Multiple Immersions

I'm wondering if it's merely coincident that I'm taking Multiculturalism this semester. Certainly I've been a "culture fanatic" for, well... forever. Moving to Texas required learning a new culture: the language, the customs, the values. I mean, Boulder doesn't recognize Dairy Queen as one of the nutritional staples ya'll, and there are few other locales that one can wear "dress boots" to work.

Recently though, I've been privy to another unique culture unexpectedly tucked just 10 miles outside of town. Go ahead, get your cult jokes out now... there's definitely a hint of fundamental religiosity associated with it, but frankly I've never once felt pressured to believe anything differently than my own experience and values since befriending these people. Actually, they've never even asked my religion.

It all started a couple of weeks ago when my friends accidentally secured us an invitation to a private picnic at the Homestead, from a girl named Destiny no less. As part of a group of culture-holics, I find that many of our adventures in cultural immersion begin in just such an accidental way. Previous forays have included pizza with peace activists, second-hand-smoking at AA meetings, polka-dancing with Czech immigrants, dining with Hare Krishnas, and singing with African American gospel-goers, among others. So naturally, we jumped at the opportunity to picnic with a community in which the women wear skirts and braids, and it's not uncommon to run across someone keeping bees, making cheese, or blacksmithing.

Firstly, I've never been introduced to as many people in such a short time, nor have I enjoyed such a wide assortment of delicious homemade goodies before. It's true, frozen yogurt made before your eyes with strawberries from the garden and milk from a cow named Apricot, well it just tastes better. What's more surprising, however, is the curious ways in which the community at the Homestead isn't all that different from the rest of us modern-living folk.

-They text people on their cell phones.
-And use air conditioning.
-And cars.
-They listen to CDs.
-They play volleyball... not well, but they do. My friend Crystal and I joined an all-male Homestead volleyball team for a rousing tournament behind the farm. And we had a blast- even though she kept yelling "Crap" and I kept shooting her "Can you say that here?!" looks and giggles.
-They let their kids live in the outside world and decide if they want to continue living as part of the community, much like the Amish Rumspringa tradition.
-They worry about their weight.
-They can be really sarcastic and funny, after you get past the inevitable jitters of racking one's brain for shared experiences to fill the silence. Tony told us a story about flipping her canoe and we talked her through the process of how to get back in it... those kind of shared experiences.
-They love, absolutely love, Indian food.
-They're incredibly knowledgeable about the science behind farming, and growing, and living off the land.
-They go on vacation to places like Tahiti. And they bring back touristy souvenirs for their friends.
-They don't adhere as strictly to traditional gender roles as one might assume. If a young boy wants to learn knitting, or a girl finds she's skilled at raising barns, it's respected... even encouraged.
-And they're just about the friendliest group of people ever.

Okay, I'm sensing we need a break for more "Don't drink the Kool-Aid jokes." Done? Good.

After watching the sunset over fields of corn and hay bales at the Overlook, we made plans with our new friends to have an Indian cookfest in the coming weeks. Thinking this was one of those plans you make that no one actually expects to follow through with, I wholeheartedly agreed. But it's going to happen... this Thursday. It will be a much more exclusive group, however, just 23 this time. We're all bringing a dish to share and really: What's more multicultural than a bunch of transplant Baylor grad students of varying backgrounds celebrating Indian culture with Amish-types young and old on the Texas prairie? I won't lie, it's going to be hard to top.

Destiny had us over for lunch this Saturday, and I got the opportunity for full immersion before our upcoming potluck. She made use grilled pizza with dough harvested from wheat down the road, and cheese made that morning, and a salad picked fresh from the garden. We took a risk and brought a pie that Crystal and I made, sans recipe, during one of our cooking adventures (luckily it turned out fantastically since pie-baking falls neatly in the realm of the aforementioned delicious goodies that are the forte of Homesteaders). She took us on a walk to see a new filly born just 5 hours previously, and she pointed out pomegranate trees and took us to their stretch of the Brazos River. We chatted as we walked in the 100-degree heat, and she told us about what it's like to live as part of the community of nearly 1,000.

