Adolescent Journey Quotes

Children’s and YA books are about being brave and kind, about learning wisdom and love, about that journey into and through maturity that we all keep starting, and starting again, no matter how old we get. I think that’s why so many adults read YA: we’re never done coming of age.

Music was a kind of penetration. Perhaps absorption is a less freighted word. The penetration or absorption of everything into itself. I don't know if you have ever taken LSD, but when you do so the doors of perception, as Aldous Huxley, Jim Morrison and their adherents ceaselessly remind us, swing wide open. That is actually the sort of phrase, unless you are William Blake, that only makes sense when there is some LSD actually swimming about inside you. In the cold light of the cup of coffee and banana sandwich that are beside me now it appears to be nonsense, but I expect you to know what it is taken to mean. LSD reveals the whatness of things, their quiddity, their essence. The wateriness of water is suddenly revealed to you, the carpetness of carpets, the woodness of wood, the yellowness of yellow, the fingernailness of fingernails, the allness of all, the nothingness of all, the allness of nothing. For me music gives access to everyone of these essences, but at a fraction of the social or financial cost of a drug and without the need to cry 'Wow!' all the time, which is LSD's most distressing and least endearing side effects. ...Music in the precision of its form and the mathematical tyranny of its laws, escapes into an eternity of abstraction and an absurd sublime that is everywhere and nowhere at once. The grunt of rosin-rubbed catgut, the saliva-bubble blast of a brass tube, the sweaty-fingered squeak on a guitar fret, all that physicality, all that clumsy 'music making', all that grain of human performance...transcends itself at the moment of its happening, that moment when music actually becomes, as it makes the journey from the vibrating instrument, the vibrating hi-fi speaker, as it sends those vibrations across to the human tympanum and through to the inner ear and into the brain, where the mind is set to vibrate to frequencies of its own making. The nothingness of music can be moulded by the mood of the listener into the most precise shapes or allowed to float as free as thought; music can follow the academic and theoretical pattern of its own modality or adhere to some narrative or dialectical programme imposed by a friend, a scholar or the composer himself. Music is everything and nothing. It is useless and no limit can be set to its use. Music takes me to places of illimitable sensual and insensate joy, accessing points of ecstasy that no angelic lover could ever locate, or plunging me into gibbering weeping hells of pain that no torturer could ever devise. Music makes me write this sort of maundering adolescent nonsense without embarrassment. Music is in fact the dog's bollocks. Nothing else comes close.

You are exporting disorder [in the form of heat into the Universe] now as you read this book. You are hastening the demise of everything that exists, bringing forward by your very existence the arrival of time known as the heat death, when all stars have died, all black holes have evaporated away and the entirety of creation is a uniform bath of photons incapable of storing a single bit of information about the glorious adolescence of our wonderful Universe.

I had spent the first half of my twenties fighting to find the will to process everything that I’d survived in my childhood and adolescence. Having done the hard work, I was now in a chapter in my life where I had the clarity to pursue my dreams and passion and find some actual success.

A common and traditionally masculine marital problem is created by the husband who, once he is married, devotes all his energies to climbing mountains and none to tending to his marriage, or base camp, expecting it to be there in perfect order whenever he chooses to return to it for rest and recreation without his assuming any responsibility for its maintenance. Sooner or later this “capitalist” approach to the problem fails and he returns to find his untended base camp a shambles, his neglected wife having been hospitalized for a nervous breakdown, having run off with another man, or in some other way having renounced her job as camp caretaker. An equally common and traditionally feminine marital problem is created by the wife who, once she is married, feels that the goal of her life has been achieved. To her the base camp is the peak. She cannot understand or empathize with her husband’s need for achievements and experiences beyond the marriage and reacts to them with jealousy and never-ending demands that he devote increasingly more energy to the home. Like other “communist” resolutions of the problem, this one creates a relationship that is suffocating and stultifying, from which the husband, feeling trapped and limited, may likely flee in a moment of “mid-life crisis.” The women’s liberation movement has been helpful in pointing the way to what is obviously the only ideal resolution: marriage as a truly cooperative institution, requiring great mutual contributions and care, time and energy, but existing for the primary purpose of nurturing each of the participants for individual journeys toward his or her own individual peaks of spiritual growth. Male and female both must tend the hearth and both must venture forth. As an adolescent I used to thrill to the words of love the early American poet Ann Bradstreet spoke to her husband: “If ever two were one, then we.”20 As I have grown, however, I have come to realize that it is the separateness of the partners that enriches the union. Great marriages cannot be constructed by individuals

