what really is the difference between tradition and convention? i ask because over the past couple of years i’ve come to recognize the sacredness of tradition – not only in the ceremonious found in special occasions and festivities, not only in the ritual that sets the tone for the day, but the longstanding knowledge and understanding of things. conventional wisdom. old wive’s tales. old school. luddite. dusty, crusty, convention.
i’m surprised that i’ve ended up here, in 2020. i’ve spent my life chasing and representing the new. embracing the notions of thinking outside the box, going against the grain, and all the other mantras conventionally applied to unconventional philosophy. i’ve found success, recognition, and entire careers on my mastery of rejecting mastery, of kicking down the side door and convincing myself and others of my value as a neophyte.
and for good reason, too. i grew up knowing that the rules set in place were never for my benefit. i’ve long detested school schedules set to the industrial era, food pyramids that don’t sit well in my stomach, and generally a game of life that keeps dealing cards i don’t want to play. i attribute my habit of breaking convention to rejecting the misogyny advertised by my peers in high school, the homophobia in my religion, and the forces that appeal to assimilation. i know that conventional wisdom includes slavery. conventional wisdom includes war.
but lately i’ve been feeling like i’m doing flips on a tightrope without having yet learned how to walk a straight line, and i’m just now realizing that i’ve been doing it without a net. maybe i’m looking for balance. maybe i’m recognizing that innovation can only go so far without foundation, imagination still requires a sound mind, that nothing can exist in sustained disruption. i think i’m also tired of fighting. i’m looking for a flow i can go with.
this year, there are many things that situate me in resistance. there are traditions and conventions being peddled right now that i can’t fuck with. there are so many realms where i’ve resolved to color outside the lines, but in order to not spin out of control i’ve also discovered an appreciation for knowledge that has ripened with age. the last couple of years building with people in hawaiÊ»i, aotearoa, and navajoland have instigated this, and i’ve come to a slow awakening to the value in my own ancestral traditions, some disconnected by a few generations, but mostly things that stopped in my own childhood when i thought that doing things “my way” meant embracing all-american values.
how do rebels grow wise? i’m interested in learning how others are navigating back to old ways while keeping their idiosyncrasies in tact. but for now, i’m craving a deep dive in the spiritual, medicinal, and earth stewardship practices of those who have come before me. my challenge is to refrain from feeling like i keep having to inject myself into the process, to hack or “fix” it. maybe all of this is a no-brainer for those who don’t share my inclination for the unconventional. if so, call me an eager late bloomer.