May 14—Day 31

        One month has already softly faded into memory and yet as we sit here high above the Pacific Ocean on our way to Australia this is the first I've thought of what truly drives me on this journey. It's been my internal search, my ongoing struggle to discover the true source of faith. It has plagued my mind and twisted in my soul ever since I laid eyes upon a severely burned and emotionally scarred Mary Matthews in her hospital bed. Since that day, my life has been merely a composite of twisting arteries filled with nothing but the appearance of life flowing through them. I now stand before this naked illusion; I rake through the air desperate to grasp it, and yet my fingers touch nothing but emptiness. I feel the stinging reminder of this gaping void within. I breathe the air, it gives me life and yet I can't see it, indeed, I can't feel its presence. Is this the same for faith? What is this elusive faith? Where does it come from? Like the air, I know this faith is there and it even contributes to my existence, I just don't see its presence.

I remember vividly the day I met her, the day that would alter my destiny—my path in so many ways. I was a clerk working for a law firm downtown awaiting the results of the bar exam when I met Mary as an innocent, anxious student of the law. As a favor to a friend, I met with her twice in the hospital to help her hire an attorney. She had already compiled a list of twenty, most of whom were highly experienced in the specialized area of product’s liability (the body of law surrounding defective consumer products), which would be the basis of her lawsuit. I described the role of the attorney, what she could expect from a lawsuit, and left her with a few questions to ask the prospective attorneys to help narrow down the choice. I had served my purpose. Yet, the third time she asked me to return to the hospital, I knew something far deeper was brewing than just advice.

As I slid the chair across the room toward her bed Mary impatiently blurted out, "Brian, I want you to represent me. I want you to be my attorney!"

I plopped down into the chair next to her bed, stunned and speechless.

"Well, what do you say, will you take it?" she eagerly asked breaking the silence.

"C'mon Mary, I don't have any experience practicing law, let alone the experience required to try a case in such a complex area like product's liability. You know that. Frankly, I don't meet any of the qualifications I outlined for you in hiring an attorney," I said almost laughing at the irony.

"It doesn't matter!"

"Mary, you have to think this through, I've never tried a case before," I pleaded, "you can find someone, anyone for crying out loud, who would be much more experienced, much more capable--"

"Brian," she said abruptly cutting me off, "I've given this a lot of thought, and I understand your point, but I don't care about the experience--"

"What?" I exclaimed with disbelief.

"Shhh, it's okay," she said softly cutting me off again and placing her index finger to her pursed smiling lips, "It only counts for so much...they're many more aspects to this situation that are more important."

"I don't even know if I'll be with the firm, in fact, I could be completely on my own. I don't have an office, God Mary, I don't even have business cards," I exasperatedly remarked.

However, she merely replied firmly, "I'll either sink or swim with you!"

Her persistence boggled my now racing mind. I pleaded yet again, "The most pressing matter is that I haven't even passed the bar exam yet. I’m not even an attorney. This is just crazy Mary!"

She looked at me sternly again, paused in silence as she gazed deeply into my eyes and then replied with a smile, "I know you'll pass, Brian. We'll start the case the day you pass; on that day you'll be my lawyer. Listen," she said rotating the bed upward and closer to me, "I don't care what you don't have, I'm only concerned with what you do."

Flabbergasted, I slouched further in the chair, looked to the ceiling for answers and sighed. After a moment's reflection, I dropped my face in my hands, which were trembling from the immense decision ahead, and muttered, "I don't know about this, Mary, I just don't know..."

She reached her hand out to the edge of the bed and waited for mine. As I slipped it into her delicate grip she said, "I have faith. I have faith in you, Brian, and faith that this is the right thing to do...just let nature take its course."

And with a thoughtful smile she replied, "Trust your heart, and just let it take its course."

I didn't think about her statements much during the two grueling years I tried the case, although I always knew that she trusted me. Always. Ever since, however, I have been utterly tortured by those statements. In particular, that Mary had such blind faith; that she had enough faith to make a decision she knew would gravely impact her entire life, and she did it in the face of such blatantly outrageous odds. Although the case did turn out beyond expectation, somehow she always knew it would. She had no formal education beyond high school, yet she had so much confidence in me and it wasn’t just blind confidence; she actually saw something and relied on it to the end. How can you have that much strength in yourself to not allow the nagging doubt and potential disaster of inexperience tear you away from such an exceptional decision? How can you possibly have that much faith to place the future of your entire life in the hands of a 26-year old virgin lawyer who would be handling a case requiring highly specialized knowledge of the law. I didn't understand it. I didn't possess any of the answers. I just didn't know and I still don't.

This trip, therefore, takes me not only around the world, encountering other cultures and new experiences, but in search of faith—Mary Matthews' faith. I remember lying in the bottom of Aponu's boat immersed in the water of the raging storm, and how I searched for it. I desperately clawed at my insides for it, I cried out for it. Yet I couldn't see it, I couldn't feel it, this faith, this untempered belief was nowhere to be found. I now cry the salty tears of the confused and forlorn for I sense those greedy partners still reaching for me, with their arms outstretched and palms upward, and I hear their tantalizing call. With sly smiles adorning their faces, their call echoes through my mind, and I know that they beckon for my soul. My moment of truth hardens, it deepens, and I fear the blackness of what I know lay within the call of the partners, and the blackness of the unknown. I feel my imperfection with the perfection of New Zealand’s opulent beauty, and I sense this penetrating struggle once again. Within it, I suffer. Now I don't know what I will eventually discover, but I do know that it is part of my life's mission to persist in its search, to discover this precious gift to my existence, this air I breathe, this "faith." And until I do, I know that my life will always be filled with nothing but the suffering.

I know therefore that I have no choice but to discover the meaning of this "faith," for my existence actually depends upon it.

***************

Australia is the smallest continent on earth, comparing roughly to the size of the continental United States, and it is the oldest and most isolated of the inhabited continents. The vast majority of inhabitants are of European derivation, most being from Britain, where they used Australia as a penal colony. Like the United States, the people of Australia were the rejects, the discontent, the rebellious, the scraps the Brits threw away from their enriched society. Indeed, we are both born from the same cloth. For many Americans, Australia is a rhapsodic enticement, one where its erotic call seduces them from the other side of the globe. Bren is no different, as she has long been enraptured with the wondrous land of "Oz." It is her dream destination, the land of golden beaches, sweet koalas, pouncing kangaroos, and the rugged "bush" of the outback. For her, it's the alluring "land down under."

We arrived early in morning in Australia's largest and oldest city, Sydney, which has a population itself exceeding all of New Zealand's (about 4 million). We took the shuttle bus to the circular quay downtown and shipped off on the next ferry for Manly, a suburb across the harbor from Sydney. It was a beautiful clear day and as we chugged along from the city, Sydney harbor almost magically appeared. The Opera House and Harbor Bridge stood as the centerpiece, the crowning jewels of this immense harbor with the modern cityscape rising majestically behind. Besides San Francisco, no other city can compare in its complex beauty of Man.

After a long climb up the hilly Manly, we found our hostel only to find out that no one was at the front desk, merely a handwritten message that the clerk would back in the early afternoon. However, as evening approached and he still had not shown up, we decided to blow off the hostel and scour the town for another room. We aimlessly labored with our backpacks through the dim, stark streets of Manly, famished and tired, and still homeless even though we had arrived nearly twelve hours earlier. After two discouraging hours with no luck, we stood lost among the man-made structures of block and stone for they all looked remarkably the same. Bren gazed into the twisting corridors, bewildered by our predicament. I saw her pain, her doubt, and it was a cracked reflection of myself—for we both were plagued by the thought of sleeping on the streets for the night. Still, we remained silent and pressed on.

