Now I Am Here

“The world is material. We are always in a certain place. Now I am here.” - Autumn, Karl Ove Knausgaard

As a Social Studies teacher, a wide variety of courses get thrown your way - geography, sociology, law, psychology, history, economics - it depends on the school and course offerings, but most of the 'soft sciences' end up being something one might encounter along a career in the profession. In my 6th year of teaching, I took on human geography; the intersection of human culture and development with geography. The course itself is a distillation of social studies in a way - covering everything from linguistic development to demographics to agricultural systems.The cultural landscape is something I had never really considered deeply, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense and ultimately became one of my favorite classes to teach. Something that struck me most when beginning to study the subject in order to teach it was the influence of place on linguistic development. The native peoples of the Arctic Circle civilizations have many words for winter conditions that speak to not only what's coming out of the sky, but the conditions on the ground and whether or not said conditions are conducive to walking about. The perceptive abilities of humans will never be fully translate-able into verbal expression, but necessity can lead to amazing feats of human creation. 

Thinking about the interplay of humans and their environments, I hold an affinity toward extreme landscapes and often, those who come from them (or at least, the art they produce while in them). When the land itself is not welcoming to person or a people, it does something to their understanding of the world. So many Americans live in prefabricated neighborhoods and are entirely engulfed by the man-made as to never have to encounter the frightening vastness Earth has to offer. Since high school, I've personally wanted to see the Mojave Desert. The starkness of the desert biome has been likened to an extraterrestrial one many times; perhaps that's a deeply anthropocentric view. We did not create such vacancy; in fact, such traits are anathema to a social primate's instinctual desire for proximity and comfort, but that does not mean such landscapes do not belong here. Standing alone in a desert (hot or cold) surrounded for miles by emptiness would send anyone into an existential crisis after a while. Hell, it'd even make people want to live in Las Vegas just to avoid the uncomfortable nothingness. Humans are not so different from the  rhesus monkeys in Harlow's infamous psychology experiments. Primates, and likely many other animals, would give up actual nourishment for psychological comfort and security. Of course this might be a stretch of an analogy, but there is a degree of truth to why so many of us choose to live in less than ideal surroundings in exchange for the access to convenience of modern living, for the comfort of conformity with other members of our species.

For those who know me and have heard me fangirl over the epigraph's author, Karl Ove Knausgaard, you may also be aware that Norway is one of those places that calls to me. The extreme landscape has not only produced one of my all-time favorite writers, but also some of my favorite musicians. There is a conservative, Lutheran culture in Norway that I would venture to guess all of these artists have chafed against to produce their craft, a point that could be dissected in and of itself at length. What links the expressions that come from this environment is their reverence for the physical world that surrounds them. Even within the intense focus on his own mind for Knausgaard's six volume "autobiographical" novel,his writing has an expansiveness to it. Here we are, mining the depths of the mind of a middle aged man, and somehow we're faced with the unity of all of our own consciousnesses. Whether we want to admit it or not, we've all secretly scowled through meetings or cursed our friends or resented the existence of our most cherished. That internal struggle to be outwardly compassionate and inwardly curmudgeonly is not reserved for his experience. And although his work is not some sort of revelation in the sense that it's exactly saying something new, it does break through the confines of what we are supposed to publicly admit and feel about those whom with we share our lives.  

I've also been reading David Wojnarowicz's In the Shadow of the American Dream, which is a collection of his diaries from his teens through his fame and ultimate death from AIDS. There's something about the America he describes that reminds me of now; a brokenness or failure of culture that marginalizes those who do not fit in. The definition of who doesn't fit in is always shifting -that's the game. Sometimes marginalized groups are brought into the fold and a new "other" appears. Whomever the other is, however, within that marginalization there is a sort of freedom to create and be who you are. Although, on the other side, being persecuted for the exact same reasons comes along with those spaces. In final diaries, he's dying of AIDS-related complications, feeling as though his body has betrayed him but also that others have as well by continuing to live their mundane lives while he's thrust into the existential crisis of death. Living through a virus-caused pandemic right now, it's chilling to think about all of the parallels to the continued horrors of not knowing what the virus will do to a human host - Kaposi's sarcoma in young men? Blood clots that kill? We've lived this before. But death remains the ultimate "othering" - we shunt the dead and dying off into margins of our minds, even when they're the ones we love. The vastness of death is that existential desert we just can't bear to look at. 

