Rites of Passage. Inescapable. Fair winds seemingly, right into sometimes the most outrageous raging nasty storm ever painted. Sometimes just those fair winds but still, there. The change will always be but then most times, the storm. A beginning, a middle, and some sort of calm aftermath. The intrinsic value of Change demands at least a nod. Change quantified by teenager equals....a bazillion, bull shits.
Teenagers are a pure form of angst. They get it, they have it and they hand it out by tonnage...
Why does this have to be so damn hard sometimes? Well I know. Well I have this theory and then I think I know. How excited, how fun, how wonderful was it going to be to get into the real world and be self? I can't wait to turn 18 so I can be my real self. I can't wait to turn 18. When I turn 18 I'm outta here. I am sick to death of 'them'.....or me being here.
Holy Crappola. What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to be? How am I supposed to do....How do I do this? I'm not sure....but I have to try, right, because I can't live here for the rest of my life, right? MMmm...I have to go, I want to stay. I am loved and I love. I am unsure and I know this will hurt. They know they have to go.

The struggle.
Where are we taught, where do we practice? The nest. If we have not been blessed to have this safe place to become aware, we learn from like kind, after. After jumping too early or being pushed unprepared. Teenagers practice flapping their wings. Flapping their mouths, rolling eyes, huffy and puffing lungs, body grunts, body harumphing. Brainless. I have titanium credentials about the brainless teenager. The second (very second) they turn 13, they remove it from cranium and put in their sock drawer. Encourage more, resist undermining, and at worst believe this teenager is from another planet and you wish to help. We really do not own.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rite_of_passage....
Separation, liminality, and re-incorporation, Wikipedia. We do this in strict form as teenagers. As adults we float like dementors though these memories and re-incorporate with less fear, or at least some comfort of familiar.

I hope you have witnessed or been involved with that little kid standing at the side of the pool. So encouraged and so protected. Some of those first entries are a riot...not the jump but the test entries. Baby scoochy bottoms, butt jumps. Doesn't take long until a possible broken nose for the parent. Then we are just fine jumping right in there.

I think Rites of Passage in our age belongs to teenagers. Then...

JUMPING RIGHT IN THERE we do.

do not resist...remember being the teenager?