On bringing the boy home

I guess the real question is: Where do I begin?

How do I explain that Hearst Castle, the Rocky Mountains, skyscrapers, SUVs, soup kitchen lines, brown bears, and the Hoover Dam are all part of the same story?

How do I show him how to look past the excess and absurdity and see the story for what it is: full of contradictions, horrible and glorious, but shot through with beauty and fueled by a genuine optimism? How do I explain what possibility means to the American psyche? That California and the west are as much myths as they are places?

I have started to think that the United States is at once the logical consequence of inherently European ideas and a sublimely ahistorical venture.

..................

Which reminds me of automobiles.


“The secret point of money and power in America is neither the things that money can buy nor power for power’s sake… but absolute personal freedom, mobility, privacy. It is the instinct which drove America to the Pacific, all through the nineteenth century, the desire to be able to find a restaurant open in case you want a sandwich, to be a free agent, live by one’s own rules.” Joan Didion


I suppose it's a road that simply has to be felt, not told.

“Their manners, speech, dress, friendships,—the freshness and candor of their physiognomy—the picturesque looseness of their carriage—their deathless attachment to freedom—their aversion to anything indecorous or soft or mean—the practical acknowledgment of the citizens of one state by the citizens of all other states—the fierceness of their roused resentment—their curiosity and welcome of novelty—their self-esteem and wonderful sympathy—their susceptibility to a slight—the air they have of persons who never knew how it felt to stand in the presence of superiors—the fluency of their speech—their delight in music, a sure symptom of manly tenderness and native elegance of soul—their good temper and open-handedness—the terrible significance of their elections, the President’s taking off his hat to them, not they to him—these too are unrhymed poetry. It awaits the gigantic and generous treatment worthy of it.” Walt Whitman

It's A New Day

today

I don't think I've ever wanted to be back in the U.S. more than I do today. I want to be knocking on doors, driving people to polls, feel the electricity in the air as countless volunteer hours and all the energy you have comes down to this day. This one day.

Last spring, I was at Busboys and Poets in DC on the day Obama won the primary. Surrounded by activists young and old, the energy was tangible as we watched Hillary (kind of) concede and Obama claim victory. A group of older African-American ladies hugged and jumped and cried and I was overwhelmed by the sense of being in the midst of history.

I'm sitting now in a house in Copenhagen, and the day is just beginning back home. We'll remember it for the rest of our lives. I'm holding my breath, and while my mind is spinning with all the things The 2008 Election means, I'm trying slow down and be thankful for being alive at such an amazing moment in history.

Like others, I can't even entertain the idea of McCain winning. It would stamp out practically any hope for our democracy. It's starting to sink in that a President Obama is the alternative to that nightmare, a real possibility. But here's where it gets frightening - Obama absolutely, positively, must live up to expectations, or else it will be devastating. He must be truly transformational. With the hopes of countless people in his hands, he has to have the nerve to be the bold, visionary progressive leader we on the left secretly hope he is. He has to save the world.

And you know what's crazy? I think it might actually happen. Starting today.

oh interesting times...

I think I'm in love. I just might elope. Obama campaign, I have my eyes on you.

The night of Iowa, I remembered that fateful night four years ago when the Dean campaign crashed and burned and realized how far we've come. Or that chill-inducing speech at the Democratic national convetion. Who would have expected the youth vote? Well, we saw the midterm returns and saw hope for things to come, but the talking heads didn't really listen. But it's materializing exactly as we hoped - and the youth vote might just carry Obama all the way to the white house. Of course it's not just the youth. As I said last May, the previously apathetic and unegaged could become a force to be reckoned with. And what's a better sign of the health of a democracy?

It all comes down to leadership, as Marshall Ganz says. Great leaders create change and bring people together, not just around one cause, but around hope for a better future. As Markos Moulitsas said a few years ago in Crashing the Gate, the downfall of the democratic party has been the fragmentation around issues. Everyone judges the political landscape through the lens of their issue. This has weakened the democratic party to the extent that nobody can work together or make compromises for the common good. I've seen my colleagues in the LGBT rights or environmental communities throw barbs at the Obama campaign from this perspective, saying that the only common cause the Obama campaign unifies around is the Obama campaign. Now, nobody's going to have a perfect record about every issue. What matters is an ability to inspire hope and rally people to the extend that we can learn to compromise and work together, even if that means small costs to our pet issue. Obama can do this. The question, however, is if we can muster the optimism necessary to give him a chance. I hope so.

we go with what we have

The past week has been full of chores - fetching firewood, tending to the animals, making coffee, chopping vegetables for soup. Trying to keep the mountain chill at bay. Trying to cobble together a vision of the next six months and two years. Flipping through cookbooks.


