The American Ideal: Alive and Well

post 62 – Saving American Democracy 1

WHAT?

Has Spook flipped his gourd?

Nope. Ideals are indestructible.  Unattainable.  They are visions.  Dreams.  Models.  They always stand half above the horizon and half below.  Every time we take one step toward them, they recede to a new balance point - again half above and half below the horizon.  They’re always there.  They’re always visible to anybody who looks behind the morass.  And they’re always beyond our reach. Mistake number one is thinking that because we haven’t attained an ideal, we should tear everything down and pursue a new vision.

TWO WOLVES

Lately, two internal struggles have been present in my life. 

THE ELECTION

How do we respond to the election results?  I bet many of you are familiar with this struggle:

On one side, a voice says America is screwed.  The Oligarchy is taking over.  Democracy is on its way out.  This voice says that to survive, people who think like me need to keep their mouths shut.  To thrive, we need to radically change our values and buy into the morally bankrupt path ahead of us. 

On the other side is the voice of clarity – at least for me.  It says the American Ideal still exists.  But we need to recalibrate our orientation to the moral compass - despite the majority of voting-age Americans expressing contempt for it.  The moral compass, like the American Ideal, is also indestructible.   But like any compass, although it always points to True North, it doesn’t tell us how to navigate the pits and mires.   

The part of me that wants to focus on the horror show of the election is at war with the part that wants to double down on the path I’ve been walking most of my adult life.  I prefer the second option, but an earlier horror stands in my way.  And this brings me to my second internal struggle.

THE “CONFERENCE”

I need to finally put behind me an incident that occurred at a music conference in Michigan in 2019 - henceforth referred to as the “Conference?”  For more than five years, I’ve been unable to get the incident out of my heart and mind.  It hurts as much today as it did when it happened.  And it’s been stifling my creativity and my career. (You may have noticed I rarely play concerts anymore.)

In the thirteen months I’ve been writing “Looking for America,” I’ve been trying to express certain ideas about America and its people.  But all too often, the piece I am writing gets overwhelmed by what took place at the Conference because what happened there five years ago was a microcosm of what has been happening to America. 

At least sixty times I’ve worked more than ten hours on a piece about America only to find I just can’t finish it without relating it to the Conference.  I consistently choose not to write about the Conference.  But that results in the piece and all of my work ending up in the digital recycling bin.  The fruitless hours add to roughly 1/3 of a year’s worth of work! Don’t believe me? Do the math. 

HAS THIS HAPPENED TO YOU?

Comparing my writing practices to my concerts illustrates the dilemma.  And maybe you can relate this to your field of work, too: 

Suppose I set out to sing a series of songs at a show. If halfway through, the muse insists I sing something different, it is always a mistake not to alter my plans to follow the muse.  Ignoring the prompt kills the show.  Therefore, I always follow the prompt. And I’m always happy I did.

Now suppose I set out to write about the American experience. If halfway through writing it, I get an overwhelming prompt to relate my idea to my Conference experience, it is always a mistake to ignore this prompt.  Ignoring this prompt kills the piece I’m writing.  The difference is I always do ignore this prompt.  I don’t tell the story and the idea I set out to share dies.  And my creativity dies with it.

The only solution I see is to finally buck up and tell the story – or shut up and remain forever quiet, hiding from the madness.  The first option risks external suffering via sounding like I’m whining.  The second option risks internal suffering via artistic suicide.  Well, I’ve made up my mind. I will tell the story.

Here’s a verse of a song I wrote for a friend:

I’m crawling up from the floor
My tears won’t cry anymore for you
Your picture’s off of the shelf
I’m finished killing myself for you.

Yeah, I write those kinds of songs, too.  And, who knows?  Maybe I subconsciously wrote it for myself.  So, here’s what I’m going to do. 

TWO BIRDS – ONE SERIES

Over the next few weeks, I will address both struggles concurrently.  As I said, what happened at the Conference is a microcosm of what has taken place in America since Trump came to power.  Most of the values I stand for and have worked for most of my adult life were defaced at the Conference the same way many of our shared values were defaced on Election Day.  Every word I hear from Americans who are devastated by the election is a word that describes how I’ve been feeling for five years.

THE SILVER LINING

Disaster hurts.  But it can provide clarity.  Sharing my ideas about the American Ideal concurrently with writing about the Conference can be healing for me at the same time it may give one or two readers food for thought.  As I said, ideals are indestructible.  So rest assured, the American Ideal is alive and well.  We just need to reorient our sights toward it.

NEXT UP

You may be wondering what I mean by “the American Ideal?”  I’ll tell you next time.  Until then…

Keep the Flame Alive!

If you find this series valuable, please consider upgrading to a supporting subscriber.  This way I can keep “Looking for America” free for those who cannot afford it, and continue writing and giving concerts of hope and optimism, especially in these times when a clear path through the darkness is not always easy to see.