I live in a relatively sterile city within a population of bland and homogenous people of little character who do little to get to know one another. It is the fifth-largest city in America: Phoenix, Arizona. Conformity is our largest industrial product with banality being its most harmful pollutant. The air quality from this constant smog of soul-crushing monotony does have the positive effect of adding a layer of brilliance to all things surrounding the place I call home.
When I’m in Europe, I live in the vibrance of places of great cultural activity where someone is writing, making music, planning a vacation, celebrating life, and exploring potential.
I’m fully aware that these activities are alive and taking place here in Phoenix, but that most tiny locus of creators struggles under a veneer of fear that is the foundation of existence here in the desert and, to a large extent, most of America for that matter. Our safety net is fragile, and for the individual, the holes in that webbing are so great that the idea of not crashing into the open jaws of personal destruction is unfathomable. Being accepted is a paramount concern when fitting in is the straightjacket we are bound within, which also restricts our opportunity to discover a unique self.
A creator in Europe can struggle for years without concerns about insurance, transportation needs, a roof over their head, or the basics of things like food, as there are ways to accommodate those needs without working 80 hours a week and still not earning enough to pursue a meaningful life.
When I left America for Europe in 1985, Starbucks wasn’t yet a ubiquitous operation. As a matter of fact, the United States did not have a coffee shop culture. In Europe, I found a thriving coffee shop, cafe, and Konditorei (cake & coffee) culture where friends and family would meet to chat. Dinner was and remains an affair that consumes a good couple of hours of hanging out, as servers do not need to turn tables to have more tips walking in the door.
In America, when I visit coffee shops, cafes, and diners, I eavesdrop on the conversations about the love/hate of guns, politicians, celebrities, rich people, poor people, liberals, the health care system, cost of living, immigrants, law enforcement, conspiracies, homeless people, and the list goes on.
In Europe when I visit coffee shops, cafes, and Konditoreis, I eavesdrop on fragments of conversations about music, vacations, TV, weather, international politics, food, and friends. At times, I hear them lamenting fascists, how crowded a beloved city has become, immigrants, or the crazy person who recently vandalized something.
When on vacation in America in Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon, or the Great Smoky Mountains, I hear American and foreign tourists celebrating how amazed they are. Their happiness shines through as they are overwhelmed by the enthusiasm for how spectacular the moment is.
Here’s my reasoning behind this post: when I’m in Phoenix, I find it hard to write on a daily basis, especially creatively. That’s not true when I’m somewhere away from America’s large cities where life is happening at a different speed unless I’m in an economically depressed town in decay. I can easily and happily write when in any environment in Europe or in America’s National Parks. Today I was wondering, why is that so? I live in a place that prizes individualism and so the majority of conversations revolve around personal identity and one’s accomplishments, while in Europe, the collective resonates out of conversations. We endlessly complain about the non-existent social fabric of our country and heap hate on all those who exploit the individual while simultaneously demanding that the individual and their rights are the only paramount concern that exists. In Europe, the complaint might be about disappearing traditions, but what serves the entire culture is of paramount concern. New train lines, improving bicycle and pedestrian zones, expanding museums, fixing the environment, or building a new park where a factory once stood are all reasons to see the good in politics and taxes amongst average Europeans.
Then, I realized that, secretly, Americans likely desire the exact same safety net and social fabric as people from other countries. Otherwise, how do we explain the #MeToo Movement, BLM, GoFundMe, and the multitude of other groups that are trying to help the collective? Before a chorus arises taking me to task for minimizing the true reason behind these entities, please understand that it is not my intention to slight the importance of what’s at the core of those organizations but to emphasize how people on the periphery of those movements want to lend power because the collective is that important to our survival.
Keep the masses in fear and striving to fit in so they might earn some small part of the pie and not be rendered destitute, and you have added another brick in the wall of conformity. Use the evening news to offer a granular and microscopic look at the worst dirt we have to attack people’s sense of security, and the fear for their own safety will be a popular reminder that we need strong controllers to protect us. This then is adopted by captains of industry, which is evidenced by their extraordinary pay, so they must be doing something essential for my well-being if they are going to earn those millions. But by doing this, it is as though we are looking at the bacterial layer on the skin between two toes instead of recognizing the whole person. By distracting us with chimeras, we lose sight of reality.
We become easily confused about what authenticity is, and with so many conflicting messages from self-anointed authorities breeding mental illness, the machine grinds along, feeding a money supply responsible for intellectual and physical slavery to the brand of cult consumption. Just keep extrapolating anecdotal nonsense as being some kind of national trend of great relevance, and soon, a plurality of your population will believe that these anomalies must be the very character of our nation. Should you be so unfortunate to realize it’s broken, you may start to believe that we must fix it, but there will never be a fix because the fixers are the very same people who are telling you that what they have done is what must be repaired. The vicious cycle of our own stupidity feeds itself.
So, do authenticity, real individuality, and truly curious characters still exist in America? It is found in infants and some children, in handicapped people, and in those rare individuals who don’t care much about conformity. For everyone else, the reality is to survive the game of fear and be thankful for the scraps thrown at them while allowing the chasm of denial to consume the bits of intellectual curiosity that might have existed at some other time in their lives.
But isn’t this way off from what I suggested above about finding the space to write creatively? When I’m in places where people are generally celebrating life, I pick up on that vibe and find myself able to let go of the tensions that follow me when I’m in aggressive spaces and locations. It’s as though those neurons in my gut are talking to other guts in turmoil, which drives my distraction. It’s time to go find others experiencing happy thoughts.