We can change the world.
Playing on a ship in the Bay, October 2021
Perhaps the signal of adulthood is to disregard being tired, to simply carry on because one must. That’s the resignation one sees on the faces of many who have lost any maverick nature. Like everything else, there’s a balance. To work on when tired can be noble. But it can also represent an acceptance of ways. Together we can help each other see the difference.
One last look at the Western Slope mesas at sunrise
I may have jinxed myself yesterday, as it took a day longer to get home. But although my flight was delayed, I tried to think of all the adversity my grandparents have faced in their lives. Part of having crazy, entertaining stories is having trials and tribulations. Yesterday was one of those days, and yet I got to spend time with my aunt and uncle. All things considered, it wasn’t that bad and could’ve been a lot worse. I hope to take such an attitude into the week and into the future. It’s not hopeless. We can change the world. And if we believe it, we will.
Surreal sunrise this morning atop the mesa
I’m reluctant to leave this place, the slow pace and the inspiring beauty. This visit will likely be my last to this part of the country, and there’s some melancholy in that knowledge. It sounds so hyperbolic, but it’s not. A bear visited us twice this week, and I saw two (huge ass) deer and two bald eagles in my limited exploration time. This place is closer to nature than what I’m used to. It’s been good to my grandparents, and it was good to me this week as a reminder of what rural living looks like, living closer to the Earth. Such perspective can encourage us. We’re here together, and we can experience this beautiful environment together.
The last vestiges of the last sunset I’ll likely witness on the Western Slope
I owe a great deal to my grandparents. Being here this week has reinvigorated my passion for immersing in nature. While running today I had the thought, “there’s not a person on this planet who doesn’t find the Earth beautiful.” The rugged mountains or the waves in the ocean, the wild jungle or the empty sand dunes; every human on this rock is drawn to its features. We are part of this planet. We derive all connection in the cosmos from it. If we pause to recognize that, to take in the vastness, the exquisiteness, the uniqueness of the Earth…our problems seem smaller. We feel we have a chance to alter our course, to change the world.
Sun rays over the golf course in Battlement Mesa tonight, site of one of my favorite funniest stories
Today was my grandpa’s 87th birthday. From him I’ve received much of my smarts and a lot of my outlook. I’ve inherited his appreciation for how things work and his growl. He took his family across the world, and I now seek to travel as much as I can. His recognition that every person is a free individual was passed down to my father, and then to me. He’s lived quite an amazing life, and he’s not through yet. Thank you Grandpa for all the laughter you spurred in my childhood, for all the blocks and puzzles and bows and arrows. Thank you for your example of how to live a full life. I love you, and happy birthday.
Snap of the surrounding countryside while on a run today
Long drawn out conversations after supper. Watching the weather go by throughout the days, just witnessing the Earth. Spending time doing nothing with family. These are some of the passings of time in rural Colorado. I am so glad I came, to experience this one last time. I hope it can serve as a sort of reset, which we all need every once in a while. It truly is one big beautiful amazing world, and much bigger than us. When we accept that, we can be grateful and happy for all we can enjoy.
On my daily walk with my mother in the Stone Ridge neighborhood
And we wait on the weather tomorrow. I try to think the last time the next day’s weather dictated so much of the day, when it held so much importance to a mission. We hope to sell my grandparents’ car tomorrow, and it requires decent weather to make the pass to Denver.
Such reminders roll into my consciousness as I stay here in Battlement Mesa, among the mountains and fields. It’s a different lifestyle. I sit reading Calvin and Hobbes with my grandfather, talk of times gone by with my grandmother, and watch the weather go by across the mesas out the window.
It’s a jolt to my firm ground, a warning to my subconsciousness: we are privileged to live out on this rock, and any tribal guidance is warmly welcome against the cold of the elements. A soft Californian, I see the pathway ahead of the human race. It is one of difficult decisions, and integrity if we are to survive and prosper. We can change the world, we just have to see it.
At peace in the rural surrounds of the Western Slope in Colorado this morning
It’s been really nice staying with my grandparents in rural Colorado. Everyone says hi to each other here, and the pace of life has really slowed down. I sat with my grandma tonight and listened to her stories, and we discussed history and politics. It can be enlightening to hear the perspective of someone so different in age than you; they see the world differently. Before bed we got to the big picture. That the world will be alright, that humans insist on cycles of history and yet inch forward toward progress. People are good. We all want the same things, and in that we are more similar than we are different. Life is this grand mystery, and we’re just a small part of it. Yes, we can do our part to change the world. But we can also enjoy one hell of a ride.
