Grappling with Patriotism

I have a fierce love for my country, but I struggle grappling it. The United States should not be elevated above any other. But I love it, and it’s my home. Am I a patriot? It’s a question I ask honestly, because I don’t put my home above other places. Yet I do love it more than any other place, and perhaps more importantly, I appreciate its good qualities. I understand the bad ones as well. It feels right to engage in such self-questioning; it feels as though growth results. I dislike nationalism, but patriotism is a close cousin that I partake. Perhaps this is the real 9/11 post—sometimes it takes a day or two to settle. If there is an end, it’s not with our country. It’s with our species and our humanity.

9/11 to Tomorrow

Today is a day of mourning and reflection. How much has the world changed since 9/11? And has it really been 18 years? It very well may be the defining event of our time.

Perhaps every generation says so, but it seems we are more polarized than ever, both nationally and globally. It’s like we’ve forgotten how to listen, how to consider. These critical thinking skills will prove vital for our species in the years to come. I hope we relearn them.

It’s important to remember the infamous yesterday of 2001, and to honor today, but also to contemplate how we can be better to each other tomorrow.

Light Connection

There’s something about dawn and dusk. They’re the transition periods, when the day begins and ends, when day and night melt into each other. Sunrise and sunset always give me pause. There’s a sense of time present, and a faint feeling of hope lingering in the background. We don’t know how many days are afforded to us. All we can do is respect the time we’ve had and hope for the time to come. It’s the great cycle of life that repeats for all organisms on this amazing planet. If we listen, we are connected.

Two Humans Past, Our Lessons Now

Becoming Teddy Roosevelt by Andrew Vietze is an interesting examination of President Theodore Roosevelt’s relationship with his former Maine Guide, Bill Sewall. It chronicles both men’s lives in the 19th and 20th centuries, focusing specifically on their adventures together and extended communication through letters.

I knew little about Roosevelt and nothing about Sewall prior to this book, and to learn so much about both was much more intriguing than I suspected. It’s hard to believe that some of the events that occurred were nonfiction. “TR,” as the author refers to him, tracked down bandits with his guide in North Dakota for 3 weeks, climbed the tallest peak in Maine with only moccasins on his feet, and challenged multiple men to fights when called out by them. It’s crazy to think these were the times and possible adventures that befell such people who were to become Presidents of the United States.

It led me one of my biggest takeaways with this book: each person lives a unique, full life. People have adventures in their youth, they battle through hardships, their friends and relatives die, they succeed and fail at various things, and they are sad and happy. Both Sewall, a woodsman who lived in the northernmost county in Maine from 1845-1930, and Roosevelt, a son from a posh family in New York, experienced these things. These events are not limited to people of a certain time, a certain nation, or a certain creed. We all struggle, we all bustle, and we all love those we come into contact with. Both of these men are long gone, but it’s evident they lived fulfilling lives in which they expended their souls. It’s important for us to strive to do the same. Live each day, don’t take it for granted. Do what you’ve always wanted or dreamed of—the worst that will happen is you’ll fail. And life will go on. It’s truly a powerful realization, and this book spurred it within me.

I was also impressed by the volume of reading done by both men, irrespective of their class or social roles. They were both ‘learned’ men, who cared about the world and wanted to know about it. That thirst for knowledge seems to have eluded us in recent years, when any given fact is available at our fingertips through our mobile devices. It’s evident that studying, just for the sake of learning, bettered both of these peoples’ lives.

Finally, the book moved me deeply throughout. Friendship is a miracle that transcends time and place. These two men definitely loved each other, and both their lives were better for the other being in it. It’s consoling to know that you don’t have to face the big bad world alone. Even though these men were separated by hundreds of miles and a slow postal system, they thought about one another, shared with each other, and felt each other’s presence. Perhaps the most emotionally powerful lesson of the book was also its simplest: that true friendship is one of life’s greatest treasures.

