New Song: The Tea Party AN(a)THEM(a)

I wouldn't want to post this song without writing some commentary to back it up.  It's a satirical protest song, written in response to the House of Representatives' vote to repeal Obama's Health Care Bill on January 19.  The vote was politically safe because, while Obama's healthcare bill is unpopular with many Americans, the repeal will never get through the Senate or Obama's desk, so none of the voters really risk the chance of stopping a program that actually addresses the 40 million Americans who do not have medical insurance.  While the health care bill is unpopular, no real alternative has been proposed by the right, aside from going right back to where we were before: a system that's created millions of uninsured, just one accident away from going bankrupt.  With no real alternative, the right, if it were to successfully repeal the bill, would make no adjustment to a for-profit health care system that denies people coverage based on having pre-existing conditions or being poor and having an employer who offers no plan.  I know why this plan is unpopular: it's being promoted at a time that our deficit is unfathomably huge and our country is in a recession.  But it's also unpopular because it hasn't settled in.  I believe that once its benefits are felt, this will be a benefit nobody will want to give up (just like Republicans find the idea of getting rid of social security unpopular, itself a product of big government).  Imagine, your coverage can't be cancelled except in the case of fraud, you can insure your kids until they are 26, you can get a subsidized insurance policy if you're poor, you can't be denied insurance based on a preexisting condition, you can still choose between different insurance companies and doctors, and your bills will become less expensive.  Who is going to repeal that once it's in effect?  I don't understand the backlash against this bill.  Where is the backlash against the insurance companies who have been, for years, running an unethical practice?  It's amazing to me that a bill as conservative as the Obama Health Care Reform can stir up such anger, especially when medical bankruptcy is so common among the people, even as insurance companies boast mind-bending revenues each year.  


I'm actually critical of the Health Care Reform because I don't think single-payer health care was given a real chance, and that's what, in part, makes me crazy about the backlash I've witnessed in the States.  This isn't a socialist or communist plot.  It actually retains the for-profit system already established.  It just provides consumer protection rights.  The protests against it are akin to a protest against lemon laws because they prevent people from buying crappy cars for a lot of money.  For the record, I stand in line with Rep. Dennis Kucinich, who, on Democracy Now! said, 


"Repeal means Americans will continue to pay more for insurance but get less, that is, if they can afford health insurance in the first place. The very idea of healthcare reform solely within the context of a for-profit system has been more than problematic. Today, 50 million Americans have no health insurance. What are we going to do for them? Rather than waste time on debating how much reform insurance companies will permit, if any, it’s time to change the debate. It’s time to end the for-profit healthcare model. It’s time for a not-for-profit healthcare, single-payer, universal, Medicare for all."


Regardless, this satirical song I wrote comes from the perspective of a die-hard critic of the Health Care Reform, taken to its extreme. 

In verse 1, I consider a disgust of taxes, hoping to repeal not just a reform to health care, but the funding of libraries, student loans, public education, police officers, and fire fighters. To me, this is not so far fetched. A true critic of health reform due to its public burden, would find all these things reprehensible as well. Just as a guarantee of health care for all citizens provides safety and security, so do these services.  I don't see them as fundamentally different. 

In verse 2, I consider the magnitude of the health care problems in this country: the vast numbers of uninsured, the burden it puts on society when medical bankruptcy causes defaults on mortgages, and the burden on those with preexisting conditions to attain coverage from companies that assess them as being risky to their bottom line (profit). 

And in verse 3, I consider the myth that our doctors will have their hands tied in a way that they don't currently. As of right now, it's the insurance companies, not the doctors, that have the final word on what kinds of treatments can be administered because doctors must administer to their patience in a way that's affordable. 

All this analysis is carried out by the naive perspective offered by the extreme right, a perspective that puts more importance on the rights of a free market than on the well being of one's neighbors, one's community, and one's country.  I'm not saying the Obama Health Care Reform doesn't need work.  It does.  We need to make sure that small businesses can provide their employees insurance without causing an excessive burden that would put them out of business.  We need to make sure that people maintain a choice among doctors and hospitals.  And we do need to curb out of control government spending and balance the budget.  But it's a step in the right direction, and if we're to curb government spending, I would start by reexamining the failed war on drugs and the failed war on terrorism.

