Ancient Wisdom

Robert Wolff, as described in the last essay, had one of the most powerful moments of “knowing” I have read — while being guided by a shaman from a tribe that lived as people lived beyond the mists of time.Numerous healthy societies flourished in the distant past, and various members of those cultures experienced the satisfaction of a shared world and a shared life. Many had lives that were rich and fulfilling. Not all ancient societies were healthy, of course; there were dysfunctional groups in the past just as there are today. But many early peoples had deep currents of communication between members and with the world in which they lived. They were embedded in their communities and in nature and had the ability to read natural signs, know things about other people, and track and communicate with animals in amazing ways.

All these abilities, and more, have been lost to most of us in the modern world. It is therefore a little surprising to learn that ancient people were anatomically and neurologically the same as we are. Human biology does not seem to have changed in 50,000 years (probably much longer). Current understanding suggests that if you took a newborn from a remote tribe several thousand years ago and raised it in a family in New York or Kansas today, it would develop like other children in that family. And vice versa. An infant from a modern family transferred to the Malaysian jungle at birth would develop all the skills of the people it grew up around.

Living in Harmony

Skeptico: Give me some examples of the things we might learn from earlier cultures.

Wisdom Seeker: A vivid personal example comes from the mountain villages of Bali. After spending several days there, my wife noticed that children almost never cried, rebelled, or acted out. Surprisingly, then, as we began to pay attention, we did not see children being punished or even reprimanded. Gradually it became clear that this was because an adult was always close by to respond to the needs and moods of each child: A parent, grandparent, aunt, uncle, older sibling, or cousin was always attuned to each young child.

At an all-day ceremony we attended, before a child had time to do something that would cause harm or be disruptive, an adult would engage the child’s attention. Although the event was probably boring at times for the young children, someone was always there to head off actions that could have become problematic.

This was never done as a correction, but just engaging the child and gently nudging it away from getting into trouble. Yet somehow the culture also had patterns that guided the children away from being spoiled or narcissistic, for older children and adults seemed responsible, concerned for each other, and giving toward strangers as well as friends. And they had not used punishment or much correction to achieve this result.

The engrained patterns in the Balinese culture create families and communities that are close and cohesive — with a connectedness lasting through all stages of life. And the people in the mountains of Bali are reported to be happier than people most anywhere else on the planet. We definitely experienced it being a peaceful and happy place, more so than most anywhere else we travelled. There is much we in the modern West could learn in Bali, if we were willing to pay attention.

Another favorite example comes from a paper given by anthropologist Dr. Richard Sorenson to the American Philosophical Association in 1996. In the paper, Sorenson describes getting to know a tribe in New Guinea previously untouched by Western influence and beginning to experience for himself the fabric of the connectedness the members of the tribe felt.

As it was in Bali, Sorenson became aware that an adult (or older child) was constantly attentive to every young child, and that someone always responded to a child’s needs before it had time to get upset. Sorenson also noticed that there was constant interaction between all members of the tribe — frequent physical contact as well as constant joking, laughing, and sharing of small tidbits of information. There seemed to be no dishonesty among tribal members; they seemed to be open and honest with each other at all times. Perhaps there was no reason for dishonesty, since they shared everything: food, shelter, work, their mistakes, humorous stories, dreams, fears, and visions.

Especially intriguing, and unlike our modern fictions about the “hard life” of traditional peoples, Sorenson found that each person only worked a few hours a day. (A recent book, Work: A Deep History, from the Stone Age to the Age of Robots by James Suzman, documents this in great detail in many early cultures.)

Overall, the tribal members Sorenson met had peaceful, relaxed, and happy lives — a condition many in the modern world long for but seldom find. Sorenson describes the remarkable results of the way of life of that Malaysia tribe:

“There, despite the seemingly incessant rain and the absence of anything resembling modern amenities or comfort, people exuded a remarkable, on-the-mark intuitive helpfulness, and a constant considerate regard by each for all the others. This extended, not just to friends, but to strangers too. Long before we shared a single word in language, these forest-dwellers had instinctively tuned in to my feelings and made life easier and happier for me. What mattered was the magnitude of collective joy produced.”

