Another Mekong, please.

On Montana

2009-01-02T10:21:00.000-08:00

Oh Montana, give this child a home;
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own;
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes;
Give him the wild wind for a brother, and the wild Montana skies.

- John Denver, "Wild Montana Skies"

POSTED BY ERIC TAYLOR AT 11:23 AM FROM BILLINGS, MT

Year-end reflection, continued

2008-12-31T17:49:00.000-08:00

Here's the question: what do you change? Whom do you call that you haven't spoken to in years? Whom do you realize has been toxic to your heart and drop with surprising ease? What trips do you cancel, and what trips do you book? What can't you be bothered with anymore? What's the new you like?

Think about that, and then ask one more question. Why not just change it all right now?

POSTED BY ERIC TAYLOR AT 6:50 PM FROM BILLINGS, MT

Year-end reflection, continued

2008-12-29T13:23:00.000-08:00

"I don’t know how it will be in the years to come. There are monstrous changes taking place in the world, forces shaping a future whose face we do not know. Some of these forces seem evil to us, perhaps not in themselves but because their tendency is to eliminate other things we hold good. It is true that two men can lift a bigger stone than one man. A group can build automobiles quicker and better than one man, and bread from a huge factory is cheaper and more uniform. When our food and clothing and housing all are born in the complication of mass production, mass method is bound to get into our thinking and to eliminate all other thinking. In our time mass or collective production has entered our economics, our politics, and even our religion, so that some nations have substituted the idea collective for the idea God. This in my time is the danger. There is great tension in the world, tension toward a breaking point, and men are unhappy and confused.

At such a time it seems natural and good to me to ask myself these questions. What do I believe in? What must I fight for and what must I fight against?

Our species is the only creative species, and it has only one creative instrument, the individual mind and spirit of a man. Nothing was ever created by two men. There are no good collaborations, whether in music, in art, in poetry, in mathematics, in philosophy. Once the miracle of creation has taken place, the group can build and extend it, but the group never invents anything. The preciousness lies in the lonely mind of a man.

And now the forces marshaled around the concept of the group have declared a war of extermination on that preciousness, the mind of man. By disparagement, by starvation, by repressions, forced direction, and the stunning hammerblows of conditioning, the free, roving mind is being pursued, roped, blunted, drugged. It is a sad suicidal course our species seems to have taken.

And this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. And this I would fight for: the freedom of the mind to take any direction it wishes, undirected. And this I must fight against: any idea, religion, or government which limits or destroys the individual. This is what I am and what I am about. I can understand why a system built on a pattern must try to destroy the free mind, for that is one thing which can by inspection destroy such a system. Surely I can understand this, and I hate it and I will fight against it to preserve the one thing that separates us from the uncreative beasts. If the glory can be killed, we are lost."

- John Steinbeck, East of Eden

POSTED BY ERIC TAYLOR AT 2:24 PM FROM BILLINGS, MT

Year-end reflection

2008-12-27T14:53:00.000-08:00

"But to look back from the stony plain along the road which led one to that place is not at all the same thing as walking on the road; the perspective, to say the very least, changes only with the journey; only when the road has, all abruptly and treacherously, and with an absoluteness that permits no argument, turned or dropped or risen is one able to see all that one could not have seen from any other place."

- James Baldwin, Go Tell It on the Mountain

POSTED BY ERIC TAYLOR AT 3:54 PM FROM BILLINGS, MT

2008-12-14T11:05:00.000-08:00

For billions of years,
Since the outset of time,
Every single one of your ancestors survived.
Every single person on your mum’s and dad's side
Successfully looked after and passed onto you

Life!

What are the chances of that like?
It comes to me once in a while.
And everywhere I tell folk,
It gets the best smile.

- The Streets, “On the Edge of a Cliff”

POSTED BY ERIC TAYLOR AT 1:05 PM FROM AUSTIN, TX

Amadeus

2008-12-09T07:23:00.000-08:00

It’s finals time around the law school. What this means for me is that I spend the entirety of my days exploring the various coffee shops in Austin. To those of you who think this sounds normal, I mean to say that I spend more time than usual in the java houses. Much, much more time. I am at Mozart’s this morning. It’s out of the way, but always packed because of the location. It sits on Lake Austin; they’ve got a really cool set up (hard to beat bottomless cups, spectacular views, and beautiful patrons).

I arrived around 8 this morning and found the faintest sense of a fog layer covering the lake. It was quiet, calm. There are two layers of trees on the other side of the lake. The first, the lower level, is various shades of orange and red. Autumn. The second, rising above the first, is a set of evergreens. The contrast is nice. And beautiful. Nice and beautiful. I imagine it would be quite the sight without the power lines and couple houses on the hill overhead.

