An Open Letter to a Friend

I received a letter from a friend saying he feels immobilized by "American cultural entrapments", that more than ever he is striving for his context in the world. I wrote him back privately, but I think the letter should also be open:

Thanks for your letter. Very nicely written. Slept last nite in the bush in downtown Leuven and woke up to ice-cold rain showering down on me. Am trekking across Belgium after visiting a girl whom I met in Bamako after our left engine blew up, causing us to crash into a field. Everyone survived, albeit shaken. Africa didn't want us to leave so easily. Do not know when I will be back Stateside.

Nothing should hold you back if this is what you want to do. I saved up and spent 5000 dollars on this trip, for 4 and a half months. That is less than many people spend to live in the States (rent, gas, bills, etc etc). So if you have the funds to do it, you should not feel like you are anchored to the soil over there. It saddens me that many Americans do not take extended trips. The French do it. The Germans do it. The Italians, as well. There is nothing to be frightened of. True, our culture lives in a hermetic, ambitious bubble, but breaking free of that, if even for a brief spell, makes life worth living and reflecting upon. It also helps me make sense of the patterns I fell into while living in America. Life can be very long and fruitful if we choose it to be so. As Tom Waits says, "Love is always in the air. It is there for those who care." I think this applies not just to romance, but to an openness that is found when we work hard to see our ego for what it is, and to recognize that it wants nothing more than to keep us at home, living in our own crippling shadow.

I have also learned that there is a difference between a complex mind and a confused mind. We can have both, to be sure. But we must also be responsible for freeing ourselves when our own existence confuses us. I have learned that this freedom only flickers for brief moments, after large periods of time pass. Again, another quote from a song which I have heard my whole life, but just begins to make sense of late. The Grateful Dead's 'Truckin': "Sometimes the light comes shinin' on me / Other times I can barely see." It is natural to feel blind, to feel like you are groping in the dark, held prisoner by your conditions. It is harder than ever now to break free from the grindhouse of America and I now wonder every day if it is possible to live this way over there. But many people dream of it. And, since you have a skill, your writing, that could very likely be your ticket out, even if you do not profit fiscally from it. Without writing and photography, this trip would not have been possible for me. All of the people I have met out here have changed me in some fashion. The better connections, perhaps because they have been in such different settings than I am used to, have been strong and honest.

The importance of film is even more obvious to me now. It is a very complex art that can send messages no other art form can. But, for the purposes of the trip, the journal has been the best option. It has allowed others, whom I do not speak with regularly, to tune in when they feel like it.

I hope you give these feelings you are having some serious thought. They are there for a reason and they are begging you not to turn the other way. At least weigh the options. There is no Ordained Path, as much as the outrageous system would have us belief. Meditate on the feelings a bit. Understand that travel also means being alone. It means a different kind of loneliness. Not every day is a magical adventure, as the Ex-Pats stories hopefully show. But they all guide you toward what you consider to be virtuous and true.

Take care and keep the inner flame burning.

Nathan