Becoming Teddy Roosevelt is a quick read that gives one insight into the two human’s experiences in the world that they lived in, and it just so happens that one of them was President of the United States.

A Gracious Look Back

I wrote a post earlier in the summer about how you won’t remember this moment 3 hours from now. That realization can definitely be helpful when distressed, upset, or fatigued, but I also think it spurs gratitude. It’s September 8th and it feels like Spain was years and years ago—I was there August 15th (and had the time of my life). In July I attended 2 important friends’ weddings, and that feels as if from a different life. How fortunate I’ve been over just this year.

Looking back can help us better appreciate our experiences, to see how they’ve shaped who we are today. Simple conversations with dear friends, meals shared with family, even brief exchanges with passerby; these interactions hold meaning. We are constantly learning, whether we’re aware of it or not. And I think that’s all the more evident when a few weeks, months, or years removed. How much fun was that BBQ in the summer, that trip to visit Grandma a few months back, or even that phone call with your best friend? Overall, we are so incredibly fortunate. A week ago can seem an eternity when viewed from a certain perspective.

Today I left the beautiful Italian chaos and countryside behind to visit a new place: Croatia. I can already feel how different it is. What experiences will I be able to look back on and be thankful for next week?

When in Rome

Rome. The Eternal City. It’s apparent why it’s called that, when walking amongst the ruins of the Roman Forum, the great Colosseum, the immortal Pantheon. You can see the vestiges of each era the city has witnessed since the Empire: Roman columns, churches and frescoes from the Middle Ages, great art from the Renaissance, architecture of the Baroque and beyond.

Humans are capable of great things when we have the will. It makes me think of the countless other monuments scattered across the globe. Chichen Itza and the ruins of Machu Picchu, Stonehenge and Versailles and the Alhambra, the great pyramids of Egypt, Raqmu and the Persian ruins spread across the Middle East, the Taj Mahal and the Potala Palace and the Mogao Caves and Angkor Wat and Rokuon-ji. Many if not most of those landmarks were built with the bodies and blood of slaves and unjust systems and rulers… but can one deny their magnificence?

We have done great deeds as well, ones accomplished not through devious means. We’ve reached out in space around us, visiting the moon. We ended apartheid without true war. For most of the planet, freedom reigns. We have and are saving species from extinction. We have set aside land for the other organisms to thrive. Homicide and hunger around the world are less than ever in human history. We have eradicated diseases, and are working on eradicating more. Have we also done hideous things to each other? Yes. But great and true we have done too.

And we are capable of so much more. The Eternal City is living proof that we can do great things. It’s also proof we have done bad as well as good. If we see, we can believe, and if we believe, we can unite, and accomplish. Not for city or region or country or empire, East or West, North or South. But for this one singular planet we share together.

Reflections and Inspirations

The Umbrian hill towns are as numerous as the thunder storms that blow through their valleys. Each has their own art, architecture, history, and character. The region feels old. It’s been inhabited for at least the past 30,000 years, and the parade of civilizations (Etruscans, Romans, city states, and unified Italy) has left its mark.

When I think about this vast history, a Carl Sagan quote comes to mind: “The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and in triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of the dot on scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner of the dot. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.” (Pale Blue Dot is well worth your time by the way).

Disheartening? It may be melancholy, but it’s also true. Beautiful scenery and no internet will spur such reflections. How do we rise above our short sightedness? I know we’re capable of it. I know we have the ability to enact solutions to climate change and environmental conservation, to our economic puzzles, to human rights and international relations. It just requires a higher perspective, a more longitudinal one. Which brings me to another saying, attributed in many forms to many people: “We do not inherit the Earth from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children.”

Pale Blue Dot, Native American proverb, Thich Nhat Hanh, the Bible or the Quran—it doesn’t matter where we gain perspective. These teachings and teachers are widely known because they have helped people see more clearly. They have inspired. It’s up to us to effect change.