Concert Review: Langhorne Slim, Becoming a Legend!

On January 25, Anita, Garrett, and I went to a concert for headlining act the Old 97s.  They are an old and groundbreaking band formed in 1993, essentially starting a budding alt-country scene that came to be dominated by the likes of Uncle Tupelo, Wilco, Son Volt, Blue Mountain, and Drive-By Truckers.  The scene is thriving today with acts like Band of Horses, My Morning Jacket, and The Avett Brothers.  There's definitely nothing nerdy about wielding a banjo in hip towns like San Francisco and Portland, and it's in large part to bands like the Old 97s.  That's about the extent of my praise.  The Old 97s were a bundle of high energy, but they amount to sloppy, drunken, and out-of-tune antics with shallow lyrics.  They were bad, and Anita nearly killed me for not leaving the show early, making her endure the whole 2-hour set.  With enough beer, I'm sure it could be considered a stellar performance, but we were not drunk.

But... the reason we went to this show was for the opening act, Langhorne Slim.  His band did not disappoint one bit.  In fact, they killed!  This guy is the real deal: his high pitched, scratchy, and thoroughly taxed voice is going to be the stuff of legend.  His songs are thoughtful and very well crafted with brilliant lyrics, his stage performance is energetic and very connected with the audience (he loves going into the audience and belting his songs), and the musicianship of the band is top rate.  I've been a big fan since a friend passed on two of his albums, "Langhorne Slim" and "When the Sun's Gone Down".  But there were several times during his performance when I sat back and thought, "A recording studio can't capture this - it has to be experienced live."  Langhorne has one of those bands that knows how to play quiet and build it up from there.  Keyboard/Banjo player David Moore is a great example.  When jamming on the banjo, he was slapping so hard you worried his fingers would start to bleed, but behind the keyboard, he'd make you cry the way notes would subtly sneak into your subconscious.  The man has soul, and at times stole the spotlight away from Langhorne.  But never for long: Langhorne's voice was passionate, distinctive, gritty, and powerful the entire set.  I don't know how he does it every night as he half-screams his notes, making it sounds like his throat is tearing apart.  All combined, it served the audience a powerful and soulful experience.  It won't be long before the Old 97s are opening for him.

Take a moment to check out these great music videos, and I've posted a live performance as well, so you could at least get a glimpse.  But believe me, nothing beats the experience of hearing this man belt it out with a full PA system to back him up.  Youtube will give you a taste, but not the meal.

On Pilgrimage: Cycling Across the United States, The Transamerica Bicycle Trail, Part I

Looking back on it, I'm not sure how it came to be that I cycled across the United States, from Oregon to Virginia, but I did. I know the idea must have generated from my dear friend Josh. He's the most athletic person I know, focusing on swimming, cycling, and running (yes, a triathlete), and he'd been thinking about a cross country ride for some time. It almost happened for him years earlier. He had a friend who started planning it with him. But as the planning with all big trips go, it was continually questioned and rethought and was, unfortunately for Josh, cancelled. So I imagine at one time, when Josh and I were hanging out, he must have brought up the idea, and I must have said yes, and collectively, we must have followed through at every corner. The next thing I knew, I had a Trek bicycle, two panniers, and maps that stretched across America.

I was not a cyclist when I agreed to the trip. My cycling consisted of rides around town with my Dad's old Schwinn, narrowly avoiding accidents in the rain because my brakes were so barren they couldn't grip my wheels when they were wet. That old clunker would not have gotten me across the US, though I contemplated it. Getting a new bike was essential. The trip conveniently coincided with my college graduation, so my parents made the same paradoxical move they made when they gifted me my backpack for the Camino de Santiago: despite protesting the trip, they bought me the very means to make it possible. My bike was my graduation gift, and it currently has around 10,000 miles on it. My very first ride on it was terrible. I picked it up from the bike shop and rode to crew practice. On the way I learned a valuable lesson - watch where you're riding because you may run over a nail. As a first ride, it could have been taken as a bad omen: a nail punctured both my tube and tire, leaving me stranded on the side of the road, thankful when a crew buddy saw me and picked me up. I took it instead as a great lesson, and I learned shortly after how to change a tire, a lesson I put into effect at least twenty times as I rode across 10 states.

