Sunday, November 23, 2014
Addams Family Thanksgiving
I find this scene from Addams Family Values a light-hearted and hilarious First Thanksgiving myth-buster aside from King of the Hill's version in "Spin the Choice." AFV shines a light on stereotypes about both groups, and cleverly infuses anachronisms and history that are just plain wrong. But, that's just the point.
What's Thanksgiving?
As you savor that last bite of pumpkin pie this Thanksgiving,
here’s some food for thought that may cause, well, some indigestion. The first Thanksgiving? Where was it exactly? Plimoth Plantation? San Elizario?
Where? In grammar school, most of us were taught
that it was Plimoth, spelled Plymouth.
But who decided that history?
Where’s the paper trail? We’ve
come to accept these truths, but
really, whose truth is it? When I began
writing this post, I decided not to address the hypocrisy of the Thanksgiving
story, which conjures a bucolic scene of Pilgrims (colonists) and Indians
joined together in a hearty meal that symbolized peace on earth and good will.
This was going to be an East Coast-West Coast, well, Southwest discussion of
whether Thanksgiving was first “celebrated” in Texas. But, the more I researched and thought about
it, I just couldn’t ignore the myth that continues to be told this time of
year. I feel compelled to delve into the myth that covers a campaign of genocide against this country’s first
peoples.
Many historians agree that the source work for the
Thanksgiving story was borne out of passages from letters of two contemporaries
who were present at the feast. Edward
Winslow’s letter to England and the writings of Governor William Bradford are
referenced as the smoking gun for this pleasant meal amongst friends:
And God be praised
we had a good increase . . .Our harvest being gotten in, our governor sent four
men on fowling, that so we might after a special manner rejoice together after
we had gathered the fruit of our labors. They four in one day killed as much
fowl as, with a little help beside, served the company almost a week. At which
time, amongst other recreations, we exercised our arms, many of the Indians
coming amongst us, and among the rest their greatest king Massasoit, with some
ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and feasted, and they went out
and killed five deer, which they brought to the plantation and bestowed on our
governor, and upon the captain and others. And although it be not always so
plentiful as it was at this time with us, yet by the goodness of God, we are so
far from want that we often wish you partakers of our plenty.
Edward
Winslow, Mourt’s
Relation: D.B. Heath, ed. Applewood Books. Cambridge, 1986. p 82
They began now to
gather in the small harvest they had, and to fit up their houses and dwellings
against winter, being all well recovered in health and strength and had all
things in good plenty. For as some were thus employed in affairs abroad, others
were exercised in fishing, about cod and bass and other fish of which they took
good store, of which every family had their portion. All the summer there was
no want; and now began to come in store of fowl, as winter approached, of which
is place did abound when they came first (but afterward decreased by degrees).
And besides waterfowl there was great store of wild turkeys, of which they took
many, besides venison, etc. Besides, they had about a peck a meal a week to a
person, or now since harvest, Indian corn to that proportion. Which made many
afterwards write so largely of their plenty here to their friends in England,
which were not feigned but true reports.
William Bradford, Of
Plymouth Plantation: S.E. Morison, ed.
Knopf. N.Y., 1952. p 90
I have read and reread these passages and have
trouble reading into them, the story of brotherhood and good will toward the
Indians. The good increase, or harvest
that is referred to was due to Squanto, a former kidnapped member of the
Wampanoag tribe, who served as a translator and guide to the colonists on how
to plant and maintain crops on the fertile land. Most historians agree that the exercise of
arms was the shooting of guns in celebration, much like people do on New Year’s
in some parts of the U.S. The colonists were shooting to celebrate a bountiful
harvest that would sustain them through winter. Prior to this day in 1621,
Massasoit, the Wampanoag chief had entered a mutual treaty of protection and
land sharing, so when the Wampanoags heard the gunfire, Massasoit assembled 90 men
to investigate and render aid, if necessary.
I have found no writings that indicate that Indian women and children
were at this gathering. It is clear from
the passage that there was not enough food for everyone, so the Wampanoags went
out and killed game and presented it to Governor Bradford as a gift. Wampanoag historians say that the Indians
camped nearby, and likely never sat and ate with the Pilgrims. It doesn’t sound like they were invited
guests. “…many of the Indians came
amongst us.” It stands to reason, if
relations were so harmonious, the writer would have said that they invited them
to share in their good fortune, right? The continuation of the passage indicates
that a tolerant relationship existed at some point.
