Anti-Nationalism and Open Minds

I've got a cool story before I start on my nationalism thing.

Last Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday I was packing a couple out of Manhattan. They were moving to Washington D.C. On Tuesday, they bought me lunch and I spent an hour and a half talking to them. They were moving to DC because he had taken a job with the NIH (and now reports directly to Kathleen Sebielius). While in Manhattan, she was a doctor and he was employed at KSU as a vet professor. Before they were in Manhattan, they lived in Wisconsin, where she was a cancer research specialist at Mayo Clinic. Turns out they've lived in plenty of other places around the world and in the US. Oh yeah, they're now naturalized US citizens, too. Originally from Peru.

I mention this because we spent some time talking about my travel plans. They had some very good insight, very good thoughts. Namely, everyone from this area is great, but they are clones. Their parents have lived here, they grow up here, go to school here, live here, the cycle continues. Which isn't a bad thing. But, as she said, it creates clones. There was a lot of focus on having an open mind. We spoke a lot about being true to yourself as well. And as much as I thought I was, I still have a lot to learn...

But the last thing she said to me made me feel great. She said, "You may not know where you're going or what you're doing yet, but you'll be alright. You're going to do great things, important things." That, coming from a woman who is doing cutting edge research on one of the most dangerous diseases in humanity and who knows people of the caliber of knowledge and work such as her husband...that means something to me.

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Now for the topic at hand. Recently, I've been feeling very anti-patriotic. Very anti-nationalist. Meaning I feel a detachment from the label "American" and the desire to call this place my home. Not that I'm ashamed or un-proud, by any means. I'm not quite sure what to make of it, even after my conversation with Cody at the Bean last night (I'm sensing a pattern here...).

For the sake of explanation, we decided that "nationality" is the foundations of origin and moral belief. My detachment stems from the fact that, quite simply, I don't want to be a person of one place. I want to be a citizen of the world. I feel that claiming a nationality is a limiting factor on the openness of one's mind. When you have these preconceived notions, far too often you're not willing to look beyond those. For example, in Amsterdam say, should I not smoke with a new friend because it's deemed unhealthy and illegal in America?

I need to continue this one...it's not done yet. It's just not written yet, either.

Stranger Stories

Last night (with the moral support of Cody) I left a book at the Classic Bean on Fairlawn.

It was inspired by the PostSecret project, and conceived with the prospect of taking the project one step further. For those of you who don't know, PostSecret is an art project created by Frank Warren in which anonymous people from all over the world send their secrets to him on postcards. The primary idea is that we all have secrets and we all share secrets. We are more unified than we know.

The book, a small leatherbind, has instructions on the first two pages:

1. The current owner of the book should write something. It can be a secret, a drawing, a story, a song...it doesn't matter, and can be any length. So long as it is true about that person. Also, preferably something that not many people know.
2. When they're ready to pass it on, the challenge comes. I ask that instead of just handing the book over, they take a dive and talk about their entry to the next person. A stranger to them. I suggested that they leave an email and telephone as well, so that they may be contacted again.

On the last page, I left instructions for contacting me to return the book. I have no idea where it will go, if it will work or, if it does, if it will be returned to me. It's a fairly thick book, so it may take some time to fill. I don't think that I should expect it back for a while, maybe even years. I do look on the bright side, though. I recently read an article about a sculptor who had his work returned to him after nearly forty years. It made me feel a bit better.

Also, I'm thinking about starting another book, slightly different. Rather than being open for art, I think I'll direct people to write the story of their most life changing event in the book or something that has happened that profoundly affected the person. Reading something like that, seeing a hundred stories of things that have changed lives written by hand...that would evoke thought and emotion. But first, I have to come up with some spare cash. :)