After walking in my college graduation, Josh and I got a ride from my parents from Humboldt, California to Florence, Oregon. It rained on us the whole way. When we got to Florence, right on the coast, my parents thought it might be nice to drive us east a bit, toward Eugene, our destination for that day. As the rain splattered against the windshield, they just kept driving and driving, and Josh and I kept saying, 'Up ahead looks like a good turnout.' Then they'd pass it, and we'd say again, 'Up ahead looks like a good turnout.' Pretty soon it seemed apparent that they were going to drive us all the way to Eugene, and possibly Yorktown, Virginia, to avoid dropping us off in the rain. It took a bit of convincing, but they finally pulled over into an old gas station, and Josh and I got out and put on our rain gear, which was an assortment of plastic bags. We were poor college kids and we thought we were smart, so instead of investing in real rain gear, we draped ourselves in plastic and planned to ride through the storms. My Mom was in tears as she saw us ride off in the rain, looking like we'd just exited a dumpster.

Looking back, I'm quite amazed at what we accomplished - we carried just a fraction of what most cross-country cyclists carry. I purposively took just two medium-sized panniers, thinking that I would fill whatever space was available, so it's better (lighter) to avoid the large size. Josh filled his bag just halfway. We looked like day-riders and we were undertaking a 3 month voyage. Cyclists we passed consistently marveled at our light loads. This was the most minimalist travel I'd ever done, and I've never done anything like it since (partly because it's uncomfortable to travel so light - I've recycled my plastic bags and I now own rain gear). Regardless, my parents watched us ride off into the Oregon rain - a rain that would follow us all the way to eastern Colorado.

When we arrived in Eugene, Oregon, we tried to phone some contacts Josh had there. Unfortunately, they didn't answer the phone, and Josh hadn't made real arrangements with them. So, we were stuck and were reluctant to exceed our tiny budget on our first day out. We thought about our options in the Eugene public library when a wonderful woman named Lynn, a cyclist herself, saw us, introduced herself, and gave us her address and phone number, saying, "If your friends can't house you, call me and you can stay on our living room floor." That's exactly what we did, and we woke up to a big pancake breakfast.

On day two, we rode a long and hard uphill day in the rain to a tiny town consisting of nothing more than a gas station. We figured we'd try and set up a tent somewhere when an old man named Dick leaned out of his truck and said, "You boys looking for a place to sleep tonight?" It was at that point that I knew we'd be taken care of every day along the way. Dick's wife passed away two years prior and he was recovering from a stroke. He was a lonely old man who offered us his garage and kept checking in to see if we were alright every twenty minutes or so. He gave us a floor to sleep on and a roof, and we gave him some much needed companionship.

These kinds of interaction became the running theme of this pilgrimage. While the scenery was breathtaking, the long rides contemplative, and the mountains and weather fiercely challenging, it will always be the people that I remember most fondly when I look back. People care for wandering pilgrims, people come through when they see you suffering, people open up to you when you are traveling through their small town. It was a trip full of chance encounters, some of which really demonstrate the beauty of the human spirit. I will do my best in the coming posts to convey that spirit in the story of our trip across 4400 miles of a breathtaking American countryside.

Cover Song: The Wedding

Hey everyone,
Years ago I was given a CDR from a friend at Humboldt State that had 'Fernando' written across it. My friend told me he stumbled upon this band at a bar one night, and he loved it, and he thought I'd love it. I DID! I have never seen Fernando's name anywhere I've looked. They are not being played on the radio or on Pandora. They aren't on iTunes, myspace, napster, facebook, amazon, or your local record store. They aren't coming to your town to play. They are ghosts. But I've played the hell out of their brilliant CD. So, here is a cover from that album. It's called The Wedding and I think it's an amazing folk ditty. I hope you enjoy.