As we crawled into the hand of fate, enslaved by exhaustion, listlessly lugging our packs through the concrete vessels of soured progress, rain suddenly poured from the sky, drenching us before we could get out our raingear. These pernicious fingers of fate began to tighten its grip upon us, and Bren suddenly stopped crippled in defeat. Her head fell with dismay as she dropped her pack into the water-puddled street and released an anguishing scream of sheer frustration. Her piercing cry echoed through the grooves constructed through the blocks of towering buildings. I reach up to stroke the salty water droplets from her face; I softly kissed her lips and as the heavens above roared through the abandoned streets, as we stood in a narrow alley half way across the world from our home without the hint of light and in the pouring rain. We took solace within the other’s glassy pupils as we gazed in silence, searching their eyes for the slightest hint of an answer.

The raindrops dripped over our sullen faces and mixed with these tears of frustration. I stepped closer to Bren reached up, and with thunder clapping through the clouds above I tasted her melancholy tears. I lifted my head toward the sky and with the droplets pelting my face, I held my arms openly as Bren then pulled me close to her drenched, cold body. Our chests and thighs clung to one another through the water, as the purifying droplets dripped between us and our lips locked together. I wrapped my arms tightly around her, and swung her around in a circle in the dark street of Manly in this festival of rain. We danced together to the sweet song of life and we did it without words. Indeed, we were half way across the world, standing languorously together in the torrential downpour like a couple of fools, kissing, touching, frolicking, and that's what made it unique, precious. This magic rippled through our bodies, and it made us realize just how special this journey truly was, all the places we've seen, things we've already done, and all that we will eventually see and do. Even at the height of despair, it was a spark, it was a celebration, it was a triumph of the human spirit; it was one of those moments I feel so deeply, for this was traveling, this is what I'll remember, and yes, this was "living life."

***************

We spent the next two days just being mad tourists in the mad, mad world of Sydney. If a man-made landscape could ever be picturesque it would be Sydney. The city center, the Harbor Bridge, the infamous Opera House all create a truly stunning setting. Sydney is highly cosmopolitan, diverse, clean, and fast-paced; it has a unique energy that seems to lift you by the seat of your pants and fling you toward your destiny. It's zesty. Despite the four million people, it doesn't have a crowded feel to it. Sydney feels wide open, comforting, almost soothing; the city seems to embrace you. As we caroused through her inner channels, I thought about how ironic it is that the 2000 Olympic games are here for as we ring in the new millennium it's decidedly a man-made vision of hope.

At the close of the second day of our crazed two-day tour of Sydney, we ended in King's Cross, the red light district. The "Cross" is downright seedy. Its dirty old streets are lined with run-down establishments and packed with strip joints, hookers, chilling screams, and a tattered tawdriness surpassed only by Amsterdam. It's a cool place to hang out, observe people, catch up on traveler's news, and enjoy the diverse and ubiquitous eateries. The Cross is the heartbeat of this man-made land; it provides the pounding pulse. While eating at one of the many "hole in the wall" type restaurants, we scrunched in next to another couple at the table who as it turned out were Australians visiting Sydney for the weekend. They were energetic and socially engaging, and our dinner conversation became immediately engrossing, eventually continuing with drinks at a pub further down Victoria Street. We discussed Australia and the United States, primarily comparing our two homelands. It was an enlightening conversation, especially about the Australian form of government—their country is young and similar to a callow America as they clearly are struggling to establish their own identity. Bren and I both found it interesting to hear about their growing pains, and in particular, compare them with that of the United States.

Specifically, we learned that Australia became unified into a single nation and drafted their Constitution less than 100 years ago, in 1901. The most interesting point was that the Queen of England remains at the top of their governmental hierarchy, with a deputy of Queen Elizabeth controlling her interests in the Australian Parliament. She has very little to do with Australia, yet oddly she remains the top dog. There is a strong movement here to modify their union into a Republic form of government, with a President elected by Australians as the Head of State. As strange as Bren and I found having the Queen of England the head of Australia, they found it equally strange our reluctance to alter our Constitution, to address today's standards and needs rather than rely on those the founders constructed more than 200 years ago.

I couldn’t disagree.

We left our newfound friends and took the half-hour ferry ride back to Manly. The sky had cleared, and a few stars hung above me, as I stood alone on the outside deck of the ferry. I casually leaned on the deck rail as the brisk wind whipped against my face and I thought of the earlier discussion with our new Australian friends. It left me feeling hollow. I had previously thought of America's reluctance to modify the Constitution, but I realized during the conversation with the Aussies that the problem went much deeper. It was a complex issue, and it was only another symptom of who really controls the most powerful country in the world. Today, the American people actually have very little to do with the governmental process, partly because of the system and partly by choice. I therefore wonder: in our complex world, in our complex society, has it become necessary to review and possibly alter the Constitution of the United States to conform more to today's standards? The government of America is quickly losing its foundation, its ability to help its people evolve, so has it become necessary to forcefully impart the social "change" that’s necessary into the fading scene of politics?

In reality, the Constitution of the United States is merely a historic document, nothing more or less. It is "we the people" of this time, this age, who give it power, not the founders. It was merely an agreement between the governmental entity and the people of that particular time. A contract by the people to abide by the principles enumerated in the Constitution in order to "form a more perfect union." We have over the years in essence ratified the document and continued its legal force as the basis for our governmental structure, our societal structure. Originally, the Constitution was constructed to provide guidelines as to how each American Citizen could conform on some basic level to form this union between themselves. It is, however, we the people who can change the document, it is we the people who have the inherent power to even void this document. It is ours; it's not the President's, not Congress's, not the Supreme Court's, not the government in general, but ours. They all can enforce it, but it is "we the people" who can change it, ultimately having chosen to live our lives by its standards.

Our Constitution, put another way, is a prospectus between a corporation and its shareholders. We are the shareholders, and the massive governmental structure of the United States, the corporation. There is a president, vice-president, a treasurer, and a board of directors (Congress) and just like a corporation our government has a complex system of checks and balances. We have adopted therefore this document as our agreement between the corporation and its shareholders. We can make changes to the lead players in our corporation because they are merely the ones we've elected, entrusted, to run our corporation efficiently and soundly. We can even make changes to the inherent structure of our corporation, as we are the binding agent in the agreement, we are the power base, we are the soul of this agreement. We, as the shareholders, are in fact the owners of this corporation.

As we all know and realize, a corporation must make changes, it must alter its directives, its goals, its philosophy, and its manner of production, in order to thrive; that is, to have success. The most successful corporations are those who adapt by preserving the good and efficient while discarding the bad and demanding change. We all know this, and observe it everyday in our Capitalistic society. This has become the primary reason for our economic domination in the world. Yet, we don't apply these same principles to our own government, the basis for living in our society. As a result, we in America fail to produce change, we fail to adapt to a different time and age, and we fail to change our philosophy and way of life. In essence, we have failed to take the reigns of our corporation and inevitably, it will represent less and less the ideals of present-day Americans, and it will become with time merely a historic document without significant effect.

The United States Constitution may very well be the greatest document ever created by man. It should be held sacred, not idly tampered with or altered without careful and intense study. It is to be, without a doubt, highly respected. However, it clearly defies logic that just because a principle is enunciated in the Constitution that it should be forever ingrained as the law of our nation, even when it no longer applies to the present day standards or fails to provide adequate direction. For example, why is it that within the esteemed Bill of Rights, there is no mention of equal rights to all American citizens; indeed, within the whole of the Constitution of the professed greatest country in the world, there is but one mention of equality and it is found within the "Equal Protection Clause" which was to bar Southern States from discriminating against former slaves (of course, the Supreme Court has interpreted this clause as equally applying to gender-based discrimination). However, why is it that we have no mention, within America’s Constitution, of equal rights for all regardless of race, gender or sexual orientation? Are we, more than 200 years since the creation of this document (and during a time when slavery was still a part of Americans society), still ignorantly excluding certain citizen’s basic civil liberties? The simple and profoundly alarming answer, is yes.