We have found the Indians very faithful
in their covenant of peace with us; very loving and ready to pleasure us: we
often go to them, and they come to us; some of us have been fifty miles by land
in the country with them; the occasions and relations whereof you shall
understand by our general and more full declaration of such things as are worth
the noting, yea, it hath pleased God so to possess the Indians with a fear of
us, and love unto us, that not only the greatest king amongst them called
Massasoit, but also all the princes and peoples round about us, have either
made suit unto us, or been glad of any occasion to make peace with us, so that
seven of them at once have sent their messengers to us to that end, yea, an Fle
at sea, which we never saw hath also together with the former yielded willingly
to be under the protection, and subjects to our sovereign Lord King James, so
that there is now great peace amongst the Indians themselves, which was not
formerly, neither would have been but for us; and we for our parts walk as
peaceably and safely in the wood, as in the highways in England, we entertain
them familiarly in our houses, and they as friendly bestowing their venison on
us. They are a people without any religion, or knowledge of any God, yet very
trusty, quick of apprehension, ripe- witted, just, the men and women go naked,
only a skin about their middles; for the temper of the air, here it agreeth
well with that in England, and if there be any difference at all, this is
somewhat hotter in summer, some think it to be colder in winter, but I cannot
out of experience so say; the air is very clear and not foggy, as hath been
reported.
Edward
Winslow, Mourt’s
Relation
While the colonists seemed to make nice, the
writer’s attitude toward the Indians is stunningly paternalistic and
condescending. Governor Bradford’s own
words are even more instructive of the attitudes toward the Indians, just
months before.
“All this while the Indians
came skulking about them, and would sometimes show themselves aloof off, but
when any approached near them, they would run away; and once they stole away
their tools where they had been at work and were gone to dinner.”
He later talks about Sachem
(Massasoit) and Squanto, who assisted the colony in planting, fishing trading,
not with any thanks to Squanto or the Indians, but to God, and, rather with a
sense of entitlement.
Squanto continued with them
and was their interpreter and was a special instrument sent of God for their
good beyond their expectation. He directed them how to set their corn, where to
take fish, and to procure other commodities, and was also their pilot to bring
them to unknown places for their profit, and never left them till he died.
William Bradford: History of Plymouth Plantation, c. 1650.
By some accounts the colonists were 50 in number,
by others, 25. It is dubious that 90
Indian males would be welcomed for dinner with only enough fowl to last a week.
Our collective amnesia or blindness, however, allows us only to remember a
bucolic scene, which turned out to be the calm before the storm of genocide
exacted upon the Indians across the colony and New England, just a few years
later.
I even visited the Plimoth Plantation website to see what
story the curators of this living museum tell of arguably, their most important
day. It is revealing that the writer for
the site tries hard not not perpetuate this myth. The site does not explicitly state that the Winslow
or Bradford writings were the retelling of the first Thanksgiving, but instead,
focus on the evolution of the holiday into what we know today. In fact, the website mentions that in the
early 20th century, a shift occurred in talking about the Pilgrims,
and it became a teaching tool for good citizenry. The writer is careful to sidestep
the topic, but the proverbial, “elephant in the room” is implicit in the article’s
tone. I was most impressed with the
children’s interactive feature that walks the amateur historian through audio
recordings in the voices of the colonists and the Indians.
But why do some cling to this myth? Do you think that Mr. Bradford’s and Mr.
Winslow’s accounts support such a view?
Are the colonists really conveying any sense of friendship with the
Wampanoags? Were their words a
forewarning of how people diffent from themselves would be encountered and tolerated? Weren’t these religious
people, the separatists? Later, in History of Plymouth Plantation, Bradford
mentioned the return of the stolen tools along with other gifts from the
Indians. Was it an afterthought, or less important than reporting the “theft?”
While a relative
peace lasted for between the Wampanoags and the Bradford Colony, other Indian
bands did not enjoy the same treatment.
In fact, 17 years later, “the governor
of Bay Colony declared a day of thanksgiving for the safe return of those who
had been dispatched and participated in the annihilation of over 700 men, women
and children.” According
to Professor William B. Newell, formerly of the University of Connecticut, “a
massacre of men, women and children was perpetrated by the colonists during the
Pequot holy days when they assembled in the long house. Gathered in this place of meeting, they were
attacked by mercenaries and English and Dutch. The Indians were ordered from
the building and as they came forth were shot down, the rest were burned alive
in the building. The very next day the governor declared a Thanksgiving
Day." The Pequotwar.org website reports a
similar history of what befell the Pequots.