Anomalies manifest themselves on the border between chaos and order, so to speak, and have a threatening and promising aspect. The promising aspect dominates, when the contact is voluntary, when the exploring agent is up-to-date – when the individual has explored all previous anomalies, released the “information” they contained, and built a strong personality and steady “world” from that information. The threatening aspect dominates, when the contact is involuntary, when the exploring agent is not up-to-date – when the individual has run away from evidence of his previous errors, failed to extract the information “lurking behind” his mistakes, weakened his personality, and destabilised his “world.” The phenomenon of interest – that precursor to exploratory behaviour – signals the presence of a potentially “beneficial” anomaly. Interest manifests itself where an assimilable but novel phenomenon exists: where something new “hides,” in a partially comprehensible form. Devout adherence to the dictates of interest – assuming a suitably disciplined character – therefore insures stabilisation and renewal of personality and world. Interest is a spirit beckoning from the unknown – a spirit calling from outside the “walls” of society. Pursuit of individual interest means hearkening to this spirit’s call – means journeying outside the protective walls of childhood dependence and adolescent group identification; means also return to and rejuvenation of society. This means that pursuit of individual interest – development of true individuality – is equivalent to identification with the hero. Such identification renders the world bearable, despite its tragedies – and reduces unnecessary suffering, which most effectively destroys, to an absolute minimum. This is the message that everyone wants to hear. Risk your security. Face the unknown. Quit lying to yourself, and do what your heart truly tells you to do. You will be better for it, and so will the world.

The essence of the adolescent brain changes that are the essence of healthy ways of living throughout the life span spell the word essence itself: ES: Emotional Spark—honoring these important internal sensations that are more intense during adolescence but serve to create meaning and vitality throughout our lives. SE: Social Engagement—the important connections we have with others that support our journeys through life with meaningful, mutually rewarding relationships. N: Novelty—how we seek out and create new experiences that engage us fully, stimulating our senses, emotions, thinking, and bodies in new and challenging ways. CE: Creative Explorations—the conceptual thinking, abstract reasoning, and expanded consciousness that create a gateway to seeing the world through new lenses.

The sleep seems to descend on females early in life. Studies conducted by Harvard professor Carol Gilligan and Colby College professor Lyn Mikel Brown from 1986 to 1990 have revealed that something truly phenomenal happens to girls around adolescence.8 They undergo a gradual change in which they lose their feisty spirit, courage, and willingness to speak out—qualities they had known in girlhood. Around this time their truth becomes silenced, held back. They become afraid of conflict with males, because they know on some level that males hold the power. They become—perhaps forever—good little girls, settling into the clichés and limits imposed on their

I have none of the sense of decorum, the modesty, or the pessimism of my relatives, and none of their fear of what people will say, of extravagance, or of God. I don’t speak or write apologetically, instead I’m rather grandiloquent, and I like attracting attention. That is, I simply am as I am today, after a lot of living. In my childhood I was a strange little insect; in adolescence, a shy mouse—for many years my nickname was Laucha, which was what we called our ordinary household mice—and in my youthful years I was everything from a rabid feminist to a flower-crowned hippie. My worst flaw is that I tell secrets, my own and everybody else’s. In short, a disaster. If I lived in Chile no one would speak to me. But one thing I am is hospitable.

talk about how reading Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist recalibrated my thinking about what it means to be a self-actualized adult—and what it takes to become one. In the speech, I tell the graduates that the only way to successfully make the journey (from adolescence to adulthood) is to learn how to “get quiet”—that is, to quiet down the noise of other people’s opinions and to take instruction instead from one’s own heart.

- Child is abused, perpetrator threatens to hurt mother. Child feels protective of mother. - Struggle to escape perp reinforces feelings of mutual protection. It's Mom and I against the world. - Something necessary at the time later creates "enmeshment." Child doesn't see her actions as separate from mother. Even during normal adolescent individuation. But-- - Normal individuation doesn't happen in abuse survivors. They don't feel normal, so they-- - Act out in unhealthy or self-destructive ways, which creates-- - Fear and pain for mother, which creates-- - Guilt for child who still feels responsible for mother's emotional health. - Child seeks release from the guilt and from not feeling normal, which leads to-- - Escape to the world of other not normal people, where mother can't see her child self-destruct, which leads to-- "The bad news.

I passed by General Zia's tomb and knew that I never would have become Muslim if I was raised in this country [Pakistan]. As a rebellious American adolescent, I had chosen Islam because it was the religion of Malcolm X, a language of resistance against unjust power. But in Pakistan, Islam was the unjust power, or at least part of what kept the machine running. Pakistan's Islam was guilty of everything for which I had rebelled against Reagen-Falwaell Christianity of America.

If we understand the signals they are giving us, middle school kids can be fun and adventurous. If wse can find it in our hearts to overlook some of their quirky and mysterious behaviors, we can find them to be energetic and curious about how the world works around them. If we see the world as they view it, we can take their hand and guide them across the narrow bridges and frightening valleys they see sprawling before them. And finally, if we can reveal the patience to talk with them about the issues that confuse and bedevil them, we can find a world open for discussion and journey.