A Tourist Perspective

Tourism is an interesting phenomenon. We’re curious about other places, other people and culture, and we go visit them to see firsthand what they’re all about. To experience something different than what comprises our normal life. Those who live in Manhattan and pass through Times Square on their daily commute don’t pause to take photos. If anything I’m sure they’re annoyed by the sightseeing. A member of the Aguas Calientes community doesn’t visit Machu Picchu, because it’s an engrained part of her culture and history. Residents of Umbria don’t take pictures of the region's hilltop towns, because it’s already part of their daily lives.

But we are curious about places and people and things outside our comfort zone. It’s different, it’s new, it’s interesting. It stems from our natural curiosity, an innate part of being human. I believe it betters us as a species, as we continue to learn about different parts of our amazing planet.

Of course it’s important for us to think and act consciously and with consideration when visiting other places. Being carbon neutral is a good place to start. Respecting other views and traditions is another prerequisite. But overall, I believe it makes us better. The more we learn about each other, about different ways of living and different foods and different art and different religions and different architectural styles and other history, the more connected and closer we become.

What’s beautiful is this isn’t even the primary motive for most tourists. It doesn’t matter; the results are the same. When we go out and see cool shit, we learn and become more open. We see the world more for what it is: a bunch of crazy monkeys living within an incredibly diverse ecosystem on a truly amazing planet.

Be a tourist somewhere.

Authenticity in Assisi

Visiting Assisi was different. In Tuscany and Umbria, there are many hill towns. Medieval ones with castles and Renaissance ones with magnificent frescoes in cathedrals. There are towns that haven’t changed in 800 years.

Assisi is one of those towns. Although it was originally settled around 1000 BC, its geographic location in the Middle Ages allowed it to prosper through trade and textiles. It was during this time, in the 1200s, when the city thrived, expanded… and birthed its most famous resident. When the Black Death happened in the mid 1300s, Assisi rapidly declined, effectively preserving all of the architecture and city layout from that time period.

What’s preserved, and remembered, is the legacy of Saint Francis. This is what also makes Assisi different. Saint Francis taught Christianity to the common people—in Italian, with easy-to-understand messaging. He rejected his familial wealth and lived a life of obedience, chastity, and poverty. To say this inspired people would be an understatement. The basilica in town was completed in just 2 years after his death—an unheard of timeline. For the past 800 years, thousands of pilgrims have flocked to Assisi because of his message.

And you can feel the difference. The town can definitely be touristy, but it also feels genuine. None of the churches or cathedrals charge an admission—they only ask for a donation. If women show up with shoulders uncovered or shorts too short, they are provided with shawls to cover them. Both of these practices are different from the typical Italian church.

Saint Francis appreciated nature—and this is apparent in the architecture of the cathedrals and the layout of the surrounding areas. You can see why he was amazed with nature—the scenery is stunning. You can feel the presence of nature in Assisi, and it feels pure.

The main thing to be gained seems to be authenticity. People can feel the realness, the lack of ulterior motives. That’s why people were inspired by Saint Francis. Beyond his message itself (Christianity had been the dominant paradigm in the region for centuries beforehand), it was the fact that he was genuine. He walked the walk, living in a simple hut and preaching in a simple, tiny chapel. When people feel your authenticity, and see you walk the talk, they respect you. They are moved by it, because it’s real and pure.

It can be helpful to look to these legendary figures to draw inspiration, to push yourself to be authentic and open. Saint Francis was inspirational because he walked authenticity: “Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words.” Visiting Assisi was different. It’s had a lasting impression on many, many people, including me.

This is a Miracle

Something that has really helped me look at the big picture and gather some perspective on life—take a blank piece of paper and write the following phrase on it:

THIS

IS

A MIRACLE

Put this paper somewhere you'll see it every morning—your bathroom mirror, above your dresser, on the wall near your bed. Every morning, read the words aloud and let them sink in. Think about how miraculous it is that you're alive, that you have life, that this is life. How there are more than 7 billion people on the planet. That we even have a planet, suspended in space in the middle of nowhere. That the planet is just perfect enough to have lions, and glaciers, and monkeys, and whales and dolphins and surreal sunsets and Venus flytraps. Think about how spectacular that is. Consider the fact we have cultivated plants for thousands of years to supply a significant portion of the planet with food all year round, that we communicate instantaneously across the globe through a network of computers. In the true sense of the word, it's fantastic.