Even further, is there not a difference between a Court "interpreting" laws of equality and a fundamental right within the Constitution of equality? How can we be a nation harboring freedom and equality without such a stand, such a basic call of humanity?

In reality, the Constitution is only a document, a document of magnificent forethought and insight, but it is we the people who give this document its effect, its power. It therefore should be incumbent upon each generation to look at the Constitution, the basis of our government, the basis for our way of life and challenge its application to their society.

It should be the collective challenge of each generation.

However, let us dare not mistake this challenge as the end itself. Let us dare not buy into the modification of the Constitution as a solution unto itself. Let us not look to its alteration as a loophole to comfortably sweep nagging problems under the carpet of Stars and Stripes. For it's not the alteration of the document that is paramount, rather it's the process of exchanging new thoughts and ideas which prevent our stagnation, to make our country more efficient while stimulating our sense of country, and most importantly, where and how that generation fits into the historic fabric of America. It is pursuing those elements that help us individually to find purpose and reward in our lives; that is, seeking contrasts and developing perspective. Ultimately, I should think that little would change in the document, but our perspective, the perspicacity of our country, of our future, of even ourselves, surely would. Therein lay a glimpse into who we are as Americans, for it would unify us, it would define our purpose, and therefore, our direction. Just as the founders placed their heart and soul into creating this document, it should be our responsibility to challenge its principles and application. Rather than it being manipulated as a means to a political end, it should be the collective of each generation as the guardians of Democracy, as a tribute and responsibility to the founders for the benefit of the next generation.

We are Americans. However, what does America stand for today? Are we are losing what it means to be AMERICAN? Are we are losing our edge, our desire to change, our desire to adapt and utilize the freedom our founders established? Without a doubt, we as Americans no longer challenge, rather we simply abide. We have become a people confounded by "giving" and programmed to be the "takers" within this system of government. And as long as the system seemingly continues to "give" to us individually, we seem to be content to blindly "take" from this well of wealth and prosperity. As a result, it seems that "we the people" have become apathetic, and even more, it’s occurred during a time when the politics of this nation has lost its pulse with the people. The politics of America now weaves a tangled web, one in which it has lost its ability to impact the way Americans live, to remedy the social ills of the country and to lead the nation in a direction filled with an idealistic vision. We, in turn as Americans, have lost "faith" in this system. The vicious circle now eats at itself, the teeth of this powerful beast bite at its tail for we, as a people, have so easily bought into the "illusion" of our progress—because the money and technology raise the curtain to hide the "truth." In fact, apathy now controls us, it's our plague. It saps our spirit and stabs at our pride, and eventually it will devour America's soul. Without a doubt, we are losing what made our country great, what made us distinctly Americans.

Are we as Americans a people the founders would be proud of?

Sadly, I think not.

Have we become the antithesis of our founders and the country they so ardently struggled to establish? Have we become exactly what they despised, what they fought so hard against? Indeed, we have become complacent, narcissistic, dependent and needy, all elements that prominently stand out in striking contrast to the founders. We are a people who now fear change absolutely and rationalize away the growing maladies facing the country and the world. In fact, we have permitted the politics of our country to place us in a fatal stranglehold, one that will leave an indelible legacy upon the next generation and the complex fabric of America. We have given in to this crumbling system, and even more, we have become utterly dependent upon this same system to meet our individual needs. The founders were dreamers, dreamers filled with the passion to fulfill their vision of an ideal; they were independent thinkers and desired to create a system that was a "framework" for society—one that fostered individuality under an umbrella of common ideals; however, we are quickly becoming a people blinded by weakness lost among the cascading dollar bills, technological prowess, and arbitrary arrogance.

They were the founders of one of the greatest empires the world has ever seen, and sadly enough, it seems that we will become the generations who lose it all, leaving a legacy of having carelessly squandered it all away. As a Democracy, we are the loyal subjects of its being, for the tenants underlying the force of this government are found within us, "we the people." We as a single force breathe the life into its being, and for this we are equally responsible to this form of government as it is to us. When we pervert its ideals, when we fail to uphold its principles, then "we the people" lose our integrity not only as individuals but as a collective. Democracy then becomes merely an idle principle rather than an acting force.

Have we become so weakened by our dependence upon this "system" that we cannot stand alone, that we cannot accept the individual responsibility of being "free"? Would we rather destroy even those principles we honor by our inherent weakness, than to stand upon our conscience and individual ideals? Do we choose so easily to give away our conscience, even our souls, to a crumbling sense of what once was? Again, the vileness of my recurring thought twists in my belly: would we rather be controlled robots in an easy and stable world than freethinkers in a complicated and unpredictable one? And indeed, once again, have we sold our souls, as well as the souls of next generations, merely for the efficiency of an economic system?

So when the economic pendulum swings us toward a massive recession or worse, a depression, what will we say of our government then? The same government that is praised for its efficiency will be hanged for its oppressiveness, and yet it was "we the people" who made this choice—not Democracy. Our reluctance to challenge the application of the Constitution, although in no way offers a solution, perfectly exemplifies our desire to avoid dealing with the problems that rage unchecked in our society, the problems which are clearly eating away at the core of the America. We have defiled the power of Democracy, and in doing so, we have given away the one thing that made America different, what made America the beacon shining through the blanket of fog which plagues us as human beings.

Now, the time has come for us as a nation to look in the mirror.

We are the problem, we steal the honor from this system of governing, and we have freely given away the power of the people to a few sleeping giants hibernating within the cave along with the rest of us. They are merely the stokers of this fire; they do nothing but throw an extra log to prolong its burn. Without a doubt, these same individuals will run the train until there is no more coal to burn or track to be run. Yet in one respect, they are indeed representative of us collectively, for they merely "take" from the system that has given them the opportunity. When there is a "taker," then the laws of physics indeed tell us that there must be a "giver." Who is it that continues to give, and what happens when they fail to give any longer? Yes, Men must lead government. Once the government begins to lead Men, you not only lose your autonomy individually but the precious exercise of free will. It becomes a force pliable to the will of a selected few, rather than a conscience of the whole. Indeed, a government can never free any individual, only Men can accomplish such a lofty measure. The government may stand for the principle of freedom, but it is the people who give it force, who make it so.

What are the aching signs of our apathy, the declines of democratic force, and our systematic enslavement? What has America ultimately become? I now see this blackened and scarred world, one in which we have grown accustomed to lying, cheating and stealing, affairs and divorce are rampant, betrayal has become a commonly acceptable thread flowing through society, children are bearing children and not out of ignorance but carelessness, children are now killing each other in our streets and schools; in fact, children now have a better opportunity to end up in jail than being raised by both parents. The frivolous world of politics now boldly closes its grip around our throats, and spanks the life from Democracy and our once distinguished way of life. Justice has fallen truly blind and carries an echoless gavel, prejudice and racism abound unabated, assault weapons kill and maim the innocent and the police have no counter, murderers and rapists roam the streets free for the prisons are overcrowded, violence now permeates each of our daily lives in every sight and sound, and worst of all, faith has been replaced by our inherent greed. In this ugly, distorted reflection, we are all becoming mindless manikins; carbon copies all jumping in unison through the same worn hoop for that next precious dollar bill. This is the beating heart of America. I hold it in my trembling hands, I feel its pulse as I massage it through my fingers. And I know, this is the "true" America; this has become the charred soul of America.