Ever since I first read Midori Snyder’s essay, ‘The Armless Maiden and the Hero’s Journey’ in The Journal of Mythic Arts, I couldn’t stop thinking about that particular strand of folklore and the application of its powerful themes to the lives of young women. There are many different versions of the tale from around the world, and the ‘Armless Maiden’ or ‘Handless Maiden’ are just two of the more familiar. But whatever the title, we are essentially talking about a narrative that speaks of the power of transformation – and, perhaps more significantly when writing young adult fantasy, the power of the female to transform herself. It’s a rite of passage; something that mirrors the traditional journey from adolescence to adulthood. Common motifs of the stories include – and I am simplifying pretty drastically here – the violent loss of hands or arms for the girl of the title, and their eventual re-growth as she slowly regains her autonomy and independence. In many accounts there is a halfway point in the story where a magician builds a temporary replacement pair of hands for the girl, magical hands and arms that are usually made entirely of silver. What I find interesting is that this isn’t where the story ends; the gaining of silver hands simply marks the beginning of a whole new test for our heroine.

At about eight-thirty or nine the friends make a halt, already in sight of Moranchel. Moranchel is on the left of the Cifuentes road, at some two hundred paces from the highway. It is a gloomy, dark town that seems to have no business being surrounded by green fields. The old man sits down in the ditch and the traveler lies on his back and looks up at some little clouds, graceful as doves, which are floating in the sky. A stork flies past, not very high, with a snake in its beak. Some partridge fly up from a bed of thyme. An adolescent goatherd and a member of his flock are sinning one of the oldest of sins in the shade of a hawthorn tree blooming with tiny sweet-smelling flowers, white as orange blossoms. ― Camilo José Cela, Journey to the Alcarria: Travels Through the Spanish Countryside

Robert Askins Brings ‘Hand to God’ to Broadway Chad Batka for The New York Times Robert Askins at the Booth Theater, where his play “Hand to God” opens on Tuesday. By MICHAEL PAULSON The conceit is zany: In a church basement, a group of adolescents gathers (mostly at the insistence of their parents) to make puppets that will spread the Christian message, but one of the puppets turns out to be more demonic than divine. The result — a dark comedy with the can-puppets-really-do-that raunchiness of “Avenue Q” and can-people-really-say-that outrageousness of “The Book of Mormon” — is “Hand to God,” a new play that is among the more improbable entrants in the packed competition for Broadway audiences over the next few weeks. Given the irreverence of some of the material — at one point stuffed animals are mutilated in ways that replicate the torments of Catholic martyrs — it is perhaps not a surprise to discover that the play’s author, Robert Askins, was nicknamed “Dirty Rob” as an undergraduate at Baylor, a Baptist-affiliated university where the sexual explicitness and violence of his early scripts raised eyebrows. But Mr. Askins had also been a lone male soloist in the children’s choir at St. John Lutheran of Cypress, Tex. — a child who discovered early that singing was a way to make the stern church ladies smile. His earliest performances were in a deeply religious world, and his writings since then have been a complex reaction to that upbringing. “It’s kind of frustrating in life to be like, ‘I’m a playwright,’ and watch people’s face fall, because they associate plays with phenomenally dull, didactic, poetic grad-schoolery, where everything takes too long and tediously explores the beauty in ourselves,” he said in a recent interview. “It’s not church, even though it feels like church a lot when we go these days.” The journey to Broadway, where “Hand to God” opens on Tuesday at the Booth Theater, still seems unlikely to Mr. Askins, 34, who works as a bartender in Brooklyn and says he can’t afford to see Broadway shows, despite his newfound prominence. He seems simultaneously enthralled by and contemptuous of contemporary theater, the world in which he has chosen to make his life; during a walk from the Cobble Hill coffee shop where he sometimes writes to the Park Slope restaurant where he tends bar, he quoted Nietzsche and Derrida, described himself as “deeply weird,” and swore like, well, a satanic sock-puppet. “If there were no laughs in the show, I’d think there was something wrong with him,” said the actor Steven Boyer, who won raves in earlier “Hand to God” productions as Jason, a grief-stricken adolescent with a meek demeanor and an angry-puppet pal. “But anybody who is able to write about such serious stuff and be as hilarious as it is, I’m not worried about their mental health.” Mr. Askins’s interest in the performing arts began when he was a boy attending rural Texas churches affiliated with the conservative Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod denomination; he recalls the worshipers as “deeply conservative, old farm folks, stone-faced, pride and suffering, and the only time anybody ever really livened up was when the children’s choir would perform.” “My grandmother had a cross-stitch that said, ‘God respects me when I work, but he loves me when I sing,’ and so I got into that,” he said. “For somebody who enjoys performance, that was the way in.” The church also had a puppet ministry — an effort to teach children about the Bible by use of puppets — and when Mr. Askins’s mother, a nurse, began running the program, he enlisted to help. He would perform shows for other children at preschools and vacation Bible camps. “The shows are wacky, but it was fun,” he said. “They’re badly written attempts to bring children to Jesus.” Not all of his formative encounters with puppets were positive. Particularly scarring: D