In the last hours of moonlight, May 26, 1637,
English Puritans, with Mohegan and Narragansett allies, surround the fortified
Pequot village at Missituck (Mystic). Within an hour, 400-700 men, women, and
children are put to the sword or burned to death as the English torch the
village. Unfamiliar with war targeted at civilians, for the first time Native
Tribes experience the total devastating effects of warfare practiced by
Europeans. The Mystic massacre turned the tide against the Pequots and broke
the tribe's resistance. Many Pequots in other villages escape and hide
among other tribes. After the massacre, Governor John Winthrop proclaimed the first official "Day
of Thanksgiving" in 1637 to celebrate the return of men that had gone to Mystic, Connecticut to
fight against the Pequot.
Chilling.
On the bright side, there is an alternative story of
Thanksgiving being floated. It is the
story of San Elizario, Texas in 1598, some 23 years before the Plimouth shindig. It actually had nothing to do with Indians,
good will or peace on earth. It was
about conquest, and claiming land for the Spanish Crown. Don Juan de Onate, the Spanish Conquistador,
marched into the area with 500 Mexican and Spanish colonists, their
livestock and supplies, stretching over a mile wide. The exhausted
colonists enjoyed a repast of fowl, fruit and water on April 28, 1598, after
Onate took possession of the territory for King Phillip of Spain. He
requested the Catholic friars to say a high mass of Thanksgiving, which was a
special Catholic worship service.[1] They left the area the
next day to press on to present-day Santa Fe.
Although they called it El Paso del Norte, the area was divided by
the Rio Grande River, where the southern bank would eventually remain in Mexico
as Ciudad de Juarez, and the northern bank would become present day El Paso,
Texas after changing "many hands."
The Spanish erected the Nuestra
Señora de Guadalupe Mission on the southern bank in 1659. In
1680, after the Pueblo Revolt, the village of El Paso became the Spanish seat
of government when the Puebloans drove them from Santa Fe, New Mexico. In
1692, the Spanish seat returned to Santa Fe, after the Don Antonio Otermin
reclaimed the territory in a bloody genocide of the Ysleta and Sandia Pueblo
Indians.
El Paso was in New Mexico territory, and was the
largest New Mexican Settlement until its cession to the United States in 1848. Then, it was declared part of the state of
Texas in 1850. Straight forward enough? Well, this story is not without
controversy. In January, 2014, the El
Paso Times was reporting that the San Elizario Genealogy and Historical Society
called this first Thanksgiving story into question. They claim it was the
brainchild and marketing campaign of Sheldon Hall, a founder of the El Paso
Mission Trail Association. For its
successful promotion, the campaign apparently translated into funding from the
state government. If that is so, why
does the San Elizario Genealogy and Historical Society website, at this
writing, still provide a page for the “1st Thanksgiving and Don Juan
de Onate?”
What we do know is that the account that Onate
entered El Paso and took the soil for the crown is true. Does it really matter if we call the feast
after that Thanksgiving? Both events represent
an invasion of the territory.
Ironically, both events represent the eventual genocide of the American
Indian. Read your history on what led to
the Pueblo revolt to know how many Puebloans were lost to the conquistadors
through enslavement and murder. What flies
in the face of reason is the false notion that the meals that were shared, were
with people the colonists considered equals and, for the purpose of spreading
good will. History simply doesn’t
support this view, as heartwarming as it may be.
Some in academia, like sociologist and professor, Dan
Brook believe that we should reflect on what we are really celebrating. ”We do not have to feel guilty, but we do
need to feel something. At the very least, we need to reflect on how and what
we feel. We should also review our history and what it means to us and others,
while we must rethink our adopted traditions, including our Thanksgiving High
Holy Day.” (Celebrating Genocide, Dan Brook, Counterpunch, November 26, 2002). Professor Robert Jensen from the University
of Texas at Austin has suggested that the holiday be replaced with a national
day of atonement.
I propose that while we’re giving thanks with our
families and friends this Thursday, we should genuinely reflect on these
initial contacts, and all who suffered in its wake. The bondage, sexual exploitation, removal, starvation,
disease and genocide should never be forgotten, nor celebrated. The story of the colonists is not a fairy
tale where we all live happily ever after.
