The fog, the slog, the mess of it all. I left it behind. With increasing frequency, I curse my naïve decision to move back East. You see, I grasped idle, quiet, undisturbed perfection for a little over a decade without knowing it. I curse my own ignorance. How could I have looked onto that endless horizon and not recognized its beauty? How did I breathe the aridity of that fine desert air and dream of breathing in clouds of self-importance? I walked into the wilderness this break and felt my own vanity vanish into the Western air. This is Peace. 

I’ve said it before and will say it again — till I’m blue in the face — people in the East are polite, but they are not nice. People in the West are nice, but impolite. What do I mean by this? In the East, there is a veneer of polite mannerisms, under the surface, however, lies an unshakeable foundation of egocentric disregard for others. The culture of the East is all about ME. Of course, an Easterner will never admit that. No, they’re good, upstanding liberals who enlighteningly speak of the importance of caring for one’s community and the failures of American capitalism.

Nevertheless, when push inevitably comes to shove, the Easterner will not lift you up with them. It’s not personal, but it is indeed political. “It’s a dog-eat-dog kind of world, and you just have to learn to play the game so you don’t get eaten,” they’ll say, as they down the rest of their mixed drink named after a city whose greatest contribution to the world is a collection of museums — museums whose art expresses everything the city they’re established in is not. 

These hypocrisies don’t go unnoticed, of course. To preach the importance of a “work-life balance” and refuse to leave the city for the freedom of unbridled nature posits these hypocrisies forthrightly. One need not be a cultural critic to recognize the contradictions innate to the East. Yet, even to the folks out West, the East is valorized; it is seen as the place one goes to make something of themselves. And therein lies the true nature of the problem: the East turns all your attention inward — to your mere self. In an effort not to get eaten, you chase the unachievable goal of becoming God.

The culture of the East turns the focus of the individual onto herself: she must be all that. She must be the best, hardest worker. She must be the most desirable partner. She must be the most influential person in the room. Hers must be the most sought-after opinion. She is the locus of it all. The perfect person … enough.

I’m succumbing to the pressure. I hate it. I know I am my own project, but I can’t take the pressure of becoming God. I don’t even want to be God; I want to be me. A worker that does their best and gives what they can. I want to be a good partner. I don’t care for influence, I long for the anonymity of an inconspicuous observer. My opinions are my own, whether others find them persuasive is none of my concern. I hate being the center of attention. Perfection is overrated … we’re all made of stardust anyway.

I suppose these are the lessons I picked up out West. I always say the best part about the West is how absolutely insignificant you feel. There is nothing more humbling than staring at a mountain that reaches 14,000 feet. “Fourteeners,” as we call them, cut you down to size. They force you to confront how small — literally and metaphorically — you are. These mountains have been around for longer than the human species and will surely outlast it. Try that on for size. Does it fit uncomfortably? Does the sheer force of your insignificance make you quiver? Perhaps it should. 

I know I sound abrasive; perhaps it’s my Western mannerisms. I’ll tell it to you straight, but I’ll pour you the very best locally-brewed beer to help wash it down. Because, well, that’s the nice thing to do: help another out. We’re all insignificant, but we matter to each other … and there’s something to that. 

Western culture is also ripe with contradictions —  this I’ll admit. The lonely pioneer is actually supported by the unrewarded labor of the household; work that is not monetarily recognized and, by extension, legitimized. No one is actually self-sufficient; community suffices us through every step we take into the new frontier. And the frontier isn’t really new, it’s known by the generations of dwellers who were here before us and have learned the ins and outs of this vast land we now call home. So yes, we’re hypocrites. But to liberally quote my astute advisor: “We’re not wrong.” 

Alas, for all the distaste I now have for the East, I’m grateful for it. Georgia O’Keeffe, an ally, captured this feeling quite well: “It is a lovely country with many trees, but it is not for me.” Indeed, the East enhanced my appreciation for the West. Yes, it’s what we would call an instrumental gratuity, a gratuity that is not for itself, but for another. So be it. What follows remains true: go West. Feel insignificant. Become yourself, chasing the image of God culminates in disappointment and self-loathing anyway. Step into the wilderness, much awaits you there — beauty, life, community and the tranquility of an endless horizon.