Cultivating Joy through Pain — A Cultural Context

by Aaluk Edwardson

CHILDREN OF THE WORLD

The man who raised me taught me not to fear the world because we are an intimate and integral part of it. My family lived off the land in Northern Alaska year-around. We supplemented our omega-3 rich diet with the occasional pizza or my one of my mother’s favorites, Swedish meatballs.

My mom is a modern-day Viking who hails from thousands of fierce Scandinavian explorers. My biological father’s blood has been traced to Saami reindeer herders, East Asia, and an English couple who themselves descended from France & Germany. I even have some distant heritage from Madagascar! My genetic profile lights up countries around the world.

I am proud to be a child of the world. And I’m sure I’m not the only one. There are many of us who have blood, history, and family from all corners of the world. But this didn’t happen overnight. Yale History Professor Valerie Hanson identifies the year 1000 C.E. as when the routes that connected the world globally that were in use during that time in her book, The Year 1000: When Explorers Connected the World — and Globalization Began.

Today, the world is likely filled with millions of genetically global children. This is a beautiful reality in many ways. Genetics aren’t the only material that has spread across the planet. Globalization has enabled the delivery of food, cultures, histories, and art from around the world directly to billions of people. These deliveries occur on all continents. In some cases, such as the consumption of knowledge or the delivery of media, the deliveries are even invisible.

The advancement and globalization of healthcare knowledge and practices have affected life-expectancy rates and other health indicators in significantly positive ways, too. Max Roser, the founder of OurWorldinData.org, elaborates on this in an article he authored. “It was the first time in human history that we achieved sustained improvements in health for entire populations. After millennia of stagnation in terrible health conditions the seal was finally broken.”

Like all complex things, the commodification of everything from water to research has a dark side. We live in a largely inpatient, spiritually disconnected, and angry world that has largely forgotten how to be patient and manage complex emotion. Yet, like the world, darkness, and the challenges it may pose to us as light-inspired beings, is not to be feared.

GROWING UP

I didn’t grow up reading or learning much about the cultures I come from. I grew up being in the cultures I am from. I was known as one of George and Debby’s kids. My parents are a well-known Iñupiaq-Norwegian couple known for leadership in education and Iñupiaq sovereignty.

We hunted, harvested, sewed, cooked, and told stories from the land we were on and the people we knew who came before us. We also spent a lot of time on the tundra far away from modern-day civilization. This taught me why spending time disconnected from society is important: to sustain your experience — however joyful and challenging — while in society.

In school, I learned about American culture, which was full of people, places, battles, heroes, and most importantly, stories, that I recognized but did not feel identity with. I remember thinking that there were way too many United States presidents named James or John for me to keep a solid understanding of who was who. The history of America and her politics could have been on the moon it felt so far away.

I am very light skinned, like shining bright in the sun kind of light. People inside and outside my community said I looked more “tanik” or white to them. I did not like this. I didn’t feel white, or American at all on the inside. In fact, I refused much of my American history and identity whenever it tried to surface in my life until I learned to do otherwise.

I did well in school, which was associated with colonization when I was growing up. So, people in my community of all ages bent on discharging lateral violence sometimes harassed me for not being Iñupiaq enough. Fortunately, these disrespectful comments weren’t echoed at home or in places I felt safe, so they didn’t bother me much.

I started learning and reading about what culture is and the complexities of identity in college. I moved away for college for the second time to New Hampshire, thousands of miles from my home in Alaska. There, I was the white-looking Iñuit mom. My son was three when I matriculated into Dartmouth. I was always being asked about who I was and where I came from; in class, in rehearsals for plays, at dinners, randomly in coffee shops — everywhere. I didn’t mind. It was so different from where I had come from, where everyone already knew everyone.

I am still reconciling my feelings about being an American knowing what the people who represented the American government and American missionaries did to my ancestors. But I don’t push away the hard stuff anymore — from any aspect of my heritage — because I know I’d be pushing away parts of myself.

DIVING IN

I took a sociology class in multiracial identity and studied the impact navigating multiple cultural identities can have on a person’s emotional and social development. I immediately thought of many confusing questions, mysterious emotions, and other thoughts I’d had as a multiracial person. I wanted to know more so I took the sociology of emotions. I scratched the surface of what these complex feelings we call emotions really are and I was hooked.