For the Indians, Africans, and the women who resisted subjugation and
were branded witches it was a story of sorrow and disquiet. It is important to
remember that the “discovery” of America; the landing on these shores by the
explorers, the colonists, both Pilgrim and Puritans, the specters of manifest
destiny, and westward expansion exacted a heavy toll on everyone in its path,
especially the Indians. The Wampanoags
and other native peoples mourn on the fourth Thursday in November every year at
Plymouth. Why don’t we? When will we collectively mourn the sins of
the colonists and the founding fathers instead of making up a cartoonish
holiday to make it all feel right? When will it feel okay to tell the truth
about our history? When will the victors stop arguing that these events
happened a long time ago, so they shouldn’t have to feel anything about what their ancestors did? Does the passage of
time erase our history? Should history
be written in disappearing ink? It has been said that we are doomed to repeat
history if we never acknowledge the sins of the past, yet we are outraged and
sometimes moved to action when we see a story on the evening news about pit
bulls forced to fight. Yes, of course,
we should abhor animal cruelty, but we should also be moved by the effect of a
legacy of colonization, subjugation and the forced removal of people in the
quest for independence and democracy.
Especially when the effects continue to manifest today. The truth of these interactions in 1621
should be acknowledged, shared, and lamented around the roast turkey, along
with our individual blessings. Let’s
embrace this proposal and not yawn. (The vanquished are still here, and in this
moment are throwing off the cloak of defeat).
Perhaps then, the animus, suspicion and injury can gradually remove, and
a healing history can be written in indelible ink.
Reflect on this Turkey Day!
References not listed above:
For those who want to underscore the fact that
these references are largely from the internet, yes, you are correct. This is
not abstract for a thesis; it’s not even a book report. It’s a blog post composed largely of my
opinion, so on this subject, I didn’t feel compelled to read a bunch of books
that perpetuate the myth. That list is reported below. Reading the original source work by Winslow
and Bradford was probably all that I needed to consult. How instructive those
entries are! Some of the articles and sources reflect a Native American
perspective as well as some open-minded academicians who have researched this subject. I hope that if you, reader, do not begin a
dialogue on this issue with me, you will with your friends and family,
especially your children. It’s time to
hear all voices so that we can reconstruct our fractured history.
San Elizario Genealogical Society and Historical
Society. http://www.epcounty.com/sanelizariomuseum/history_thanksgiving.htm
Plimoth Plantation website. http://www.plimoth.org/learn/MRL/read/thanksgiving-history; http://www.plimoth.org/learn/MRL/interact/thanksgiving-interactive-you-are-historian
“The Wampanoag Side of the First Thanksgiving
Story” http://indiancountrytodaymedianetwork.com/2011/11/22/wampanoag-side-first-thanksgiving-story-64076
Exploring the Economics of the First
Thanksgiving: http://www.pbs.org/newshour/bb/business-july-dec13-plantation_11-28/
Mourt’s Relation
Source: Documents of Holland, 13 Volume Colonial
Documentary History, letters and reports form colonial officials to their
superiors and the King in England and the private papers of Sir William
Johnson, British Indian agent for the New York colony for 30 years. Researched
by William B. Newell (Penobscot Tribe) Former Chairman of the University of
Connecticut Anthropology Department.
[1] Just as the religious celebration
of the birth of Christ (Christmas) has been coopted into a secular, commercial
holiday, the modern thanksgiving traditon has suffered the same fate by
adoption of feel good Pilgrim story, celebrated through turkey, stuffing, and
Black Friday. (A day of Thanksgiving in
the Catholic tradition is a day of high praise to the Lord, God through
celebration of the Eucharist; the Jewish tradition celebrate Sukkot.
William Bradford, a hebraist studied these traditions extensively, and
arguably incorporated them into the separatist religious traditions; the Church
of England from which the Puritans separated, celebrate the Day of Thanksgiving
for the Institution of the Holy Communion.
Some of these traditions find roots in the pagan harvest festivals.)
Sunday, November 9, 2014
Red Rock Ride
Aptly named for the terra cotta
hoodoos, cliffs, ridges and other rock formations, the Red Rock Ride (RRR) is a
six-day trail ride that traverses large swaths of southern Utah and Northern
Arizona. On the trail, we meandered
through the canyons of Zion, Bryce, Paria and Casto. We moved through parts of the Dixie National
Forest and ended the trek at the Grand Canyon by entering at its north rim.
