Start Where You Are, or Life After the Decline of the American Empire

 I went to Arizona this past week for a nice vacation with Jess.  We enjoyed a few days with family and friends in Phoenix (she and they hit it off well, no surprise), and then headed to Sedona.   We popped in to the Grand Canyon briefly as well, to take in all its wintery goodness.  

The sights were breathtaking.  We got to shiver and watch the canyon get snowed upon at sunrise.  We walked the beautiful red rock formations around the town of Sedona.  We hiked from sandy desert up into snow and ice covered trees in just a few miles.  And we saw the sun rise and set over all types of desert landscape.

In tandem with this beauty, though, came the persistent feeling that we (not just Jess and I, but everyone) are witnessing the increasingly rapid decline of the American empire.  We built the domestic empire by wiping out the native populations, and have since gone on to colonize the world with supposedly soft ideas about capitalism and democracy, backed by men with guns.  We've paved roads, built dams and canals, and put up high-tension power lines to bring our necessities and drugs (electricity, water, and dense sugary calories) to most corners of America and the world.  We did all this with cheap, accessible energy that was seemed limitless when we began but is now quickly running out.  We've exported our goods and lifestyle choices, to the point where the world is now swimming in plastic, chemicals, inequality, and debt. 

Rolling through Phoenix and the surrounding highways, the main features seem to be cracked but endless pavement, slow suicide through sedentary and corpulent lifestyles, and divisive politics based on shallow and fearful opinions about how to grab as much as we can of the vanishing pie.  Wide people are driving wide cars on wide roads to wide shopping centers with wide selections of cheap crap.

How do we live in the face of such decay?  In some ways, it seems daunting.  We can be our own worst enemies in the challenge to live lightly in a meaningful way.  We choose distractions - television, drugs, iPhones, Youtube, farmville, Harry Potter films, and more - rather than engagement with the world immediately around us.  It's tough to look at the decay and destruction around us that we ourselves are facilitating, and not want to shut it out through distraction.

It's not a great mystery as to why we seek this distraction.  Behind the destruction, we (accurately) perceive a high level of fear in our society.  We are afraid that we won't get a piece of the good stuff (big house, exotic vacations, power over other people, social status) if we don't work hard to climb the ladder at work.  It is ironic, perhaps, that we can see that climbing the ladder is how we degrade the world, yet we are afraid that if we choose lifestyles other than scrambling to the top of the heap, we will be left behind (homeless? friendless? penniless?).  I don't really want to drive to work, but I "have to" to keep this job.  I don't want to end up in a pile of debt, but I need to get a graduate degree to have a secure future.  I dislike the stock market as much as the next person, but I don't know what to do with my money to get as good a return.  I must toe the line in order to make real changes in society.

When we feel this fear in ourselves and others, we often think that there is no alternative besides joining in the race and hoping we come out closer to the top than the bottom.  Crabs in a bucket?   Mob of children fighting over a toy until they break it?  Third world countries vying to have the lowest wages in order to attract business to become "prosperous"?  Philanthropy from wealthy corporations that have already trashed the planet?  None of them paint a pretty picture.  Seems like a tough game to win.   Hmmm...

So, if our ecosystem and society are breaking under the strain, what do we do?  To paraphrase someone more famous than I, "I'm not here to tell you how it ends.  I don't know that.  I'm only here to tell you how it begins."  Worrying at this point about what the future will look like is another way to get wrapped up in a fear-based story.  The future is unknown.  Starting right where we are is the only way to begin. 

When I look at where we are at, I feel quite sad.  The sadness that comes with being present, however, is a powerful motivation to engage in making the world a more pleasant, diverse, and habitable place. When I perceive alienation and fear amongst myself and my fellow humans, I want to just be with that feeling instead of launching into some story in my head about what that means or what I can and can't do about it.  It is tempting to give into the fear voice in my head, where I think that my actions don't matter all that much anyway, or I'll be ridiculed/ostracized for being different, or that I'm a naive fool for thinking that we can be different.  OR... I can smile a little more and enjoy being right where I'm at.

When we are present and awake, we feel wonder, gratitude, and love.  When we live an authentic life rooted in these feelings, we are less inclined to engage in the race to the bottom and write it off with a fear-based story.  We spread our consciousness like a light simply by being present.  Others around us can take courage and sustenance from our presence, and in turn spread the aware, mindful life.  Sitting and being with your breath at Starbucks one morning may not incite an immediate global revolution of consciousness, but it will feel good inside and create some ripples of a different way of being.

By practicing being more alert, awake, present, and therefor loving, can we turn the tide?  Can we be the change we want to see in the world?  Can we weave together a new tapestry of life based on love rather than fear?  

I'm not sure.  I'm skeptical myself that being lovingly mindful from moment to moment, all the while burning fossil fuels and working Wall St. hedge funds, is even close to enough to save our society.  I don't even know what "enough" means anymore with respect to changing our culture, or even if I want to put energy into "saving our society" in its present form.  But I do know that it feels good to practice and join with others in living differently.  I literally get misty-eyed when I read about groups of people in history banding together to create change by being different, and there are large-scale examples that I love to invoke.  Ghandi leading the salt marches?  I get all choked up.  A hundred thousand people in the Philippines marching to the airport to oust the American-backed dictator Marcos?  I literally started to cry in my political science class reading about it (embarrassing, let me tell you).  Coal miners going on strike because things were so bad they couldn't imagine living another day like that?  I'm so faklempt I need to take a moment to gather myself. 

Did I just suggest that you can be like Ghandi?  Yes I did.  History is full of stories of people who chose solidarity and love to overcome fear and create a revolution.  Even better than their stories, though, is Our Story, because it is the only story we have, and begins the only place we can begin - right where we are.  The stories of others are inspiring, but our lives moment to moment are where we make a stand.  It is our own satyagraha.  How can I love myself and take care of myself better?  If I feel that I'm going too fast, how can I slow down?  If I'm chasing money and it's never enough, how can I see a broader, deeper picture?  How can I communicate a more loving outlook in life to others?  What do I stand for in my actions?  How do I translate my personal values into outward action in a loving way?  All these questions are relevant and urgent as we seek to make the world a better place.  In asking, answering, and asking again, we create a present reality that challenges wider societal trends of narrow fear. 

It's the holiday season, and I know you're busy, so I'll wrap up here.  What is the take home message I wish to convey?  I support anything you want to do in life to slow down and be present with yourself and your surroundings.  I predict that you'll feel more love and delightful wonder for the world.  And that is where I always want to begin - right where I am.