I have a major in theater modified with sociology with a focus on the connection between multiracial identity, emotional wellness, and performance. I had been in theater since I was five and personally experienced the transformative power performance on my early healing journey. I began to see a picture of what I could achieve and uniquely provide to the world. Like an archaeologist, I began to brush away the dust and debris obscuring my view of the somewhat elusive scaffolding of the foundations of the creative decolonization process. It took me ten years to bring the Creative Decolonization process to life.[1]

In the beginning, I was excited and ready to dive into knowing more — about the study of culture, performance, and emotion, and myself. Everything I learned inspired me and motivated me to move forward. Until it didn’t. I remember when I first realized that I came from people who were colonized and people who colonized. I grew up thinking colonization was evil, that the people who did it were evil. Was I evil?

When I looked at the reality of my family history, I felt broken and confused. But I didn’t stop learning. I pushed through the pain and confusion I felt, believing that there was light at the end of the tunnel. I held the space for myself to be complex, not evil. I started to learn about the cultures of my blood regardless of their actions toward colonization. I did not ignore the ugliness of that truth but did not shun it either. Because I realized if I shunned that truth and those people, I shunned me. It wasn’t until I gained a better understanding of what my history means for me that I started to feel empowered. Now I feel strong, I’m a modern-day Iñuit Viking!

KNOWLEDGE, WISDOM & HEALING

I believe that learning about yourself engages you in a wisdom practice. Wisdom is bestowed and not within one’s control or grasp. I compassionately opened myself up to the complexity of all I am, in small doses. I believe it is this kind practice toward myself that created the space for the wisdom of those who came before me to surface in my being. I had knowledge, I needed wisdom to help me heal.

Knowledge and wisdom can cause pain. The Preacher, a son of David, explores this idea in the biblical book, Ecclesiastes, “I set my heart to know wisdom and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also is grasping for the wind. For in much wisdom is much grief, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.” Knowledge — such as the information that someone you love has passed — coupled with wisdom — such as the understanding that healthy expression of challenging emotions like guilt or shame associated with loss can be helpful, can facilitate healing.

Healing is an abstract concept, not a journey, for too many people. It breaks my heart and has ever since I became aware of this fact of my reality as a child. An added element to the challenges of engaging in a healing journey in our world is that it easier now than ever to stay out of the present moment — and sometimes for as long as you desire.

The allure of escape is real. We all feel things in the present moment we wish we could make go away. Media productions from the show Westworld to the infamous radio broadcast “War of the Worlds” illustrate the darker side of leaving the present moment to pursue pleasure or fear. Yet, it is the action we choose to take in escaping into a movie, hours of music, a novel, or the literally millions of other experiences that keep us from being present. Thich Nhat Hanh said it well in a public speech in 1999, “Anxiety, the illness of our time, comes primarily from our inability to dwell in the present moment.”

I am guilty of this, as are you if you are engaged in reading this. Most people cannot be fully present in their bodies and fully engaged in their mind. I invite you to take a moment right now and just be. What do you hear that you weren’t aware of before? Traffic? Birds? The wind? Are you comfortable in your body in this moment? Are you holding your breath? Escapism is fun and can even be healing if used in moderation, but it comes at a cost.

Like the world and darkness, the anxiety and pain that can come with being aware is also not to be feared. The world, darkness and fear are inextricable elements of the experience we call life.

Knowledge and awareness can help you decide what is best for you, if incorporated into your being with honesty and compassion but they do not provide long-term, sustainable answers on their own. Wisdom is needed to understand the painful experiences we have separate from space and time.

WORKING THROUGH PAIN

If you don’t like thinking about the painful parts of your cultural history, you are not alone. “We the people have a deep-seated aversion to hard history because we are uncomfortable with the implications it raises about the past as well as the present” (Southern Poverty Law Center: Teaching Hard History Report, 2018). This doesn’t mean we should avoid history because it is uncomfortable. The awareness of this discomfort can help us face the truth of our histories with more grace — for ourselves and others.

Slavery, the genocide of Indigenous peoples, the Holocaust, and other atrocious facts have severely affected our shared cultural identities in painful ways. Fortunately for us, joy, gratitude, appreciation, honor and even hope are all fruits that can be plucked fresh from our experiences, whether those experiences are rooted in challenge, peace, or anything in-between.

CULTIVATING JOY THRU PAIN

I experienced great physical, emotional, and spiritual pain as a very young child. I contained geysers of confusion and emotion within me and needed many outlets, often. I found these outlets by acting on inspirations, dreams, and fears through a variety of creative mediums. By five years old, I’d choreographed dances with my mostly willing younger siblings, directed an unknown number of cardboard-box movies and hallway plays, sang made-up songs in English-Iñupiaq and jibberish, reported on the current events of my household, was a cool DJ, and had a mostly inedible cooking show. When I was creating, I was inspired and found it easy to feel joy. I still do.