WE’RE ALL IN RECOVERY FROM WESTERN CIVILIZATION Sooner or later, we each must address the paramount addiction in the Western and Westernized worlds: our psychological dependence on the world-view and lifestyle of Western civilization itself.6 The Western worldview says, in essence, that technological progress is the highest value, and that we were born to consume, to endlessly use and discard natural resources, other species, techno-gadgets, toys, and, often, other people, especially if they’re poor or from the global South. It’s a world of commodities, not entities; of consumers, not human beings; and economic expansion is the primary measure of progress. Profits are valued over people, money over meaning, our national entitlement over global peace and justice, “us” over “them.” This addiction to Western civilization — especially now that the Chinese, too, are hooked — is by far the most dangerous one in the world because of how rapidly and extensively it’s undermining the natural systems of Earth. Addiction to Western civilization protects us from seeing and feeling the staggering price all Earthly life pays for our consumer habit. And it protects us from having to make any radical changes in lifestyle,7 or from having to grow up, leave the “home” of our adolescent comforts, and embark upon the hazardous journey of initiation that leads to an existence that’s life enhancing, meaningful, and fulfilling. The more we live in a materialistic flatland, the more we need it in order to keep from experiencing the agony of our alienation. Each of us has the opportunity to carefully examine our lives, uncover the ways in which our addiction to Western civilization operates, and make the biggest, most courageous changes we’re capable of.

Papa, a skilled physician, knew just what to give me. First, a shot of paregoric, a powerful tincture of opium, followed with a shot or two of gin. I haven't experienced a menstrual cramp yet that could survive this onslaught.

John’s adolescence was marked by loss. When he was thirteen his father died, swiftly followed by his two sisters. Shortly after he turned seventeen his eldest brother, James, whose progress through his chosen medics, career had taken him to London, became unable to work due to ill health and returned to the farm, lying for days on one of the beds that pulled out from the walls of the two-roomed cottage like drawers, coughing himself to death at least while John watched or was nearby; and I find it hard to imagine, now, when death is largely hedged about with treatment plans, when it does not often come senseless out of nowhere, but can be postposted, or if not, then at least explained, what grief must have been like when that boundary was a curtain you could put your hand through. It is easy to think that when death could be so quickly turned to, a matter of mistral and all families counted lost children in their numbers, that loss must have been a blunter thing- that having so much practice, they must have been better at it, or inoculated, that it cannot have been for them such devastation, this laying waste- as the birth of a tenth child might be of less account in a busy week than the loss of a pair of, so that the date of it was not looked for until later, when it was found to have been forgotten. It is easy to think that in an age without anaesthetics, when legs might be hacked off on kitchen tables, teeth pulled sigh pliers taking gobbets of jaw and gun away with the , that pain must have been somehow a less precise, less devastating thing, the alternative being unthinkable- that it was just the same but persisting, could only be endured, to universal to allow concession; and so John Hunter watched the bodies of those he loved carried out of the tiny farmhouse one by one, making their last journey to the church, and afterwards he went about the business of his day, he went to school or to the fields, and then at last, summoned by William, the sole surviving brother he barely remembered, he went to London and, did not return.

What enables us to put fantasy behind us and grow to maturity is the capacity to doubt. When a child of six or seven begins to doubt Saint Nick’s ability to get down the chimney or to be in so many different places at once, then he or she begins to doubt the objective reality of this mysterious person. The same capacity to doubt emerges during the often turbulent period of adolescence. We first doubt and then challenge the validity of our parent’s authority. We come to recognise that these once authoritative and almost divine figures are quite human and fallible after all. The perplexing process of alternating between doubt and trust, rebellion and obedience, is essential for our growth to mature adulthood. Persons of fifty who still rely on their parents for guidance in everyday matters are clearly suffering from stunted growth. And so it is with the evolution of culturally defined opinions. Without the capacity to doubt, we cannot grow from childish beliefs to the maturity of faith. Doubt is not the enemy of faith, but of false beliefs. Indeed, our entire catalogue of assumptions and beliefs should be continually subjected to critical examination, and those found to be false or inadequate should be replaced by those we find convincing within our cultural context. Yet expressing or even entertaining doubt sometimes takes so much courage that we may say it takes real faith to doubt. Thirty years ago an anonymous well-wisher sent me through the post a little book entitled The Faith to Doubt by the American scholar Homes Hartshorne. I found it an exciting text and have treasured it ever since. Among other things it says, “People today are not in need of assurances about the truth of doubtful beliefs. They need the faith to doubt. They need the faith by which to reject idols. The churches cannot preach to this age if they stand outside of it, living in the illusory security of yesterday’s beliefs. These [already] lie about us broken, and we cannot by taking thought raise them from the dead”. Far from demonstrating a lack of faith, the very act of discarding outworn beliefs may in fact do just the opposite by opening the door for genuine faith to operate again. Indeed the assertion that one needs to believe a particular creed or set of doctrines in order to have faith is an invitation to credulity rather than to faith— and childlike faith is vastly different from childish credulity

