Hello friends. Reporting to you live from a green velvet couch in Tbilisi, Georgia. Chris and I are officially within the last sixty days of (what semi-inadvertently became) a year-round trip around the world. Originally this trip was supposed to be nine months, and even under those circumstances we assumed that when it was over we’d be craving stability. As we enter our eleventh month, we’re unsurprisingly exhausted, and desperately craving the comfort of our own bed.
Definitely feeling this Anya. I own a house in New Orleans, but have been renting it out and living between a camper van and AirBnBs for two years. I miss having a home. I also know that New Orleans is no longer it for me, but I feel lost and frustrated when trying to even imagine the process of "re-homing" myself anywhere. Home is where you feel safe. Home is where you can rest. Home is where you can invest your time, and resources, and feel that they are protected. With that definition, re-homing may not be possible right now. Those of us who are attuned to the reality of the shifting world have all experienced a dramatic decrease in our sense of security, which is the foundation to feeling at home. In New Orleans, I had to grab my dog and take cover behind my bed while an automatic weapon was shot by someone standing a few steps from my front door, yet somehow that doesn't even stand out as a primary traumatic event of the last few years. More impactful than the actual violence and covid-related fear for physical safety of my loved ones has been the incessant gaslighting and drumbeats of frustrated nihilism on one side and increasingly organized forces for authoritarianism on the other. It's scary to feel surrounded by so many people who aren't your people, who don't share your values, who seems to be failing to see reality whether because they are mid trauma response or because they have been manipulated into thinking a certain way or both.
Meanwhile, does it make sense for me to imagine a 5 year plan when I know that major national events, events that could blow up my plans, events that are entirely beyond my control seem to keep happening with regularity? In the U.S., we've had a pandemic, a failed insurrection, an inflationary economic event, a war that has brought us close to the brink of nuclear war, and a major advance in the effort to impose theocratic rule on over half of the U.S. in just a few years What's most important about all of these events is not just that they're important in the history of the country, but that they're important in my every day life. Suddenly I can't ignore the national and international arenas of my identities, even though I feel effectively powerless to influence these arenas. Before, it was easy to believe that I could focus locally and tune out the national and global political noise and drama. Now global drama is loud as shit, right next door, demanding my attention. It's here in smoke from forest fires, in the crack of gunfire, in the fabric of the anxieties of my daily life choices. Perhaps some of this goes away if I leave the U.S., but nowhere is entirely immune, and the impact of all of this global drama is ultimately as unpredictable as the events I just listed were before they happened. I've The unthinkable is just that - the things we can't think about, the things we can't plan for. I've also lived abroad for years at a time, and I think I have met the limits of how much I can be accepted as an ex-pat. As you stated, I also feel like practically speaking I feel like a bit of an outsider most places I've lived. However, I do think there is a subtle but major difference between that outsider feeling and a feeling like "I am certain that I will never be fully accepted here" which I felt as an expat. One is tentative, and feels like change is possible, one feels like I am stuck and there's no chance for change.
I'm actively struggling with all of the above questions. One thing that is working for me - recently I've stopped saying that I'm looking for a "home" and started saying that I'm looking for a "home base." A home base is a place of strength. A place to organize - oneself and one's people. A place to gain power together. A home base is flexible. It can change. It may not be "safe," but it is safer. It is more about the safety of the people, who I can influence, than the place, which I ultimately can't influence much.
I'm grieving home. I miss it, to the extent that I've ever had it, and I long for it, to the extent that I never have. But we are cursed to live in interesting times. I'm personally growing into the reality of this moment, even as I search for a home base(s) from which to weather the storm and organize a vision of what may grow out of the composted debris of this period of death.
Literally took the words out of my mouth. I relate to all of this so deeply... and you explained it so eloquently. Thank you. I like your reframing of home to home base. That makes sense, and I agree, lends some comfort and ease to an otherwise uncomfortable and complex longing.
I think it was Stephen Jenkinson that also said we belong to the problems and struggles of our place and time. This whole conversation made me think of my family in San Francisco, my niece and nephew, who I realistically wouldn’t see for years if I left the country permanently. Although, I have been considering Mexico and Victoria, BC in which case I could see them more often. But the question of “where to go” is always second to “why am I going”, too.
I think a lot of my repulsion towards American culture and patriotism is due to me seeing the wrong side of the same coin. The truth is America was built on stolen land and lives, and indigenous people fought and died to protect what’s sacred to them— their land, their traditions, their language—This history is as powerful and meaningful to me as the short, young and stupid history of the US. I feel like if I don’t find some way to inspire the sacred in my family and friends’ lives here in the US, I fail the lesson of indigenous peoples’ history. I can’t save everyone from the mistakes of western culture. I can only save myself and a handful of people I love from lives devoid of meaning, fullness, and sacredness.
Yes, totally agree with that perspective from Stephen. And I feel like that's so much of the work I am trying to do with the podcast, and this Substack and a book I really need to finish... how to find belonging in the here and now of these troubled times.
And yeah, I think your desire to find the locality of all of this is on point, and something I am trying to do too. I can't save the world (despite the semi-ironic name of my podcast), I can only save MY world... and then the question becomes how best to do that?