Even more painfully disturbing, this is how we've actually chosen to live. It has been our "free" choice to live this way. For the principles of Justice, Democracy, and Family are only as strong as the people within the system of each, for they have no life without the will of the people to instill value to those principles. What does it say for us as Americans to choose, in a world where most don't have a choice, to live our lives this way? Isn’t this the painful legacy of so many other ancient civilizations that eventually imploded? Isn’t this the legacy we live today as human beings, that we couldn’t control our primal impulses and desires to resist reaching for the dangling "golden" apple? Are we doomed to repeat the same mistakes in such ignorant repetition? As a member of the "X" generation, one whose generation is now forced to come to terms with the realities facing us as a nation, this "choice" is difficult, even painful, to swallow. The crooked street just seems to painfully grow more crooked. I stare at it intensely, deeply, and I can't help wonder where the professed "greatness" has gone, because I don't see it. I see merely the sands of an outstretching desert of vanity and within this waterless and isolated place we have become prisoners to our own fortress of demise. We are the peccant warriors driven by arrogance to an oasis dancing on the distant horizon, an oasis filled with water that will never be found.

Are we going to judge our growth, our advancement, as a nation by only an economic standard? If we as a nation are doing well financially, if we have more to contribute to our stockpile of material possessions and wealth, why do we as a nation believe we are thriving, that somehow we are contributing to the experience of being human. Indeed, everything else seems to be comfortably swept under the rug, and sadly, most of us are content to watch it happen. Like technology, are we going to delude ourselves into believing that we are evolving as human beings merely because we have computers and a plethora of possessions within our comfy boxes? The most disturbing part of this perspective, however, is just how comfortable we have become with hiding, cowering in the corner, turning out the lights to the dim reality which seems to be enveloping us. It crushes my heart, the knife slips deftly into my belly and twists. I see the bony fingers of the hand, the hand which grips this knife so tightly, I look up and gaze into the cold, pale eyes, and I recognize this dark entity who seeks to take our beating hearts from our chests, for it is merely the hand of our collective self.

Yes, the wind now whips through our desert prison, it stings our eyes and lodges in our parched throats. We trudge onward, still, insatiably lured by the oasis of our distorted dreams. We have become the richest country in the world. No doubt. Is that something, however, our founders were striving for? In small part yes, but ultimately, the answer must be no. Is that something we as a people should be striving for? I have to believe, absolutely not—that is to simply have an economic empire filled with only the scantest signs of men. For what have we gained to have the money, the possessions, the technology, but lack a soul—for we fail to even be men at all. Indeed, violence, scandal, television, pop news, fashion, and sports, now dominate our society. Again, this is America. Big business realized years ago these things were taking control of the most influential country on the planet, and they have astutely gotten their mitts on them. Now they have a piece of the controlling pie, and unfortunately, it comes much to our own personal expense. Many are, even more, not Americans or American companies. People throughout the world now enjoy American Capitalism, which isn’t a problem itself; however, it occurs while we bear the negative consequences of the system.

That is, while we bear the pain.

Unfortunately, we are so blinded by our narcissism, arrogance, and greed that we cannot see our souls being stripped of their essence. For you see, Capitalism has a serious drawback. Most significantly, it creates a Darwinian practice of "survival of the fittest"; that is, if we create an adversarial system, it brings out the best, most efficient, cheapest way of doing things. Undeniably, it has been the basis for our wealth and good fortune economically. Unfortunately, it certainly has its share of negative consequences, as the people of America have become increasingly hostile in pursuit of the dollar that is dangled in front of each of them. It forces us to go on the offensive with little, if no, concern for others in our path. Sadly, it’s even taught to us as a way of life. It generates a path of negative energy that is difficult to balance in our daily lives. Now, it is mercilessly eating away at each of us. The desire to have more wealth, to pursue what is becoming an "American Dream" of being rich at all costs, to hold the power of money in our meager hands, is frankly going to cost us our souls. It may already have.

So, at what point do we fight to exercise our conscience over this system—for yes this system gives us the power, the economic framework for money and possessions, but it destroys us as human beings? Again, when the system controls the people, as is quickly becoming true in both America’s governmental and economic structures, you unavoidably lose your individual autonomy and eventually your freedom. Once you lose this, no matter how much you prosper financially or technologically, you lose your sense of individuality—who you are as a sentient being. Once that fades, then inevitably, you begin to become the machine we so deeply envy and with it, we lose our distinctive purpose in this world as human beings. We will become the pigeons awaiting the fallen crumb for our sustenance—beings forced to comply with the will of others.

It only seems preposterous, this possible course, because we are so firmly entrenched within this system and blinded by its material offerings. For example, most Americans work hard, work to support their family and fulfill their immediate responsibilities. This is certainly to be commended, however, for many Americans this has become the justifiable end. What America has given to them, simply, they take. It has become their birthright to take, and without the slightest hint of giving back, or thinking about people beyond the borders of America. JFK's renowned statement, "Think not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country," unfortunately rings hollow in present-day life in America. And it's only getting worse. Has my generation turned into a giant collective hand constantly groping for more? If so, then it's only what we have been taught, it is a legacy that has freely flowed from the "desires" of the previous generation. For we are being handed a crumbling world held together with crazy glue and are being forcibly taught to simply close our eyes to its cracks and gaping chasms. We all sit in our homes comfortably with little concern, shielded from the reality that grips our country and our planet. If we don't like what we hear, what we see, it's just easier to change the channel, to close the door, or find another technological marvel to enable us to avoid dealing with this glaring "reality." This wicked circle grows, it expands, it twists, and flows even faster, and it makes us all the more complacent and apathetic. As it spins virtually out of control, we still don’t care; soon we won't have a country left, or we’ll at least be robots programmed to sustain the material whole—stripped completely of our humanity, but we'll still be sitting placidly in each of our comfy little boxes moaning about what conveniences we still don't have or what America has yet to give us.

Strikingly, we don't have any excuses. We will soon become slaves to this self-imposed tyrannical union, with our words falling on deaf ears, our acts forced individually and collectively, and eventually our prized liberty forsaken or at least severely restricted. With each passing day we collectively hack at the tenants of Democracy and watch the parchment of our esteemed Constitution crumble in our apathetic hands. We frivolously give in to the Capitalistic system that savagely pits us against one another, and steals from our purity as human beings. But make no mistake about it, the fault lay not within either of these "systems" but rather with those within its framework—the fault sits squarely upon our shoulders as "we the people." We have given the control to the system, and in turn, we have become pawns to the system. My generation will be left with this daunting legacy. We must all understand this, we must snap out of this complacent slumber and realize our country is being silently and subtly twisted from our hands, for the light is fading. Who we are is becoming merely a dark, distant shadow of who we once were, and as the lights of Sydney, this city of hope, wane into darkness, I can't help but think that the Aussies have decided to follow in our fleetly fading footsteps...

And so goes the little blue planet.

***************

We woke on our final day in Sydney to a beautiful warm, sunny day. Everything was on schedule, we'd packed our bags for our departure tomorrow, and we knew the places we wanted to see on our last day. We were all settled until I leaned into Bren on the ferry ride into Sydney and casually asked, "Did you want the brush out of the knapsack to fix your hair?"

Ding, Ding, Round I.