Thought Experiment — Imagining collective joy
Try to imagine what it would be like to live among people where the amount of “collective joy” of each and all was the primary goal?

Sorenson continues:

“In the real life of these preconquest people, feeling and awareness are focused on in-the-moment, point-blank sensory experience.

“Into that flux, individuals thrust their inner thoughts and aspirations for all to see, appreciate, and relate to. This unabashed open honesty is the foundation on which their highly honed empathy and rapport are possible.”

Sorenson goes on to describe adolescent boys on a hunting expedition — joking, playing, and generally having a good time. They were constantly together, often touching each other, even sleeping close together (not in a sexual way, but with a sense of bondedness and connection). The members of the band seemed to be in constant communication with one another, often without words. When it was time to hunt, the communication reached an extraordinary level, beyond anything Sorenson could explain. (Perhaps not unlike the communication that can occur between members of a sports team when in complete sync, or a couple who are deeply connected, or members of a group who have bonded while on a dangerous adventure together.)

Skeptico: What do you think we can learn from this?

Wisdom Seeker: The crucial point is that, in a remote jungle, Sorenson found a community of people who were happy and at peace, who felt at home in the world and with those around them. They listened attentively to each other and even seemed to be able to listen to the voice of the natural environment. In contrast to most of us in the modern world, they had a remarkable freedom from anxieties and neuroses.

It was not that they were free of difficulties, but because they felt they lived in a harmonious world, when difficulties did arise they met them together, trusting that things could be worked out. When an un-wished-for result did occur, it was seen as a natural part of life and accepted. Life was shared; problems were faced together. They dealt with everything that arose as best they could, adjusted to the outcome, and moved on with acceptance and peace — returning quickly to the pursuit of “collective joy.”

Thought Experiment — Imagining deep belonging.
Think of a time when you felt connected to a group, with a sense of trust and communion, a shared belonging. Now imagine such a feeling being present in your life every day. Imagine the freedom from individual anxiety and fear this would bring. Imagine what it would be like to live with that feeling of community and connection all the time.

I have read many accounts of people from different parts of the world living in harmony with each other. For instance, linguist and filmmaker Helena Norberg-Hodge lived among the people of Ladakh before significant modern influences arrived. She went there with several preconceived notions, but had the courage to let her preconceptions go. As she did so, she began to discover a world rich beyond her initial assumptions and images. She writes in her book Ancient Futures:

“Only after … peeling away layers of preconceptions did I begin to see the joy and laughter of the Ladakhs for what it really was: a genuine and unhindered appreciation of life itself. In Ladakh I have known a people who regard peace of mind and joie de vivre as their unquestioned birthright. I have seen that community and a close relationship with the land can enrich human life beyond all comparison to material wealth or technological sophistication.”

Norberg-Hodge saw that, although lacking many material comforts, the Ladakhis had a strong sense of self-acceptance, were seldom affected by self-doubt, and had “a profound sense of security.” They seldom had feelings of “guilt or rejection.” The more she observed, the more she came to feel she had never encountered people who were “so healthy emotionally.” Nor any who seemed “so secure” in being who they were. She concludes:

“Their sense of joy seems so firmly anchored within them that circumstances cannot shake it loose. You cannot spend any time at all in Ladakh without being won over by their contagious laughter.”

Skeptico: Does she say how they are able to feel this way?

Wisdom Seeker: Yes.

Skeptico: Tell me, for Pete’s Sake.

Wisdom Seeker: For the Ladakhis, “Contentment comes from feeling and understanding yourself to be part of the flow of life, relaxing and moving with it.”

Skeptico: But she is talking about people who live in a remote place and who don’t have to contend with modernity. How does her observation apply to me?

Wisdom Seeker: I think, Skeptico, her conclusions can help you. But the results will not be delivered on a silver platter — you will have to do inner work to move toward the place which her words inspire. One way to begin would be think about a group of people you have encountered who were able to keep some of the positive aspects of past cultures alive even after they had been impacted by modernity. For me, Bali is a good example.

