American Soul

Revelations are no more than familiar circumstances looked upon with open eyes. I know nothing more today than I knew yesterday.

Throughout my travels outside the United States I have encountered an overwhelming number of considerate and thoughtful people. I've found them, too, just off the boat or just having crossed the river. I also count them among my compatriots, but the number is anything but overwhelming. It appears to me that immigrants are bestowed with virtues that seem to escape their American born children. It has been my fortune that most of the foreign cultures that I've encountered foster humility and mutual respect. Bad people are bad people everywhere. But kindness and generosity are sucked out of genuinely good people while they search for the American dream.

The nuns taught me that the soul is not buried deep inside the chest, but engulfs the entire body. Our soul is who we are. With time, the American soul penetrates all who make it their home. It infects the old and possesses the newly born. There might have been a time when it was vibrant and life affirming, but I believe the American soul has become cancerous and self destructive. If it can be said that there is a general decline in the humanity of humanity, I believe it can be attributed to the pervasiveness of American culture throughout the world.

I am often asked two questions: Why would I want to leave the United States, and why would I want to live in Mexico.

I live entirely without television. This has afforded me a life of peace and contentment that I rarely find in others. The horrific events in these first years of the third millennium have forced my eyes wide open. Circumstances are not good and I find myself an active member of the guilty party. I feel sick with responsibility and must escape if I am to feel well again. A better man might stay and fight for change, but it's too late for me.

Mexico City is full of corruption, poverty, and pollution. New York City, New Orleans, Los Angeles, and Houston are full of corruption, poverty, and pollution. Why would anyone choose to live there? Those who warn me of the dangers have universally never set foot in Mexico, D.F. I leave it to the visitor to understand what attracts me to the second largest city in the world. But it is Mexican culture, the Mexican people that compel me to make my home there.

A young boy snatches a woman's purse and runs quickly down the street. Dozens of men, some emerging from nearby shops, chase the boy down, bruise him up a bit, find a cop, and return the purse.

I sit on a sunny park bench with a newspaper. An older gentleman sits next to me and asks to borrow the sports section. We begin a conversation that lasts for an hour and ends with an invitation to dinner with his wife, children, and grandchildren.

A man enters a bar. Before his first drink he greets everyone he knows with a handshake and a squeeze of the shoulder. He spends a little time asking how things are going. He met me the day before, so I am treated the same. I learn to do this everywhere I go.

Robbery is rampant. Graft is pervasive. Domestic violence is the norm. Women are second class citizens. The police are corrupt and have too much power. Many people work an 80 hour week for just enough to get by. Alcoholism is of epidemic proportions. Poverty shows a different face. If you see someone sleeping in the street he is likely drunk or a traveler visiting the capitol city with no money for a place to stay. There are certainly more, poorer people than in the United States, but they don't often face their poverty alone---

Family and friends are of highest priority. This is a universal truth in Mexico. I need to be surrounded by this ethic. I need to feel in every waking moment that I am an integral part of my surroundings, not the rugged individual that my country expects me to be. In the United States we are connected by cell phones and email. Mexicans connect with a handshake and a squeeze of the shoulder. I'm moving to Mexico to have my shoulder squeezed.