When I was in high school, I was driving bleary-eyed from a friend's funeral and "Should I Stay or Should I Go" came on the radio. I took a detour home so I could finish listening to the song. I still can't hear it without thinking about that day and I still take detours for the radio.


When I worked at Western's study abroad office, I advised students leaving the country for the first time that no matter how much you prepare and read up on the place, no matter how many pictures you see and people you talk to, the transition will end up being at least slightly psychotic. You make the necessary arrangements, you board the plane, your life changes, and you take it as it comes.


She was going to stay.

Not “stay” precisely.

“Not leave” is more like it.

“I walked away from places all my life and I’m not going to walk away from here."

“You have to pick the places you don’t walk away from."

[...]

“You don’t get any real points for staying here, Charlotte."

“I can’t seem to tell what you do get the real points for,” Charlotte said. “So I guess I’ll stick around here awhile."

~

adjusting, readjusting

In Alamosa, Colorado right now, it's -17 degrees with a wind chill of -32. In Bali, Indonesia it's 88 with a heat index of 104. That's an actual temperature difference of 105 degrees, and a perceived difference of 136 degrees. In terms of climate, Alamosa and Bali are about as opposite as you can get right now.

It's fitting, I think. The two are probably the most disparate places I've ever been to. Bali is crowded - a blur of motion and color - hazy, lush and heavy. Alamosa is a wide horizon of snow and sun - blinding, still, and solitary.

Everyone is counting down to Christmas here, and I'm getting into it too, which keeps me moving. I like having things to look forward to - days to check off the calendar, plans to make. I can see how rich women with nothing to do could get thoroughly absorbed in the throwing of elaborate parties.

Bali

Colors, moisture, heat. Enough blue in the air...
~ Joan Didion's Inez Victor, on why she stayed in Kuala Lumpur.


The entire time I was in Bali, I tried to remember the first three words of that quote. Colors, moisture, heat. In Bali, the three are inseparable perceptions. Lush green, sticky humidity, the bustle of motorbikes and vendors all merge into one sensation of being in a far-away land.


Enough blue in the air... I wonder if she was talking about the same sky. Colorado has more blue, but maybe the operative word is enough...


I came to Bali with some hopes and lots of questions, mostly about what my next step will be. A few were answered, other more significant ones emerged, and in the end I somehow feel better about the whole thing. Less aimless, maybe.


Maybe next time I'll write about the conference - sweaty business clothes, scribbling speeches to deliver at press conferences, meeting people I should have chatted up. But right now, on a layover midway through my 40-hour trek home, I just want to remember the colors, the heat, and inscribe the sensations in my memory. Breakfast on rooftops, cool marble floors, mangoes with every meal, flowers everywhere. A weekend that could have been a dream. Feeling alive.

on the road to Bali

So after four and a half years of being stateside, I'm currently sitting in the San Francisco airport waiting for Dominic so we can board a flight to Taipei, and then one to Bali. Eight months of planning and it's finally happening. I'm excited, nervous, and holding my breath. SustainUS stuff always feels, to a certain degree, like making something out of nothing. To follow along with our most ambitious magic trick to date, go to www.itsgettinghotinere.org, www.unfcccbali.com, or www.sustainus.org/bali.

A woman sitting next to me just leaned over and farted. And then another woman walked by wearing athletic socks with high heels. Who ever said America wasn't classy?

Oh and this is Jenna's cat in sunglasses. Everybody loves a cat in sunglasses.

on light bulbs and polar bears

I cringe when I see cutesy "ways to go green" lists consisting of recycling, walking to work, and ways to buy your way to sustainability - whether through hybrids, compact fluorescents, or handbags made from tires. Being a responsible consumer and striving toward a more sustainable lifestyle is certainly important, but it should be the expected bare minimum, not a laudable exception. Even if you live on a self-sustaining farm and scrutinize every purchase you make, can you really call yourself green if you live in a country whose entire social and economic system is built on fossil fuels and oppression?

