Hi Joe,
It has been many years now that I have been in search of my tribe. I come across a member every now and then who sees the world as I see it, but not very often. I am a back-to-the lander. I took seriously, as many of my friends did way back in the 70's, adopting a lifestyle that would enable me to find my place in nature. Living life simply, undistracted by all the phony glitter. I found that piece of land, built my own house, started up a garden and even went so far as to get some small livestock, almost literally living a John Prine tune. I continue to this day, warts and all, a life of personal responsibility. Using it up before throwing it out, driving small vehicles through the years as well as composting and recycling.
There was a time in my youth when it seemed I might belong to a generation that would actually change things by living a less materialistic existence and focusing on the important social and environmental challenges facing the world. It was a time of hope. I sit in sad disappointment and shame at what I see today. I never cease to be amazed by the appalling lack of personal responsibility, as well as total disregard and lack of respect my fellow humans have for each other and the world that we live in. We do not walk gently and leave small footprints.
Too many Americans bully, bulldoze and bullshit because they are stupid, arrogant and turn a blind eye to the peripheral consequences of their actions and greed. With corporations, banks, politicians, media and so called religious leaders espousing all manner of lies, one has to avoid, as best they can, the next snake oil salesman and predator lurking around the corner. These days you can't throw a stone without hitting one. The stark realization of late has been that this is nothing new, that it has been going on for decades. It's just more out in the open now. Over the last few years I have finally come to accept that harsh realty. I had higher hopes for my fellow human I guess. In the last 100 years you would have thought we would have evolved much further beyond this childish need to have THINGS at any cost.
I have imagined many times doing what you are doing. I admire your putting your words and dreams to action. But, despite the cold winters of central New York, I still live on the land in my little house where I've somehow managed to raise my children, keeping to a minimum as best I could the influence of the toxic American culture. My cynicism has blossomed with age and my tendency now, at the age of 53 has been to become more hermit-like and, quite frankly, I don't mind it. I'm fortunate to have a job at a institution of academic learning with respectful colleagues that help make it bearable for me to go to work each day as a secretary.
I consider myself one of the fortunate ones and I am grateful. If I thought that attending another protest or writing more letters, signing petitions or suffering concern and angst over the culture that America has become would accomplish some good in the ole US of A, I would continue to do so. But my passion in believing that my continuing to do those things would somehow move mountains has dwindled down to a nubbin.
Though less than perfect, I've come to the conclusion that the best I can do is conduct my life as I have that it might serve as an example to anyone who is paying attention. My husband and I find solace in playing acoustic music in our spare time. In my world an acoustic guitar and the music it makes is valued leaps and bounds over any jewel or other material object and more spiritual than any religion. I am truly wealthy in that respect. Our focus has been on that pastime now more than ever. As you may have guessed I had decided to stay right where I am, not for love of country, but because it is the lifestyle I have chosen and love, and though my children are grown, I could not bear to be far away from them, albeit feeding the machine as little as possible while I'm still here. This is my Belize.
I've also had another revelation of late. I believe that we all have been, of some degree or another, victims of Stockholm Syndrome. Once you make that realization you quickly start to see it everywhere. People who work jobs that are making them miserable yet remain loyal, people who are in abusive relationships but fail to see the simple solution of extricating themselves from those relationships, and people who follow leaders, church or political, even though deep down (with some folks anyway) they know that something is terribly wrong.
We've been raised with certain beliefs by people we were taught to trust, and educated with histories that were less than accurate with deliberately omitted information. There is no learning from our mistakes because hell, we haven't made any. We're just damn near perfect and too damn loyal to the predators that use, abuse, take and make possible our economic enslavement to them. Joe, I'll bet you thought you had cornered the market on cynicism. There's a few of us out here that see the writing on the wall and almost wish they didn't.
I have been reading your essays for almost a year now and have told several of my friends who I believe would appreciate your beautifully articulate take on the sad state of affairs today. And after checking you out, not one has disagreed with my assessment. I look forward to checking in to see how you so miraculously put into words what I have been feeling. I want to thank you for sharing your thoughts and helping those of us who feel alien in our own country to not feel so crazy or alone. I would like to think that perhaps you are one of my tribe.
Peace,
Karen
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Karen,
What a beautiful and poignant letter. Certainly there is nothing I can add.
So let me share with you a rather beautiful description of our society's behavior that I recently found by reading some early Sixties papers of The Diggers, a San Francisco street organization of the times.
Our authorized sanities are so many Nembutals. "Normal" citizens with store-dummy smiles stand apart from each other like cotton-packed capsules in a bottle. Perpetual mental out-patients. Maddeningly sterile jobs for strait-jackets, love scrubbed into an insipid "functional personal relationship" and Art as a fantasy pacifier. Everyone is kept inside while the outside is shown through windows: advertising and manicured news. And we all know this.
How many TV specials would it take to establish one Guatemalan revolution? How many weeks would an ad agency require to face-lift the image of the Viet Cong? Slowly, very slowly we are led nowhere. Consumer circuses are held in the ward daily. Critics are tolerated like exploding novelties. We will be told which burning Asians to take seriously. Slowly. Later.
But there is a real danger in suddenly waking a somnambulistic patient. And we all know this.
What if he is startled right out the window?
At the time we were all optimistic enough to think he could actually be awakened from this national sleep walking.
(sigh)
In art and labor,
Joe