Early into this pandemic, there was a moment where Americans really did seem to be at the precipice of an awakening to being more accepting of the unknown. People were spending more time outside, driving less, consuming less. As the pandemic has worn on and become more and more a politicized weapon, whatever desire for change has faded not because people care less but because they are made to suppress their desire for revolution. The pull of modern life plays on our desire for comfort and provides emotional shelter from mortality. Constant talk about returning to life as we knew it forms a sort of nostalgia for the old (even if it only mere months ago). Covid deaths continue to climb; we tend to understand the threat less and less, as the numbers become more and more abstract the higher they go. Similarly, the environmental crisis that looms in our near future has also kept us from dealing directly with the problem. The problem is our way of life. We must change, not the environment. We are part of the environment and must remember all of the times it has humbled us - even if one hasn't ever seen a town laid to waste by a tornado or hurricane, maybe a beautiful sunset gave pause, or a giant clap of thunder rattled one's brain. 

Sojourning through a desert for years on end in search of answers isn't a reasonable expectation for most to have. However, opening one's self to accept the existential expanse that is all around us is feasible even within the confines of a suburban hellscape. 

Musical Epilogue:
 
Although they're not Norwegian, American greats Mastodon have encapsulated this vastness perfectly in the song below....

But what does it mean, the plague? It's life, that's all.

"But what does it mean, the plague? It's life, that's all." - Albert Camus, The Plague

It's not that anyone really wants a plague when the phrase, "We need another plague," is thrown around to express frustrations at some current situation. But those nihilistically jokey statements came true in 2020. We're facing a pandemic head-on with wildly varying responses on both from individual to individual as well as governing body to governing body worldwide. Much like natural disasters, wars or terrorist attacks, this pandemic has brought out the best in many people -banding together to help those in need, and in this case, halting the normal pace of life to 'flatten the curve' and prevent further transmission of the virus to other people, especially those more at risk due to weaker immune systems.

Of course, there are many that are flouting any sort of precaution because not only does the idea of community disgust them, they're so insecure in their ego that any threat must be taken as a personal affront rather than a collective problem to solve. The non-religious anti-vax movement falls deeply into the latter camp. It unites the ultra-libertarians and certain circles of wealthy liberals who bristle at not having complete control over every situation in their lives. Ironically, their beliefs will put them and their loves ones more at risk and under constant threat of disease, or if they're lucky enough to be healthy with robust immune systems, their privilege to choose not to vaccinate will gravely endanger others within their communities. In either case, their choice leads to less control, not more. 

The other aspect of a catastrophe like the pandemic we're undergoing is that exposes the systems that surround us for what they are - constructs of our own making. Like any physical construct, our bureaucratic constructs require maintenance. Throughout the world, 'lacks' within the governing bodies of major political players are increasingly harder to ignore in these times. China and Russia are egregious examples of states that employ surveillance, subterfuge and subjugation in order to maintain a status quo; that status quo only applies to the ruling parties however, with all others becoming canon fodder for the virus or the economy. Th US has a handful of pundits that have followed suit - sowing doubt and discord through social media platforms, encouraging people to carry on as normal and disregard safety precautions for the sake of the almighty dollar.

More glaring and widely problematic in the American case is the lack of civic awareness that has led us to the point of having a leader in office who is uniquely incapable of leading, even when the most basic guidance would be welcome to the fear this unseen threat instills in all of us. For all of the angry masses of liberals that were shook "woke"by 2016's election results, there are some of us who have been lamenting the dangers of a lack of civic engagement beyond voting for years. Only being aware enough of politics to vote once every 4 years is a privilege that most Americans do not have. Unfortunately, the federal and state governments dominated by Republicans for decades prior gutted civics education with continual cuts to public education funding. A dual party 'concern' with America's waning education system in the early 2000s swept a series of federal mandates into being, focusing on reading and mathematics skills and emphasizing 'proficient' standardized testing scores as the hallmark of quality education. All of these monetary slights and public statements against the public education system have eroded not only particular programs like civics, practical and fine arts, but wider trust in public education as an institution. As guardians have been holed up with their children for the past month, I think it has become increasingly clear to many the service that is provided on a daily basis for their students, which hopefully will have the lasting effect of seeing value in keeping this particular institution up and running well for many years to come. 

Linking education to the larger point about institutions, one of the amazing things about teaching history has been seeing students draw connections across space and time with their own experiences. So when students stop and say, "Oh wait...that way back when is like this today," it helps to reinforce the importance of knowing something beyond one's own now. Through understanding the past and our own institutions, we can get to the point of bringing new ideas to old problems. And sometimes those institutions may require more hands on maintenance. There has to be an acceptance that we may have grown beyond original designs or intentions of the Constitution and the constructs it put in place. I personally don't keep my baby onesies hanging in my closet hoping to fit into them one day again. The current pressures on our system have exposed what journalists and political scientists and even the lay history student have opined about for years. Topics like  - do we need new forms of representation that equalizes the voice  of votes (so that Wyoming voters don't have a larger "say" than Californian voters), is the electoral college a remnant of an era  bygone (and prior to universal public education), are lobbyists running the country's legislative branch, et al. - need to come to the fore.