Time is running out and frankly, all the light bulbs and Priuses in the world can't change that. "It's like polishing the brass on the Titanic," Tyler Durden would say, "It's all going down."

We need to think big. Reevaluate our priorities on a national scale. Start talking about what the world might be like in 50 years. Or 100. Envision a clean energy future. Rethink agriculture. Revitalize public transportation. Overhaul electoral politics. Consider the moral bottom line alongside the economic. Expect more from business. Expect more from ourselves.

Some people certainly get it. On the whole, those of us in the youth climate movement aren't afraid to do our homework about international policy, market forces, and the powers that be. Environmental studies majors are growing up and getting MBAs. We would trade a polar bear suit for a suit and tie. We are going to Bali with policy briefings, not placards. We believe in changing things from the inside.

It took me a while to recognize that we are indeed part of a growing social movement. It looks different than it did decades ago because we have a new challenge. Our parents had to organize protests in order to raise awareness about injustices. Today, most people are aware that our society needs to be more socially just and environmentally sustainable. The task of our generation is figuring out how. We've already made strides in convincing people that things need to change. Now we need to have a plan.

I know I'm not the only one who is trying to figure out how to best aim the trajectory of my own life, given the terrain. I would have never dreamed of saying this five years ago, but I'm going to business school. I love managing an organization with a social mission, but I don't want to be writing grants for the rest of my life. I don't know what how will be, but I have a hunch it will emerge at the edges, at the blurring of boundaries between the public an private sectors. Social entrepreneurs and corporate CEOs will start talking. Target demographics will be recognized as stakeholders. We all might start taking a little more responsibility. I don't know exactly what my role will be in all this, but as with most other things in my life, I'm willing to make it up as I go along. Even if that means taking the GMAT.

Reclaiming Colorado

"A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively ... loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image." - Joan Didion



"Tell the people what you're here for" - Gang Starr



The secret of the universe is this: the universe doesn’t care. That part of the job is yours.
—David Gerrold



When I think about the places I've been, it's impossible to separate the landscape from the circumstance. I can't think about Spain without remembering the emotional turmoil of breaking up with a visiting boyfriend in favor of a new love. Amsterdam meant spending crazy evenings with that girl and our other friends in our run-down dorm in a ritzy neighborhood. New York means walking in heels from Grand Central to the UN and feeling like I'm in the nucleus of the world. DC is connectedness to something larger and greater than myself and a better world within reach. Detroit was waiting and overcast skies and the warmth of family. Lake Michigan is the infinity of blue horizons and long drives and being alone together.



What will Colorado be? I came here for clarity and contemplation and a taste of social injustice. In the past few months, I think I got caught up in the awkwardness of friend drama and the romance of other places and lost sight of what the mountains and sunshine and horizon actually mean to me. An impromptu camping trip with new volunteers helped to snap me out of my self-enclosing bubble, at least temporarily.

I know I'm going to leave at some point, but until then, I need to remember to plant my feet firmly where they are and take the time to make the most out of all of it. Colorado would be a terrible thing to take for granted.

25

Every once in a while, when I was little, I had what I now understand to be mild panic attacks, in which I would be suddenly seized with worry that I wasn't opening my eyes wide enough to adequately see what was going on around me. The sensation was physical; I needed to take my glasses off or snap myself out of a daydream and pay attention if I didn't want to miss something important. If I didn't, I would risk having my entire life flash by me unnoticed and unexamined. I eventually stopped having the episodes, but the fear of taking things for granted and letting opportunities slip away stayed with me. I mean, really - what could be worse than letting life pass you by?

This fear always kinda nags at the back of my mind, but on birthdays I can't help but question whether my eyes are open wide enough and if I'm really paying attention, or if I'm just taking the path of least resistance. Whether I'm building something or just making do.