This portion of the chapter is directed at those of you whose son or daughter or other relative is in denial about his or her social life. No matter what your relationship is to this person, you need to tell yourself—daily, if necessary—that it is okay to want this person to become independent. Right now, the person is a burden to you. It is not selfish of you to want to lessen the burden of being the sole emotional support of someone else. It is selfish of the other person to ask you to be that support. But you have every right to try to foster, nurture, even at times force a healthy independence. There is an old saying that you may want to keep in mind as you proceed: “It is better to teach someone to fish than to fish for him.” It is better, much better, to give someone the courage, strength, and skills to become socially independent than to be that person’s entire social world. You’ll feel better. And the person you care about will ultimately feel better too. The No. 1 piece of advice that I give parents who want to help their adolescent or adult child is this: Use your influence to help your child face up to his or her anxiety. It need not be done all at once. I’m not suggesting you walk your child to the mouth of the volcano and leave him there, but you need to be the one who never falters. Your child, who suffers anxiety in social situations, will inevitably backslide from time to time. His improvement will be steady, but it will not be constant. So you have to be there to provide firm support and active, vocal encouragement throughout his journey to socialization. What I am asking you to do is nurture your child’s independence. Do not rescue him from what he fears. Do not confuse nurturing—saying to him, “I know you are afraid, but do the best you can because I believe you can succeed”—with rescuing, saying, “I know you are afraid, so I’ll call and cancel your plans and maybe you can attend that club meeting another time when you’re more ready.” Do not confuse teaching him to fish with fishing for him.

The arduous journey to Magadha brought flashbacks not only of his parents but also of dear Suvasini. She was the daughter of the imprisoned prime minister Shaktar and had been his childhood friend. As a little girl, she had been delicately built, like an exquisitely carved statue. Her rosy cheeks and piercing brown eyes had driven Chanakya quite mad. He had always remained in love with her but had never plucked up the courage to tell her. He knew that she knew, but she had derived mischievous fun from pretending she didn’t. As he inched his way towards Magadha, he found himself reminiscing more frequently about his adolescent infatuation.

Our sons are on a Hero’s Journey. They are navigating a transformative passage from boyhood to manhood, which requires them to leave behind the well-known world of childhood and cross a threshold, filled with many challenges, into a new world where much is unknown. Along their journey, our boys need an abundance of real-life, positive role models – everyday heroes and heroines – to look to for guidance and inspiration. They also must begin to see themselves as heroes – the authors of their own lives, armed with the noble qualities and courage needed to complete their journey and arrive at manhood with integrity.

Women in this stage often begin to feel both desperate and adamant to go on this inward journey, no matter what. And so they do, as they leave one life for another, or one stage of life for another, or sometimes even one lover for no other lover than themselves. Progressing from adolescence to young womanhood, or from married woman to spinster, or from mid-age to older, crossing over the crone line, setting out wounded but with one’s own new value system—that is death and resurgence. Leaving a relationship or the home of one’s parents, leaving behind outmoded values, becoming one’s own person, and sometimes, driving deep into the wildlands because one just must, all these are the fortune of the descent. So off we go down into a different light, under a different sky, with unfamiliar ground beneath our boots. And yet we go vulnerably, for we have no grasping, no holding on to, no clinging to, no knowing—for we have no hands.

Adolescent reproductive relationship is a period or moment of connection between adolescents of same or opposite sex in building networks and connections for the future and generations through their cordial and free mind (in their own forms and shapes) for impact making and friendship building while showing forth the light/glory of God in a sinful world

The first day I walked into Frank’s kitchen, I was sporting a long ponytail, mascara, and combat boots. By the time I left, I had cut my hair short and wore my chef’s coat with pride. I didn’t adorn myself with anything else. I shed any notion of an adolescent identity and started from scratch.

To live and grow, faith needs religion. Children—and adolescents or adults with a newborn faith—must learn God’s name and the stories of God’s people.

My adolescent feasting on books was a protective search for privacy and self that worked for me at the time, and later became habitual and delivered other benefits. I

If we were all pears, our parents might tell us, it is perfectly normal to be green before you are golden.

PRIME Prime is an ever-changing condition, a segment of a journey, not a haven at the end of the road. Companies in Prime are recognizable: All aspects work well together, all operations thrive, and all members of the organization know where it is going and how to stay on track. Prime is a state of balance: Flexibility and control, function and form, imagining and producing, innovation and administration. But companies in that exultant equilibrium — so hard to achieve, so easy to lose — continually risk sliding back to childish habits or stumbling into the rigidity of old age. An organization is no less vulnerable in Prime than it is at any other stage of its lifecycle. The cash shortage of Infancy, the founder’s heavy hand in Go-Go, the infighting of Adolescence — those are challenges it has overcome. Now the complacency that comes with a surfeit of success looms as a potential and significant threat. I have a rule of thumb by which I judge an adult company: If it does not produce significant new products or spin off promising start-ups within any three-year period, it is either decaying or on the brink of decline. Ask yourself what percentage of your revenues come from products you were not selling three years ago? Be honest. There are enhancements, changes that are cosmetic in nature that make old products look new. Pharmaceutical manufacturers are well known for

Dorrigo Evans was unable to make head or tail of it. His tastes were in any case already ossifying into the prejudices of those who voyage far into classics in adolescence and rarely journey elsewhere again. He was mostly lost with the contemporary and preferred the literary fashions of half a century before—in his case, the Victorian poets and the writers of antiquity.