If there’s a “fortifying your world for civilizational collapse” award I’m sure you’d win Anya. Because of the groups around MGSW, like the Death In The Garden project you introduced us to early, so much seems possible. I’ve talked to people starting small scale farms, regenerative Ag in big cities, inspirational writers who follow your Substack, and so much more. I love how podcasts and publications like yours bring people together. Keep it up!
I have also had this debate between staying and going. I hadn't considered the toll that seeing America die then be reborn from a distance would take (if I were to leave). I'm the type who feels some sort of pain when I see people losing their homes in Montana due to recent floods. I can't help but suffer with (to some small degree) the people affected by drought, war, famine, etc. If I left America, I might feel some sort of acute survivor's guilt.
I believe I will stay as long as I can (Atlanta, Georgia). I feel like if I fled somewhere else, I might be exporting America's problems. I believe in staying and owning up to the problems that I have caused. I rode the wave up as America sucked the life out of other countries around the world and now I want to ride the wave down. Am I scared? Hell yes! Might my tune change and might I find out I'm not as brave as I think? Yes, it might. But the plan for now is to try to stick it out.
I'm counting on people coming together to take care of each other as these oppressive institutions fall around us. Maybe I'm naively optimistic because I know there will be violence and struggle. I just don't know how much.
Exporting America's problems is an interesting perspective, although it's hard for me to believe that's what you'd do if you left! I've actually felt the inverse of that - perhaps in going elsewhere and soaking up the values of other cultures, I could take what I learned and come back to America with them, thereby helping others in the future. And, in a related sense, there ARE some things we Americans have that other culture's don't as far as positive traits. Maybe I could export those, as opposed to the bad ones. There's always something to learn from one another and positive values to be exchanged.
Either way, I relate to a lot of what you are saying too, notably about the potential for survivor's guilt. I think I have a bit of a hero complex too, so escaping when things get tough doesn't really feel aligned. But at the same time... that hero complex isn't all positive, so maybe it would be best to resist it and just take care of myself. Maybe that's the most heroic act of all?
Anya, I totally resonate with the feeling of not quite feeling home in America. I was born and raised here, but my dad is an immigrant and did not speak a lot of English. I never really felt like I fit in here, but when I considered leaving after I got out of college (post 9/11 era), I also felt too American to fit in to Greece or Turkey, where my family is from, and felt like I didn't speak fluently enough to move.
You asked, "Will my life really be better elsewhere?" One thing I realized, through my dad and one of his friends who also immigrated here, is that America doesn't have to be a specific, defined thing— it is what you make of it. I definitely cringe at some displays of patriotism, but I also appreciate some of the freedoms we have that folks in other countries do not have. One of my main gripes about America is that real community isn't fostered in our society. On one hand, we can stay and make the community we wish to see; on the other, we could leave and potentially find that community easier elsewhere. I'm not sure if there is a good answer to all this, but trust you're not the only one feeling this way!
Its a great answer! And yeah, I totally agree about the importance of appreciating aspects of America compared to other countries. I've actually been experiencing that on this trip more than ever. And not just "here's what I miss," but also seeing America through the eyes of foreigners from all over has been super enlightening. I think Americans suspect that everyone who lives elsewhere absolutely despises our country (at least this has always been my ongoing assumption). And while that definitely exists to some extent, my experience on this trip has actually leaned the other way. There are so many people who really appreciate or feel fondly about America, which at first made me think "You don't really know what you're talking about," but when I leaned into it, a lot of it made some sense. And yeah, it certainly is what you make of it... to some extent. I think the cost of healthcare is something that really bothers and frightens me about America, that part is hard to avoid. But I think in most other ways, we can create our own world anywhere.
I've also experienced foreigners seeing America in a beautiful light. It's really interesting to understand the beauty that other people see in America.
Yeah, healthcare here drives me nuts too. There is just so much waste and bureaucracy in our healthcare system— and lots of corporations that make tons of money off of the free market system. The perceived "choice" in our care is really not a choice at all for most people. If America spent a small percentage of the tax dollars that we spend on war each year, on a single payer health care, we probably would solve that issue.
I’ve done a lot of thinking and observing what others are doing regarding this question of place and how to live (affordably sustainably), and in a way that aligns with one’s values in regards to work, travel, geography, politics, etc. I have been at odds with my own decisions at times, especially as a see so many people living nomadically, working remotely, not settling down, experiencing the world. The idea of settling seems to be an old fashion concept, and I’m sure it is a result of the current housing crisis in many parts of North America. Having bought a house in a rural area on a small chunk of land with an insular community, this seemed to be my idea of living the dream. And it is, largely. But there are trade-offs: staying in an unfulfilling job for the financial stability, not being able to travel easily, being house-poor. I never imagined that my weekends would almost always center around keeping up the house and yard, and preparing for the work week. Many times I have questioned whether or not this is actually the life I want, or if I should cash out and travel instead, because who knows what tomorrow brings. Right now I’m at a place where I’m starting to adopt a much more zen attitude about the endless household chores, which do involve a lot of pleasurable things like gardening and engaging with the land around me. I have neighbours that look out for each other and although our politics differ, it’s doesn’t seem to matter a whole lot when we are sitting around a fire. I can grow a lot of my own food and buy from local farms. It sounds idyllic, but as I said there are sacrifices.