There is a certain sense of serenity in the early morning, lakeside. It’s unique. I love it. And it makes me want to go camping near a lake sooner than later. I haven’t been camping in over a year. I haven’t seen enough nature in the last year. Law school is funny like that. I feel like I’m constantly busy. But when I think back, I feel like I’m busy doing the same things. A, then B, then C, repeat. I need to see a big mountain soon. The ocean too. I need to feel how utterly small and meaningless I am. If nothing else, for humility’s sake.

The lake is beautiful this morning. Calm. Just. What. I. Need.

Big changes coming to this blog soon. Only it probably won’t be this blog. I’m going to change the address, buy a domain (An aside: This is actually kind of a scary commitment. I mean, you’re locked into that one once you buy it. You have to get the right one. You don't wanna pick mylovelockdown.com only to realize that Kanye's new album sucks and your love is most definitely not on lockdown weeks later. Poor form. Maybe I’m just scared of commitment. Entirely plausible.). I’m going to redesign this thing. Come up with better reasons to post, more things to say. I mean that. I’ve been working on a story about an old man ... no sea involved. I digress, I’m going to make this thing a better experience for both of us. If nothing else, I plan, in the New Year, to make sure this thing has new shit when you so kindly check back in on it every so often. That is my pledge to you.

Yes, it’s been a long, a long time comin’. But I know a change gonna come. Oh, yes it will.

I promise to stop using that Sam Cooke song for everything. Just as soon as his catchy tune about the cha cha cha stops making me listen to it. Yes, then.

Good day.

POSTED BY ERIC TAYLOR AT 9:23 AM FROM MOZART'S IN AUSTIN, TX

Checking it thrice

2008-11-21T09:05:00.001-08:00

I have this unbelievable feeling lately, this feeling that I’m full of life. That sounds weird, I know. And it is. But that’s what I feel like. I feel like I’ve never been so alive. I’m full of zest, for life. It’s nice.

I’ve been going through a process, making a list. We’re nearing the end of 2008, cascading quickly toward 2009. I’m ready to embark on a new year. But I hesitate to do so without a roadmap. I don’t need the most detailed model, but some sketch would be nice. So I’m working through this thought process: if I was to die on December 31, 2009, what would I want to have accomplished? Done? Seen? Said?

There are a lot of things that I want to accomplish, a number of things that I want to do, countless places I want to see, certain things I want to say. But if I was to die, just over a month and a year from now, which would take priority?

Which language would I learn? What would I do? Where would I visit? Who would I make sure to say “I love you” to? You get the point.

I’m making a list. In the next thirteen-plus months, I’m gonna get out my sharpie and start checking.

The first thing on my list: Be healthy, happy, and alive!

Check.

POSTED BY ERIC TAYLOR AT 11:05 AM FROM STARBUCKS IN AUSTIN, TX

Progress

2008-11-17T04:47:00.000-08:00

I’ve been talking lately. I’ve been saying some pretty important things to some pretty important people. And it feels good. I think I’m going to continue, for now.

I saw a counselor for a brief time during the later stages of my mother’s illness. He urged me, almost begged me, to open the lines of communication with my mother. He told me to say what I needed to say to her. He wanted me to talk about everything with her: what she hoped my life would look like, what she felt facing death, what I thought about the whole thing, etc. I knew that most of the stuff he talked about was impossible. My mother wasn’t great at communicating. It wasn’t her fault, I don’t think. She was tough as nails, but probably pretty scared. I couldn’t say anything of import when I was younger, so I was a hopeless catalyst for the kind of conversation my counselor was after. I was absolutely terrified, and completely heartbroken. I was hemorrhaging on the inside and devoid of much direct, outward expression of my true emotions.

Toward the end of my mother’s life, I couldn’t really handle seeing her as weak as she was. She was confined to a bed and a wheel chair for the very last stages of her illness, and that was just too much for me. On the morning of her passing, I didn’t go into her room to talk to her before I went to school. I didn’t tell her good morning. I didn’t tell her that I loved her. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t want to start my day with such a painful image. I skipped the last chance I had to tell my mother that I loved her. That one hurts.

The interesting thing about that experience, though, is how little it changed my emotional behavior. That moment, that decision hurts like nothing I can explain. But it didn’t lead to the result you’d expect; I did not open up and start saying what I wanted to say to everyone that I wanted to say it to. If anything, the pendulum swung further the opposite direction. I became completely mute on issues of real consequence. Football? I can talk about it for hours. Politics? Same thing. Name almost any subject that doesn’t have to do with personal feelings and I’m guessing I can talk your ear off. Get real for a minute, ask me something personal, and I clam up. I become totally unable to express myself. It’s bizarre to me and, I’m guessing, perplexing to those around me. But it is what it is, and I’m working on it.

