Host: Dan Kennedy

Dan: [00:00:41] Hey, Moth listeners, a quick reminder before we start today's episode. The Moth's second book, it's called All These Wonders: True Stories About Facing the Unknown, comes out today and we're very excited about it. It's got a foreword by Neil Gaiman, it's got a lot of amazing stories we think you're going to love, and we hope you'll check it out. That's All These Wonders: True Stories About Facing the Unknown. It's out today. 

Welcome to The Moth Podcast. I'm Dan Kennedy. And this week, we have just one story for you on the podcast. So, if you have a shorter commute, this one's your episode. 

Andrew Forsthoefel did a lot of listening over the course of a 4,000-mile trip from his home in Philadelphia to the West Coast. He told this story about part of that trip at a Mainstage show we did in Boston this fall, where the theme of the night was The Razor's Edge. It was a great night and I think you're going to love Andrew's story. Here's Andrew Forsthoefel, live in Boston.

[applause] 

Andrew: [00:01:49] When I graduated from college, finally, the first thing I wanted to do before anything else was slow down. I wanted to take some time and try to be with people in a way that just wasn't possible, moving as fast as I was in my normal life. So, I wanted to slow down and really actually listen to people, listen to the stories of their lives and about what their lives had taught them. I decided I was going to take a journey. I was going to set out and just do it, I was going to slow down, I was going to walk and listen. And a friend said, "I'll come with you if you want." And I said, "No, I got to do this alone." It's very American in some ways, self-made man.

So, I said to my mom one day, "I'm going to walk and listen, and that's going to be my thing, your new college grad.” [audience chuckles] You can imagine the conversations she had to have with her friends. "So, what does Andrew do now?" "Well, he walks [audience laughter] and he listens too." So, I did. I packed a backpack full of stuff, camping gear, a mandolin, audio recorder, and I just walked out her back door in Philadelphia and kept going down the highways of the East Coast with this sign on my back that said, "Walking to Listen." 

Unbelievably, people were into it. I was meeting people, and it was as if so many of them had been waiting just for someone to show up and say, "Hey, who are you? Tell me what you're all about." I was staying in churches, and gas stations, and bars and general stores, and people were taking me into their homes and feeding me and giving me money and giving me their stories. It was happening. I was riding this wave of people all the way across America, walking the whole way through the winter, through the spring. By the time I got out to the desert in Arizona, it was the middle of the summer and hot as hell. I had never had to deal with conditions like that. It freaked me out. I'm from Pennsylvania, and I'm walking through the real desert, like, “Damn, this is for real.”

I was also about to cross into the Navajo Reservation. And that frightened me a little bit too, because it was a whole other nation unto itself, and I was an outsider, and I thought that maybe here and now the other shoe was finally going to drop. So, I crossed into the reservation, and sure enough, just a few hours in, a car pulls over on the side of the road. And two Navajo men get out, and they start walking toward me. My defense mechanism on this journey was just a big, dumb smile, just, "Hi, I'm Andrew. I'm walking to listen, see? [audience chuckles] Do you have any stories or what?" 

So, I give them this big smile, and they smile back and they say, "Hey, you look thirsty out here. We got you some water. Here you go. And we also got you this," and they gave me a big bag of Snickers bars. [audience chuckles] They took me into their home that night. We stayed up late, and I was listening to their stories too. The next day, they sent me on my way with a blessing. I was just floating in this magical feeling of having my purpose validated. I could listen here too. I could do this for them. So, I'm walking in that feeling, when up ahead I see this guy carrying a backpack walking on the highway like me. And I'm like, “What the hell?” [audience chuckles] I get closer--

At this point, I'm not carrying my backpack anymore. I'm pushing it in a big souped-up baby stroller. [audience chuckles] So, I roll up alongside this guy [audience laughter] and I look at him and he's a young white dude like me, walking through the Navajo Nation. And I'm like, “There's two of us?” [audience laughter] A part of me was like, “Dude, there can only be one. Like, this is my thing, man. Get out of here. What are you doing?” And so, I asked him, "What are you doing here, man?" And he goes, "Oh, I just got off the bus from Austin." 

I could tell, actually, his skin was blanched white like it hadn't seen the sun in months or years. He had one gallon of water, half empty. And that told me all I needed to know. You don't walk through the desert with a half empty gallon of water. You carry at least two. He's wearing cargo shorts and a polo shirt. And so, I say, "Cool. Well, where are you going?" He goes, "The Hopi Reservation up ahead." I said, "Okay. Why?" He goes, "Oh, it's a long story, man." I said, "Okay, well, we are walking together apparently, and I am walking to listen, I swear to you." I showed him my sign. It was a big neon yellow sign at this point that said "Walking to Listen." 

He saw that, and I saw him open up a little bit And he said, "Huh. Well, basically, I'm delusional.” “Okay.” he goes, “I don't normally tell people this, because they think I'm crazy, but there's this Hopi prophecy, okay? And in it, it says that a Messiah is going to come. And the Messiah is actually going to be a white man. He's going to come lead the people and be this great white brother and I think it's me. I know. I know it must sound arrogant or egotistical, but I think it's me."