Having said all that, I have various friends who have chosen alternate life paths, and have nothing tying them down. And often, they say, (semi-jokingly?) “when shit hits the fan we will just come and live with you.”
Even though they are not totally being serious, the sentiment is irritating. It feels like a modern iteration of colonialism. (Acknowledging that my experience in no way compares to what indigenous cultures suffered through, historically.) I empathize with people who want to seek out the “best” place to live, and good, healthy, safe commmunities are hard to find. I guess my point is that it involves an element of contribution, building, commitment, and sacrifice. Not to sound like I’m gatekeeping now that I’ve found that for myself, but just to point out - as you did, Anya, that either path, traveling or settling does indeed come with a cost, and difficulties that are not always obvious until you are in the thick of things.
Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and experiences with this. I think you make some really excellent points, and express things I've thought about too - the trade-offs of "settling" vs. being nomadic. I do think my hesitation to settle too quickly or in some sort of reactive way is my acknowledgement of what will come as a result of that decision. You don't just build a house casually, or take care of one when you feel like it. Thankfully, I've had the experience of owning a house (and renovating the entire thing), so I'm grateful to understand what goes into something like that. And, I recognize that what I want to create will be even more of a thing to manage given how much land I have in mind, actually wanting to build something vs. just renovating it, wanting to garden, and to create a communal feel/situation. It's a lot. And I appreciate your reminder of this. It's at the crux of my hesitation to settle. I keep asking myself if this is the right time or place. Of course there are other questions I ask myself about leaving too.
I also never thought of what you shared as far as people wanting to just crash the party if things get tough, without having put in the work. Although, I HAVE had the experience of feeling taken advantage of, or used in similar ways, it's an important reminder of boundaries, etc.
Also interesting about not sharing the political views with those around you. In some ways, I crave this. A diversity of thought. I feel so allergic to idealogical silos, now more than ever. Im not actually sure where in the US you are, but I am curious why you chose this particular place over others?
I am in BC, and I acknowledge the privilege of living in Canada where, although our political climate is becoming more worrisome, it is not at the crisis level of the US, or many parts of the world. Many of my American friends and family have expressed intention of packing up and moving to Canada, especially when Trump got elected. I probably would have, if I didn’t already live here. My husband is American and left the US almost 20 years ago. The general sentiment I hear (in non-PC conversations) is that as Canadians, we get it, things are fucked in the US, but don’t go bringing your problems here. Which, of course is a peak-privilege/NIMBY/protectionist attitude, but on a base level is kind of understandable. And then to translate that to the idea of choosing a community to set up shop in, wherever that may be in the world, is the consideration of what is involved in becoming part of that place. There is no playbook for where the boundaries lie on outside influence vs. assimilation. Most of all that just happens organically and without intention, no matter what the outcome might be. During the pandemic there has been a lot of people leaving the city and buying houses in sleepy little rural towns that have never seen this sort of influx, and the changes that come with that, (for better or worse - real estate prices surging, and Starbucks coming to town kind of thing.) The character of the place is no longer what it was, but for a while, everyone has more money in their pocket.
At a core level, we all want the same thing - to live somewhere that has a sense of community, safety, freedom of thought and diversity of opinion, some space to move around and local food and water sources. And most people in the world don’t get to shop around for that, so again, I acknowledge speaking from a point of privilege. Migrating to areas where we hope to have better living conditions has always been part of human nature, yet capitalism, geopolitics and ecological degradation has nearly abolished the possibility of this. I live in one of the few remaining areas where most of these qualities are intact, and I hope to preserve that without guarding it in a way that becomes a Haves vs the Have nots. I don’t know what that will look like, but try to embody the “think globally act locally” ethos.
A final thought on the idea of intentional communities - it’s always been an intriguing idea to me, and I’m not a naysayer in sense of dismissing the idea as overly idealistic. And I don’t have first hand experience in living within one or building one from the ground up. But the feeling I’ve always had is that the finite shelflife of many intentional communities may have to do with the defined intention which is different from a naturally evolving community. Sort of like the difference between organized religion and pagan practices that arise naturally out of place and culture.. If that makes any sense?
Perhaps for those of us who fled the nest, travelled, de-tribalized and grew, home is as much an alien concept as is the road to those who never set out onto it.
From those experiences, we became able to see beyond the curtain of nationalism and patriotic ideology, and into the framework of inter-relatedness between our so-called nations and history, culture and the project of civilization. And further still into the relationship between differently perceived histories, cultural relativism, and opposing civilizational objectives and directions.
As an Australian, I have become increasingly uncomfortable as one. I have gone through a six or so year long deprogramming of the national narrative, which indoctrinated us from a young age to believe that so-called Australia was discovered and peacefully - righteously, developed. We heard nothing of the rape and genocide of our First Nation's people, and the myth of Terra Nullius from which the colonial project was conceived. Thus, for those of us who have embarked on this journey of rediscovery, our relationship to the land is a complicated one. I feel both intimately connected to the Australian bush and its people, and yet fundamentally disconnected from it. Australia is an ongoing colonial project which is still committing genocide. So I have a tough time feeling at home here, yet, at the same time, I know this is home. Or that it will be, when the time eventually comes to stop moving and get serious about community-based sufficiency. Hope you're well.