This trip is clearly the highlight of my riding life. I seized this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity
to ride through these remote and historic canyons like so many pioneers,
cowboys, and outlaws, more than two centuries ago. The ride was a gift and a blessing that I can
thankfully recall when life becomes bland and mundane.
It has been difficult to write
about this trip because it was so grand.
Three years ago, I was lured to the West by whispers from Canyon de
Chelly (CDC). It’s hard to explain the
draw I felt to this region, but I heard, responded, and then satisfied an
intense desire to ride there. The need
to ride on the canyon floor and regard the canyon from below, in my smallest
self, as the Diné (Navajo) had
once done before the Long Walk became
paramount.
In preparation, I took riding
lessons and read a prolific number of historical accounts of the area. It was important to ride with a Diné guide who could provide valuable insight to what I
was seeing. Shortly after our arrival on
the floor, the clarity of the canyon coupled with the serene sounds of nature culled
my sensibilities into an emotional release that was cathartic. As I sensed the
presence of the innocents who were lost during the genocide of 1864, I was
stilled by the words of my guide, Victoria, who said, as I stood weeping in
front of the White House Ruins, “At least we got the canyon back.” In that moment, I was able to release myself
from mourning to look at the positive legacy of the Dinétah.
So, I digressed into a post about the
CDC to say that once I entered that canyon, I knew that one day I would continue
my journey and visit other canyons in the region. The prospect of visiting Bryce and Paria were
enough for me to sign up nearly 10 months in advance.
The RRR is the grand tour of trail
rides. Each day I was exposed to a
unique tableau of terrain, sky and weather.
Two hundred years ago, presence in these canyons would have questioned daily
survival. Every turn revealed a room
greater than the last. It is possible to be simultaneously austere
and ostentatious, as these canyons exhibit. As we trekked, at times, it felt like the
canyon was endlessly replicating itself, like the house in Stephen King’s novel,
Rose Red. In a way it does, through
erosion and time. Throughout the day, it
was amazing to see the colors transition from subdued terra cotta hues to
vibrant shades of vermillion with the changing angle of the sun. The dry air, high altitude, and the dazzling
sun can lull you into dehydration and altitude sickness. I wonder if the early pioneers witnessed
beauty or felt despair.
I find the high desert mesmeric,
intoxicating, and deliciously dangerous.
There’s something awesome staring down from high at hoodoos, and sand
bridges while simultaneously defying a fear of heights. It’s risky riding so
high on animals that can spook at seemingly inaudible sounds or a flapping
jacket. More perceptive than when practicing
yoga, riding horses has taught me how to truly be present in the moment. My horse, Dandy was an amazing little roan
quarter who had recently emigrated from Mexico.
Even though he was a workhorse in his former self, he was gutsy,
reliable, friendly, and safe. We bonded
almost instantly (after he attempted to roll in the warm sand, seconds after
the trail boss warned of such frolics).
We developed a mutual trust; mastering the give and take required for a
successful pairing. He carried me
through those treacherous parts like a pure professional—he is a thinker and a problem
solver, which I appreciated when the height became too dizzying.
The wranglers of this outfit are outstanding
and deserve heart-felt thanks from all who ride with them. They are attentive, alert and were willing to
help you in any way needed on the trail.
They also made an effort to get to know each of us individually, while
sharing parts of their lives. I was very
impressed with the level of care and professionalism they expressed to our
group of forty riders. The owners of the
RRR, the Mangums, the Houstons, and their families understand the meaning of
hospitality, and succeeded in making everyone feel welcome and
appreciated. Their positivity opened a
space where we could all interact, discuss the day’s ride, and in some cases, begin
to create lasting friendships. The
stories shared by Keela Mangum about her ancestors, the Mormon pioneers who
first traversed the Paria Box and slot trails were remarkable, and added a
nuanced and deeply personal perspective to our rides.
The Grand Canyon was one of the
most astonishing canyons that we visited.
Massive, intimidating, and a dozen other adjectives could not describe
the immeasurable beauty one witnesses here.
I followed the rim tour with our wrangler, Hank, and three others
instead of the straight-legged switchback tour with the rest of the group. I enjoyed the vantage point of this trail on
mules, as it was low stress, and offered spectacular views from 8,500 feet. We
traveled through the forest along the Ken Patrick Trail, ending at Uncle Jim’s
Point. Here, and on the drive into the
park, we witnessed the remnants of the devastation resulting from the Park Service’s
prescribed burn in 2000, which destroyed over 14,000 acres when it blew out of
hand. As you’ll see from the photos this
experience will not likely be forgotten.