When you appreciate how amazing life really is, every single morning, you develop a deep sense of compassion and openness, and you're more at peace throughout the day. It's simple, yet powerful. This is a Miracle. Embrace it.

Our Renaissance is Now

You can’t help but be astounded at the explosion of art, culture, and science that was the Renaissance. It’s palpable here in Florence. You can feel it in the air. Even the copies of statues in the niches of church facades are beautiful. Beyond that, the art makes you ponder. It makes you think.

If you walked up to someone on the street and asked them about right now, our current time, would they say it was a Renaissance? Are we pushing the boundaries of expression, forging connections across industries and continents and time? I’ll let you answer that one.

Sometimes reflecting back on history can broaden our perspective of the present. When we place today in the context of everything, we can sometimes see it more for what it really is. How can we make things better?

Purpose and Fear

Tim Ferriss often asks his interview subjects the same set of questions, one of them being:

“If you could write anything on a billboard and put it anywhere, what would it say?”

I have my answer. It would say this:

For one month, try this experiment:

Every morning, rise and repeat:

‘With purpose, without fear.’

Travel is worth it

If you go online, it seems as though traveling is the most glamorous activity there is. Your social media page will be inundated with selfies and heavily edited photographs of surreal landscapes and fantastical places (have you looked at my Instagram? Same thing, minus the selfies). What you don’t see or hear about are the difficult parts: how tired you are from moving around so much, the bane of all kinds of transportation (and how it inevitably is delayed, cancelled, uncomfortable, or exhausting), the fatigue from having to make so many decisions—where are you going to eat? Where are you going to sleep? Which sights are you prioritizing in this place? How are you going to stay within your budget? None of those things are usually posted about on social media.

But they’re there, let me tell you. And I can say honestly, it’s all part of the experience, of the journey. It’s 100% worth it. Every day is a chance to get better at weathering incoming storms. Because the storms will always come, whether you’re traveling or not.

And when you do travel, every day you learn more about this beautiful planet and the incredible people that inhabit it. It helps us connect and grow as a species. My grandma once told me every American child ought to be required to study for one year abroad, that it would teach them what the rest of the world is like and make them better people. That’s pretty spot on if you ask me. If I were to give a child advice: “get out and see the world. It’s an amazing place."

Outskirts

I find that leaving a new place offers an opportunity for reflection. Often you’re taking a taxi or a bus to the airport, and you can simply watch life out the window. Sometimes you walk to the bus or train station and see a new perspective on your temporary home. These journeys usually take you through the outskirts of the city, and almost always away from the touristy parts of town. My bus to the airport in Sevilla today took me through suburbs and allowed insight into “real Sevilla,” away from the Alcazar and the Cathedral and the Old Town. A few days ago I walked for about an hour from Granada’s city center to its bus station. Both times I saw ordinary people going about their lives on an ordinary weekday. The taxi ride to and from the airport in Rio de Janeiro illuminated “real Rio,” as did the one to and from Salvador’s airport. I think it’s important to remember that sometimes what we see, what we generalize, is not always the full story. A region’s people are often much different, and much more, than the main sights. This is useful when we engage in political and economic conversations as well. Not all Californians are hippie liberals, not all Catalans want independence, and not all Brazilians love football. It’s easy to get caught up in that. Generalizations helped us survive in our species’ early days. But to create a thriving global community, we need to consciously move past that. Sometimes the outskirts can help.