She just looked up at me, eyes fixed and focused, staring, glaring. I knew immediately that I was in trouble. The silent treatment lasted the remainder of the ferry ride as I received only sharp, piercing glances to my questions. As we maneuvered into the quay area after departing the ferry, we suddenly became bound in a torrid tangle of words. As we walked through the quay area, the verbal jousting continued and a bombshell was dropped on our perfect day. Invariably, it's something below the surface which is the true cause of the fight but that certainly doesn't make it any less passionate at the time. It never does for us.

After finally calming, we walked through the park next to the city and onto Ms. Macquarie's point, an isolated tip to the park where you can take in the entire bay area. The view was stunning, the Opera House and Harbor Bridge cuddling the city center and the harbor filled with boats and ferries navigating the majestic Sydney bay. It was a reflection of the day this was supposed to be, and yet as we walked back to the quay, it quickly turned again. I was getting hungry, which is usually a prelude to petulance, and I still remained a bit testy from the ferry ride, while Bren was just plain ornery. With these elements swirling in a natural eddy, the sparring then began again.

Ding, Ding, Round 2.

"It's nice, but a bit expensive, what d'ya think?" Bren said as we stood staring at the menu of a small restaurant overlooking the bay in the quay.

"I don't really care, I'm just hungry...what do you wanna do?"

"I don't care either..." Bren replied.

We just stood staring at the menu, as if the prices would mysteriously change for our paltry pocketbooks.

"Oh c'mon, Bren make a decision! I'm just too hungry to argue about it," I finally said in frustration.

"Okay it's fine with me...Bren decided, her words hanging in the air. I began walking into the restaurant when she said, "...but it is a bit expensive."

The lingering words caught me mid-stride and I stopped.

"This is ridiculous. Yes or No, Bren?"

"It's too expensive for lunch...I think," she replied with a sigh of exhaustion and indecision.

So we shuffled onward, and after nearly an hour we finally arrived at the base of the Sydney tower in the city center while we both grew hungrier, more silent, and more stubborn. We finally found our apparent salvation in a mall under the tower figuring there was a "food court" which would undoubtedly cure our cravings.

At last the silence was broken, "Do you want pizza?" I gingerly and eagerly asked.

"No, not really."

"How about some Chinese?" I persisted.

"No. We just had that two nights ago."

"How about burgers?" I asked.

"No. We just had them last night...but how about some Mexican?"

"Fine, let's go find it," I exclaimed with exasperation.

As fate would have it, there was no Mexican food.

And it was the last straw for us both...

"Look, I don't care what we eat as long as its somewhat edible at this point," I said in frustration, still being careful not to start an outright brawl.

"Well don't yell at me, this certainly isn't my fault," Bren said leading with a stiff jab.

"I'm not blaming you, I'm just making an emphatic statement," I tried explaining, wary of her looming presence.

"Like hell you are, you're blaming me for you being hungry and not finding a place, just as you've been blaming me all day," she bantered back with a wicked combination, "We could have eaten at that place back at the quay."

I immediately donned the gloves and viciously jabbed back, "You've got to be kidding me, I was already walking in the place. This is bullshit. Not even to mention that I'd then have to listen to you incessantly complain about how expensive it was the rest of the day and how you really couldn't even enjoy it, no way--" I angrily retorted as I walked away.

"You're a real jerk, you know that, and quit walking away from me," Bren fumed and a full-fledged brawl was on.

"That's it, I've had enough of this," I yelled losing my temper, "You find your own place to eat and I'll find mine. There, are you happy now!"

"You're the one who made it that way gettin' all pissy because you haven't eaten," she was yelling back at me as I walked away to find a place to eat, "Oh look out world, Brian's hungry..."

We were both out of control, and once again we were undeterred by being in the midst of a public place, as I came charging back, "You're the one who's a real ass here, I was just asking for your own benefit if you wanted the brush on the ferry. You're the one in a pissy mood and you've been so from the start of the day..."

"God, I really feel like slugging you, you're such an ass!" she violently spewed as she took her standing eight-count and walked to a neutral corner of the mall.

Eventually, we found each other aimlessly wandering the mall both still stubbornly steaming, yet we managed to cordially agree on a restaurant with cafeteria-type food.

We walked silently into the restaurant and sat down. The unsuspecting waiter, who as it turned out actually owned the place, came over offering the menus when Bren threw a shot below the belt, "You better give him the menu first or he's liable to bite both our heads off..."

Ding, Ding, Round 3.

I exploded. "Oh, you wanna play it out this way?" I said staring her down, "Fine. Just when things get calmed down you--"

"You better get him something to eat…and quick!" Bren said to the waiter continuing her melee of body blows.

"I...I...I think I'll just come back a little later," the waiter guardedly interjected.

"Fine," I snapped never removing my eyes from Bren, "I can't believe you just did that!" I said with utter astonishment, "This just isn't going to work out, it's painfully obvious, we need to go our separate ways or go home!"

"Fine with me," Bren snapped back with a sadistic grin, knowing she'd buckled my knees.

"Well, see ya, when does your plane leave?" I quickly bellowed countering her low blows with a shot of my own.

We just sat staring at each other...neither moving, both defensive, wondering who'd throw the next jab, or who was going to give in.

"This is really ridiculous," I got up finally walking away frustrated, taking my turn in a neutral corner.

I sat on a bench outside the restaurant attempting to cool down and thought about how childish this all really was, but still, my mind became consumed by thoughts of waving to her as she got on a plane bound for home. Amused, I chuckled to myself thoroughly enjoying the thought of traveling alone…and Brenda as far away from me as possible. However, I quickly realized that it wasn't going to end like that, and walked back into the restaurant and calmly sat down.

After scarfing down our meals without a word, both too stubborn to apologize, we paid and left in despondent silence. As we walked toward the exit of the mall we came to a "fork" in our path, and naturally I went one way and she the other. Defiantly, we continued our directions and became separated. When we found each other again outside the mall...

Ding, Ding, Round 4.

"What the hell are you doing?" I said as frantic blows began to fly.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bren bantered back.

"You knew which way I was going and you were just being stubborn--"

"That’s ridiculous! I'm just sick of you, it was you being too stubborn!" she angrily interrupted.

"This trip together just isn't going to work out, especially with you acting like this everywhere we go," I yelled back.

We were toe to toe now, staring each other down during this moment of truth.

Bren fired away without a second thought, "You're right, it's not going to work out--" she screamed back in my face.

She was weakened but still she refused to go down.

"Okay, b'bye, see ya; why are you still standing there?" I callously remarked.

"No, you take the hike!" Bren returned bluntly.

"Later," I said ambling away. I never turned around and just kept walking. A few minutes later I found myself aimlessly walking through the shopping district of Sydney still fuming. I casually walked through "The Rocks," the renowned shopping area of Sydney, browsing and taking pictures trying to pretend that nothing had occurred. As I wandered the narrow cobblestone streets I knew that the "struggle" had ensued once again, and with it, the pain of the past reared its ugly head. My desperate and melancholy world of being "one" with another had spun wildly out of control, and I reflected on the plane ride into New Zealand where I engaged this "struggle" head on. Being so imperfect, so vulgar and primal never seemed as tangible than having left Bren during that tirade, and yet now to walk the streets alone seemed strangely a relief. Our relationship had become a cornucopia of desire, frustration, and angst; our emotional tangles had created a complex web sticky with confusion. It was now seemed easier to simply go our separate ways, to split up, and find our paths in life without the aid of the other. I had grown deeply tired of the constant compromise and inhaling the life of another. This point in time, I knew, much like I stood in front of the partner’s desk was our moment of truth together.