Thank you for this. I feel very similar vis-a-vis America. I was reflecting last night about this some more. I think both as a result of living abroad at a young age, even briefly, but also just as a result of how I was raised, I've always identified my American-ism as encapsulating alienation or "the one who must find a safe haven or enclave." Having a gay dad, unconventional parents/grandparents, and being raised in a pretty progressive, artistic town, then going to a very unconventional elementary school and college... I was never totally indoctrinated as I believe so many Americans are. I always knew this place was pretty full of shit. That awareness grew as I got older and learned more, but I still grew up questioning things. I always felt that I was trying to find a sense of home in being an outsider, among other outsiders. I wonder what I would feel like if I lived somewhere less progressive, eating velveeta growing up in the middle of Idaho in a fundamentalist religious household or something. I think I'd feel a lot more angry, and more passionate about getting TF out. But, I think I've always envisioned creating a home of outsiders in the states, which has always felt aligned. I still want that, but sometimes I get concerned things will be too tumultuous do that peacefully. We'll see. Thank you for sharing, Eamon.
I'm sitting right next to you, in this longing for "home." On one hand, I feel exhausted. And on the other, I feel a deep longing for something I haven't yet touched, or experienced. I too, wonder if it's the ancestral memory of village, or earth-based way of living that is calling. Exhale. What a time to be alive. Loving you from my couch. xx, Ky
Excellent, deep thoughtful article, thank you. The replies you got are astounding, all good writers, themselves. I thought I might share a little, to help in some way, if I can.
I was born from two families: My mother's family were Quapaw Indian, she being one-half Quapaw., with her dad being Swedish. My dad's family was fifth generation immigrant from England (heard of Richard Branson in that jolly country?
So I was born in Oklahoma (USA), grew up in Texas, raised a family in Texas, moved to Arkansas, where I now Live. Never been out of the USA and not planning on it ever. "America" (at some point an indigenous name) belongs to my people on one family side, and is an intrusion from my English family side. I'm not conflicted by this at all, rather in full acceptance of the diversity and inclusion.
Now, at age 71 and based on my real-Life experience with The Holy Spirit of The Living God, I tend to "look beyond" this human Life and glimpse into our Eternity that awaits. Partially, our human journey is the attempt to "find the way back" to our Creator, to find our way back "home". As God Commands us: "Be anxious for nothing." "Only believe." "Abide in Me and I will abide in you." All needs met by God's Own Riches (They Own it all anyway!) and "I will give you the desires of your heart."
"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning." - James 1:17 - You are the "Lights", spirits from God, on your journey to return "Home".
Dorothy was quite lucky. Not only did she have magical shoes at the end of her adventure but she also had a very clear vision of what her home looked like before her fantastic journey.
I’m not a little girl who wants to go back to Kansas, I’m a 43 years old dude, half french-half moroccan who has been living in Montréal since november 2017. And frankly, if you give me a pair of magical shoes and a suitcase filled with enough money to buy a house, I have absolutely zero idea where to settle. At best, I’ll give you a long list of countries where I do NOT wish to live in.
For my parents, the dilemma was quite simple : Morocco was good for the food, the beach and the sun, France was good for cheese, freedom of speech and social services.
Basically, their big plan was to work in France and then to enjoy their retirement in Morocco (with some trips back to France in case of medical needs).
Nice plan… But my dad died at 68 of cancer.
My great escape from France plan was born just a few years after his death in 2013.
It was physical : a sensation of choking.
France was a land of plenty during my childhood. But during 3 decades, roughly since the 90’s, it’s just been a continuous degradation. And I was just tired and hopeless to see it and experiment it everyday.
“ Our “ current president is the perfect incarnation of this : a narcissistic pervert who’s been methodically destroying all the social services since coming into office. The abstention has reached unknown heights (more than 50% in the last elections) but mainstream media are just doing business as usual (of course, they are owned by a bunch of billionaires, who are, as if by coincidence, really good friends with him).
I don’t feel Canadian (and I’m not actually, I’m a permanent resident), I don’t feel Québécois either but I love many things about my life here (the fact that it’s a sparsely populated country, the fact that women can dress how the fuck they want (a problem in Morocco but ALSO a problem in France), the almost sacred separation between job and private life…).
Of course, Quebec is far from being a utopian place and it has its own problems but, at least, the choking sensation is gone. I’m under no illusion that this place is unaffected by the madness of globalization and the countless awful consequences of what capitalism is doing to the planet …
Will I still be satisfied in 5, 10 or 15 years ?
I don’t have a clue.
But I’m just sure of one thing : I do prefer feeling remorse than regret.
Staying in France was killing me softly.
At the end of the day, maybe that’s the root of all types of immigration : to prioritize the moving. The stability comes after, and it usually takes more than one generation.