The student-teacher ratio at the Bahriji School was one to one. Most of the teachers were former Valets who returned after their University studies, to serve at the Bahriji School. Their strong affiliation with the Oasis inspired them to dedicate their careers to guiding E.R.O.S. juniors, assisting them in achieving the greatest success possible during their adolescent journeys to adulthood. Most of the school's teachers and professors were very accomplished, and of a high caliber. Their pedagogy was based on methods utilized in their own education. Personal grooming, health, diet and nutritional care were part of the curriculum. Just as the Valets were especially selected, our professors and teachers were carefully chosen. They were well groomed, and most had great personal flair, panache and style. Each was incredibly distinguished in his or her own way, possessing confidence and individualism. They were charming ladies and gentlemen.

As John Dunne has suggested in The Way of All the Earth, we can in fact imagine the biological curve of our life metaphorically as a journey we all make between birth to death (see Figure 6.1). The journey, as the root meaning of the word suggests, is the distance we can walk in one day, from sunrise to sunset. If so, then the journey begins with birth in the early light of dawn and as the sun rises in the sky we make our way up the mountain, through the changing landscape of childhood and adolescence, and into adulthood and mid-life as we reach the top of the mountain at high noon. As we make this journey, more and more light is shed on our life; that is, our consciousness or self-awareness has grown and expanded with the tasks and stages of life. However, once we have reached the top of the mountain, we can see what lies on the other side for the first time.

That’s why all of those records from high school sound so good. It’s. It that the songs were better- it’s that we were listening to them with our friends, drunk for the first time on liqueurs, touching sweaty palms, staring for hours at a poster on the wall, not grossed out by carpet or dirt or crumpled, oily bedsheets. These songs and albums were the best ones because of how huge adolescence felt then, and how nostalgia recasts it now. Nostalgia is so certain: the sense of familiarity it instills makes us feel like we know ourselves, like we’ve lived. To get a sense that we have already journeyed through something- survived it, experienced it- is often so much easier and less messy than the task of currently living though something. Though hard to grasp, nostalgia is elating to bask in- temporarily restoring color to the past. It creates a sense memory that momentarily simulates context. Nostalgia is recall without the criticism of the present day, all the good parts, memory without the pain. Finally, nostalgia asks so little of us, just to be noticed and revisited; it doesn’t require the difficult task of negotiation, the heartache and uncertainty that the present does.

If the first stage is about social puberty and answering the questions “Am I cool enough?” and “Where do I fit in with my peers?” then the second stage becomes about answering the questions “Who am I?” and “Where do I fit in in the larger world?” These are much bigger questions to answer in complexity, scope, and consequences of the decisions. Answering them is also a journey.

It is when teens have the realization that they are their own person, but they have little to no idea who that is. They realize that they have been who they needed to be, to be accepted by the peer groups, teams, or colleges they’ve wanted to be accepted by. They’ve been who their parents told them to be. Now they need to figure out who they are, independent of outside opinion and influence. For many teens, this is the stage of the greatest angst. How are they to make the right decisions for themselves?

That line “Do you know what I realized today?” is one of the cues I listen for that tells me a teen is in this stage.

Sometimes, it goes the other way, like the time sixteen-year-old Jared came in and told me about how he had accidently broken a video game he’d purchased at Best Buy. His mom, who happens to be lawyer, took him back to get a new one, and as they were walking in the door she turned to him and said, “Let me do the talking.” She then proceeded to lie to the store manager, claiming it was broken when they bought it. Her lie worked. He replaced it at no charge.

Teen age is the period for young folks to be tender and be thought or be trivial and embrace temptation. It is a season for them to be empowered or endangered, encouraged or embattled dependent on their choices. It is a stage for them to either be natured or be naughty dependent on their readiness and preparedness. It is an era where they are to adore God or admire evil with their all in all. A moment of grace and glory or guilt and gory for their families and society as a result of impacts they received; and timeless celebration of Eternal God or enduring shame for generations on based on their clear choices. Whichever path a teenage choices have its blessings and rewards or its dangers and subsequent sufferings. Through our teens we aged either into foolish folks or wise and responsible adults.