"Should I give up and move on independently? Maybe I should continue the trip alone?" I thought to myself. Oddly, to find myself at this point of profoundness in an interpersonal relationship and it had the smallest notion to do with "love." Had I been told countless lies about these times of our lives for I had always been told that relationships had "everything to do with love."

As I stood looking at the striking man-made structures reaching for the heavens above, our towers of Babel, I knew that I did love Bren, and if we chose to walk away I would still love her. In fact, how can love ever die—how can what is created in such purity and passion ever be destroyed? It can’t. So, life with another only begins with this precious strand of "love"—it is the means to the end, not the end itself. I knew that from New Zealand that to grow is to suffer, and as I thought of our relationship, I felt that truth. That is, to be with another, to truly become one, you must challenge that suffering that is a natural by-product of that relationship. And my challenge began with how I had acted and taking responsibility for those contorted actions. I had lost it, I’d exploded, and at least for that I knew I was wrong. I had to look at the walls of the Grand Canyon with a scrutinizing gaze and see the painful "reality."

As fate would have it, in a city of four million we bumped into each other just outside "the Rocks." An hour and half had passed since I had last seen her and I was relieved to look at her face before me. Without a word, we embraced. We sat on a bench directly in front of the bay with the Opera House in our direct line of vision and confronted the reality of this ongoing "struggle." We confronted the ugly world we had created, the world devoid of "pure" love and the gift of "giving" to each other, we had instead become merely decision partners, holding the hand of life fearful of being unmasked and alone. We looked deep into the heart of the monsters created within each of us, and decided that neither of us wanted to give up on this trip, or on each other. It was a moment thick with love-bitten tension; a moment when the earth actually stood still and only the two of us seemed alive. Amongst billions, we were alone, just the two of us sitting together watching the sun disappear, casting its radiant memories into the sky, casting its radiant light into our lives.

We discussed that the pace the last three weeks has been unbelievably grueling and were strung out--we agreed that we must take it easy for a couple days and just relax. We also realized that with the limited time remaining in Australia and just how much we were covering that we'd have to keep it together and work as a team. It was vital. We regrouped, teased each other into an apology, and discussed the depths of our enigmatic relationship.

"Why did you say that to me about my hair?" Bren asked finally.

"I was really just trying to be helpful, you always brush your hair before we get off the ferry," I cautiously explained.

"I know," she said solemnly, "I know you were only thinking of me, I'm sorry, Bri...do you forgive me?"

"It's just that there are all these beautiful women around, all fixed up, professional looking, cosmo-types, especially here, and then there's me...only 3 or 4 sets of dirty clothes, no make-up and my hair in a pony-tail; Bri, I generally feel pretty ragged," she explained.

I felt bad for not recognizing it; truthfully, I never even thought about what it would be like to be woman in that situation.

Bren continued, "It’s just this place, it actually makes me think about the way I look. I hate thinking about such a trivial point, but I just can’t get past it here. God, I despise it because it makes me feel trivial."

I looked at her stunned, stunned by her outpouring of anxiety and her individual "struggle" with modern society’s emphasis on superficial appearances.

"I'm sorry baby," I said putting my arm around her attempting to offer consolation on an issue I could comprehend but certainly never could understand. I looked at her, still enraged by the sting of a society’s spurious demands, and I felt as I did diving in the Cooks when I looked up at her on the surface struggling, I felt helpless.

We sat back, arm in arm, drained emotionally and watched the sunset over the harbor, and the soft golden hue enshrouding the bay and the Opera House in front of us. We sat licking our wounds from the "furious fray down under," but nevertheless I had a warm feeling. I knew that we'd certainly be much more committed to working together as a team the rest of the trip, to reach into the other’s heart to understand; without a doubt, this would serve as a stark reminder of what grossly contorted deeds we were both capable.

"Why do relationships have to be so difficult?" Bren asked looking out over the lights of the harbor.

"Why does life have to be so hard?" I offered, trailing off still thinking.

"I guess relationships kinda mirror life though," I ventured, "if you don't put the work into your relationship and take responsibility for it, you won't ever find true contentment and happiness within it."

"Yeah, I just hate the feeling that we are going backward, that we’re regressing, Bri. Jeez, this fight; wow, it was a doozy and to think how stupid we acted!"

"I know, it’s disconcerting. Maybe it’s only a matter of perspective, for it is only if we don’t learn from this experience, from these vicious valleys in our lives, then we truly regress. And I learned something about ‘love’ and its merely a building block, the glue, not the gold at the end of the rainbow. I also have some insight into how you must feel, I mean, the demands society places on you as a female."

"Thanks, babe. That means so much, it really does. You’re probably right about learning from these experiences, but one thing I want you to know, babe, no matter what happens in our lives, I’ll never, never give up on you. Please always remember that."

The ugly brawl had ended in a delightful, even profound, draw; one in which both of us survived to fight another day, one in which we both learned something of the doubt and anxiety that exists beneath the surface within each of us. And as I looked out at the Sydney Harbor glimmering, shining in the warm glow of the sun’s transcendent rays, I knew that after this day of volatility sometimes in life it takes a step back in order to move two ahead.

***************

The next day took us 100 kilometers west of Sydney to the Blue Mountains, a national park filled with immense gorges and mountains clad with eucalyptus and gum trees as far as the eye could see. We checked into a hotel in the heart of the mountains in the cozy town of Katoomba, and welcomed the two days of relative isolation within the enchanting grip of the mountains. After getting roughly settled in, we immediately set out for the small town to find some grub, where we sauntered into a diner recommended as having the "best food in Oz."

We sat down, and as we perused the menus Bren said from behind the menu, "I still can’t believe that we’re in Australia. We’re on the other side of the planet!"

"I know, it’s crazy," I returned consumed with the menu of delights.

"I like this place and Sydney, but is it me or does this feel like just a vacation or something, when we were in Fiji and even the Cooks, it was different…deeper. I mean like Aponu, I kinda miss him," Bren said sullenly.

I chuckled, resigned to Bren’s statement of truth, "Yeah, I miss him too. Funny how that works. I guess you miss people you make a connection with, and here and in New Zealand, we been moving at such a quick pace and the people are, like those at home, so consumed with their daily lives that they have little time for weary travelers like ourselves."

"I remember those days. It was just a few months back, when we were trying to make it through the day. I can’t help but think, Bri, that somehow we have it backward in the States. I mean if I could meet someone like Aponu or Garrett or Roaro once a week at home, and we were around truly happy and content people, I think that I would feel myself a bit more fulfilled."

She gently placed the menu on the table and stared off into space and said with a soft chuckle, "Yeah, if I wasn’t confronted with cut-throat competition and the thought of stepping on or being stepped on, every moment of my existence. That somehow, we could take the time for each other, and feel, just from being around other people that the world is moving in a positive direction."

"Are you saying that you think we, as Americans, aren’t moving in a positive direction?"

"I don’t know," she said somber sigh, "I just don’t know. I think being around people in the States makes me feel as if the world is moving backward. Does that make any sense?"

We both just sat silent, stopped by Bren’s powerful statement.

Ironically, just after ordering, the owner of the diner arrived at our table breaking our harmonious silence. She quickly introduced herself as Edel, and she seemed to welcome the opportunity as she sat down and immediately began chatting away to "us Yanks." She was in her mid fifties, of medium build, with comforting good looks, a glowing smile, and an energy that bounded and radiated from her. She was refreshing, bright, and articulate; and without a doubt, she said exactly what was on her mind. Every issue seemed to be a personal one. She dove at it, tackled it to the ground, and pounded on it without mercy. We soon discovered this as, after soliciting our opinions on her country, she jumped right in on graciously providing insight into the Australian people and her country. She started with their prejudices and the problems Australia is currently experiencing with immigration.