Definitely feeling this Anya. I own a house in New Orleans, but have been renting it out and living between a camper van and AirBnBs for two years. I miss having a home. I also know that New Orleans is no longer it for me, but I feel lost and frustrated when trying to even imagine the process of "re-homing" myself anywhere. Home is where you feel safe. Home is where you can rest. Home is where you can invest your time, and resources, and feel that they are protected. With that definition, re-homing may not be possible right now. Those of us who are attuned to the reality of the shifting world have all experienced a dramatic decrease in our sense of security, which is the foundation to feeling at home. In New Orleans, I had to grab my dog and take cover behind my bed while an automatic weapon was shot by someone standing a few steps from my front door, yet somehow that doesn't even stand out as a primary traumatic event of the last few years. More impactful than the actual violence and covid-related fear for physical safety of my loved ones has been the incessant gaslighting and drumbeats of frustrated nihilism on one side and increasingly organized forces for authoritarianism on the other. It's scary to feel surrounded by so many people who aren't your people, who don't share your values, who seems to be failing to see reality whether because they are mid trauma response or because they have been manipulated into thinking a certain way or both.
Meanwhile, does it make sense for me to imagine a 5 year plan when I know that major national events, events that could blow up my plans, events that are entirely beyond my control seem to keep happening with regularity? In the U.S., we've had a pandemic, a failed insurrection, an inflationary economic event, a war that has brought us close to the brink of nuclear war, and a major advance in the effort to impose theocratic rule on over half of the U.S. in just a few years What's most important about all of these events is not just that they're important in the history of the country, but that they're important in my every day life. Suddenly I can't ignore the national and international arenas of my identities, even though I feel effectively powerless to influence these arenas. Before, it was easy to believe that I could focus locally and tune out the national and global political noise and drama. Now global drama is loud as shit, right next door, demanding my attention. It's here in smoke from forest fires, in the crack of gunfire, in the fabric of the anxieties of my daily life choices. Perhaps some of this goes away if I leave the U.S., but nowhere is entirely immune, and the impact of all of this global drama is ultimately as unpredictable as the events I just listed were before they happened. I've The unthinkable is just that - the things we can't think about, the things we can't plan for. I've also lived abroad for years at a time, and I think I have met the limits of how much I can be accepted as an ex-pat. As you stated, I also feel like practically speaking I feel like a bit of an outsider most places I've lived. However, I do think there is a subtle but major difference between that outsider feeling and a feeling like "I am certain that I will never be fully accepted here" which I felt as an expat. One is tentative, and feels like change is possible, one feels like I am stuck and there's no chance for change.
I'm actively struggling with all of the above questions. One thing that is working for me - recently I've stopped saying that I'm looking for a "home" and started saying that I'm looking for a "home base." A home base is a place of strength. A place to organize - oneself and one's people. A place to gain power together. A home base is flexible. It can change. It may not be "safe," but it is safer. It is more about the safety of the people, who I can influence, than the place, which I ultimately can't influence much.
I'm grieving home. I miss it, to the extent that I've ever had it, and I long for it, to the extent that I never have. But we are cursed to live in interesting times. I'm personally growing into the reality of this moment, even as I search for a home base(s) from which to weather the storm and organize a vision of what may grow out of the composted debris of this period of death.
Literally took the words out of my mouth. I relate to all of this so deeply... and you explained it so eloquently. Thank you. I like your reframing of home to home base. That makes sense, and I agree, lends some comfort and ease to an otherwise uncomfortable and complex longing.
I think it was Stephen Jenkinson that also said we belong to the problems and struggles of our place and time. This whole conversation made me think of my family in San Francisco, my niece and nephew, who I realistically wouldn’t see for years if I left the country permanently. Although, I have been considering Mexico and Victoria, BC in which case I could see them more often. But the question of “where to go” is always second to “why am I going”, too.
I think a lot of my repulsion towards American culture and patriotism is due to me seeing the wrong side of the same coin. The truth is America was built on stolen land and lives, and indigenous people fought and died to protect what’s sacred to them— their land, their traditions, their language—This history is as powerful and meaningful to me as the short, young and stupid history of the US. I feel like if I don’t find some way to inspire the sacred in my family and friends’ lives here in the US, I fail the lesson of indigenous peoples’ history. I can’t save everyone from the mistakes of western culture. I can only save myself and a handful of people I love from lives devoid of meaning, fullness, and sacredness.
Yes, totally agree with that perspective from Stephen. And I feel like that's so much of the work I am trying to do with the podcast, and this Substack and a book I really need to finish... how to find belonging in the here and now of these troubled times.
And yeah, I think your desire to find the locality of all of this is on point, and something I am trying to do too. I can't save the world (despite the semi-ironic name of my podcast), I can only save MY world... and then the question becomes how best to do that?
Thank you for sharing your thoughts Jack!
If there’s a “fortifying your world for civilizational collapse” award I’m sure you’d win Anya. Because of the groups around MGSW, like the Death In The Garden project you introduced us to early, so much seems possible. I’ve talked to people starting small scale farms, regenerative Ag in big cities, inspirational writers who follow your Substack, and so much more. I love how podcasts and publications like yours bring people together. Keep it up!