Federico da Montefeltro was the hereditary ruler of Urbino, a city-state of seven thousand inhabitants a zigzagging 125-mile journey from Florence through the hills and valleys of the Apennines. Federico was almost exactly the same age as Vespasiano. Born in 1422, the illegitimate son of Guidantonio da Montefeltro, Count of Urbino, he was at first welcomed by his father since the count’s twenty-five-year marriage had failed to produce a legitimate heir. However, he found himself shunted aside when Guidantonio’s first wife died and his second marriage resulted, in 1427, in a legitimate son, Oddantonio. Federico was educated in Venice and then Mantua, and as an adolescent he distinguished himself with a series of narcissistic poems celebrating his amorous achievements. Federico’s true destiny, however, involved conquests of a different sort. At the age of fifteen he entered the service of the warlord Niccolò Piccinino, commanding a cavalry of eight hundred horses and proving himself a brilliant warrior through such feats as capturing a hitherto impregnable fortress from the ferocious Sigismondo Malatesta.

no room for supernatural rewards and punishments. On this issue, an entire world separated Greek paideia from the fear of Hell that was supposed to motivate both the good Muslim and the good Christian. In the blunt words of John Chrysostom, deportment alone was not enough. There was only so much that the grooming of paideia could do: “How shall we tie down this wild beast [adolescent sexual urges]? How shall we place a bridle upon it? I know none, save only the restraint of hell-fire.”6

Another facet of the forgiveness, grieving and healing process was the acknowledgement of my role as survivor. I did survive my childhood and adolescence. I am here now as an adult. I had the opportunity to exchange the identity of victim for one of survivor. I had lived a long time with victim glasses on and saw the world through those distorted lenses. “Poor me” was my cry. I believed my parents and others needed to change, if I was to be happy. As I entered my mid-twenties, I began to see this prescription wasn’t working. That was when I got new lenses and moved from the victim role to the survivor role, in which I did the bulk of my work to get a bridge built to the thriver role. This part of the journey takes the time it takes. It cannot be rushed. Patience and perseverance are necessary. Today, I wear thriver glasses most of the time. When there is high stress however, I may find myself reaching for the survivor or even victim glasses. My recovery is evident in that it happens less often, and I grab for my thriver lenses more quickly.

if there’s one way in which Star Trek is starkly different than Star Wars, it’s simply this: In Star Trek, adolescent tales of heroic quests are mostly backstory. And that’s because working adults—complete with regrets and family angst—tend to dominate the narrative. They’ve gone on the hero’s journey already, they’ve been there, done that, and bought the Starfleet uniform.

My adolescent years were convoluted with ideas that chaos was good, that depression meant you were a creative person. My heroes were Kurt Cobain, Courtney Love, Nancy Spungen. Sylvia fucking Plath… playing Russian roulette with various dicks to make a point that I just didn’t fucking care. I was a mess. I was interesting.

STANDING IN LOVE’S WAY In Wild at Heart I warned men that the greatest obstacle to loving a woman was this: too many men take their Question to Eve. They look to her for the validation of their souls. (Haven’t you felt it?) It happens usually around adolescence, this fatal shift. The father has been silent or violent; his chance to redeem his son is nearly gone. The next window that opens in a boy’s journey is his sexuality. Suddenly, he is aware of Eve. She looks like life itself to him. She looks like the answer to his Question. It’s a fatal shift. So much of the pornography addiction for men comes from this. It’s not about sex—it’s about validation. She makes him feel like a man. She offers him her beauty, and it makes him feel strong. This is also the root of most affairs. Some woman comes along and offers to answer his Question. His wife has been giving him an F, and she comes along and says, “You’re an A to me,” and he’s history. If he hasn’t found that deep validation he needs from God, he’s a sitting duck. I’ve tried in every way to help men understand that no woman can tell you who you are as a man. Masculinity is bestowed by masculinity. It cannot come from any other source. Yes—a woman can offer a man so much. She can be his ezer, his companion, his inspiration. But she cannot be the validation of his soul. As men, we have got to take our Question to God, to our Father in heaven. Only he knows who we truly are. Only he can pronounce the verdict on us. A man goes to Eve to offer his strength. He does not go to her to get it.

I was intrigued. Young people like Amanda are not often best friends with their mothers. And yet the affection between them was clear. Sensing also, however, her mother’s disapproval of Amanda’s lifestyle, I asked what was the bond that had allowed her to remain close to her mother. Amanda replied, “For as long as I can remember, every night of my life I end the day by getting in bed with my mother and snuggling.” Amanda’s relationship with her mother is quite remarkable, and is in large part responsible for the fact that she has now left behind what she describes as her “black period” and is finding her way through adolescence in a relatively healthy manner. Amanda knew that she was deeply loved just exactly as she was. Her mother disapproved of her use of drugs, her promiscuous sex, her astoundingly profane language, her Satanic practices and most other aspects of her lifestyle. But with a wisdom that I have rarely seen in parents, she recognized that what her daughter needed was not lectures but love. Fortunately, she had been giving this in large doses for all of Amanda’s life. Equally fortunately, she did not now allow her disapproval of her daughter’s behavior to interrupt this pattern in the slightest. Amanda’s mother offered a truly transforming love—transforming because while it could be resisted, it could not be received without profound psychospiritual impact.