Huddled in Fear?

Skeptico: What about all those images of early peoples living in constant fear and dread of a dangerous world? I have seen lots of images of them huddling fearfully in caves or huts.

Wisdom Seeker: I think the latest research suggests those images are fictions and projections. Rather than being frightened by and fighting with their environments, many early peoples felt less afraid than the average person today. They weren’t any more afraid of their own environment than the average modern person is afraid of a parked car.

If you think about it, automobiles kill about 1.25 million people a year worldwide, yet most of us don’t run when we see a car. We have a sense that it is safe to be around them most of the time, and we don’t tremble in fear when we see one. In the same way, early peoples didn’t sit around trembling in fear of bears, lions, mastodons, or dangerous “others.” They understood their world and were comfortable in it. They took precautions, and sometimes defended themselves, but lived with an ease and comfort many people today do not have.

Skeptico: How do you explain the differences in the level of fear in people?

Wisdom Seeker: Fear and anxiety mostly come from the mental constructs we have been indoctrinated to believe; those that are reinforced by our culture. One study found there are only two innate fears in humans: 1) of falling when placed unexpectedly in a precarious position at a significant height, and 2) of a startling loud noise. And even these can be overcome with practice.

Thought Experiment — Examining fears
In the ten years between 2007 and 2016 in the United States, approximately 350,000 people were killed in automobile accidents, while about 90 were killed by terrorists who had some connection to groups in the Middle East. Which danger received the most attention by politicians and the media? How much money was spent to prevent the dangers caused by each?

Or think about how many people are afraid of snakes in our culture. Yet some cultures teach children from a young age to honor snakes, or hunt them, even poisonous ones, and seeing a snake in those cultures creates positive excitement. This does not mean they do not respect the dangers, but most do not react with fear — just as most of us do not fear a speeding car we see on the highway.

Or consider bears. Small children are not naturally afraid of bears any more than they are of horses. Some are afraid of each, but most will run toward either with excitement. Over time, however, the way a child feels about each will be determined by the way they are conditioned, by the stories they are told.

Some people are afraid of horses as adults, but the percentage of those afraid of bears is much, much higher. Why? Because of the stories they have been told. It certainly is not because they have been injured by a bear. That number is minuscule, especially black bears, which are the kind most people see.

In fact, many more people have been killed and injured by horses than black bears, and thousands of times more by automobiles. Yet most of us have not been taught to fear cars, and most not to fear horses, so most of us do not have much fear of either. We learn not to step in front of a speeding car, but feel at ease beside a parked one. In the same way, you might learn to keep a safe distance from a mother bear with cubs, but that does not mean you need to be afraid; just to be mindful of the circumstances. (And don’t hang around if you happen to be in the far north and see a grizzly.)

Skeptico: Why are fear stories so different from culture to culture?

Wisdom Seeker: There are dangers in every culture. There have always been dangers in human life. In our country we tell each other scary stories about terrorist attacks, snakes, and bears, while encouraging each other to feel comfortable with cars and horses. Because they are important in our culture, we might caution each other to be safe around them, but then to be at ease. On the other hand, most modern people see few poisonous snakes or bears, so they make convenient fear stories. And we seem to like to tell some fear stories.

Each group of early people probably had some things about which they were taught to be afraid, but it differed from culture to culture. In each, fear stories were seldom about the things they encountered regularly in the natural world. On the contrary, reports of those who have gotten to know the pockets of early peoples still living in traditional environments suggest a remarkable absence of fear and anxiety about being in the wild, even alone.

It is sad so many people in the modern world have lost what early peoples had — a feeling of being at home and comfortable with the world around them. This loss, according to influential sociologist Max Weber, accounts for the pervading sense of alienation experienced by so many in modernity. So, Skeptico, a lot of those images of fearful early peoples involve the projection of our fears onto them.

Skeptico: Tell me more about what is causing so much alienation today.

Wisdom Seeker: There are multiple causes, but one involves an extreme focus on the ego self that is common in modernity. Perhaps more than ever in history, a lot of people view themselves as separate from the world and from the people around them, which leads to the feeling that we cannot really know others or the world at a deep level, or find our way to being in harmony with either.