What’s more to say? The ride was an amazing experience. Although I didn’t experience the same
emotional connection to these canyons, as I did in Canyon de Chelly; it was neither
a requirement, nor an expectation. I was
pleased to see the natural wonders and beauty of the American Southwest
manifested in the hoodoos and ridges of the canyon badlands.
Why Travel is Necessary
I was
finishing up a post on the Red Rock Ride, and this post/rant injected
itself.
My travels in
the American Southwest have introduced me to people of different faiths,
ethnicities, races, and cultures who have a story to tell, and are willing to
tell it, if you talk to them. The beauty
in these encounters, for me, has been the raw truth of their experience. It becomes clear when you talk to people who have not forgotten, that history isn’t
written by the vanquished, but by the victors.
Sadly, relevant native voices were absent from my Red Rock Ride tour,
but I did hear, ever so briefly, the familiar reference of the aggressive
Indian who could not receive change. I
would have like to have heard the Paiute perspective on westward expansion by
the pioneers, and their own experiences in the canyons that we visited. Utah, named for the Ute Indians roughly means
in several native languages people of the mountain or people who live up high. Ironically, the victors backhandedly revere
their “brute” neighbors by naming cities, towns and even whole states after
them. Funny that.
I recently
read an article by Binyavanga Wainaina called, “How to Write About
Africa.” This piece should serve as a benchmark
for how we speak and write about other racial and ethnic groups, such as the
American Indian, African-Americans, and even whole countries. You may have noticed that there is a definite
institutionalized racism when reading about the American Indian. I have written before how certain Indian
tribal names invoke fear and distrust, even today. Luckily, education on and off the reservation
has helped produce, among others, historians, writers and artists who are using
their talents to create a tapestry of a new history that is palatable to the
victors, and regarded by their peers.
What I find
amazing is that the way we think of, speak and write about people who are
different from ourselves in the media, in literature and in everyday
conversation hasn’t changed much in 200 years.
Throwing off outmoded terms to describe people is not political
correctness, but a measure of enlightenment, intelligence, and respect. Recently, I heard someone refer to an East
Asian person as “Oriental.” I was
flummoxed because this person is probably 40 years old, and lives in a major
metropolitan area! When I suggested that the term oriental more appropriately
refers to objects that relate to or come from the Orient, and to call a person
Oriental is offensive, I was met with the political correctness argument, and/or,
that his intent was not to offend.
Sigh. It costs nothing to open
your eyes and see the world around you.
Read. Turn the channel away from
those conservative pundits, and talk to people outside of your community. Watch a foreign film. (I know you don’t like the sub-titles). But, most importantly, travel! Learn about different cultures. Travel doesn’t require taking a second
mortgage on your home, or crossing oceans.
These cultures exist in your own country, sometimes just across town. Join an international Meetup group if you
cannot afford to travel. Talk to people,
no matter who they are.
In the wake
of the Michael Brown shooting in Ferguson, Missouri and the countless other
senseless killings of young African-American males in past months, to the
Ebola crisis in West Africa, to the unrest in the Middle East and around the
world we should all reflect: through
what prism do we view these conflicts?
How well-informed are we? Are we just grabbing sound bites that reinforce
our own prejudices and notions? Where do
we seek information? Hear another perspective. Start a helpful dialogue.
I have been
fortunate to meet so many people from all walks
of life, out in New Mexico, Arizona and Utah. I think it is a little easier because I am
open to it, being on vacation and all, but I have witnessed others on vacation with no
interest in interacting with the native peoples selling their wares on the
Pueblo, or even with the locals in the area. Maybe it is because I desire and seek a
certain level of truth that you cannot always read about, but must experience
through interaction and a reasonable exchange of ideas. I am not special in this regard. For me, travel is more about meeting the
locals, than it is about seeing a city’s monuments. In this space, I have tried to share some of
my encounters, but they are often difficult to reduce to words. Upasatti (whom we met in Silver City Vibe)
said it well, "There is no how . . . you just be."
I find it uncomfortable
sometimes to speak to others who believe that being respectful, thoughtful, and
enlightened exacts too large of a price for them, so instead they reduce these
virtues to platitudes, rather than goals to strive for. From time to time, we all harbor prejudices and jump to conclusions because we are ill-informed, but a sentient person
recognizes her weakness and moves closer to truth, rather than away from
it.
So,
travel.
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