From http://mountaingoatssingmountaingoats.tumblr.com/, from "Never Quite Free".



I love this Tumblr, this band, and this song.

"It's okay to find the faith to saunter forward 
With no fear of shadows spreading where you stand
And you'll breathe easier just knowing that the worst is all behind you 
And the waves that tossed the raft all night have set you on dry land"

I've decided to revive my blog, and to kick things off, here's a cartoon I drew.

Reflection 3: Community and Rootedness

This is my final post for the summer.

One of the first questions in the exchange one has with fellow Amtrak riders is "Where are you coming from/going to?" As you might suspect, I found it difficult to answer that question. I'm from the Dallas area, even though I actually started out in Boston and my final train took me to Houston, but I traveled from Seattle to San Jose along the way, for example. The quickest way to explain was to say I had just graduated and was traveling the country, and at that point, people could identify me as temporarily placeless.

My trip relied on a far-flung network of friends that I have made during my college years, both from Olin, where I've met people from all over, and from my summer jobs in San Diego/Tijuana, Minneapolis, and Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage, where I met people from even more parts of the country. These connections allowed me to find welcome everywhere I went. Unfortunately, I cannot gather all these connections together in one community, since a functioning community, in my opinion, requires geographic proximity.

Olin and Oliners have been my home for the last four years, but in that time, the distance from my family has worn on me, and I feel a strong desire to be closer to my parents and sister, so I can be with them more often. For this reason, I intend to stay in Texas, which also means there a lot of people I may not see again for quite some time. So I took this trip to catch up and say goodbye for a while to those friends who live far away from the Lone Star State.

My placelessness is acute, because I have left Olin to come back to Flower Mound to live with my parents. Both places feel like home, but I also know that I will be moving out as soon as I find a job. Regardless, I want once again to become rooted in a place, and I am much more comfortable with that proposition knowing my family is close by. But I recognize that there are other communities and networks I want to take part in, like the church and the local food community, and I want to lend a helping hand to those in my community who are in need. I can't wait until I can grow some of my own food and actually frequent a farmer's market and have people over for potlucks. These are all things that I want to do as soon as I am out on my own.

Even though I feel like a transient in Flower Mound, I'm trying to get re-involved in this community, to understand what's going on here, and to help those in need. It is sometimes difficult for me to put energy into this, since I know I could find job next week, but that's no excuse not to reach out to those around me today. And lest I get to carried away with my ideas and my hesitation to reach out because I may not be around for very long, I remember what Dietrich Bonhoeffer once wrote:

"Love community, and you will kill it. Love your brother, and you will build it."

In Tucson, I talked with my friend Ali about "intentional community". My experience with that has been in the context of gathering around ecological sustainability at Dancing Rabbit, but she said it was worthwhile just to live in community, and I think she's right. I want to live closely with other people, my life integrated into theirs and theirs into mine, and I look forward to doing that, wherever I end up.

Thanks for reading and adios,

Reflection 2: Computer Use

I intentionally set out on my travels sans laptop because I had been plugged in for so long at Olin, and because my laptop is kind of heavy. Either way, doing so helped me travel light, since being tethered to an Internet connection or an electrical outlet are just different kinds of baggage.

I found that when I was en route, I rarely wanted to use a computer. Now I'm not saying we shouldn't use computers. It would be unfair to make that generalization, as I wasn't trying to get any work done or make any complicated plans. But I am saying that there is no reason why I need a computer to keep myself entertained, even for periods of train travel in excess of 24 hours. And for me, it is desirable to minimize my contact with them because they are gateways to distraction.

When I was visiting someone, I invariably used their computer, unless they didn't have one. However, in these cases, my computer use was impacted by the fact that I was using the computer as a shared resource, rather than as something belonging solely to me. Because I knew there might be another requiring or desiring its use, I strove to use it as efficiently as possible. Without this pressure, I am tempted to spend too much time in front of a computer screen, as I have done while finishing up my blog at home. It's so easy to open up multiple extra tabs or programs for the sake of listening to some music, reading a little bit of news, and catching up with friends, all of which slow my writing, do not get my full attention, and ultimately divert me from doing the things I really want to do. So here's to finishing up these posts soon and minimizing distractions along the way.

Reflection 1: Distance and Geography

Well, I'm all out of destinations to write about, but I still have a few things to say. These trains of thought (yeah, pun intended) began on my travels, and I'm bringing them to completion here. Here's the first one.

"You cannot count the miles until you feel them"
-Townes Van Zandt

As someone who has traveled significant distances on multiple occasions by both by air and rail, I think that plane travel teaches us some lies about geography that train travel can help correct. Flying convinces us that the world is an archipelago of familiar places instead of a vast, largely unknown continuum with pockets of familiarity. When you take the train, you realize that there are places as real as your destination at every step along the way. Some may be more populated, or more scenic, or more historic, but you experience them all from the same perspective. Flying obscures this because only the end points are really felt by the traveler. The in-between is seen from 30,000 feet, and therefore we cannot encounter it in the same way. We get no sense for what the people, plants, or animals are like. The world is conformed to a map we see from above rather than a landscape we can see ourselves in.

In addition to obscuring the vastness of our planet and the reality of all its parts, flight also obscures distance. On the train, you are able to "count the miles" because you feel each one go by from the same vantage point as you experience distance in the rest of your life: walking, driving, biking, and training all position you a few feet off the ground, adequate for observing the details of scenery.

I don't want to overstate my case, because flying teaches us the obverse: that all places, our entire planet fro that matter, are small and finite. And that there is great beauty to our planet when viewed on a grand scale, i.e. from 30,000 (or more) feet.

I flew from Seattle to L.A. for reasons that are too complicated to explain in this post, but doing so afforded me the opportunity to see Mt. Rainier rising up through a blanket of clouds above Seattle. I could not have seen this by staying on the ground, and it was truly impressive. And in Albuquerque, I took a tram up to Sandia Peak that, at is highest, suspended us 1,000 feet above the ground below. Again, that view could not be equaled staying grounded.

But both of these are vistas and not worlds. They appear uninhabited, except for your fellow passengers in whatever metal box you happen to be traveling in. On the train, you are similarly confined, but you are everywhere confronted with how places are populated and how far apart they really are. So try taking the train, it's worth the extra time.

Thanks for reading,