Asking Hard Questions

"Our perception of joy, fear, pain, and beauty are sharpened or dulled by the way we rub against time. My senses have become dull and this trip is an effort to sharpen them."

~ Donald Miller, from his novel Through Painted Deserts

With just a little over 12 hours left in Latin America, the freak out is quickly sinking in and I am barely managing to hold down the small panic attacks that frequently send my stomach into a thousand knots. I have officially given up on putting together coherent closing thoughts, but one thing is at least certain: Latin America has changed me. The "how" might not be fully realized for some time still, but I do at least feel like I am a more observant, inquisitive, and active person. Now, the question is how to keep that new spirit alive upon returning?

Why does it take leaving to ask the hard questions? Why does being in a new, unfamiliar place bring up issues and ideas you somehow simply failed to ask before? That you failed to ask because you don't care, or perhaps because you assumed you already knew the answers?

It wasn't until I was asked by a young South African traveler about my opinions on America as a country, did I find myself realizing that I had never really thought about it that much. Do you like America, he asked bluntly. I...I guess, well not really, there are a lot of problems ..but I like home...I...(aka big FAIL). Then he asked, would you prefer to live in America than in any other country? I struggled to spit out something about how I love traveling and would love to live somewhere new, but also how I took for granted what it means to be a woman in America and so in conclusion...I don't know...(aka mild fail.) The overly-simple and almost naive questions managed to bring up issues I had somehow previously never considered.

Likewise, during my last couple days in Buenos Aires, I have been staying in the apartment of a new and dear friend. In a deep conversation comprised of some serious Spanglish, my friend and I began discussing 9-11, something a young American should be pretty savvy about. The conversation then moved on to a critique of the mentality of the American public. And I found that I didn't have composed-enough thoughts to defend South America's criticism of the States. And it's not like I'm a die-hard, flag-waving patriot. But at the same time, I will be the first person to attempt to prove that not all Americans are ignorant, stupid, war-loving imperialists. And just as I had begun to make some head-way to prove Americans aren't all terrible, we turned on the movie Zeitgeist and I quickly became embarrassed for my country's soul. And then I realized...why am I being shown this movie that came out 4 years ago about 9-11, about my country, by an Argentinian who has already seen it twice?

Again, why does it take leaving home to ask hard questions about your home? Or about the world? And just as I was beginning to think deeper about this, I came to the page in Donald Miller's memoir Through Painted Deserts about his road-trip across the U.S. where he wrote: "It's funny how the questions never come up in the room you grew up in, in the town in which you were born. You have to stand back a few feet and see things in a new way before you realize nothing that is happening to you is normal."