Beige Is Beautiful
by Tim King
Introduction
Just as each of us possesses genes, constructed of DNA and passed through familial lines—genes inherited at birth—so too do we possess what Clare Graves referred to as “BioPsychoSocial Systems,” passed on within memetic (socially learned) networks. Unlike our fixed genetic makeup, these socially constructed ways of being (sometimes called ‘memes’ which sounds a little like ‘genes’) are acquired through social communication with others and may very well change throughout our lives.
The most basic level of being in the world is what we might term the “archaic” level of consciousness – assigned the color beige on our model of the Spiral. This level is indicative of all that is instinctual. At the archaic level life conditions are largely dependent upon the provision of others (or nature), as our focus is on surviving moment to moment, one day at a time.
While the archaic level is most easily witnessed in the lives of newborns, it may again be triggered as we enter into advanced age or should we find ourselves attempting to recover from a serious accident or perhaps struggling through the advanced stages of a terminal illness.
On the archaic/beige level the concern is for life’s most basic needs: food, clothing, shelter, sex and/or other biological concerns. Often the archaic level serves as bookends to what is hopefully a life well lived. And it is also a level that, when adequately contemplated, has so much to offer us by way of insight.
As Caregivers: From the Outside Looking In
Perhaps there is no greater opportunity to experience God’s-self than when we are cast into the role of primary caregiver for those on the archaic level. For those of us who have been blessed to have brought children into this world we know this stage well.
As a father I’ll never forget the first time I held each of my three children. Blessed to be present for their births, I remember each one as if it occurred only yesterday. I remember their first breath, their first sounds, the first time I saw their mother take them into her arms—and I remember when it came my turn to do the same.
They were so fragile, and yet so full of life. I was suddenly aware that in my arms was a life fully dependent upon the nurturing care their mother and I would give (and they should thank God for their mother, as my care during this stage was not always so stellar!).
Though the first level of the spiral is termed “archaic,” we should not confuse this term as indicative of something minimal or without merit. Instead we should see it as representative of extreme beauty as expressed in the weakness and fragility of life. It is a weakness capable of eliciting great power in the life of the caretaker. We protect, we defend, we sacrifice and extend. In essence, we are blessed with a taste of what is surely God’s nurturing presence.
Cast in the role of caregiver we go to great lengths to provide for those in the archaic state of being. And while this most naturally finds expression in our care for infants, it often repeats itself in our care for the elderly – especially those closest to us such as our parents, grandparents or other dear friends or relatives.
In this the dignity of life is on display. There is a beauty to this rhythmic cycle—parent cares for infant who grows to return the favor as the life of the parent draws to a close—each providing for the other as a kind of quid pro quo dance unfolds during the most fragile of life’s seasons.
From the Inside Looking Out
If properly understood and embraced, the archaic state affords us great dignity, even when we are forced to recognize that our time as caregiver has passed and it is now time to yield to the care of another. By seeking grace, peace and acceptance we can exhibit great power in our time of utter weakness. Cultivating acceptance means learning to surrender our incessant need to control and fully give ourselves to our moment-by-moment state of being.
Jesus addresses the power of a minimalist (archaic) life when he exhorts us to be mindful of today and not to be consumed with tomorrows that may never come. He calls us to awaken to the great contentment that accompanies the earning of our daily bread—to the contentment that comes from living so fully in the present moment that the depth and mystery and beauty of life is recovered more deeply than ever before.
While the term “archaic” may often be used in a negative or pejorative sense we would do well not to view it this way regarding its rightful place as part of the Spiral; far from disastrous, the archaic state of being has the potential to teach us more about the dignity of life than perhaps any other level.
The Archaic as an Empowered State
For me, the dignity of the archaic level of consciousness is best witnessed in Jesus’ final night. Intently he enters the Garden of Gethsemane, a place he frequented throughout his ministry. With him are his closest friends: Peter, James and John. All he asks of them is that they “watch with him” as he gives himself to prayer. There, over the next few hours, Jesus will wrestle with the most primal (archaic) instinct of his journey: will he (can he?) voluntarily forfeit his life on behalf of others?
While all four gospel accounts (Matthew, Mark, Luke and John) provide us with insights into what transpired, it is Luke’s telling of the story that provides us with the added detail that “An angel from heaven appeared to him [Jesus] and gave him strength” (Luke 22:43). As well, we learn that “In his anguish [Jesus] prayed more earnestly, and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down on the ground” (v. 44).
Here the strength of Jesus is made manifest in his weakness. He is given to the moment, so spent to the task at hand that it requires the ministering attention of an angel; so exhausted, raw and primal is this moment that Jesus sweats “like great drops of blood falling down on the ground.” His life conditions have required he enter into the archaic state of being. The end of his life is at hand.
Regardless of the spiritual implications we may attach to this story, the reality is that for Jesus, nothing less than human survival is at stake. Any way you slice it, Jesus finds himself in a battle between life and death, yes, but also between stepping into a state of “cause” versus “victimhood.”
The greatness of the story of Jesus of Nazareth is not that he is unwittingly captured and crucified, becoming another in a long line of history’s victims, but that he purposefully gives himself over to the occupying power of Rome and then the ruling elite of an oppressive religious system bent on taking his life.
In the account of Gethsemane’s travail the fear and angst are palpable. With little reflection we can empathize with the horror of Jesus’ decision. We wonder with him what death on a cross will be like. We taste the dread of being taken captive by those who wish to do us great bodily harm. The fear of the unknown races deeply and wildly within us. Our hearts rise into our throats as we contemplate that we are at the end, that our life has run its course and in a few short hours it will reach its violent conclusion. We are drained. We are exhausted. We are growing more fragile by the minute.
And yet, we find strength to endure—for it is in the simplicity of the archaic moment that we find God.
And surely this is the beauty of beige.