Existential philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre captured this idea with his statement that each one of us is “ultimately alone, isolated islands of subjectivity in an objective world.” This is true at one level of our existence, but there are other levels that Sartre did not seem to grasp. Unfortunately, this narrow understanding of who we are by Sartre and his compatriots has had wide influence, without being effectively balanced by a larger perspective for many of us.

And one good way to correct this narrow perspective is to read the fascinating reports of early cultures and how they experienced the world. These accounts highlight the narrowness and naïveté of the conclusions of biased modern reports. (Sartre’s view that the world is “objective” is itself incredibly naïve, for our assumptions dramatically affect what we think is objectively true. See my essay Everything Begins with What You think You Know).

One of my favorite descriptions of a way to understand traditional cultures, one that every student of early peoples should read, is Lame Deer: Seeker of Visions by John (Fire) Lame Deer and Richard Erdoes. In it, Lame Deer is wise, funny, and sophisticated in his understanding — while devastatingly skewering the shallowness of those who wrote about his culture, assuming they understood it.

“Before our white brothers came to civilize us we had no jails. Therefore we had no criminals. You can’t have criminals without a jail. We had no locks or keys, and so we had no thieves. If a man was so poor that he had no horse, tipi, or blanket, someone gave him these things. We were too uncivilized to set much value on personal belongings. We wanted to have things only in order to give them away. We had not money, and therefore a man’s worth couldn’t be measured by it. We had no written law, no attorneys or politicians, therefore we couldn’t cheat. We really were in a bad way before the white man came, and I don’t know how we managed to get along without the basic things which, we are told, are absolutely necessary to make a civilized society.”

Lame Deer has much to say about the difference between the old way of life of his people and that of those who conquered them, and his views resonate with the environmental problems we are facing today:

“‘Indians chase the vision, white men chase the dollar. We are lousy raw materials from which to form a capitalist. We could do it easily, but then we would stop being Indians. We would just be ordinary citizens with a slightly darker skin. That’s a high price to pay, my friend, too high. We make lousy farmers, too, because deep down within us linger a feeling that land, water, air, the earth and what lies beneath its surface cannot be owned as someone’s private property. That belongs to everybody, and if man wants to survive, he had better come around to this Indian point of view, the sooner the better, because there isn’t much time left to think it over.”

And he has things to teach us about our spiritual lives:

“All creatures exist for a purpose. Even an ant knows what that purpose is — not with its brain, but somehow it knows. Only human beings have come to a point where they no longer know why they exist. They don’t use their brains and they have forgotten the secret knowledge of their bodies, their senses, or their dreams. They don’t use the knowledge the spirit has put into every one of them; they are not even aware of this, and so they stumble along blindly on the road to nowhere — a paved highway which they themselves bulldoze and make smooth so that they can get faster to the big, empty hole which they’ll find at the end, waiting to swallow them up. It’s a quick, comfortable superhighway, but I know where it leads to. I have seen it. I’ve been there in my vision and it makes me shudder to think about it.”

Ecstatic Merger

Besides the important lesson of being at ease with the world and its rhythms and patterns, we could also gain much from paying attention to the sense of ancient peoples of the presence of “something more” moving in the dimensions beyond the visible world. Why on earth should we moderns limit ourselves to thinking that the material, visible world is all that exists, when science is proving this notion to be false every day as it investigates quantum entanglement, entities that are both matter and energy, matter that is not anywhere until you measure it, Dark Energy, and much more.

Opposite to the materialistic paradigm, almost every early culture had methods to encourage the innate human ability to “know” that which is beyond the level of materiality — practices such as chanting, vision quests, drumming, dancing for hours, fasting, rituals, and many others. Some used psychedelic plants in strictly prescribed ways to open them to these broader ways of knowing.