And I'm walking with this guy and I'm thinking, this is a first. I've listened to a lot of people in all these miles I've been walking, never this. I couldn't just drive away. We're just walking together. At that point, I didn't want to. I wanted to understand where this kid was coming from. That's what the whole project was all about. I wanted to see him in the way that I had been seeing people all across America, the extraordinary in these ordinary folks. So, I said, "Can I show up to this too? Can I say yes?" “And of course.” 

So, we're walking together. He just starts to tell me about his life, his broken family and his divorced parents. My parents divorced when I was 15, so I knew very well the pain of that. We're connecting and it's happening. I just forgot about the whole Messiah complex thing. I'm just enjoying his company, actually. By the time we're getting to the outskirts of this town, he says, "Yeah, I just feel guilty all the time though." I said, "What do you mean?" He goes, "Well, right now, I feel like I'm lying to you. Like, I might not have to enslave you or master you someday, maybe even send you to hell." 

At that point, I realized that I did not, in fact, have a bottomless reservoir of patience and compassion. [audience chuckles] I just couldn't do it anymore. I was like, “What?” I was freaked out that he might snap at some moment and be like, "Now is the time I'm going to wrestle you down to hell," or I didn't want the Navajo people who might drive by thinking I was following him, like his disciple or something. [chuckles] I also couldn't bear his pain much more, because I could feel it underneath his story, and I couldn't take it anymore. So, I said, "Hey, man, I'm walking alone, actually. I started this thing out alone. It's important that I walk it alone. So, I'm going to get going, but it's been great getting to know you. Thank you. And let's keep in touch." [chuckles] We swapped email addresses, and he said, "Yeah, let's keep in touch. I don't have many friends back home, so let's keep in touch."

Before I could leave, he said, "I just have one more question. Do you always wear that shirt?" I was wearing a red shirt that I always wore. I said, "Yeah, this is my walking shirt. I've got a spare if you need." He goes, "No, no. It's funny, because in this prophecy, it says that the Messiah is going to be very conspicuous," and he pointed to my baby stroller with a big neon yellow sign. [audience chuckles] "Like, “Okay." And he goes, "And it also says, the Messiah is going to be coming from the east, like you, wearing red. Maybe it's you. Maybe this whole thing is a big joke on me. Maybe it's you."

And at that point, I'm like, “I got to get the hell out of here as fast as possible. [audience chuckles] And for me, that was about five miles an hour and he's walking at about three miles an hour. Eventually, I left him in the dust. It was a long and awkward goodbye. [audience laughter] It was like, still there, just hold on. [laughs] I walked maybe 25 miles that day, and he just slipped from my mind. And the next day, I walked another 30 or so. At the end of the day, the sun was setting and I was in this town just resting by the side of the road. And who walks up, but this kid? Now, he's sunburned, he's got cracked lips, and he's carrying two gallons of water now instead of one. And he's dazed.

I can tell that he has touched the reality of his own tininess just by walking through this huge, unforgiving desert. And he's afraid now. I can see it. He asked, "Hey, can I sit down with you for a little bit?" I said, "Of course, man. Of course." We sat there for about three hours. He was doubting it all now. He said, "I don't know if I'm the Messiah anymore. And if I'm not, maybe I should just kill myself." He said, "I don't miss anyone back home. But you know what I do miss, man? It's going to sound corny, but I miss my childhood. Everything was magical back then." And then, he started crying. 

I realized that the feeling that he was something great, that was the thing I was walking to listen for. And that was the thing that people were giving me, as I walked. I had strangers coming up to me all across America saying, "I'm so proud of you. For you, and thank you. And I love you, even." So, maybe what was crazy was the fact that this kid didn't have that. Maybe it was crazy that he didn't have a circle of people back home, a village, a culture, a country surrounding him and saying, "Yes, yes, you're waking up to your own greatness, my man. Yes, it's in you. It's true. You're not crazy. And you're not the only one. It's in me too. It's in all of us." Maybe what was crazy was the fact that this kid slipped through the cracks. 

It was dark at this point and I got up to leave. A family had offered to put me up that night. And so, I got up. And the kid said, "Hey, whoa, wait. I don't want to impose, but I want to come with you. Can I come with you?" And I said, "No," and I left him behind. As I did, I came face to face with the delusion I'd been walking with for over 3,000 miles now. The delusion that I could be the guy, the listening guy, the one. It became so obviously clear in that moment that I would never be enough, obviously, to show up to all the listening that needed to be done in America today. I couldn't even do it for this one kid. The burden and the privilege of listening to people in this way had to be shared among all of us. And until it was, there would continue to be people like this kid left to fend for themselves alone in the desert. It had to be all of us. It has to be all of us. Thank you.

[cheers and applause] 

Dan: [00:15:22] Andrew Forsthoefel is an author, speaker and peace activist. He's committed to the collective project of learning how to be human with love together. His book Walking to Listen, about his journey across America and his experiences, was recently released earlier this month. You can find out more details about the book on our website, themoth.org. 

That does it for this week. And as usual, thanks for listening. From all of us here at The Moth in New York, we hope you have a story-worthy week.

Mooj: [00:15:54] Dan Kennedy is the author of the books, Loser Goes First, Rock On and American Spirit. He's also a regular host and performer with The Moth.

Dan: [00:16:03] Podcast production by Timothy Lou Ly. The Moth Podcast is presented by PRX, the Public Radio Exchange, helping make public radio more public at prx.org.