I feel really stupid saying this, but I believe in America. I really do. And I only feel stupid because it’s been such a long way around to being able to say that.

But what am I saying? That I believe in this country as a political entity, or that I believe in the US govt or the “powers that be”? Hardly. What I mean to say is that I believe in America. I believe in the dream of what America is supposed to be.

Dreams are nothing without dreamers. I believe, therefore, in the American people: in our collective unconsciousness, our blindness, our idealism, our stupidity, even our laziness. I believe in the American people simply because that is where I find myself. Expediency? Of course. It’s where I was borned, raised and harvested. There doesn’t need to be anything beyond that. Your countrymen, the people you face day-to-day life with. So what if they don’t have anything in common with you. They’re standing there in front of you. What now?

You might even find me out there one day waving the flag from the barricades, when things get really rough. I’ve always been a sucker for the underdog, and the subject of America has come to interest me more and more as the character and mood of the nation swings in that direction. And, realistically, why not champion where you’re from and the people around you? What else do you have? You might feel like you’ve got no home in this world, but it’s all around you. “America” is wherever you are. Like how embassies work. I used to carry a French flag in my front pocket for a long time. I thought of it as my passport home somehow to a land of mythic poetry. I gave it to my girlfriend. I want you to know that I pledge allegiance to Beauty, to Hope and to Dreams that we can make real around us by the actions we take and the choices we make on a day-to-day basis.

America, I suspect, is searching for her King Arthur. Of all the roving kings, and queens in holy exile, she’ll uplift each one us individually, inspecting every flaw and imperfection, and finally testing us in the fires of her forge. Reborn the Phoenix from the Ash, Yggdrasil grows beneath us. This is the center of the world. And so is that. We can climb up or down, side to side. Let the Spirit of the Land return to rest upon the breast of its sovereign people, wings beating softly in sweet reunion. Avalon awaits the righteous. America, welcome home.