supports our growth and evolution while the other thwarts it. If we choose to adopt the former, we develop a
virtue associated with that stage.
In the first stage (Oral-Sensory), roughly from birth to age two, all of our basic needs are met by our parents and other caregivers. We are utterly dependent on others, and we are faced with the crisis of Trust versus Mistrust, which Erikson characterized with the question, “Can I trust the world?” If our parents are consistent, kind, dependable, and loving, we are likely to develop trust in others and a fundamental trust in ourselves. This leads to the virtue of hope, which helps us navigate the upcoming stages. If not, we are likely to become mistrustful of the world – seeing it as undependable and unpredictable.
For the sake of space, I’m just going to give you the nutshell versions of the next handful – until we get to the elder years. The ages given for the following can vary somewhat.
• Stage 2. From ages 2 through 4, the crisis is between
autonomy versus
shame and
doubt. The existential question is, “Is it okay to be me?” And the virtue presented is
will.
• Stage 3. From ages 4 through 5, the crisis is between
initiative versus
guilt. The existential question is, “Is it okay for me to do, move, and act?” And the virtue presented is
purpose.
• Stage 4. From age 5 through 12, the crisis is between
industry versus
inferiority. The existential question is, “Can I make it in the world of people and things?” And the virtue presented is
competence.
• Stage 5. From ages 13 through 19, the crisis is between
identity versus
role confusion. The existential question is, “Who am I and what can I be?” And the virtue presented is
fidelity.
• Stage 6. From age 20 through 39, the crisis is between
intimacy versus
isolation. The existential question is, “Can I love?” And the virtue presented is
love.
Now we come to the age ranges of my amazing neighbors. From age 40 through 64, the crisis is between
generativity versus
stagnation. The existential question is, “Can I make my life count?” The virtue presented is
care. Erikson felt that during middle adulthood, the main task is to contribute to society and help guide and support future generations. Embracing this mantle makes us
generative whereas a self-centered life leads to
stagnation.
From age 65 to death, we face the crisis of
integrity versus
despair. The existential question is, “Is it okay to have been me?” As we become less productive and perhaps feel less useful to society, it’s possible to slip into despair, especially if we look back at our life through a lens of negativity, regret, or criticism. Alternatively, if we’re able to look back at the goodness we’ve enjoyed and shared, the ways we have served and accomplished, we experience
integrity and the virtue of
wisdom emerges.
Several years ago, as I witnessed the decline of some older patients who became bitter and sad, I began to recognize one of the primary fears of the elderly: to have nothing that the rest of the world values – being useless, wrinkled, irrelevant, confused, and a burden on others. And I thought, “What a horrible way to end life.”
But as I enjoy the company of my new neighbors, feeling anything but isolated, grateful to have healthy
elders as friends, I know such a course isn’t inevitable. These folks have clearly chosen
generativity and
integrity. They share their wisdom and worth with the world. And I believe they would continue to do so even if they were disabled and unable to help out, because it’s a state of mind, really. It’s inspiring and encouraging to know that such choices are available to me as I age, and that such individuals are available to help us navigate the way.
What has your experience of elderhood been? Are you an elder? What are your struggles and triumphs? Share your wisdom with our community!
Be well,
Dr. Peter Borten
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You had me until you offered examples, this last one “Look, there’s the Roller Derby Queen in that hot air balloon with the pink unicorn on it, and she’s putting out the forest fire!”
She may be orchestrating the firefighting but she’s not extinguishing anything – not while floating above, detached with no resources that remotely resemble tons of water . Is this caricature supposed to be the hook?
Is this what you think your readership wants to attain? Yes, women are the big market. This caricature trivializes
I’m sorry you feel that way, Holly. I’m just trying to keep it light and humorous. I would imagine there are very few people who want to attain this particular scenario (my 8 year old daughter would probably be one of them), which is why I thought it was safe territory. Raising and supporting strong, ambitious women is the most cherished of the work I do.
Be well,
Peter
I have a question about the Unicorn balloon.
Is it still in existence?
I used run crew for that balloon in the 70’s in Crested Butte, CO
Do you remember who owned it?