The Wedding by tmhfband

Book Review: Greg Graffin's 'Anarchy Evolution'

A couple months ago, I attended a book signing at Powell's Books for another book in the growing line of popular defenses of atheism. I'd already read one of the foundational books in the atheist movement: Sam Harris's "The End of Faith". Harris's book is a powerful, expansively cited, and tightly woven argument that one need not feel nervous about expressing their atheism publicly. Atheism, founded on the reasonable argument that we should build our beliefs about the world through observation open to public scrutiny and testability, has great advantages over faith-based belief systems, including the yielding of less radical and dangerous ideologies. In these times of extreme religious fanaticism, often leading to terrorism, I can't help but be persuaded by Harris's argument, although there seems to me something socio-political going on in extreme and dangerous ideologies that Harris is not addressing - something that would still exist should the world be cleansed of faith-based belief systems. Be that as it may be, there's a growing dialogue about atheism in the United States and it has some powerful and persuasive thinkers behind it. Enter Greg Graffin.

Honestly, I would not have attended the book signing or read the book if Greg Graffin was not the singer of Bad Religion. If there's one thing I've thought a lot about throughout my life, it's religion and atheism, as I'm a 'recovering Catholic'. But Greg Graffin is a legend of a man - a founder of one of the most influential punk bands to come out of southern California, a graduate from UCLA with a Master's degree in geology, a graduate from Cornell University with a PhD in Zoology, and a professor at UCLA. That's an amazing list of achievements and ones particularly dear to my heart as academics and music have been very powerful throughout my life. Needless to say, I was right there at the book signing, not sure what it would be like.

Greg Graffin looks way more like a university professor than he does a punk rock icon. He came to the book signing wearing a button-down, collared shirt tucked into kaki pants, and his hair is balding on the top of his head. He's very tall and his eyes are intense. He has a great sense of humor and he thinks about what he's going to say before he blurts it out, making therefore thoughtful comments. One of my favorite parts on his talk about the book was when he fielded a question by a young fan: "Why write this book when your songs are so deep and well thought out? Are you just trying to reach a wider audience?" Graffin thought about it for a second, and said that as an artist, he doesn't feel it's necessary to justify anything you produce. It's wrong to corner him as a 'musician', thus closing the door to other avenues of creative expression. He did not justify his book. There's no 'plan' behind it - like trying to reach another audience. It's just the latest of his creative outpourings, and he's offering it, just as he does with his music, for others to enjoy and think about. This response captures a lot of the sentiment behind his writing: Graffin is a 'renaissance man' - his interests are wide and varied, and the thing they share in common is their disdain for authority and stereotyping, and their foundation in wonder about the world.

Graffin does not like to consider himself an atheist. He is one - he does not believe in God. But he likes to label himself as a naturalist, because that doesn't just talk about what he is not, but rather what he is - a person believing that human beings are a part of nature, not an exalted or advanced species, that all parts of nature are subjected to evolutionary processes, and that we can come to understand those evolutionary processes through sharing information and collecting and comparing data. Here are some of Graffin's own words: "For me, evolution provides the context for our lives. Yes, evolution has implications that can make us deeply uneasy. But on important questions we must seek the truth, even if the truth is difficult to accept. Naturalism can provide the foundation for building a coherent and consistent worldview on which we can base important decisions. In fact, I would contend, it is the only perspective that can secure both our happiness as individuals and our survival as a species" (7). His book is basically an investigation of what naturalism tells us about the world and how it can be internalized to offer guidance.

Graffin spends time outlining two important features of evolution: tragedy and creativity. Graffin says, "a tragic sense of life is an inevitable accompaniment to a naturalist worldview" (118). The reason is easy to see - evolution does not strive toward perfection: individuals are always competing for survival and always undergo traumatic changes. We've experienced this ourselves, and we hear of it happening to other humans and species every day. No naturalist would ignore the tragic side of life. Graffin says, "When tragedy strikes, no individual is prepared. It appears to be a simple matter of luck which individuals survive" (134). Such tragedy can be accounted for in a naturalist perspective. By accepting it rather than explaining it using a teleological argument, naturalists don't face the great paradox theists must grapple with. "Anyone who is a theist and believes in a caring, responsive, and powerful God must come to terms with religion's central problem: the presence of so much suffering and misery in nature" (135). By accepting tragedy in one's worldview with no grand explanation behind it, one's empathy can grow, bringing people to a more understanding, supportive, and caring relationship with each other. This stands in contrast to the naive assumption that atheists are uncaring and heartless. The acceptance of tragedy in life will often produce quite the opposite effect, as it has with Graffin.