Maybe it's my Little House on the Prairie leanings, but I really connected with their practice of self-sustained living. I also have great admiration for the worksmanship and artistry of their pottery, and weaving, and woodworking, and all those practices that have long been replaced by industrial mass production, disposable living, and limitless consumption. And beyond that, there's a certain beauty in their collectivist culture... everyone knows everyone and goes out of their way to help the other. We got lost on our way to Destiny's so I rolled down my window and asked a gentleman (who I later learned was Caleb) for directions. He dropped the work he was doing, borrowed his neighbor's car, and drove us there. No wonder everyone's so darn happy, they've got the best support system ever.

Of course it's not all homegrown peaches and cream... they also miss out on the benefits of higher education (they're all homeschooled), and with that the exposure to a variety of ideas about how the world works that comes with the college experience. They're also limited in their opportunities as a result of committing to such a simple, home-based life. In some senses, I got the feeling that Destiny was just as interested in our experiences as we were in hers.

So, as has been my experience with every culture and subculture I've dared to peek into, the greater the exposure the greater the understanding. With that understanding comes the erasure of stereotypes, and prejudice, and fear. And boy isn't fear at the heart of hatred, and discrimination, and war?

Haha, my multiculturalism professor would be so proud!

"I soon realized that no journey carries one far unless, as it extends into the world around us, it goes an equal distance into the world within."
~Lillian Smith

The Impossible Dream.

Well, there's really no way to describe the last 6 months that I've been remiss in keeping up with this blog. I began thinking about all of the meaningful events and lessons from that period and was overwhelmed by the memories, emotions, and frankly the ridiculousness of it all. So instead of talking about century bike rides and camels and conferences and canoeing and health scares and accidents and substance abusers using sidewalk chalk...

I'll just say that last semester was a roller coaster of wonderful and heartbreaking proportions. For as much as I'd anticipated that learning about psychology would inevitably change the way I look at myself and those around me, I was still taken by surprise. Psychologists are continually fighting the perception that they're always "on duty," such that no matter where they are or who they're with they're constantly analyzing every word, action, and situation. The classic defense is always, "Trust me, I've got better things to do than psychoanalyze you all day!" but in a sense, understanding psychology and human behavior is a bell you can't unring.

What am I saying? I conceptualize human development and behavior in a different way now... and as much as I try not to let it sometimes, it informs my worldview. There has been profound disappointment as a result, mostly in the moments where the quirks and vulnerabilities of the people I love dearly can't help but fit into the frame of defenses and maladaptive relational styles. But there has also been profound calm and clarity in the moments I'm able to see those behaviors and patterns that irritate and haunt me for what they really are: adaptations. I guess it's inspiring, in a way, to be able to see how people have developed into who they are (functionally or otherwise). It's been surprisingly inspiring to see how I've developed into the person I am.

So no, I'm not constantly analyzing my friends and family, but I am finding it necessary to rededicate myself to an appreciation of those quirks and vulnerabilities that I find so attractive and fascinating about people. The perfect example, I met a woman the other day when my friend Sarah and I were laying in the pool. According to Sarah this woman had a bout of encephalitis some time ago and since suffers the problem of severely impaired short term memory ala Dory in Finding Nemo. So this woman, Nancy, introduces herself to us and proceeds to regale us (seemingly without ever stopping to take a breath) with blonde jokes, complaints about her nagging sister, and true tales of her funny interactions with children, for a solid 20 minutes. The coup de gras was a true Texas-ism in which Nancy's sister told her, "You're slower than a herd of turtles in peanut butter!" After she left Sarah informed me that she regularly hears this story each morning as Nancy walks by her house, and indeed Nancy introduced herself and told the turtle story again the following morning.

Nancy has popped into my mind a couple of times and I've found myself chuckling and appreciating her incessant talking and the ease with which this elderly woman delivered crude blonde jokes. I find that I appreciate her not in spite of her quirks, but rather, because of them. Is it always appropriate to strip people of their defenses and maladaptive relational styles in order to allow them the psychologist's stamp of good mental health? I'd argue no. People are so complex, diverse, and rich in their experiences and talents and interests that even a doctorate in psychology can't explain 100% of people 100% of the time. If that were the case, I'd hope to understand my own thoughts, feelings, and behaviors better... ah, to dream the impossible dream.

There's a certain comfort in ignorance, in never ringing the bell of knowledge, in approaching the world from one's own limited perspective.This field is tough. Tougher than I'd expected. Tougher on my own perspectives, and feelings, and relationships than I'd expected. I sure hope it's worth it.