I have also had this debate between staying and going. I hadn't considered the toll that seeing America die then be reborn from a distance would take (if I were to leave). I'm the type who feels some sort of pain when I see people losing their homes in Montana due to recent floods. I can't help but suffer with (to some small degree) the people affected by drought, war, famine, etc. If I left America, I might feel some sort of acute survivor's guilt.
I believe I will stay as long as I can (Atlanta, Georgia). I feel like if I fled somewhere else, I might be exporting America's problems. I believe in staying and owning up to the problems that I have caused. I rode the wave up as America sucked the life out of other countries around the world and now I want to ride the wave down. Am I scared? Hell yes! Might my tune change and might I find out I'm not as brave as I think? Yes, it might. But the plan for now is to try to stick it out.
I'm counting on people coming together to take care of each other as these oppressive institutions fall around us. Maybe I'm naively optimistic because I know there will be violence and struggle. I just don't know how much.
Anyway, great post! Thank you, Anya.
Exporting America's problems is an interesting perspective, although it's hard for me to believe that's what you'd do if you left! I've actually felt the inverse of that - perhaps in going elsewhere and soaking up the values of other cultures, I could take what I learned and come back to America with them, thereby helping others in the future. And, in a related sense, there ARE some things we Americans have that other culture's don't as far as positive traits. Maybe I could export those, as opposed to the bad ones. There's always something to learn from one another and positive values to be exchanged.
Either way, I relate to a lot of what you are saying too, notably about the potential for survivor's guilt. I think I have a bit of a hero complex too, so escaping when things get tough doesn't really feel aligned. But at the same time... that hero complex isn't all positive, so maybe it would be best to resist it and just take care of myself. Maybe that's the most heroic act of all?
Anya, I totally resonate with the feeling of not quite feeling home in America. I was born and raised here, but my dad is an immigrant and did not speak a lot of English. I never really felt like I fit in here, but when I considered leaving after I got out of college (post 9/11 era), I also felt too American to fit in to Greece or Turkey, where my family is from, and felt like I didn't speak fluently enough to move.
You asked, "Will my life really be better elsewhere?" One thing I realized, through my dad and one of his friends who also immigrated here, is that America doesn't have to be a specific, defined thing— it is what you make of it. I definitely cringe at some displays of patriotism, but I also appreciate some of the freedoms we have that folks in other countries do not have. One of my main gripes about America is that real community isn't fostered in our society. On one hand, we can stay and make the community we wish to see; on the other, we could leave and potentially find that community easier elsewhere. I'm not sure if there is a good answer to all this, but trust you're not the only one feeling this way!
Its a great answer! And yeah, I totally agree about the importance of appreciating aspects of America compared to other countries. I've actually been experiencing that on this trip more than ever. And not just "here's what I miss," but also seeing America through the eyes of foreigners from all over has been super enlightening. I think Americans suspect that everyone who lives elsewhere absolutely despises our country (at least this has always been my ongoing assumption). And while that definitely exists to some extent, my experience on this trip has actually leaned the other way. There are so many people who really appreciate or feel fondly about America, which at first made me think "You don't really know what you're talking about," but when I leaned into it, a lot of it made some sense. And yeah, it certainly is what you make of it... to some extent. I think the cost of healthcare is something that really bothers and frightens me about America, that part is hard to avoid. But I think in most other ways, we can create our own world anywhere.
I've also experienced foreigners seeing America in a beautiful light. It's really interesting to understand the beauty that other people see in America.
Yeah, healthcare here drives me nuts too. There is just so much waste and bureaucracy in our healthcare system— and lots of corporations that make tons of money off of the free market system. The perceived "choice" in our care is really not a choice at all for most people. If America spent a small percentage of the tax dollars that we spend on war each year, on a single payer health care, we probably would solve that issue.
I’ve done a lot of thinking and observing what others are doing regarding this question of place and how to live (affordably sustainably), and in a way that aligns with one’s values in regards to work, travel, geography, politics, etc. I have been at odds with my own decisions at times, especially as a see so many people living nomadically, working remotely, not settling down, experiencing the world. The idea of settling seems to be an old fashion concept, and I’m sure it is a result of the current housing crisis in many parts of North America. Having bought a house in a rural area on a small chunk of land with an insular community, this seemed to be my idea of living the dream. And it is, largely. But there are trade-offs: staying in an unfulfilling job for the financial stability, not being able to travel easily, being house-poor. I never imagined that my weekends would almost always center around keeping up the house and yard, and preparing for the work week. Many times I have questioned whether or not this is actually the life I want, or if I should cash out and travel instead, because who knows what tomorrow brings. Right now I’m at a place where I’m starting to adopt a much more zen attitude about the endless household chores, which do involve a lot of pleasurable things like gardening and engaging with the land around me. I have neighbours that look out for each other and although our politics differ, it’s doesn’t seem to matter a whole lot when we are sitting around a fire. I can grow a lot of my own food and buy from local farms. It sounds idyllic, but as I said there are sacrifices.
Having said all that, I have various friends who have chosen alternate life paths, and have nothing tying them down. And often, they say, (semi-jokingly?) “when shit hits the fan we will just come and live with you.”