I've never been afraid of getting older; that's just something that happens. 25 doesn't freak me out, but 24 sure does.

you are invited

smells like a bad night at the mushroom farm

If you lived in Alamosa, you would know exactly what I'm talking about. And you'd wish you didn't.

text of the day

Jenna:
We're in billings montana making eyes at the cowboys :)

random observation

The culmination of the NOI training was a job fair, in which the rockstar trainees could formally mingle with presidential campaigns, advocacy groups, voter outreach organizations, consulting firms, and a few other random employers. Some employers were in much higher demand than others - Obama, Edwards, the DNC, and M+R had a constant stream of people ready to pounce once their table opened up, while recruiters at the Biden and PIRG tables fidgeted with their cell phones and shuffled papers.

I was surprised to see the Clinton campaign's table as empty as it was. Only a few trainees stopped to chat with the woman staffing the table, who would stand up to signal when she was available. I think she spent most of her time standing, before she left early.

This does not bode well for the Clinton campaign. When 60 of the brightest young political organizers don't even want to talk to you, you're doing something wrong. By no means are we a significant voting bloc (as they reminded us time and time again, we're not normal), but we are the workhorses who will devote our lives to a campaign we believe in. I know that most of us would support Hillary if she were to get the nomination, but would we really believe in her? Would we sacrifice sleep and sanity to see she got elected? Or would our support be lukewarm and muddled with caveats like in 2004?

I know one thing for sure - if Obama, or even Edwards, got the nomination, an entire generation of talented young political junkies would take to the streets and interweb and do whatever it takes to reclaim the presidency in 2008. We would speak passionately, be creative, and unite around the candidate, because we would believe we were fighting for a better world.

Now, I know Hillary has her supporters, but seriously: can she could inspire and impassion young people any more than Kerry did?

whirlwind

I just returned from the New Organizing Institute Campaign Bootcamp, and I'm trying to make sense of being back in Alamosa. My week-and-a-half in DC was wonderful, and the more trips I take there, the more I start to think of it as my natural habitat.

I have pages of scribbles and notes from the training, and after I tame my inbox a bit more, I'll go back and synthesize some of the ideas about voter outreach, organizing, movement-building, and whatnot. But for now, you can see my posts at Future Majority and the NOI Blog.

sanity can be seasonal

I truly am a summer baby. I love feeling sleepy after getting too much sun. I love walking down the street in flip-flops. Two years ago I loved waking up early to be the first on the beach; eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and covertly skinny-dipping. Every moment in the sun feels like a gift.

I've had moments of summer this time around, like fresh spinach and bok choy from our first CSA share brightening up a marathon SustainUS day. Or volunteering for work errands just so I can get outside. Or walking around my office barefoot. Not enough beach, but I'm coping.

I'm trying to avoid taking it all for granted again this year. More country driving, less laptop-staring. Yes.

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A new article, the product of some laptop-staring: Obama, Coal and Sustainability: an Update

traveling is always a little psychotic.

“Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within. I use the word ‘love’ here not merely in the personal sense, but as a state of being, or a state of grace... in the tough and universal sense of quest and daring and growth.” - James Baldwin



Once upon a time, a girlfriend included that quote in a letter to me, when we were an ocean and worlds apart. It stuck with me because I think it does a good job articulating that freaky phenomenon of learning more about yourself through your relationships with others. Of charting new emotional and psychological territory.

A similar dynamic seems to exist when traveling. You're removed from your comfort zone, immersed in a new routine, an unfamiliar set of circumstances, and left to fend for yourself. Hopefully, you'll be surprised at what you're capable of. Inevitably, you'll be confronted with the line between internal and external and catch glimpse of the point you yield to circumstance and where you stay absolutely the same.



Most of my trip was spent staring at this carpet in the Miami Hyatt Regency Conference Center, running my eyes along the squiggly lines and wondering what in the world possessed someone to think the design was a good idea.

The rest of it was spent recognizing the significance of the various surrogate families I have - my SustainUS friends, my Amsterdam girlies, and perhaps most strikingly, my very small group of Alamosa people. They certainly don't (and of course shouldn't) take the place of my real family, but while I was in Miami I realized how important they are to my daily life and sanity. I think it took going to Florida to fully understand that.



It's good to be home.

Summerfest

Eric made this video of the festival that took place in the park across the street last weekend. I helped Jenna sell baked potatoes and nachos for La Puente. We ended up giving most of the food away.

ow!

A smarting little Earth, found at a little shop in Villa Grove on the drive up to Boulder.

And another Obama post, produced by coffee and some google research, fresh for you this morning: Obama, Coal, and Politics as Usual?