How to be Patriotic

e pluribus unum

Squaretop Mountain as viewed from the Green River Lakes Loop trail in the Bridger Wilderness of Wyoming. Public lands, just one little piece of the US.

I conceived of this “How to” prior to President Biden stepping out of the presidential race. If you recall, the last letter I sent to you arrived just before that fateful debate disaster. We were already so tired. How would we have the energy to do the things needed to do to get us through the months before the impending election?

In this piece, I wanted to explore patriotism for myself, to articulate what I think there is to love about this country and how we could build our appreciation and practice together.

But everything has changed since then.

Whether you were able to watch the debate or not, you know just how uncomfortable it became. That debate happened two months ago on June 27, 2024.

The calls for Biden to step down started right immediately and I strongly resisted them. To me, they felt like more of the same shallow tendencies in American culture—a focus on youth, perfection, and a disregard for the wisdom of elders. I lamented that people overlooked the system behind American presidents, that Biden’s leadership reflected decades of experience. We have mechanisms to handle presidential succession if age becomes a concern. And let’s not forget Kamala. I knew changing course in a campaign this late would be fraught with challenges, especially with so much at stake in this election.

It was with these feelings that I took off to spend time in our sublime mountain majesties separated, thankfully, from the relentless news cycle.

While I hiked and swam in clear, cold mountain lakes, things continued to unfold. More voices pressured Biden to step down. Almost a month after the debate, I overheard across a high ceilinged lobby in Grand Teton National Park that he had stepped aside.

We drove to Yellowstone National Park soon after, where we saw American buffalo moving like waves across the Lamar Valley. One beautiful guy came so close to our car that we could almost see ourselves reflected in its dark eye. It was humbling to be near an animal that had survived America's worst transgressions. A white buffalo calf was born in the valley earlier that summer, a prophesy of hope. And to bring Joanna Macy’s meaning to it, hope is action. The calf has since gone missing, there’s hope it is still out there, free and pursuing its own life, liberty, and happiness.

The American Presidency has a long history of yielding power. Our first president, George Washington, stepped down after his second term, despite his popularity. Setting a precedent that lasted until FDR. After FDR’s four terms, it became law. Bill Clinton compared Biden to Washington, saying, “He did something that’s really hard for a politician: he gave up political power.” Washington’s farewell address, which became famous to me through my children’s AP American History class and the Hamilton song “One Last Time,” was a lesson in letting go for the greater good. This love for country over self, this kind of patriotism, is exactly what we need right now. Not just here in the US, but all over the world. Too many leaders have held on to their seats for too long.

When Biden stepped aside, he endorsed Harris, and surprisingly, the Democratic Party quickly unified behind her.

Soon after, in the same valley where the white buffalo calf had been born, Henry saw TikTok joy memes, the internet was behind Harris. Shortly after that, news broke that our own Minnesota Governor, Tim Walz, was on her shortlist for vice president.

My tendency to resist change kicked in again. I thought it unlikely Walz would be chosen, and I selfishly hoped he wouldn’t be—I love him as my governor. A former teacher from Mankato (my mom’s hometown, my birthplace), Walz has been a steady, reassuring presence since the pandemic. He’s someone who knows how to lift strong women and stand by them, values that remind me of my own father. Republicans mocked him with the nickname “Tampon Tim,” but in our house, we say it with admiration and affection.

When Harris chose him as her running mate, I felt only joy. I’m so proud of him as our governor, and I love Lieutenant Governor Flanagan, his choice for the role. If Flanagan becomes Minnesota’s first woman governor and the first Indigenous governor in the U.S., it will be historic.

Joy, in Buddhism, is one of the Brahmavihara, or divine abodes—a state we are to cultivate and practice. Happiness happened so suddenly and naturally when Harris became our nominee, but we had been working on it already. Even in our exhaustion. Growth happens through discomfort and effort, and it’s been a long, hard road to get here.

After the Democratic National Convention (DNC), I wondered if I needed to write this at all. The four nights of speeches were already a guide on how to be patriotic. Adam Kinzinger, a former Republican House Representative and chair of the January 6th Committee, said in his DNC speech, “I learned the Democrats are patriotic.” It was delivered as a bit of a surprise, and not just to Republicans—Democrats, too, got to see it anew. The convention was filled with symbols that often felt reserved for conservatives: chants of “USA! USA!,” flags everywhere, and the word “freedom” on everyone’s lips and baseball caps.

My mom, a proud Democrat and convention-goer, would have loved it. She loved party politics, believed in equality, embraced change, and fought to protect the environment. Go visit my sister Becka’s Instagram Reel that tells the story. She mentored women, including her daughters, and left us with a strong foundation. I aspire to sing loudly like she did, to be friendly while speaking up for what I care about, and to cherish where I came from.

This past month has reminded me of the Lotus Sutra. It’s said that when Buddha delivered this teaching, thousands of disciples got up and walked out in arrogance, unwilling to hear that the path to enlightenment is open to all. The sutra teaches that, when the world most needs teachers, they will emerge from the earth itself. In this moment, it feels like joy and hope are emerging from the ground, awakening people who had been dormant, lifting us up.

Patriotism seems natural right now. There’s a shift, a sense that something new is possible. The values our country aspired to at its founding feel close to the surface. We need that joy and love to act, because, as Supreme Court Justice Felix Frankfurter said, “In a democracy, the highest office is the office of citizen.”

Working with young people and their parents, I’ve learned that belonging requires effort, even for those who seem fully privileged. The simple act of belonging—of feeling part of something—must be cultivated. To belong, you sometimes have to embody “imposter belonging" and take on the role, even if you don’t feel it yet. Belonging requires us to focus on others, to make them feel welcome, and to give our time and attention to radical hospitality. It is as if the giving away of your attention, your heart, your wisdom is what it takes to be citizen.

Our country is a democracy—a government by the people, for the people. A union between citizens with a capacity to work together to keep it functioning. Can we love it enough to do the hard work that democracy demands?

This was hard to write, in part because patriotism is a fraught subject. It’s so close to nationalism. Patriotism is love of country, of our constitution, our representative government, and our people. Love is virtuous; it’s something you practice, through thick and thin. Nationalism is no virtue. It’s an identification to nation in support of it’s own interests above all else. It is the idea of supremacy and the near enemy of patriotism. It can look like patriotism, but we should not be fooled.

We’ve seen our flag misused at nationalistic events, tarnished by the hate and violence of supremacy masquerading as patriotism. The flag and the national anthem should belong to the citizen who engages with their community, who votes and helps others vote, who shows up for their neighbors—even those they disagree with.

I’ll leave you with the Buddha’s remembrances. The best way to stay brave and act for the love of country is to remember our impermanence. Change is inevitable, and it’s something we must embrace. Democracy is no place for complacency.

Here are the 5 Remembrances of the Buddha as translated by Thich Nhat Hanh:

I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.
I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape ill health.
I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.
All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.
My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.