As Campbell pointed out, in all spiritual traditions the hero must undergo initiation and testing. These rites of passage awaken and develop latent human capacities as they mark and safely ritualize the process of maturity, empowerment, and agency among members of a group. Initiation is a way adolescent naivete and dependency ends as we develop a sense of mastery, meaning, and purpose and are reborn as adults and active, contributing members of the tribe. Vision quests, shamanic journeys, sun dances, ordinations, Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, and confirmations offer access to a time-tested method steeped in a collective body of wisdom and community that mitigates risk and gives reproducible outcome. (p. 18) Regardless of time, place, or culture, the motifs and stages of every initiation are the same. Whether symbolic or actual they include leaving home or separating from the community, facing a symbolic or literal hardship that serves as a psychological catalyst for an altered state of consciousness, and awakening as the nascent hero. The process continues with integrating and embodying wisdom, sometimes with the help of elders, priests, or shamans, and returning to the community as a mature member, active contributor, or leader. Initiation hastens development so the latent hero nature can be realized. (p. 18)

In most cases, what is really going on is that life suddenly grows more complex and confusing when puberty and the teen years begin, and many youth are simply not equipped to understand and manage it, leading to stress and stress reactions.

It borders on offensive, though, for any of us who were raised with a sense of traditional morality, of right and wrong, and with an appreciation of the innate rewards of hard work and a job well done, and the moral code of agreeing to play fairly.

I’m often teaching them that they will be far more satisfied (and functional) when they let the degree of sexual contact they have with a partner only match the degree of trust, comfort, and intimacy they feel with that person in every nonphysical way, too.

But some things are universal: Trust is essential in building healthy relationships. Hard and persistent work is essential to achieving excellence in anything and, as an added pressure now, is required in order to remain relevant in a rapidly changing world. And collecting self-fulfilling experiences on a bucket list is, in the end, no more deeply satisfying than having made a lot of money. In other words, both may feel good, but neither has much to do with achieving deep human contentment and happiness, which still come as a well-earned by-product of making commitments, connections, and contributions.

Many of the teens I write about in this book are facing one or more of these challenges, particularly the sensitivity character trait, which is frequently ignored or under appreciated. Often, to the outside world they look like bright, engaged, confident teens who are going places in their lives. Indeed, many of them are academically highly accomplished and socially very engaged. But there is an inner life they struggle with because things do bother them, they’re privately ruminating on life’s deeper questions, and they rarely find anyone they can comfortably express this to, making it a difficult and sometimes very lonely time.

They knew their daughter well enough to know that she hadn’t behaved in this way merely to satisfy her curiosity. Instead, out of insecurity, she was trying to impress her friends. If she was willing to go this far to do so at this age, how much further would she go down the line? With Carly, the work was to help her build her self-confidence and security, which would empower her to have healthier boundaries and make better decisions.

A few months later I told him, “Crossing the ‘Am I ready for this?’ career threshold to adulthood is only one part of it. Remember, there is also the relationship and commitment ‘Am I ready for this?’ threshold, too!” “One step at a time, man. One step at a time!” he answered. So long as the steps are on the right path for the individual, I couldn’t agree more.

And with all of these teens, everyone from Leah to Christopher, Kenneth to Nick, Lindsey to Jenny, to conversations I already have with my own children, the critical piece they need to learn is to find the right people to be friends with and to associate with. The right people may not be the popular ones, or they may be. They may not be the same people they grew up being best friends with, or they may be. What they will most definitely be are people whom they feel fully comfortable being with, whom they can trust and rely on and who share their values and interests.

They expressed their perspective on her and their desire to have me help her “develop confidence and find direction.

Even the conservative American Dietetic Association, the largest organization of dietary professionals in the world, has stated in no uncertain terms: “Appropriately planned vegetarian diets, including total vegetarian or vegan diets, are healthful, nutritionally adequate, and may provide health benefits in the prevention and treatment of certain diseases. Well-planned vegetarian diets are appropriate for individuals during all stages of the life cycle, including pregnancy, lactation, infancy, childhood, and adolescence, and for athletes.

It’s vital to understand that BD is not handed off like a drunken kiss that lands you with angry cold sores for the rest of your life. It seems to develop over time, most commonly in the teens or early twenties. The monster erupts from a murky sea of DNA struck by the lightning of lived experience. Too many factors are present to lay the blame neatly at the feet of any single event or person. Based on the numbers, it’s likely that one of my parents has suffered from undiagnosed BD. Who knows. As for me, I’m still not sure what hormone-driven adolescent could not be considered bipolar. But for now that’s what they call me and what I’ll call myself for many years. It’s point, set, match. I’m officially “sick” and they give me new pills. These ones are pink and blue.

Your champions aren’t something you need to create; they’ve been with you all along. Awakening them is simply the act of seeing your own potential and choosing to believe in it.

When you step outside your comfort zone, you’re not just taking a risk—you’re building resilience, discovering new parts of yourself, and creating a foundation for a future filled with possibility and purpose.

The Warrior in you knows that difficult times are temporary, and every challenge you face is an opportunity to grow stronger. It's not about avoiding fear—it's about facing it and finding the courage to act anyway.

Modern parents can take comfort from the fact that most of our teenagers come through adolescence, too—perhaps a little bruised, maybe a little humiliated, but stronger for the journey.