It's Better in Wyoming.

I can't help it. There's something about 15,462 people, all of one mind, lifting their hands in the air, waiting for it to come around again, a bright gold sea of fans, doing the wave. Doing the wave. Doing the wave. And here it comes again: doing the wave. All day long we work and communicate and collaborate and coordinate ourselves, trying to accomplish work that pushes forward our humanity. But stuck in our cubicles, our snow plows, our check-out stands, our home offices, it's so hard to see how it all fits together. Are we really working for the common good? Does our tiny contribution make a difference? Do our efforts really fit together to create a coherent pattern? As I lift my hands in the air along with several hundred people above and below me, and then watch as the motion carries on to our right, all of these questions are answered. The wave is a microcosm of society, an ephemeral happening, people joined together in solidarity, momentarily laying down t

About a month ago, I was preparing for a conference in NYC. I decided to add a few days to my trip so I could check out the town. Needing a place to stay, and not wanting to shell out big bucks for a hotel, and wanting to meet someone new, and knowing that there was no way to see the entire city in a couple of extra days, I decided to stretch myself a bit. So I posted a request on Craigslist. Here's the bulk of the posting I submitted in late Feb: ----- Here's the story. I'm headed to nyc in late March for a conference. I'm extending my stay for a few days and hope to find somebody who loves the city and wants to share her favorite parts of it. I figure, there's no way I can see the town in 2 days, so I'd rather make up in quality what I'll lose in quantity. Me: 6'3, grad degree. smart, witty, thoughtful. not cool or cultured in the elitist sense. i eat meat. i don't have good fashion sense. i like classic rock (which i define right now as

Seems like there should be a lot to say; so much is going on right now. But somehow the general busy- ness pushes out reflective thought, or something. I went for a run last night. I didn't really intend to--actually I was hoping to play catch. But I ended up doing a lap around Washington Park instead. Then running home from the library a bit later. A little more than a mile, all total. It felt great to be out running, actually, better than it ever has. I'm definitely outta shape, but it was still fun. I always start too fast, though, and then run out of gas about 600 meters into things. Maybe I can get back into shape for a 5k. I like to think that I'm a respectable person, but I'm not sure that's true lately. I notice myself pushing away the people that I admire, sometimes, because I'm so tired of feeling unworthy of their respect, worried that at this low point I'm likely to lose their respect if they get closer, close enough to see the me that

So this morning I'm thinking back to Luhrmann's song about sunscreen. Today the lines that come to me are these: Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, Don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours. Two weeks ago Saturday I was driving through the Black Hills, watching a guy climb his way up the frozen Bridalveil Falls. A week ago Saturday I was in Phoenix in shorts and 95 degrees. Walking in short sleeves at 5 in the morning with grandpa, enjoying the stillness and the peace and the cool air and the life coursing through my veins. And I guess it makes me think. The range of experience available to most of us is incredibly broad; earth, wind, fire, and ice are within reach. And yet it's hard, for me at least and lots of others too I suspect, to know how to fully live these experiences, how to move forward with conviction and appreciation and without regret for our actions which have caused hurt, caused division, caused doubt and fear and sorrow. Which ma

So over the weekend I drove my friends Allen and Lu up to Devil's Tower and Mt. Rushmore. And in the past I always thought that trips like that were about the scenery--you know, taking pictures of magnificent sights and all. And, in fact, they are about the scenery, but they're not all about the scenery. Cuz if they were just about the scenery you could just buy a postcard and stay home. So I discovered, at age 29, that trips like this are really about placing yourself in the scenery--proving that you've had the experience too. Capturing yourself in a sublime moment, maybe. If I wanted to go all literary on your asses, I'd mention the barn in DeLillo's White Noise. It's about how we've all seen the barn (or Rushmore, or the Golden Gate Bridge, or whatever) so many times that we don't even see the barn (or Rushmore, or the Golden Gate Bridge, or whatever) when we actually are standing right there in front of it, how we're really just seeing the com