The other great feature of evolution is creativity. Graffin writes, "In the naturalist worldview, creativity emerges from natural laws that operate spontaneously. Matter and energy come together to produce an endless diversity of physical forms and phenomena, some familiar to us, some strange and unexpected" (144). He then goes on to give a plausible (theoretical) history of the world and the origins of life starting from the Big Bang, followed by "a period of creative ferment that will never be fully explored", now at 13.5 billion years and counting. Graffin has little to say about time before the Big Bang, and he's okay with that. Graffin accepts the immensity and mystery of the universe, and as a naturalist he explores and tries to gather as much data as possible, trying to put together the most reasonable worldview he can muster. As the remarkably diverse fossil record shows, and in looking around at the incredible biodiversity existing on this planet, such a worldview obviously includes an amazing amount of creativity in the unfolding of sentient life.

The book, in addition to all this, talks a lot about the evolution of Bad Religion and Graffin's personal life. An extremely motivated person, Graffin was at one time a Phd student at Cornell, touring with his band during the summers, recently married, and sharing the responsibilities of being a new parent. The result was a failed marriage and a serious reevaluation of his priorities, of which he came out a stronger and more adjusted person. But it's just incredible to contemplate the life he's led and the hard work involved. Graffin's passion for music and life just flow out of the book. Already a well-read atheist, I wasn't blown away by his remarks on theism and atheism, but I was very impressed by his nuanced understanding of evolution and biology and by his punk rock spirit. His chapter on a meaningful afterlife was downright inspiring: "It's my firm conclusion that human meaning comes from humans, not from a supernatural source. After we die, our hopes for an afterlife reside in the social networks that we influenced while we were alive. If we influence people in a positive way - even if our social web is only as big as a nuclear family - others will want to emulate us and pass on our ideas, manners, or lifestyle to future generations. This is more than enough motivation for me to do good things in my life and teach my children to do the same" (247). I totally recommend the book, and the listening of Bad Religion albums.

New Song and Video: Oregon Rain

This song is about some of the (mis)adventures of Anita and myself.

Verse one describes getting caught for days and days in Oregon rain as Josh and I started our cross country bicycle trip in 2005.  A couple pictures shown in the video are quite telling of that trip.  The first is my bike with its load strapped onto the back.  There's next to nothing on the back of that bike!  I carry as much with me to work every morning!  But I was able to live out of it for two and a half months.  Next is Josh, with his bike on the road, tying a garbage bag around the top of him, with plastic bags tied to his feet.  This picture describes the entire trip - we were so rogue we were literally dressed in garbage bags!

Verse two describes a serious mishap with Anita in Death Valley that turned out to be alright.  Her group all went to run in the sand dunes at dusk, and Anita, at some point, dropped the only set of car keys in the huge expansive desert, unsure where this happened.  As night drew upon them, they all scoured the sand, and it took a very long time until someone stumbled upon them when they decided to try looking again in a previously inspected area.

Verse three describes the feeling of being deep in the high sierra backcountry when it starts snowing on you in the middle of August.  It's quite unnerving.  But as with all these misadventures, if you survive them, they become some of your fondest memories.

Enjoy the video!

On Pilgrimage: El Camino de Santiago

It's very interesting for me to think back to 2002 when I walked the Camino de Santiago, a Catholic pilgrimage spanning the whole north of Spain, traditionally starting in Saint Jean Pied de Port, France and ending in Santiago, Spain.  I was so different then.  I started that trip so skeptical and negative about life - much different than I am today.  I finished so trusting and idealistic about life - also not much like I am now.  I now find myself in a much more balanced place - overall optimistic, but not naively so.  When I flew home from Spain, I was more or less determined to live a nomadic lifestyle, studying philosophy in near and far places, always investing all my energy in the present moment.  Now I find myself engaged, owning a nice dining room table, searching for a career path, and caring for a dog.  A professor I once had described Freidrich Nietszche's philosophy as a 'young person's philosophy', meaning that when you get older you start thinking less about your own potential and more about your duties and roles in your community.  I think I was honed into Neitszche's philosophy in 2002, and as I've gotten older, I've started accepting things I found deplorable in my youth - like security and stability.  That being said, El Camino was the most powerful experience of my life to date, and its spirit will always be with me.  And it should be noted, at 31, I still don't have a 401k.