Carl Jung (who spent time with a wise man in a native American tribe) was very interested in these other ways of knowing, seeing their clear connection to his ideas about synchronicity. He also used the term participation mystique (borrowed from French sociologist Lucien Lévy-Bruhl) for times when “the subject cannot clearly distinguish himself from the object but is bound to it by a direct relationship.” (Jung saw how this could have great value, but also how it could have negative manifestations.) Morris Berman, historian of culture and science, speaks of ecstatic merger to capture this experience. Both Jung and Berman came to believe that early cultures could access great wisdom in this way.

Ecstatic merger and participation mystique were often a part of the life of early peoples, and are sometimes thought of as “primitive” practices. But in a series of books exploring the development of cultures (The Reenchantment of the World, Coming to Our Senses, and Wandering God), Berman shows how many early peoples were anything but primitive. Instead, they had a sophisticated understanding of the world and their lives in it. Importantly, both Jung and Berman make clear that the ability to “know” is alive and available to anyone who can learn to open to it today. Perhaps, then, thinking about early peoples as “primitive” has only to do with us — those of us who project that idea onto our ancestors.

Someone who experienced a deep knowing fully for himself was Bradford Keeney — a successful American professor, writer, therapist, and researcher who became fascinated by non-ordinary states among traditional peoples. After spending many months among the Sān people (sometimes called the Kalahari Bushmen), Keeney was taught their practices for attaining ecstatic merger. In his book, The Bushman Way of Tracking God: The Original Spirituality of the Kalahari People, he describes the experience of leaving his small self behind and entering into another realm of consciousness. (Keeney and Nancy Connor explore similar practices in many societies in Shamans of the World: Extraordinary First-Person Accounts of Healings, Mysteries, and Miracles.)

That this ancient wisdom, coming down over the eons, still exists is portrayed beautifully in the writings of Ohiyesa, a Dakota Sioux born in 1858 who was educated in Christian schools and given the English name Charles Alexander Eastman.

Ohiyesa graduated from Beloit College, attended Dartmouth, and completed medical school at Boston College. Writing about his spiritual experiences within the Sioux tradition, he says in The Soul of the Indian: “The worship of the Great Mystery is silent, solitary, free from all self-seeking.” What is this silence? “The holy silence is God’s voice.”

He says those of his people who took the time to do so would encounter this Great Mystery continually in nature, “in the mysterious aisles of the primeval forest, in the sunlit bosom of virgin prairies, or in the vast jeweled vault of the night sky!” To meet the One, he says, all you have to do is look, for “God is enrobed in veils of cloud, on the rim of the visible world.”

Eastman/Ohiyesa goes on to describe the development of the “spiritual mind,” which “is concerned only with the essence of things.” This spiritual mind can be developed in nature and then strengthened by prayer in which “the body is subdued by fasting and hardship.”

Ohiyesa says of his people:

“We see miracles on every hand — the miracle of life, the birth of every child, and the abundant harvest that springs from one single ear of corn. Let us not forget that science cannot explain everything. We still face the ultimate miracle, the origin and principle of life. This is the supreme mystery, and the essence of worship, without which there would be no religion. In the presence of this mystery, we behold with awe the Divine in all creation.”

Thought Experiment — What have you experienced?
Have you ever had an experience that seemed to open into a deeper way of knowing? Perhaps, at the time, you dismissed it as unimportant? Think back and consider a broad range of experiences in your life, including some to which you might not have paid attention at the time.
Think of an event or occurrence that seemed strange or unexplainable, but which you then forgot because it did not fit with how you thought the world should work.

In my own life, I have had enough moments of knowing to confirm that the kinds of experiences reported by so many are true, real, and important. The value of reading these experiences is to confirm that great knowledge and deep wisdom have been available for thousands of years, and at least a few people in each age and culture have opened into it. This is a universal human capacity, and reading about the experiences of others gives me confidence that deep knowing is possible for any one of us today.

As I continue my journey and strive to open into the fullest possible self I can be, studying early peoples is one good way to proceed. But there are others. All the wisdom traditions speak of the possibility of opening fully, and all provide guidance for doing so. There is much help available — all we need do is choose our next step (whether it be sitting quietly, studying, practicing, or acting forcefully), and do that with as much clarity and intention as we can muster.