As I sat watching the Tiger King documentary, like so many millions of people did last week, I thought to myself, this is a metaphor for America right here. An unabashedly selfish man, living his own fantasy, destroyed various peoples' lives only to have his own ending be as tragic and fitting as though Shakespeare himself penned it. And yet, Joe Exotic encapsulates the American dream in a disturbed way, the American dream not as some great founding father with an education in  Enlightenment thought may have laid it out, but surely the American dream that is sold to the millions of us who live in this world of endless consumerism. Joe consumed people as much as material goods. Even in tough times, his end goal was always to come out on top, not to save his animals, or to help his employees or even to protect his own spouse(s). For the rest of us, we don't need to have the sad, twisted American dream. We can take this moment to actually do something good for everyone, even if that only translates to staying home and watching Netflix. 

“What’s true of all the evils in the world is true of plague as well. It helps men to rise above themselves.”
― Albert Camus, The Plague

Where Has the American Spirit Gone?

“Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later? Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era—the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . .

History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of “history” it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time—and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened...

There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .

And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.” - HST, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

          This is what "American" is- non-entrenchment. It's what I see in truly American artwork - as in the product of a wholly AMERICAN upbringing. There's some danger, some mystery, a sense of wonder that can only appear in a place where the boundaries, both materially and culturally are nebulous. The American point of view stands apart from the Eurocentric perspective that has dominated most of the modern world. Perhaps as a former colony, the US benefits from the post-colonial freedom of ideology and thought (bracketing out American colonial attitudes, obviously).

The American perspective is an attempt to encapsulate the "wild frontier"; to somehow relay the hopes that only looking over new horizons can bring through artistic expression. Of course these lofty feelings are tethered to the crushing pain of remembering that even with such hopes of the undiscovered within, all of us will one day die.

The Japanese concept of mono no aware is the most similar, non-American aesthetic I can relate this feeling to. The beauty in that "hope" of new life that is soured slightly by knowing the ending to all our stories. That bittersweet feeling of burgeoning possibilities and impending doom wrapped into one experience. How can such sorrow be the truth? And yet, who has come back to tell us otherwise? Jesus is a parable - his return is only to confirm the obvious - that the pain and suffering is worth it in the end. You are consciously experiencing reality for a brief moment in the span of this universe's life. Even the Judaic concept of waiting on the messiah is a metaphor for how to live our own lives. We can pray on the coming of a savior - to settle back and look for someone to guide us through, bu tin the meantime, why not do it ourselves?

American culture has lost the sacred cord back to mortality. The obsessions with youth, the now, "winning" are all part of the veil we willingly draw over our own eyes. Compliance, complacence, convenience and conformity has taken over our landscapes - again, both materially and culturally. When everything is easily answerable and "at hand," the mind tends to wonder, "Is this all?" We're ALL the 'kept' housewives of the post-war era. Some of us have started to chafe a little, but no
one is willing to risk the big push toward change. In this case, what would be a desirable outcome of 'revolution'? How can we successfully integrate technological advancements into our lives in more productive ways? Will a profit motive always incentivize playing to/preying on basic human weaknesses? 

Crushing artistic expression under the weight of commercial success has had a deleterious effect not only on expression, but on the collective consciousness. Art for consumption has supplanted art for art's sake. So what is lost when we take individual expression out of the equation? Hasn't there always been pulp/pop art? Sure. There's no question that art for consumption isn't a new development. The difference is that in its current iteration, everything is stylized, from 99 cent mascara tubes to high-end Teslas. Eye fatigue sets in. The brain becomes accustomed to the beautiful, forever pushing our standards for acceptability higher. But we need a break. We need something weird, ugly, frustrating to reset our minds.

Consider how we learn, from day one. Children are little explorers - they need challenges, stumbling blocks, to learn how to think and act independently from their caregivers. And yet, many adults go through life minimizing any and all frustrations - searching for something online? no way! lines at the bank? ew. Going to the supermarket? ugh. Crow's feet around the eyes? blech. Ultimately, this isn't a snowflake problem - it's an everyone problem. No one can wait - and god forbid we feel not-convenienced, let alone inconvenienced! A Bad Yelp! review to follow....For all of our time-saving and age-defying innovations, are we spending our "freed up" time engaged in amazingly humanitarian acts? To be honest, its our time and we can whatever the fuck we want with it, but let's not lie to ourselves that scrolling through social media feeds and liking/sharing memes is saving the world. And to boot, most of us seem to be bored by what's presented as the norm.

How do we recapture the American spirit? Of course, there are those on the fringes of or entirely outside of popular culture that have never lost it. If you're not looking hard enough, they may be tough to spot. And if you are yourself living there, it's a lonely road sometimes. But without struggle, we don't learn, grow and evolve. At this point, we need to. Our country is at a crossroads - our entire species is, really - we either adapt or we destroy the planet for the sake of out own convenience.