The point is that I live with this almost haunting competing dichotomy. A few people closest to me, especially those that I’ve dated, probably have the clearest sense of it. I have this overwhelming conviction to leave nothing unsaid, yet find myself incapable of saying what I need to say. It’s absolutely frustrating for me, and probably equally so for those on the other end of my long silences and ridiculous non-answers.

When I hear people say that they live with no regrets, I often wonder if it’s true. And if it is, I wonder what it feels like. I do not live without regret. I live with many regrets. I’m trying to minimize them as I go. But I’ve done, and failed to do, some things that I regret. These days, I’m in the business of proactively doing what I can to mitigate the chances of regret later on. The latest manifestation of this is this sense that I need to tell certain people certain things. I’m not there yet. I have not said all that I want to say. But I’m getting there. And sometimes, progress is all I can ask for.

POSTED BY ERIC TAYLOR AT 5:58 AM FROM AUSTIN, TX

My yellow in this case is not so mellow

2008-11-10T02:11:00.000-08:00

I do not read horoscopes, generally. Thumbing through a magazine the other day, I made an exception:

"You’re learning how to be more authentic in your relationships. If you’ve been operating as the “lone wolf” to protect yourself emotionally, it’s time to let down your guard and let others see the real you."

Consider it done.

POSTED BY ERIC TAYLOR AT 4:16 AM FROM EPOCH COFFEE IN AUSTIN, TX

The ones we've been waiting for

2008-11-05T07:53:00.000-08:00

Did you feel it? When you walked out of the house this morning? It was in the air. It was in the birds chirping. It was in the streets still damp from the evening rain. It was in the blue sky, the one or two clouds overhead, the breeze. That was hope. It's back in America. A sense of what we can be? Returned. A renewed commitment to leaving this country better than we found it? Back. Our opportunity? Here.

I couldn't help but smile this morning. On my walk to class, I found myself giddy thinking of the possibilities. The feeling I felt in early November 2004 had all but vanished, replaced by something wholly different. For the first time I can remember, I felt like it was morning in America, again.

One of the things that struck me after the end of the Democratic primary process was how personally I’d been taking the whole thing. I knew that I wanted Obama to win, but I didn’t know how much I’d internalized his nomination. When I saw that Obama officially clinched the nomination, I felt a rush. There was relief. There was an overwhelming sense of pride. And there was a feeling that my idealism, that the things I believe in with the whole of my being, was not for naught.

I had a similar feeling just after 10 o’clock in the evening last night. When it was announced that Barack Hussein Obama was in fact going to be the 44th President of the United States of America, I was overwhelmed. I don’t think I will ever forget that moment, or where I was. I get goosebumps and watery eyes just writing about it.

But my joy this morning after comes with trepidation. I am worried that all of our efforts, that everything we’ve hoped for, believed in, could be for naught. This election does not mark the end of our efforts. It is the beginning. Remember? “WE are the ones we’ve been waiting for.” The biggest mistake we could make would be to think that we’re done, that we’ve done enough, that, God forbid, the mission is accomplished.

Barack Obama is not a messiah. He is not the end to all of our problems. He is first step, in a long line of steps, toward the solution. I liken his election to a very significant step in a mathematical proof. Without him you cannot get to the solution. But the solution he is not.

I am as blissful as anyone right now. I am so, so proud of this country, and so optimistic about our future. I have a renewed faith in democracy, and in the power of hope to carry the day. But I also caution Obama supporters, young people in particular, to resist settling back into complacency. What we’ve been striving for does not end today. We have not yet accomplished what we set out to do. What we’re striving for begins today. Today is the start of the movement.

After periods of progress in Birmingham, Martin Luther King, Jr. used to tell a story of a former slave who once said: “We ain’t what ought to be, and we ain’t what we want to be and we ain’t what we’re going to be. But thank God, we ain’t what we was.” That sentiment is useful in this context.

So yes, let’s shout out loud. Let’s rejoice. Let’s have our celebration. But then let’s harness the energy that we’ve created. Let’s put our noses to the grindstone and effectuate this change that we’ve so desperately sought and so earnestly fought for. Let’s seize our moment. Let us be the ones we’ve been waiting for!

POSTED BY ERIC TAYLOR AT 7:53 AM FROM AUSTIN, TX