Even though they are not totally being serious, the sentiment is irritating. It feels like a modern iteration of colonialism. (Acknowledging that my experience in no way compares to what indigenous cultures suffered through, historically.) I empathize with people who want to seek out the “best” place to live, and good, healthy, safe commmunities are hard to find. I guess my point is that it involves an element of contribution, building, commitment, and sacrifice. Not to sound like I’m gatekeeping now that I’ve found that for myself, but just to point out - as you did, Anya, that either path, traveling or settling does indeed come with a cost, and difficulties that are not always obvious until you are in the thick of things.
Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and experiences with this. I think you make some really excellent points, and express things I've thought about too - the trade-offs of "settling" vs. being nomadic. I do think my hesitation to settle too quickly or in some sort of reactive way is my acknowledgement of what will come as a result of that decision. You don't just build a house casually, or take care of one when you feel like it. Thankfully, I've had the experience of owning a house (and renovating the entire thing), so I'm grateful to understand what goes into something like that. And, I recognize that what I want to create will be even more of a thing to manage given how much land I have in mind, actually wanting to build something vs. just renovating it, wanting to garden, and to create a communal feel/situation. It's a lot. And I appreciate your reminder of this. It's at the crux of my hesitation to settle. I keep asking myself if this is the right time or place. Of course there are other questions I ask myself about leaving too.
I also never thought of what you shared as far as people wanting to just crash the party if things get tough, without having put in the work. Although, I HAVE had the experience of feeling taken advantage of, or used in similar ways, it's an important reminder of boundaries, etc.
Also interesting about not sharing the political views with those around you. In some ways, I crave this. A diversity of thought. I feel so allergic to idealogical silos, now more than ever. Im not actually sure where in the US you are, but I am curious why you chose this particular place over others?
I am in BC, and I acknowledge the privilege of living in Canada where, although our political climate is becoming more worrisome, it is not at the crisis level of the US, or many parts of the world. Many of my American friends and family have expressed intention of packing up and moving to Canada, especially when Trump got elected. I probably would have, if I didn’t already live here. My husband is American and left the US almost 20 years ago. The general sentiment I hear (in non-PC conversations) is that as Canadians, we get it, things are fucked in the US, but don’t go bringing your problems here. Which, of course is a peak-privilege/NIMBY/protectionist attitude, but on a base level is kind of understandable. And then to translate that to the idea of choosing a community to set up shop in, wherever that may be in the world, is the consideration of what is involved in becoming part of that place. There is no playbook for where the boundaries lie on outside influence vs. assimilation. Most of all that just happens organically and without intention, no matter what the outcome might be. During the pandemic there has been a lot of people leaving the city and buying houses in sleepy little rural towns that have never seen this sort of influx, and the changes that come with that, (for better or worse - real estate prices surging, and Starbucks coming to town kind of thing.) The character of the place is no longer what it was, but for a while, everyone has more money in their pocket.
At a core level, we all want the same thing - to live somewhere that has a sense of community, safety, freedom of thought and diversity of opinion, some space to move around and local food and water sources. And most people in the world don’t get to shop around for that, so again, I acknowledge speaking from a point of privilege. Migrating to areas where we hope to have better living conditions has always been part of human nature, yet capitalism, geopolitics and ecological degradation has nearly abolished the possibility of this. I live in one of the few remaining areas where most of these qualities are intact, and I hope to preserve that without guarding it in a way that becomes a Haves vs the Have nots. I don’t know what that will look like, but try to embody the “think globally act locally” ethos.
A final thought on the idea of intentional communities - it’s always been an intriguing idea to me, and I’m not a naysayer in sense of dismissing the idea as overly idealistic. And I don’t have first hand experience in living within one or building one from the ground up. But the feeling I’ve always had is that the finite shelflife of many intentional communities may have to do with the defined intention which is different from a naturally evolving community. Sort of like the difference between organized religion and pagan practices that arise naturally out of place and culture.. If that makes any sense?
Perhaps for those of us who fled the nest, travelled, de-tribalized and grew, home is as much an alien concept as is the road to those who never set out onto it.
From those experiences, we became able to see beyond the curtain of nationalism and patriotic ideology, and into the framework of inter-relatedness between our so-called nations and history, culture and the project of civilization. And further still into the relationship between differently perceived histories, cultural relativism, and opposing civilizational objectives and directions.
As an Australian, I have become increasingly uncomfortable as one. I have gone through a six or so year long deprogramming of the national narrative, which indoctrinated us from a young age to believe that so-called Australia was discovered and peacefully - righteously, developed. We heard nothing of the rape and genocide of our First Nation's people, and the myth of Terra Nullius from which the colonial project was conceived. Thus, for those of us who have embarked on this journey of rediscovery, our relationship to the land is a complicated one. I feel both intimately connected to the Australian bush and its people, and yet fundamentally disconnected from it. Australia is an ongoing colonial project which is still committing genocide. So I have a tough time feeling at home here, yet, at the same time, I know this is home. Or that it will be, when the time eventually comes to stop moving and get serious about community-based sufficiency. Hope you're well.