The Way Things Are

Linguistically and culturally, things are the way they are because of how history happened. The word “cell” was coined by its discoverer Robert Hooke because what he viewed under the microscope reminded him of monks’ ‘cells.’ North and South America, Africa, Australia, and parts of Asia speak the languages they do because of the European nations that colonized them. You think the way you do today because of how your life has unfolded up to this point. People in Barcelona eat bikini sandwiches because a famous club started serving them. The Giralda in Sevilla was originally a minaret for a mosque—you might not find a more unique blend between mosque and church anywhere. Can you imagine trying to explain these things to an alien? You would quickly fall down a rabbit hole of never-ending history, language, and culture. And it all stems from our collective identity, our human identity. If we appreciate our quirks and novelties and the route they undertook to become so, we will return to the global, to the One.

EIE

Exclusively in Europe, can one enjoy a café on a 500 year old cobblestone street in the shadow of a massive cathedral that took 250 years to build. (I use the word ‘exclusively’ because ‘only’ already belongs to “OIC”—“Only in China” … but that’s for another post). Exclusively in Europe was that same street built by the Roman Empire, having changed hands numerous times before arriving under the sovereignty of its modern nation. Exclusively in Europe can countries’ differences be so stark and their similarities so common. That’s EIE. The Old World. Where Western civilization started. It’s a unique, enchanting place. But…

Going off the beaten path, one is sure to discover the same phenomena that can be found anywhere else on the planet. I had some cheese and salami with a baguette on a bench in a nondescript plaza today, and I witnessed the same things I’ve seen on 4 other continents. Parents supervised their toddlers running around playing. People walked their dogs, and all sorts of mayhem broke out. Apparent friends went for a walk together after work, catching up on their week. Others wandered alone, deep in thought. These things occur everywhere else, because, at our core, we are all the same: we are all human. Many cultures own dogs as pets. All cultures have children, and all those children play.

Each continent, each country, each city, and each neighborhood has its own individual culture. But from a wider perspective, we all go about our lives. Everywhere is unique, and yet we can generally be found doing the same activities. EIE is special—but on a literally universal scale, so are we, taken as one.

Our Modern Alhambra

The Alhambra truly is a magnificent site. Part fortress, part palace, part extensive garden complex, it absolutely inspires. I hope to put some shots up directly on this site soon, but for now you can check out my most recent Instagram post—that’s where my photography is more current. Despite being thoroughly impressed, I couldn’t help but draw parallels between the ancient and the modern.

I heard a guide mentioning to her group that the emir had the Court of the Myrtles designed in such a way to demonstrate his power to foreign dignitaries. Back in those times, it surely must have evoked awe.

The original part of the complex, the Alcazaba, was used as a fortress to repel invaders. When viewing it from across the valley, one can see how its high walls and position on the hill made it formidable.

Humans lived in more violent times back then. Demonstration of power and belligerent security were much more prudent than today. But do we not do the same with the Olympics every 2 years? How every country tries to out-do each other by building gargantuan stadiums and putting on elaborate opening and closing ceremonies. How every new football stadium or basketball arena needs to be bigger, more impressive, more luxurious. Worse yet, how often do we still fall prey to military proliferation?

I’d like to think we have progressed a long way. We currently live in perhaps the most peaceful time in the history of humanity. That’s incredible! It’s something to celebrate. I try to keep this in mind when viewing such ancient sites in the Old World. The Alhambra is beautiful, and something to be visited and appreciated (there’s of course a huge religious and spiritual component to the site as well). The question I ask myself however, comes to this: now in peaceful modern times, as a species, can we move past boasting and brandishing? For beauty is now different: it's unity, an elevated global consciousness, and a fervor to continue to evolve and change. Let’s make the planet more beautiful.

Appreciating the 'ordinary' folks

It’s important to appreciate all the people in your life, especially those you came across earlier in your path, even if you’re no longer in contact. I recently pulled the trigger and spammed every person on my friends list on facebook, to see if they would be interested in ‘liking’ my page, and I’ve been overwhelmed with the results. People I’ve met all around the world have shown their support. I guess I want to tell everyone that it’s you who have made this possible by contributing to my development, to my experience thus far. I believe we can all teach each other something, that we can all learn from each other. Maybe I could have learned more, but I know I’ve already learned so much from those who have entered my life.