Edel obviously reveled in giving you a jolt, a shock of framing a sensitive issue in blunt terms. She surprised us both with ease she talked about the "Japs," and among other things, how they could care less about the environment and how, "They eat anything and everything from the sea with complete indifference to the habitat of sea life." Bren and I just kicked back and listened, as she latched onto yet another issue about the Japanese, one in which she obviously harbored a painful prejudice. I gently nudged her, pressing for the underlying rationale when unexpectedly she exploded, "Well, dammit, they callously invaded our country during World War II!"

We were on the edge of our seat as her fiery animosity had been ignited, not knowing what was coming next, or what would set her off next. I even wondered what atrocious thoughts plagued her mind about us "Yanks."

"You have to listen to this, you must understand," she said with intent, deeply focused eyes, as she leaned across the table and grabbed my forearm. She calmed for a moment and then said softly, "It's important you understand."

Bren and I sat slightly perplexed, but utterly engaged as she drilled us with her passion, her emotion, and her intensely inflamed sense of the world.

Although she was born just after WW II, she had heard the stories from her parents, and our friend Edel obviously remained impassioned about the issues and circumstances surrounding this event in Australian history.

She slipped into a solemn, almost documentary mode, explaining, "We were hit hard by the depression and its effects seemed to linger, we were a weak country...and in those years just before WW II, we all became much more fearful of Japan. When war finally did break out in Europe, England called for Australian troops to fight alongside the British in Europe, leaving us at home exposed. Japan attacked and bombed New Guinea and our north coast and eventually invaded. They headed further south while Britain continued to call for even more troops to aid them in Europe," she went on becoming increasingly agitated with each word that flowed from her lips.

It was a fireside chat in the corner of a small home-style diner in a small rural town nestled amongst the hills of the Great Divide of eastern Australia; indeed, she was the heart of Oz speaking from within its passionate heart. She was an eloquent conversationalist, and Bren and I listened intently; in fact, I couldn't move, I was entranced by her every word.

"Finally, the Australian Prime Minister refused Britain's request and fought the Japanese in Port Moseby, New Guinea (an Australian territory then), and after a struggle defeated them."

And with a lift in her voice, she emphatically continued, "...And it was the United States who came to our aid, not the English. With the American victory at the Battle of the Coral Sea and our persistence in battling the Japanese in the Pacific, we were able to finally defeat them. As far as Aussies are concerned, and recent history bears this out, a special allegiance was struck with the Americans as a result of their aid," and it seems to me from Edel's intensity, a fortification of a long-time prejudice against the Japanese surfaced as well.

There was a pride in her voice when she talked of the war and in particular the alliance with the United States. She had such fiery passion, and at that moment, a sense of pride simply filled my body and swallowed me—that my country was able to assist the people of her country. I then felt it; that being an American was more than living within its borders, singing the Anthem, or taking a pledge of allegiance; it was about pride, it was about honor and character, and it flowed through my being with every beat of my heart. In that surreal moment of time, if I had even glanced at a flag of Stars and Stripes, I would have uncontrollably burst out in tears.

As my personal epiphany concluded, Edel was still driving on, "…We sent troops to the Korean War and even the Vietnam War right next to the Americans. Most of us had reservations, and in fact many were adamantly opposed, to our involvement in Vietnam...much like in your country. We did however withdraw our troops before the end of the war as a new political party came to power, but we were there and lost many Aussies in the conflict. It was such a sad state of affairs, but we were there...we were bloody there…" she said trailing off.

The restaurant had long closed and it was after midnight when we finally left. Bren and I talked into the wee hours of the morning primarily of our fortuitous encounter with Edel. Although we didn't agree with her on some of the issues and perspectives, it was nevertheless a deeply engrossing conversation. She had my mind spinning, I had found myself riveted to her eyes intently longing for more; she was consumed with passion and it seemed to flow toward us with every word. She felt a connection with America and its people, she felt indebted to it and honored the friendship, and we were on this night the medium for her to express it. It seemed profoundly important to her that we knew and understood that Australians were next to us in Vietnam. It consumed her being to be able to tell us that Aussies carried the torch of freedom along side America, and that they had brazenly beared the pain of doing so. On some basic level, she represented all of Oz telling their American cousin that they were grateful for the help, and as far as they were concerned they'll be there with us when needed. It wasn't some politician speaking with a forked tongue, it wasn't the leaders of our respective countries diplomatically spinning an appearance or desired affect; no, it was the heart of a loyal Aussie speaking to a couple average Americans. It was heart to heart; it was the Australians to Americans, telling us, "No worries mates, we got your back."

I knew as I drifted to sleep that night, that indeed, we as Americans felt the same.

***************

The following day we hiked through the area where a mist of "blue haze" hangs over the surrounding mountains, created from the secretion of oil from the eucalyptus tree. The canyon is several miles wide, lined with sheer cliffs and flooded with eucalyptus, gum, and pine trees. Although it didn't compare with the mind-numbing dimensions of the Grand Canyon, the beauty of the area, highlighted by this "blue haze," produced an intense, mystical appearance and feel. As we trekked through this alluring slice of nature, I saw the Grand Canyon’s mirror once again rising before me with its scrutinizing gaze. Edel’s spirit walked with us along the dusty path that twisted through the tall, majestic trees, and much like her this place was filled with passion and zest; it all, this place, nature, the people, Edel, became an intoxicating affirmation of life and I again felt "alive" within nature’s grip.

As we weaved along a path filled with the arousing smell of eucalyptus and pine tress, the cobalt fog consumed me, much like Edel did the night before. Her words lingered, and like knives they continued to stab at this blue blanket covering my brain. With each step deeper into the canyon of mist exuded from these valley of trees, I felt the world pressing upon my soul; its presence was no longer subtle as it was in New Zealand, for now this "awareness" had form. Indeed, it was thrusting its responsibility upon my being, and I knew that with awareness comes responsibility. I actually felt this notion of the universe—almost as if it was a force. Can we feel the laws of nature, the laws of the universe, as a physical force within our souls?

We reached a small clearing high above the valley floor below where the blue mist hung just above the green trees covering this massive gorge. I knew that this haze was the breath of life emitted from the endless forest below, and only the interconnectedness of these millions of trees together created this life. For me, it was the genesis of a new world, one in which the mountaintops are filled with the ecstasy of the scintillating discovery of "awareness," but also the penetrating valleys of "responsibility." It was the Dragon and Tiger, for together these masses of similar trees exuded this beautiful highlight to the entire canyon, it was a piece of their collective soul. And as if I was among the heavens looking down, I saw my place within this collective, within this ringing discovery of the existence of the soul.

Deep within the blackness, the void I once felt inside my physical container of rolling cells, I now felt a barking echo of something else. It was the same feeling I had lying in the boat in Fiji during the storm as I looked to the heavens for faith, and it was the same feeling I had as the dolphins circled my dangling bones in the salty sea. What I perceived to be an emptiness was actually the crux of my being, a misunderstood force within the skin of flesh. I stopped at a fallen tree, I gazed over its splintered edges where it was torn from its roots in the ground, and I saw its ringed cored beneath the skin of bark. As I touched its softened inner core, which was slowly disintegrating into the soil below my feet, I breathed in the cycle of life within myself. Was I a part of this cycle? Did I, do we, hold this much value among the perfection of nature—that we actually give back even in death? Because I knew then that built into the inspiring cycle of nature is a pervasive current of selflessness.