Flying today provided opportunity for reflection
It was an introspective day to fly on 9/11. The prices were certainly cheaper, that’s for sure. But more than 20 years later, it’s incredible to reflect on how much the United States, and the world, has changed. Technology has proliferated and accelerated since September 11th, and it doesn’t feel we are leveraging it in the best way to improve the world. The pandemic and 9/11 are the two biggest events in my lifetime. How can we learn from them, how can we be better? Today I start by being with some of my family. We’re in this world together. If we can all remember that, we have a shot.
Seeking the elusive, Joshua Tree National Park, November 2021
It’s a wondrous thing, to have a tribe. There are many out there who don’t. We can remember this as we try to grapple with this brave new world.
A day at the beach, with Table Mountain as a backdrop, South Africa, December 2019
There’s certainly the game, the rat race. But there’s also the beautiful existence beyond that construct; and every single person on the planet is privy to that experience. Life truly is amazing when we look past the mechanizations of modern life. We are all human, riding this spinning rock hurtling through space together.
The majesty of the monastery in Kostroma, Russia, September 2019
I heard wise words aloud today, that people change. Not that they can change, that we are capable of change, but that we do change. It’s inevitable, and resistance is futile. Change is an integral component of space time, woven into the very frantic of our universe. We can accept it, and we can guide it, to create a new universe of which we are a part. We truly can change the world.
Peering down the streets of Arusha, October 2019
It seems there are two ways to look at the future: a perilous walkway, or a path of opportunities, ahead. One of the strongest emotions is all that separates the vantage point between these two perspectives: fear. Collectively we can let it build and ravage through what has been built, or we can decide to eliminate its control. We can change the world. We just have to believe in it.
The mist and fog rolling through the Andes mountains in Peru, April 2019
The summer isn’t going out without a fight, and it may be indicative of the years ahead. The seasons feel like they’re shifting. We are connected to this Earth, whether we collectively acknowledge it or not. We can help contribute to the betterment of it, if we so choose.
Visiting a temple in Bali, February 2020
I reach the same conclusion every three day weekend: it would be nice to have this all the time. You feel so refreshed, so relaxed after having that extra day off. I believe we would become healthier and more productive if we switched our economy to such a cadence. Americans have to remember that we work to live, not live to work. We can build cool things together, but it shouldn’t define our existence. Let’s change the world together, 4 days at a time.
Fending off the crazy for a moment with the sunset, Cancun, Mexico, July 2022
If there’s one thing we can agree upon, it must be how crazy it’s all become. Whether we recognize it or not, we are still a community. Can we think as one, can we change it for everyone? I believe we can! Let’s go! Let’s go change the world!
Early morning marketplace in Arusha, October 2019
We can so easily take family time for granted. I have for most of my life; I just assumed one grew up within a supportive tribal environment. But through the pandemic, and in this brave new world, family takes center stage. We wouldn’t be who we are without our tribe. That resonates deeply with me now, and I long to replicate such a phenomenon across our planet. Because we are all one. One species, on one planet. And we truly can change the world.
It can be so simple sometimes, looking at Half Dome from Glacier Point, July 2020
Political discussions can be fiery and back-and-forth. They can invoke passionate reactions and walkaways. But they are important. How we organize, on a 330 million person level or an 8 billion person level, determines the future of this planet. We can change the world, but we must first organize, and to do that, we must have the discussion.
Sunlight on the city center of San Francisco, February 2022
I walked my dog through my parents’ neighborhood at twilight, and I heard the sound of young children playing. Climbing around the playground, running across the large grassy field of the park, they were simply enjoying the sense of wild play. I remember when I walked through that park at the height of the pandemic, and it was silent. It was an eerie sensation, to not hear the sound of children. They are our most precious component of the human species. They are our future, and our immortality. What kind of world do we want to build for them?
Heading down the road in Bali, February 2020
Our bodies are connected to our minds. Indeed, our brain is a part of our body, it is our body. As I get older I continue to realize how much my physical health determines my mental health. Eating well and exercising often makes it difficult to be depressed. It adds perspective. When your workout is physically demanding, the other problems seem categorically different. How lucky I can consider myself, to be able to willfully expend calories without regard for hunger—that type of perspective is so easy to lose when not active.