I was asked again (in the local Aldi by a man who heard me speaking English with a friend) where I was from. This could possibly be one of the most complicated questions that I am asked... and for good reason. I possess an American passport and the stars and stripes claim a major place in my heart and pride. But I cannot not relate myself wholly to my birth country... not when at least six separate lands on three other continents have contributed to make me the person I am today. Maybe it is because of this reason that I hold such a place in my heart for culture and the fingers of my mind run themselves over the rough, vague characters of this word with respect. I cherish culture.
culture |ˈkəl ch ər| (n.) - the customs, arts, social institutions, and achievements of a particular nation, people, or other social group
The tower of Babel may have been a sign of the times, a destroyer of unity and the cause of untold linguistic pains in my life and others, however its division of the world began the formation of the thousands of cultures today.
Language is a culture's basic foundation and without language, a culture and the heart of a people group can never be known or understood. The arts stem from this important basis. Some of the greatest artists that the world has ever known based their masterpieces on the ordinary people and places that defined their cultures. I believe that much of the greatness that went into their paint smears and brush strokes, stone chips and calligraphy curls grew out of a knowledge and observation of the life and culture surrounding these artists. The same is true in the crafting of compositions by musical creators. Music is the most potent, intangible thing in the world with its power to go beyond mind-paths reaching straight into the heart's deepest regions. Because of this, it has been used for centuries to tell stories and evoke countless emotions, from love, to fear, to patriotism, to tears. And from experience, I have learned that a peoples' specific music speaks to them in a way that none other can.
But we are losing our specific culture structures formed by language, art, music, tradition as they are shaken by a tsunami of globalism.
We talk of this surge and we call it progress.
As the eleven year old who held an old franc in her hand, sorrowing over its passing value when the French banks officially introduced the euro, I am loath to call it a progression.
How does one define "globalism" and what exactly is "progress"? It has been a subtle process but the past twenty years have seen a lightning-fast revolution in the terms of these two words. Gone are the days of true isolation. A village farmer in China can watch American presidential debates while a rural inhabitant in Guinea Bissau makes calls to his equally modern neighbours on his cell phone. North Americans flood the aviation industry in hordes to see the world in all of its corners. Ecuadorian school children have Facebook and every country in the world is looking for English teachers. Call this progress, yet never before in the history of man have cultural lines been more blurred. I am not advocating separation and disunity. Yet I am mourning the days of border and tradition, days devoid of technology, yet full of heritage-respecting, culturally-rich life.
What I would give to walk through a dusty Spanish village and not see a Spongebob Squarepants toy resting under a thatched veranda. To get up on a misty morning in a Cambodian village without a T.V. blaring soap operas from Westernized countries, to not hear Taylor Swift, Adele and countless other pop stars in the stores of every country. I have officially given up trying not to see the yellow arches of the American gastronomic mecca... a true impossibility.
Please understand that I am of those who benefit from this era. I am not unthankful. I am able to connect with friends and family through the world-wide web, Facebook, and Skype. People living like myself used to have to be content with a letter every couple of months and the hope to see family again was almost non-existent. Globalism and "progress" are in many ways, blessings to me.
And this is not a call to ignorance, because we are a global economy. We can appreciate the music and art of other cultures world-wide and learn their languages to learn more about them and their traditions. I am passionate about this.
(As my very life exemplifies our present global culture, my husband pointed out that I am straddling the two sides. And maybe I am...!)
What I want to bring to light at this moment in time however, is the beauty of what we have in our own cultures formed by our own languages, music and arts. Culture is a real gift. A tie to history and roots to family, an anchor in a swirling sea of globalism. A country's unique history, grandparents who can share the past with those of us in the present, music made from familiar fingers and local artists who still draw from the people and stories around them, traditions built within families, old homes and recipes...
Love and appreciate where you are and who you are and where you come from. Your culture.
Disclaimer: This is a brave attempt to express some thoughts that have been on the back burner of my mind for a while. While I hope that this is well-written and communicates my mind and heart perspective, this might just be a part of an expressive progress... please keep this in mind. Thank you.