Is our purpose here to learn from this nature, to be selfless in giving back to the collective? Yet do we merely destroy—for what have you built if, no matter the consequence, that final product fails to include this intricately woven ribbon of selflessness? Yes, because within every cell of nature, and even its demise—when it no longer exists as a living organism, it feeds and nourishes the collective. From this are we to learn the most basic of lessons?

What we, as human beings, possess beyond this mechanism within nature is the ability to think and communicate; indeed, to carry on conversations with those generations of the future, even after our veins no longer carry our atoms of life. Yet, what are those conversations, those thoughts, those writings, those indelible fingerprints of our existence, without this "ribbon of selflessness" woven into them? To stare upon Nature without this basic understanding, to continue to destroy the world in which we are designed to create, is merely to bless our primitive souls within the murky waters of our primal ignorance. Shall this become our hardened destiny within the soft folds of time departed and the earmarked creases of space?

This subtle awakening to "I am" required much more than just being; actually, to just exist was in conflict with this newfound "awareness." It was an existence bound within the "murky waters of primal ignorance." So, to feel that responsibility in my breast was an acknowledgement of this awkward light suddenly flicking within, and in this responsibility I felt Nature’s presence within me, for I felt alive, I had discovered my soul. And ironically, to discover the soul is to exist outside the folds of time and creases of space. However, beyond this basic beginning, I was lost within an obsidian darkness, for what my responsibility was to myself, to others, to this world, I didn’t know; I only now felt it as a revelation of Edel’s profound words and passion. Truly, she exposed us to so much during our conversation, not so much about the brief history of Australia and her recent struggles, but about passion and, like Mary Matthews, what it means to persevere in spirit through those struggles. It was her will to live life through the expression of passion; it was a precious gift, a symbol of the freedom of the human spirit. This simple conversation has miraculously led me to the discovery of my very essence, my immortal self, my soul.

Interestingly, her discussion on Vietnam was, strangely enough, comforting—to hear that Australians were with us in the conflict, and in fact, that they had waged the same war at home over their country's continued involvement. It provided solace to hear about our "cousin" and think that if you pick on one, you pick on us both. In light of my personal struggles with this part of American history, she seemed to be in some karmic way, consoling me. Indeed, she seemed to be subtly whispering into my ear that I am not alone in this quest for "truth" and "understanding."

It is beyond words; odd it is, bizarre it feels, and yet true I know.

As we again plunged deeper into the forest of trees and raced toward the valley floor, I realized that her impact went even deeper though, toward something larger and more significant. In particular, her disdain for a people who invaded her country fifty years ago—something we as Americans have never had to endure. In fact, we are still embittered about Pearl Harbor being bombed; it's hard to imagine a full-scale, planned, invasion of your country, or even what the Japanese have had to bear after having two atomic bombs instantly taking so many of their lives. Australia is much like the United States in that it's isolated, so an invasion makes it all the more intense and dramatic. It hardens the heart to even think about, and when I think of Edel’s impassioned words about the war, the invasion, a hollowed anguish seized my soul not just for us as Americans, but for us all.

It was palpable, a daunting reminder of the lingering effects of war, the lasting impact of callous conflict. I still feel it from Vietnam and I didn’t participate, I felt it from Edel and she wasn’t even old enough to understand it at the time. Like the bomb itself, it may leave an obvious hole blown into nature’s crusty surface, but it also taints the outer edges where the blackened shrapnel scar the inner being, the souls of those who remain—those forced to painfully live with the memory of what we as human beings are capable. Like a simple stone tossed into still water, the ripples continue onward and outward, and in this case, greatly impact future generations, those who must carry on the legacy of their ancestor’s atrocities. That we as human beings take a basic element of life’s most precious gifts in water and turn it into a destructive bomb capable of annihilating the world we live in. Just as I felt in Fiji that it is my responsibility to understand Vietnam, that which tears at the very fabric of the great nation of America, I now feel the responsibility, the great weight of America’s actions abroad, those actions against other human beings. Just as I understand that these bombs may have been necessary, which is a profound maybe, it still doesn’t relieve me of the responsibility of bearing the consequence of that action.

The bomb can easily be justified on many levels, in many ways, and in many minds, but I know that I must carry the weight of the destruction of human life we caused as Americans. I cannot change the past, indeed we cannot change the past, but we can collectively gain experience and understanding from that past. However, only through bearing the pain of that action and taking responsibility for the consequences will we ever change, will we ever truly make any significant difference from that past action. Without the pain to reinforce the consequences, we as human beings have shown a propensity to turn a blind eye to the course of that action and a distinct failure to understand and learn from those atrocities. Therefore, each of us as countries, each of us as human beings, must accept responsibility for our past—it is imperative to our existence, because it brings along with the pain, an insight, a perspective into who we are as human beings, a perspective that may one day be the critical difference between us living in harmony and living as raging primitive beasts. It is a choice, a choice of responsibility, one that we must choose to accept, and just as the choice is ours, so is the responsibility.

Indeed, it should never be enough to merely "see" the ripples upon the water.

From Edel, I feel the passion of loyalty, of assisting one in need, and it fills me absolutely with tearful pride; however, I also feel the unyielding pain, pain of what my ancestors have done, a responsibility and sufferance that I must personally bear for the length of my existence. I understand that part of this "awareness" leads me to feeling a "responsibility" for that newfound perspective, and my character is then brought to a crossroads: Do I accept this "responsibility"? With the discovery of an existence beyond the simple complexity of a physical cell, flick of a wrist, or even a gleeful glance and smile, I know that the being that dwells in the physical world demands that I look within to accept this accountability—for it is my conscience, it is the mind of my soul. To selflessly become a part of nature’s ribbon of life, I know now that I must bear the painful consequences of this act and others that so vividly demonstrate the alarming capacity for human ignorance.

I must suffer to bear this weight, I must suffer to learn, and I must suffer to create this selflessness. I gaze up to Bren leading us up another dirt trail beneath this canopy of greenery, and I reflect back on our fight in Sydney, I see myself again with the grip of New Zealand’s innocence and purity, and I realize just how gawkily imperfect I am. My climb to the Nature’s light seems impossible, for the dim strands of light that fall from the stars upon my eye barely reflect any glimmer of radiance. I now see so clearly within this aching darkness, just how I mindlessly claw away at Nature’s perfection, how I needlessly grope to stubborn and intractable ignorance that stabs at the people around me, how I am a citizen of a country that is built around an economic base instead of principles and ideals, and I see my being impinging itself upon everything that is pure. I see how I am merely the drowning man sunken below the surface of suffocating water struggling to comprehend why I was ever thrown into this sea of earth. With every step along nature’s floor, I feel myself sinking deeper within the cold depths of blueness and the light grows ever distant.

However, this struggle is merely the precious beginning. I know that I must fight to understand these profound components of personal growth, but more importantly, I must fight within myself to ensure that it doesn’t occur again. I am only one, but I am one who "sees" this ugly face of death, of war, of the brutality of human ignorance and I "feel" it steal the heart from my spirit, from our spirit. And maybe, just as I know that I would in an instant put my heart on the line for loyalty, for pride, for honor, for my country, I will learn to do so with the same fervor toward peace and harmony. I will learn, by following the example of Nature, to create that selfless ribbon of life. For we are all drowning within this raging sea, and the more we fight against the strangling tide of water, the quicker we will fall. And it is nonetheless merely artificial borders and artificial conditions that separate us, and although we are so different, oh, how we are so very much same.

On our final ascent, I looked up through the darkened awning of green to the light beyond, and I saw Mary in my mind’s eye saying, "I have faith in you, Brian, and faith that this is the right thing to do...just let nature take its course."

"Trust your heart and just let it take its course."

Copyright © 2000 PbFisher. All rights reserved.