Verified by 
Greetings from abroad!
Thanks to science, I am thrilled to be back in my personal happy place, exploring and adventuring beyond our borders.
Traveling is like having a child: Suddenly you are asked to explain things you never considered, paradigms you previously took for granted. What? Why? How?
Currently situated in Scandinavia, I’ve marveled at the idea of seeing the Northern Lights (which, sadly, I likely won’t see this trip, due to the equally remarkable midnight sun). A local recently asked me what we have in the U.S. that is comparably awe-inspiring. What are our Northern Lights?
I didn’t have an immediate answer. I had to really think about it. Yes, our towering redwoods and the Grand Canyon and the California coastline are all stunning, not to mention our more far-flung geographic treasures in Hawaii and Alaska (where, incidentally, you can see the Northern Lights — as well as in a few other states, if not quite as brilliantly as in Scandinavia). But none of those felt dramatically equivalent to neon green and pink and purple lighting up the sky.
Stepping into another culture forces me to define and reckon with my own. You can’t know the other unless you have a point of comparison, but how often do we really sit and contemplate what makes us us? It’s what I’ve been doing non-stop since my departure, and despite what may feel like inescapable chaos and conflict within our borders, I’m more in awe of our country than ever from afar.
What do we have?
Our Northern Lights seem to be less visible but equally elusive and spectacular. We have Hollywood and Wall Street and Silicon Valley and the music and sports industries, but it’s the common ethos that built and continues to animate these industries that I believe sets us apart.
It’s our spirit of innovation and ingenuity, our culture of creativity, our awe-inspiring diversity, our warmth and openness, our irreverence and humor, and our insatiable quest to push beyond the boundaries of what is, in search of what might be, that rivals anything Mother Nature produces.
This is the American equivalent of those technicolored streaks in the sky. Sure, people come to the U.S. to experience sites like our National Parks. But I think, more than anything, they visit and migrate for the people and the culture we embody.
It’s been a year, to say the least. It can be hard to gain perspective on what’s good and precious when you're forced to remain stationary, fixated on the muck.
Fortunately, you need not pass through customs to experience this wake-up call. Passport stamps are not required to acknowledge and celebrate what’s right in front of you (though stepping away from anything — be it a country, a company, or a relationship — can certainly breed appreciation).
America is so far from perfect. This much we know. But here’s what we too often forget: So is everywhere else. We get some things “right,” and so do they. We get some things “wrong,” and, trust me, so do they. But there is a reason that, even today, when our 24/7 media cycle and social media clickbait would have us believe that everything in our country is sh!t, people are still risking it all to get there, for a chance at a fresh start in an imperfectly incredible place, in the hopes of creating their own natural phenomenon.
I worry and lament and criticize the state of things as much as anyone who is paying attention with even one eye open. But a bit of distance has reminded me just what we’re fighting for and how special it is.
The Northern Lights are caused by a collision of electrically charged particles from the Sun entering the Earth’s atmosphere. They then mix into a dynamic cocktail with some gas atoms, and boom — you’ve got a light show. They’re always there, though the sun obscures them half of the year.
Are we really so different? A country of commingled cultures that collide together, often sending up sparks. Plus, can anyone put on a show quite like the U.S.? We do love a spectacle.
So, no. Our country isn’t likely to light up with neon streaks anytime soon. But our cultural equivalent is always present, even in seasons where the visibility wanes.
I am grateful to be immersed in exquisite beauty and unfamiliar customs at the moment, but I also take heart in knowing I am part of a culture that is equally magnificent and vibrant. Even if you can’t see it at this moment, I promise you our Northern Lights are there.