The Camino de Santiago takes about a month to walk, if you are hiking about 15-20 kilometers a day.  If started in Saint Jean Pied de Port, it begins with a steep ascent into the Pyranees Mountains, where people are Basque and often don't speak Spanish.  Guiding you are yellow arrows, long dirt roads, highways, sidewalks, quiet streets, refugios for sleeping, and restaurants advertising Menu del Dia para Peregrinos.

Jenny, Wendy, and I spent our first night in Europe on a sidewalk in Saint Jean Pied de Port because we arrived in town after every hotel was closed.  We woke up exhausted and made our way to the refugio.  To our surprise, two old French men excitedly hurried us in and methodically started inspecting our packs.  They started pulling things out exclaiming, 'No! No!'  The last straw was when they extracted The Count of Monte Cristo from Jenny's backpack, waving it in the air, wondering why three crazy Americans were planning on walking 750 kilometers, spanning three mountain ranges with books!  We didn't put up a fight, and we walked straight to the post office and paid a hefty fee to mail one fourth of our belongings home.  We were then sent on our way, and we quickly realized why it wasn't smart to carry anything we didn't need.  Hiking for days on end with heavy packs is tough, and Jenny, even with her light pack, nearly blew her knees out during the first week.

Despite pretty cold and wet weather and physical pain, we walked on, and met interesting people along the way.  Pilgrims share a common bond even before they meet: they suffer together on the road, and they suffer it in hope of finding some deep, hidden, and powerful meaning along the way.  The people we most connected with were trying to figure their lives out.  A lot of them had reached a point where they were lost and didn't know what to do.  Unwilling to just settle into some unfulfilling existence, they took a risk and dropped everything to walk for 30 days.  The experience is amazing: you might initially make some of the typical small talk you make at home, but indubitably, if you are to spend more than 5 minutes with someone you met there, you would fall upon philosophical subjects exploring ethics, morality, meaningful existence, metaphysics, spirituality, religion, politics, and authenticity.  It was natural to have these conversations, and you learned a lot from exploring the different perspectives brought on by people of varying nationalities, professions, and ages.  I made a particularly good friend with Adelardo, a Spanish guitarist with amazing experiences and an unbelievably kind heart.

Pilgrims, obviously, walk at different paces, and the rule is to make the Camino your own - to walk at your pace.  People, therefore, got separated at times and became reunited.  Also, people spend a lot of time walking alone.  I spent hours and hours alone, walking.  This proved to be an intense meditation practice of which I wasn't even aware at the time.  It struck me one day when I spent half a day walking and my mind was completely blank for the entire second half of the walk.  All thought ceased and I was in a blissful state, surrounded by a quiet and beautiful Spanish countryside.  I spent many hours in this state - a state I'd previously not experienced, because it takes a lot of time to develop that kind of quiet in the mind.  It proved to be the greatest therapy of my life.  A neurologist might describe my mind as undergoing a neural rewiring.  I was remapping my interests and priorities.  I was also becoming less biased and more open to differing ideas and experiences.  I was feeling more and more connected to the earth and my community.  By the end of the pilgrimage, as Adelardo said goodbye and departed, I let go of the last remaining attachments I selfishly clung to, and I had the greatest cry of my life.  Physically, it was an unloading of tears.  Emotionally, it was a rebirth.  Spiritually, it was an acceptance of the great mysteries of life.  By the end of my 4 hour-long cry I endured as we walked out of Santiago, toward the Spanish coast, I was a new man, very excited about my upcoming adventure.

