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Revelation Must Be Terrible

Apr 19, 2023

Revelation Must Be Terrible

By David Whyte

Revelation must be
terrible with no time left
to say goodbye.

Imagine that moment
staring at the still waters
with only the brief tremor

of your body to say
you are leaving everything
and everyone you know behind.

Being far from home is hard, but you know,
at least we are exiled together.
When you open your eyes to the world

you are on your own for
the first time. No one is
even interested in saving you now

and the world steps in
to test the calm fluidity of your body
from moment to moment

as if it believed you could join
its vibrant dance
of fire and calmness and final stillness.

As if you were meant to be exactly
where you are, as if
like the dark branch of a desert river

you could flow on without a speck
of guilt and everything
everywhere would still be just as it should be.

As if your place in the world mattered
and the world could
neither speak nor hear the fullness of

its own bitter and beautiful cry
without the deep well
of your body resonating in the echo.

Knowing that it takes only
that one terrible
word to make the circle complete,

revelation must be terrible
knowing you can
never hide your voice again.

THE REVELATION ERUPTS

Some years ago, I sat on a thick wool blanket with a dozen Native American elders on the dirt floor of a kiva in Northwest New Mexico. A kiva is a large circular underground structure used for spiritual ceremonies.

I had climbed down to the dirt floor twenty feet below on a sturdy ladder made of oak and maple branches. I sat where I was told in the circle at the back wall of the kiva. I felt the holiness of the space. An intensity of awareness of the many years of this kiva's existence, the thousands of ceremonies conducted, and the attendance of ancient ancestors.

A small fire in the middle burned, smoke disappearing in the round opening at the roof. Richard, the Wisdom Elder of the council, was quiet until a deep silence occurred around the circle. There was a voltage in the silence. Richard then began to speak.

I could sense how the men in the circle heard him as he spoke. Not just listened but heard at a visceral level. It occurred to me as well. Honor, high regard, admiration, and appreciation, love percolated. There was more than Richard's words or tone. There was a presence, a way of being, which caused a state of reverence.

And at the time, I didn't have words for what I was experiencing, but it was palpable. As energy, I was vibrating at a different frequency. And at that moment, it was apparent that the phenomenon of elder that existed here wasn't anywhere to be found in our culture, communities, or families.

I received the ceremonial invitation to the kiva because I assisted three elders from the tribe in coming to Seattle and touring assisted living facilities. People were getting old and dying off the reservation, away from the tribe, the community, and their families. The elder council finally took this issue to mission status along with all the difficulties of dealing with government agencies, land use managers, treaties, intratribal bullsh*t, and financing. It was not a simple matter.

I managed the three elders' logistics, food, and transportation, acted as their interpreter, and guided them for the day in Seattle. Two of the three had never been on a plane before. All three had never really spent time in our cement ecosystem.

At that time, I lived and worked in Seattle as a consultant with senior executives and boards at three major hospitals, Evergreen, Valley, and Swedish, so I had the connections to make this tour happen. Consequently, I got to be the "roadie" for this trio.

Over the next year after their visit, things were accomplished to generate something akin to assisted living and hospice services adjacent to the reservation staffed by volunteers and family.

That is why my kiva invitation happened. It was a ceremony to honor my contribution.

Now sitting on my blanket, being with and listening to Richard, watching and feeling what was occurring in the space. To experience an elder's presence and speaking, which generated a sense of grace, egolessness, mutual honor, and respect, was profound.

What if elders were present in our culture, in our communities, in our businesses, in our politics, and in our families? What would be possible?

The revelation, like a volcanic event, erupted. My entire world and worldview suddenly transformed. The revelation converted my future, my purpose in life, and how I would reshape myself to become an elder and to bring eldership appropriate to this time and place in our world. Kaboom!