Thank you for this. I feel very similar vis-a-vis America. I was reflecting last night about this some more. I think both as a result of living abroad at a young age, even briefly, but also just as a result of how I was raised, I've always identified my American-ism as encapsulating alienation or "the one who must find a safe haven or enclave." Having a gay dad, unconventional parents/grandparents, and being raised in a pretty progressive, artistic town, then going to a very unconventional elementary school and college... I was never totally indoctrinated as I believe so many Americans are. I always knew this place was pretty full of shit. That awareness grew as I got older and learned more, but I still grew up questioning things. I always felt that I was trying to find a sense of home in being an outsider, among other outsiders. I wonder what I would feel like if I lived somewhere less progressive, eating velveeta growing up in the middle of Idaho in a fundamentalist religious household or something. I think I'd feel a lot more angry, and more passionate about getting TF out. But, I think I've always envisioned creating a home of outsiders in the states, which has always felt aligned. I still want that, but sometimes I get concerned things will be too tumultuous do that peacefully. We'll see. Thank you for sharing, Eamon.
I'm sitting right next to you, in this longing for "home." On one hand, I feel exhausted. And on the other, I feel a deep longing for something I haven't yet touched, or experienced. I too, wonder if it's the ancestral memory of village, or earth-based way of living that is calling. Exhale. What a time to be alive. Loving you from my couch. xx, Ky
So much yes. What a time indeed... one breath at a time. Sending you love from Athens!
Excellent, deep thoughtful article, thank you. The replies you got are astounding, all good writers, themselves. I thought I might share a little, to help in some way, if I can.
I was born from two families: My mother's family were Quapaw Indian, she being one-half Quapaw., with her dad being Swedish. My dad's family was fifth generation immigrant from England (heard of Richard Branson in that jolly country?
So I was born in Oklahoma (USA), grew up in Texas, raised a family in Texas, moved to Arkansas, where I now Live. Never been out of the USA and not planning on it ever. "America" (at some point an indigenous name) belongs to my people on one family side, and is an intrusion from my English family side. I'm not conflicted by this at all, rather in full acceptance of the diversity and inclusion.
Now, at age 71 and based on my real-Life experience with The Holy Spirit of The Living God, I tend to "look beyond" this human Life and glimpse into our Eternity that awaits. Partially, our human journey is the attempt to "find the way back" to our Creator, to find our way back "home". As God Commands us: "Be anxious for nothing." "Only believe." "Abide in Me and I will abide in you." All needs met by God's Own Riches (They Own it all anyway!) and "I will give you the desires of your heart."
"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning." - James 1:17 - You are the "Lights", spirits from God, on your journey to return "Home".
Blessings and Peace
Here’s an article from the Durango Telegraph on home, belonging and feeling like a local. https://www.durangotelegraph.com/opinion/la-vida-local/so-you-want-to-be-a-local/
This was wonderful, comforting, and relatable. Thank you.
“ There’s no place like home “.
Dorothy was quite lucky. Not only did she have magical shoes at the end of her adventure but she also had a very clear vision of what her home looked like before her fantastic journey.
I’m not a little girl who wants to go back to Kansas, I’m a 43 years old dude, half french-half moroccan who has been living in Montréal since november 2017. And frankly, if you give me a pair of magical shoes and a suitcase filled with enough money to buy a house, I have absolutely zero idea where to settle. At best, I’ll give you a long list of countries where I do NOT wish to live in.
For my parents, the dilemma was quite simple : Morocco was good for the food, the beach and the sun, France was good for cheese, freedom of speech and social services.
Basically, their big plan was to work in France and then to enjoy their retirement in Morocco (with some trips back to France in case of medical needs).
Nice plan… But my dad died at 68 of cancer.
My great escape from France plan was born just a few years after his death in 2013.
It was physical : a sensation of choking.
France was a land of plenty during my childhood. But during 3 decades, roughly since the 90’s, it’s just been a continuous degradation. And I was just tired and hopeless to see it and experiment it everyday.
“ Our “ current president is the perfect incarnation of this : a narcissistic pervert who’s been methodically destroying all the social services since coming into office. The abstention has reached unknown heights (more than 50% in the last elections) but mainstream media are just doing business as usual (of course, they are owned by a bunch of billionaires, who are, as if by coincidence, really good friends with him).
I don’t feel Canadian (and I’m not actually, I’m a permanent resident), I don’t feel Québécois either but I love many things about my life here (the fact that it’s a sparsely populated country, the fact that women can dress how the fuck they want (a problem in Morocco but ALSO a problem in France), the almost sacred separation between job and private life…).
Of course, Quebec is far from being a utopian place and it has its own problems but, at least, the choking sensation is gone. I’m under no illusion that this place is unaffected by the madness of globalization and the countless awful consequences of what capitalism is doing to the planet …
Will I still be satisfied in 5, 10 or 15 years ?
I don’t have a clue.
But I’m just sure of one thing : I do prefer feeling remorse than regret.
Staying in France was killing me softly.
At the end of the day, maybe that’s the root of all types of immigration : to prioritize the moving. The stability comes after, and it usually takes more than one generation.