It's often difficult to put into words the exact meaning of community. It has in fact been a journey and a struggle for me since I left Detroit at the ripe age of 10 and bounced from Redford to Monroe to Ann Arbor, and abroad. Since then I have had many notions of what community is, some rooted in theory and some in practice. The work of my friends across the world and in Detroit have certainly led me to believe there are those as interested in the righteous goals of social change as the emotional and human connections it takes to make that possible.
I once sat at a meeting in Detroit with about 10 of these people and said I felt more at home now than in a while. Yet what is that word? Is home the place we find security? Or is it the place that secures our ideals? Does it start in a house with four walls and a roof? Or does it start beyond the mental and physical walls that strangle our self image and that of the world? Is it where I find a value that allows me to continue my life's work? Or is it a place that values the work I am able to do with the resources I have?
I cannot begin to answer these questions for anyone else, but I am happy to still be in a process by which I am answering them for myself. I have lived a life that has allowed me the space to confront life's beauty and its complicated irony, often together. One method I use for expressing this process is writing letters to people I have no intention of sending. I'm still not able to fold one up and drop it in the mail, but recently came across the first one I ever wrote in May of 2005. It was during a deeply contemplative time as I graduated college. It was to myself.
"Dear Evan,
Be honest and true, because the way of the unjust is blanketed in lies and misrepresentations. Know always that your way will never be the absolute one, as there will always be infinite amounts to learn and share in every movement and interaction in your future. Be conscious of your environment and all things that depend on the harmony of their surroundings. Recognize not only the beauty but the immense power of the natural to help guide and direct our human shortages, and do not fall victim to the destructive results that the hoarding of resources breeds around us.
Keep those people close to you that have proven to be as much a part of your identity as any defining moment, feeling, or relationship. Also, mind the fact that you will not be able to honestly and completely offer yourself until you have reached inside, found your inner silence, listened to it, and returned a more committed man. Know that the path to your silence will be teeming with challenges and temptations- the essence of what makes human life exciting, painful, and rewarding. Let your choices be a symbol for others to heed while they are bombarded with the weapons of the deceitful and driven into disparaging circumstances.
Take with you the message that has been played over and over again throughout all generations of human existence- that in a world full of fertile fields and fruit trees, millions remain hungry. That in a world rich with innovation and education, stratification closes these doors on the masses. That in a world with such potentially productive institutions as democracy and religion, they remain intent to produce tears in the human fabric, only to be mended with blood soaked thread.
Be righteous enough to step back when necessary, and visionary enough to not accept what lies in front of you. Do not be afraid to give true love, as this is foundation of any revolutionary spirit. And be wise enough to know when it is being returned. Remain in struggle with the oppressed, neglected, and cast aside, as this is the where the seeds of humanity grow to produce the most beautiful blossoms and sweetest sustenance ever sampled. Do these things and your reward will be greater than bounty or bullion. It will be the connectedness of your soul to another, and then another, and another- until there are more than can be counted with sight or device, and a grander vision will appear before you..."
...to be continued.