My family encouraged creativity and learning in abundance. This is something I am grateful for every single day. I don’t know where I’d be, or if I’d be, if I did not engage my creative process to help me heal and grow at such a young age. I desperately needed it. Without it, I’m sure I would be dead or lost in the pain and suffering I endured as young child living in a psych ward my whole life.

My family understood I needed to create and never ridiculed me for this. They did sometimes stop me from creating incessantly with my very loud voice. One could also create quietly my loud self has learned. I have learned to speak gently so well now, mostly because I developed an insecurity around being loud, that many people tell me I sometimes speak too quietly! I’m no longer insecure about being too loud so I’m able to laugh about the irony in this for me. I contain multitudes. Of sound.

I learned to hold joy in one hand and pain in the other over decades of therapeutic training and engagement — for myself and as a peer support for others. Pain is purposeful, usually. Wellness practices, such as mindfulness, breathwork, gratitude and creative expression, can help a person get through pain with less pain. There is a beautiful symbiosis and synchronicity one can achieve when working with these three elements to better understand their self: personal cultural exploration, creative engagement, and non-judgmental self-reflection.

Creativity is inherently spiritual and can be very healing. Cultures and peoples all over the world have used performance as a medium for healing for eons if not forever. The art of performance is ancient and includes singing, drumming, oral storytelling, ritual performance, acting out stories, and more. Every single cultural performance you have ever witnessed has its roots and purpose in connecting with something spiritual. That particular performance may not be about connecting to a higher power, but the very medium of cultural performance, I strongly believe, was created to connect and learn from something greater than our individual selves and communities.

Other art forms, such as expressive or creative writing, can also be used to connect to the self and cultivate wellness. James W. Pennebaker was one of the first researchers to explore the ways expressive writing and speaking exercises can help a person heal from trauma and form a more whole understand of the self. He found that simple exercises can positively impact a person’s health and work performance.

Hilary Stuckey and Jeremy Nobel explore the healing benefits of expressive writing in more depth in their 2010 article published in the American Journal of Public Health: “Expressive writing through journaling is [one] way to access the unconscious self. Journal writing has been linked to creativity, spiritual awareness, and expansion of the self.”

THE CULTURAL CONTEXT

Where can one find wisdom? In many places but one of the most accessible places is by learning about your own and other people’s culture without skepticism, judgement, or fear. The more you learn about how you and others think, believe, create, feel, and exist, the better able you are to be truly kind and respectful. Without this education and wisdom, you will not be able to see what kindness and respect mean for anyone other than yourself.

But what is culture? Many people can identify the flags, foods and festivals associated with their cultures. A fraction of that number is likely to understand the deeper layers of culture, such as your concept of time and physical space preferences. A small fraction of people understand who they are at their deepest cultural levels which include socially acceptable ways to express emotion and other intangible, complex aspects of being a social human.

We are all cultural people. Everyone has a culture. Many of us come from more than one culture. Yet, culture is hard to define if you haven’t studied it. You may be able to identify aspects of your culture, most likely the surface layers of your own culture, but you will not be able to identify and respect other people’s cultures without an objective understanding of what culture is.

Loretta Hammond describes it well in her book, Culturally Responsive Teaching & The Brain. “Think of culture as the brain’s software for the brain’s hardware… Deep culture is like the root system of a tree; it is what grounds the individual and nourishes [their] mental health. It is the bedrock of self-identity, focus decision making, problem-solving.”

Cultural awareness and the cultivation of a healthy cultural identity, are not accomplished by taking a class, reading a book, or doing just one workshop. There are no checklists telling you what to do or how to feel. Cultural exploration in the service of a healthy cultural identity is a life-long journey. It is as unique to each person as are their evolving expressions of love and respect.

Each of us are offered the hands, hearts, and eyes of our ancestors so that we may learn and grow from their experiences. This is not usually a literal experience. Our ancestors are most easily and most often found in our personal and cultural histories (aka stories!).

May the world change to accept and encourage the diverse learning of cultures and a wide variety of skill sets. That would be a more beautiful world to me.

“The real journey is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” — Marcel Proust, French Author

WITH JOY AND PAIN,

Aaluk Edwardson

Founder & Director of Creative Decolonization, LLC

In addition to sharing the Creative Decolonization process, Aaluk creates in writing, song, performance and even paint! She’s currently working on a novel, two children’s storybooks, new adaptations of the two plays she’s written, and a book of poetry. You can contact Aaluk via her website’s contact form by clicking here.

[1] Creative decolonization is a process developed by Aaluk Edwardson to support experiences of great joy, amid great pain through a cultural context. It’s designed to guide you through the sometimes-tricky intersecting currents of culture, identity, and pain, to find joy. And even inspiration.