I urge you to think of those who have had a positive impact on your life, however small. Maybe it was an employee at a grocery store or coffee shop you used to frequent. Maybe it was an old coworker from three companies ago. Maybe it was a high school friend. We always implore others to be grateful for authority figures: previous teachers, firefighters and police officers, community leaders, etc. And those people definitely deserve our recognition and respect. But the ordinary people in our lives do too. I would venture those people, whoever they were in our lives, make an indelible mark on our experience as well. And some of those people in my life have shown their support with TAV. Thank you, I sincerely appreciate it. Let’s keep it going.

Diversity, for lack of a better word, is good.

Travel can help us break down our own barriers. Barcelona is a cosmopolitan city with a pretty diverse population. I’ve had Japanese food here twice now, sushi and ramen. Both meals were excellent, and the staff appeared to be either Japanese or Chinese. It was strange for me to order Japanese food in Spanish to a Japanese person; it just didn’t feel “normal” in my brain. In one of the restaurants I saw a Spanish cook talking with a Japanese server, and it looked like they were speaking in Catalan.

None of these things I expected here. But now that I’m experiencing them, why not? Talking to a local, there are second and third generation immigrants here in Barcelona, from both China and Japan. It’s completely normalized in the Bay Area where I’m from, why would it not be here? My grandfather emigrated from a different country to the east coast of the United States, and I’m “white.” Immigration is a common phenomenon all over the world.

Earth is more diverse than I think we even realize. There has always been movement of people from various corners of the globe to others. And it makes our world more interesting. There’s always more to learn, about our different languages and cultures and lifestyles. It broadens our perspective of this beautiful planet. Let’s not take it for granted, and try to assume less. We might learn something new, find a new appreciation for something. And it will enable us to not only tolerate our differences, but to enjoy them.

Barcelona Barrios

Barcelona is synonymous with a fun day in the sun. The people are open and friendly, and smiles abound everywhere. How can they not? The food and drinks are good and cheap, the weather is hot but carried on breezes from the Mediterranean, and life is good. The way the city's vegetation mixes with its architecture reminds me of Guangzhou, while the overall vibe strikes a smaller-scale tone and easiness reminiscent of Rio.

It makes me appreciate how varied a city can be. The different barrios have completely different layouts and vibes. Much of Eixample is a rectangular grid of streets, with pretty, stereotypically European buildings. The buildings themselves are octagonal, which make for interesting intersections—a little extra walking is required to cross them. Large famous stores dominate much of this district. It’s a bustling metropolis, but still maintains a care-free attitude.

El Gòtic, the original city, is full of uneven cobblestone streets meandering past medieval buildings, rife with culture and history. While it can be very touristy, especially around major sights like the Cathedral, you can still feel the past, that old world charm. Places like this seem to rarely exist outside Europe. It’s a different world than the happy-go-lucky chaos of Eixample.

And then there’s barrio Gràcia, with its tiny streets and lanes squeezing between hidden plazas. Hipsters and the young rub shoulders with the large elderly population, and a vibrant, seedy cool permeates the area. Last night I visited the Placa del Sol, where 20’s and 30’s singles sit all over the square, directly on the ground, cold beers in hand, socializing and listening to live music. Such a scene seems preposterous in a place like Eixample.

These are only three of Barcelona’s many neighborhoods; I can’t imagine how varied and diverse the rest of the city is. The architecture and city layout itself is unique in each district, and this seems to affect the people and culture. How true is this in so many other places in the world? I think about the Bay Area, and how we demarcate the different regions (“South Bay,” “The Peninsula,” “East Bay,” etc.). New York is divided into boroughs. And yet we still conceive of these places as singular entities, just with different flavors in different areas.

How funny we humans are. I guess you can say a lot about humanity, but you could never call us boring.