A Single Shaft of Light

I considered a grand apology for all the half-thoughts, mental vomit and intellectual garbage that has cascaded from my mind onto this webpage. I suppose I could make it. But part of me wants to stand by what I've written, confused and angry and contradictory as it is, as hypocritical and pretentious as it may be.

The correct word at this point would be a good Greek one, metanoia, the word for “turning around,” literally (often translated as “repentance”). It wasn't that the Prodigal Son repented his poor behavior but that he turned around. And walked home. Back to the start.

Yesterday I sat in Santo Domingo cathedral here in Oaxaca, Mexico, and after a long and torturous session of self-examination and confusion, I walked out. And looked around. What, who did I find? An open plaza, with people mingled around its edges. Vendors and old Mexican women chatting on benches, tourists taking photos, young Latino lovers tangled up in each other, children toddling to an open-armed mother, friends laughing with each other about some shared joke. People. Just people. Doing what people do: be people. Silly, sad, serious, angry, joyous people. And I saw myself among them. I stood still and watched them move around me. The afternoon clouds shifted and a single shaft of light lanced across the sky. Hope. Peace. Reconciliation.

The turning will take time. I have moved too quickly, assumed to much and judged too harshly. We are all people, with our problems, hopes and joys. All sorts of things are mixed up in me and I haven't settled them out yet. Again, it will take time. I'd not like to go into all the details of what things I've discovered in my life that are not healthy and need to be surgically removed through some intense concentration and letting go.

I saw myself, briefly, clearly, in that moment in Santo Domingo. It was not pretty. You spoiled brat. I have put the world at your feet and given you everything and more and your heart is still hard, your eyes still cold and dead, your mind weakened by trivialities. The mystery and wonder of your daily life has been ignored, taken for granted and skimmed over. I felt all that lays behind me, all that lays still ahead of me, and a great sense of thankfulness arose in me. The weapons of the self I use to defend the narrow, fragile defenses and boundaries and frontiers of “my” space in the world crashed to the ground and shattered. And my heart, eyes, mind lept up at the reality of my existence, the wonder and miracle of being alive.

I almost pulled the plug on this whole blog. Because I saw in it perhaps a true image of a part of me: and it disgusted me. Ugly, twisted meanness, selfish defensiveness, the contorted scars of anger and fear, the old blemishes of doubt and judgment. Ancient, primordial roots of what is the mixed bag of my human-ness. The immaturity and hypocrisy rushed to the fore with blinding clarity. And I had to say, Yes, this is part of me. The blog, if anything, has done this and it is a service. Probably not all our thoughts should be made public to all people anywhere at any time. But it forces self-examination, I suppose.

Americans are wonderful people. American culture is wonderful. It is a land truly blessed by God. I want to make that absolutely clear. Panamanians are wonderful people. Panamanian culture is wonderful. Never will I be able to retract any of these statements. But we must be realistic as well. Americans have their problems. And so does American culture and society. It's not all sunshine and gumdrops. But the same goes for Panama. It has its separate problems and faults. On both sides are mounted great advantages and great disadvantages. Unfortunately, both sides may fail to appreciate this. For most people (American and Panamanian), the formula is simple: USA=good, developed, rich, easy; Panama=bad, underdeveloped, poor, difficult. Explaining this to Americans is easy. And Panamanians would jump to agree to these simplistic statements. What is the unexpected truth is the wealth of advantages Panamanian culture has and the weaknesses in the American culture which has, by some standards, sold its soul to gain the whole world. And in that light, Panama may still have its soul, its fire and dance and love and family that is sometimes harder to find in America, or weakened.

I've seen both sides pretty well, American and Panamanian. And I bet explaining the disadvantages of America and the benefits of Panama to either side is an uphill battle. It may be impossible. I don't blame people for not being able to make the jump. Two and a half years ago I never could have made that jump. It's really incomprehensible, without living in rural Panama for two years like I have, a commitment few would be able to make.

I may have rushed too far to correct this imbalance or misunderstanding in some of my writing. I may have been intensely critical and harsh toward Americans, Western culture and the scorecard of “developed/developing states.” For that I apologize. I am very proud of Panama and very honored and grateful for my experience there. But I don't want that returning-to-America pro-Panama pride to rub the wrong way and be interpreted as a slight, insult, or venomous barb against the culture that raised me, formed me, challenged me and provided me the vast opportunity to jump out of it for a while and see it from the outside.

Well, there I did it and apologized.

It feels better.

I want to find Latinos in America and speak Spanish and get them to teach me how to salsa well. I want to listen to Panamanian radio via the internet and read Panamanian newspapers on the web. I want to call my community and not lose touch. I want to enjoy time with my family and move through my American Life slower, more appreciatively, and more engaged with other people. I want to carry the best of Panama, its generosity, openness, hospitality, sense of time and relationships, to the people I love in America. I want to find the correct balance of both cultures that is realistic and healthy. I want the best of both worlds to inform my life as I move forward.

It will be a challenge. But what isn't?

I have three more days in Mexico. Then I fly to America, to Charleston, to my home and my family, to a new dawning horizon in my life.