LETTER HOME: THE GOOD VISITOR

Dear Friends and Family,

It’s been four weeks already since I left Canada! Time is racing like a drag queen who’s just discovered a last minute sale on plus-sized high heels. I’m just trying to keep up with that crazy bitch. It’s exhausting/exhilarating.

It’s been a minimal week in terms of work, and a maximal week in terms of adventure. On Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, I worked on various Common Ground projects that included clearing a lot for redevelopment, installing insulation and painting the exterior of a house. And then Thursday, a gang of us departed for a last-minute camping trip in the sand dunes of Northwest Florida. Who knew that Florida is only a three-hour car ride away? Now it’s Saturday, and I’m chilling at a delightful little café (The Orange Couch) in the artsy Bywater neighborhood, while editing video and, well, writing this rousing letter home.

On my mind this week, apart from my self-congratulatory pride in my freshly expanded home renovation skills, has been the concept/idea of how I might honor the land or people in each of the destinations that I’ll be visiting over the course of this year. Over these twelve months, I’ll have no permanent address; I am a constant visitor. And, like most of the roles in my life, I am curious to explore how I can play this part to the best of my ability.

These thoughts were planted in my head by my delightful stepmother, Cathy, during one of our regular Skype dates. Even before I began my travels, I pondered ways to bring depth to the experience. So I began putting out some tentacles of inquiry to those beautiful individuals in my life that have continually inspired me with their spiritual inquest and exploration of “meaningfulness.” Cathy is most definitely one of these people. With her perspective in studying (and living) Native Canadian spirituality, she referenced the ceremonious traditions that occurred (and continue to occur) in many indigenous cultures across the world.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if you could somehow honor the land in each of your places?” she asked me.

I couldn’t shake the question. It was delightfully and complexly linked to my mission to be a good visitor. Some concrete steps to being a “good visitor” are discernable. I can leave biological ecosystems as undisturbed as possible. I can listen to people when they feel compelled to share their stories. I can share my own tales with those who wish to hear about my culture and land and histories. I can pull my own weight, whether doing dishes, cleaning, cooking or assisting other tasks that help ensuring the functioning of whatever organization or system that is hosting me.

But maybe that isn’t enough? Can’t I take things deeper?

In my head I imagined ways of ‘honoring the land.’ I began to romanticize the potential profoundness of connecting with local elders of indigenous peoples, standing before them with an openheartedness that would cross linguistic and ethnic divides. I envisioned myself sitting before sacred fires, having my spirit cleansed with the smoke of local dried herbs. I fantasized sweat-inducing gyrations to the beats of African drums, while raising my hands in praise to the great creator who has enabled me to traverse political and cultural borders. I foresaw myself among orange-robed men, prostrated with graciousness at sacred temples surrounded by palm trees, the sound of a sitar in the distance, whispering the intentions of the divine.

I would honor the land. The Great Spirit would know of my gratitude.

Are you listening, Great Spirit? I shall be so chockfull of thankfulness and respect for the people and places I visit that sacred lotus flowers will grow forth from the soil of which I’ve shat. * folds hands in prayer and pauses *

I’ve come to realize these above-mentioned sentimentalized ceremonies will probably never happen, at least not on this trip. And that’s okay. After volunteering 30-40 hours per week at each of the sites that I’ll visit, there is a chance that I might not have the capacity to search for a spiritual guru to guide me through rites of land passage. Furthermore, I am just not interested in the forceful actualization of any sort of epiphany or spiritual ritual; I wish to settle for nothing less than authenticity.*

* This being said, I would be, like, totally AWESOME to participate in an African trance dance. Just sayin’.

In many situations, I am likely to be a quiet figure that passes through other peoples’ territories, leaving a freshly tiled floor or an English lesson or a photograph. I am engaging in exchange-based travel, where the explicit agreement is one of “I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine.” It is the most primal (and arguably most beautiful) form of currency that exists. And on this level, I don’t feel a prerequisite to prostrate myself in gratitude. A handshake or a bow might just do splendidly.

All this being said, I think Cathy’s challenge (to honor the lands of which I’ll visit) has stemmed some important personal reflection. And, of course, this was her true intention. I am nudged towards exploring some big political questions around the concept of “borders” and land ownership. As I travel, I want to increasingly be posing these questions: Whose land is this? What are my sentiments regarding the concept of land ownership? What land do I come from? And most importantly, how can I remain respectful as I travel?

After all, I just want to be a good visitor.

xoxo

Daniel

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