Wendy, Jenny, and I walked to Finesterre - The End of the World, for the Romans.  We walked to the coast, where we would have to swim if we wanted to continue traveling west.  We spent a day staring at the ocean, contemplating the 750 kilometers and 35 days we'd just experienced.  I remember feeling really tired of walking, which is a shame, because many of my fondest memories in life involve walking and communing with deep thinking friends and family.  Prior to the Camino, my walks with Adrian and Mike, talking about music and art and resisting the trap we saw so much of society falling into, were groundbreaking.  My time on the Camino was epic, including our return to the path just a month later, walking with our lifelong friend Tess.  My lonely excursions up San Jacinto in Idyllwild always make me feel good.  And my month-long hike on the John Muir Trail with Anita was the closest I've been since the Camino to establishing a meditative trance just by walking.  It's also comparative to the Camino in that I experienced a deep and freeing cry when Anita left the trail a few days early of arriving at Tuolomne Meadows.  But that's all another story...

I made some important decisions on the Camino.  I decided to clear my debt, which I worked tirelessly at upon my return to the States.  I also decided to study philosophy.  I'd always been held back by the question I was so often asked, "What are you going to do with that degree?"  I didn't know how to answer that question.  My lack of an assertive response kept me from going through with it.  After the Camino, I recognized that the experience would have inherent value, and I chose one of the most beautiful places on earth to delve into philosophical debates: Humboldt County, California.  I now have a Master's Degree in Philosophy and my answer to that question, "What are you going to do with it?" has finally been answered: I am a customer service representative at Netflix.  Oh, and I read Badiou on my free time.

My experience on El Camino has served as a model for understanding life: I see my experiences through the lense of pilgrimage.  I understand the weight of the things I carry around with me, and how they affect my path.  I've tried since then to keep my possessions light (until now!).  I try to maintain a position where I can head off and walk for 30 days if my soul needs it.  I understand how important goals are.  If a path is to be traveled, it must have direction.  I like to set attainable goals for myself, and work toward them.  I understand that all paths entail the enduring of pain, and that pain is only endurable if the destination has an inherent value.  So long as you believe in what you are doing, you can endure a great amount of pain.  I also understand the value of planning.  If we didn't have those benevolent french men pulling The Count of Monte Cristo from our packs, we might have become seriously injured.  Pilgrimage should be pursued responsibly, with care taken in the planning stage, the execution, and in the aftermath, carefully integrating the lessons learned from the experience in the everyday life choices we're doubtless going to make when it's all over.  As a sign said in a bathroom in the Santiago refugio, "El Camino no tiene fin, El Camino es interior."

Song: The John McCain Blues

Here is a song I've recently written.  It's written as a blues song from the perspective of John McCain, after describing the day when "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" was overturned as 'a sad day'.  It gains its inspiration from a comparison I draw between McCain and the fight for Gay Rights and George Wallace and the fight for Civil Rights.  I believe, as has happened with Wallace, we will reach a more enlightened state in years to come and see these politicians as bigoted and small-minded.  One day, I hope, gay people across the country will be able to marry who they wish, in public, enjoying the same benefits straight people have.  I don't believe in mandating that different religions need perform these marriages or even recognize them as legitimate, but the State should be required to.  Nothing should stand in the way of a man or woman marrying their loved one, and it's shocking to me that this battle needs to be fought after all the lessons we've learned throughout history.  McCain is able to make his biased comments because he has a lot of people supporting him, just as Wallace did.  But if history is to teach us anything, the fight for equal rights and protection under the law will put continual pressure on the biases inherent in anti-gay legislation, and with hope, reason will lead the way to the acceptance of gay lifestyles.  This is a human rights issue, and the overturning of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" is just one step on the road to justice.  McCain, unfortunately, has a lot to be sad about.  But the military culture has just become a more just and respectful environment for the men and women that serve their country.

Poem: Love is not Found in the Good Times

Love, it can be said, is not discovered in the good times,

Though surely it’s present in a good friend’s smile.

Yet if love is to be primarily recognized

And distinguished from something less worthy of the term,

It’s to be discovered in the profoundest dismay,

In the epithet, the disparaging word.

This is perhaps love’s deepest mystery,

That it should be recognized in the deepest canyon,

In the exacting work of the Devil, requiring all His delicacy and skill.

That is where love is to be found, and this is what history is in the process of proving,

As if love was simply the clouds as they were moving.

No, as my loved one once pondered, as I lent her my ear,

“To love is to love that which your lover has not.”

To love, then, involves a negativity,

This, of course, stands against all proclivity.

Love is a void, though we think it a surplus.

Love is around, though we think it before us.