Understanding Climate Change—It AIN'T Rocket Science!

About a year ago, lost in a sea of depressing comments denying climate change on social media, I decided to begin collecting articles that pertained to global warming. What I want to do here is share everything I've collected thus far, hyperlinks and explanations and all.

The primary impediment to worthwhile climate change policy is individuals' behavior. Much of our behavior is guided by either an unawareness or a misunderstanding of pertinent information about our world—thus the need to educate ourselves, to learn, to explore constantly. Today, especially in America, a systemic unawareness of the environment plagues our shared culture. I do not think that this deficiency stems from viciousness; rather, I simply attribute it to a lack of education, to a forgetfulness that humans are material animals embedded in an environment (whether that be the backcountry of the Sierras or a downtown intersection of Manhattan). It is my hope that this (admittedly long) blogpost about climate change will, at the very least, make you aware of climate change. Perhaps a change in behavior will come later . . .

Where to start? Well, Michelle Bachman always makes a great punching bag. Remember when Representative Bachman claimed that "carbon dioxide is a natural byproduct of nature"? Some of you may be laughing right now after watching this clip, but remember that many Americans watch that same clip and nod their heads in agreement. So let's break down Michelle Bachman's argument: A) CO2 is a byproduct of natural processes; B) natural processes of the earth are harmless; C) furthermore, natural processes are necessary to the Earth's functioning; D) Therefore, CO2 is both harmless and necessary.

It's easy to find flaws in this argument. I'll focus on one: Bachman commits the infamous "either/or fallacy," which falsely asserts that something (i.e., CO2) is either good or bad, but never both. Unfortunately for us humans, our world is more complicated that such naive thinking. Of course carbon and carbon dioxide are absolutely necessary to life on Earth (as we know it)! But is it possible that we could have too much carbon dioxide? Yes! Bachman's logic is inherently flawed right when she asserts that natural processes of the earth are harmless, and I'm sure you can think of many counterexamples to that claim. My favorite is water intoxication, which occurs when a person drinks too much water.

The fundamental fact of Climate Change science is that CO2 LEVELS (AND OTHER GREENHOUSE GASES, SUCH AS METHANE) HAVE BEEN INCREASING IN OUR ATMOSPHERE. Contrary "Bachman's Science -101," increasing levels of CO2 do not bode well for the biosphere as we know it and the biosphere in which we as a species evolved (along with millions of other species). Too much of something, no matter its being a "natural process," might be a bad thing. Watch these quick videos from scientists Bill Nye and Michael Ranney to understand just why TOO MUCH CO2 doesn't treat our biosphere all too well.

"Okay," some may say, "But hasn't the Earth always had fluctuating CO2 levels? If so, then what's the big deal?" An excellent point and a great question! The sophomoric, hippie environmentalist (as I once was) or the religious fundamentalist would reject that claim: "the Earth," they would say, "has always been the same, and we are changing it." Not quite. The Earth has always been in flux, with old species dying and new species arriving, with different gases in different concentrations in the atmosphere, with tectonic plates ripping continents apart here and crashing into each other there, and on and on and on. Furthermore, every animal and plant has a two-way relationship with the environment—it affects the environment, and the environment affects it. This is especially true with Homo sapiens—us.

The kicker is that those changes usually occur over eons and eons of time. I'm talking tens of thousands of even millions of years, during which change occurs very slowly. Such subtly incremental shifts allow species and ecosystems to adapt. So yes, the climate and CO2 has always changed, but slowly. Unfortunately for climate change today, they are both changing very fast, as explained here (watch that short clip) and here. That's right, the climate is changing at a faster pace than any other change in the past 65 MILLION YEARS. That sucks for non-human species—in fact, we're probably in the midst of the 6th mass extinction event of Earth's 4.5 billion year history, and the culprit is us human beings, particularly our love affair with fossil fuels (and, thus, increasing levels of greenhouse gases).

The Earth is trying to adapt to these increasing gas emissions, as seen in this fascinating article that details how the CO2 cycle is taking "deeper breaths," particularly in the Boreal Forests of North America (all the more reason to oppose Tar Sands Bitumen production, which devastates the Boreal Forests). But alas, the Earth cannot breathe deeply enough to handle rising CO2 emissions, and looking at projected CO2 emissions for the coming decades, it looks like a losing battle if we "stay the course" of unimpeded economic development, rising population, and current [fossil fuel dependent] energy sources.

And yes, non-human species face a losing battle. Now this is important. When you read comments on social media asking exactly who these climate scientists are and what evidence do they actually reference and how do they know that the climate is changing, remember this: there are hundreds (THOUSANDS!) of different criteria to test the hypothesis that 1) the Earth's climate is changing; and 2) it's changing very quickly; and 3) that fast-rate of change corresponds with the fast-rate of industrial (fossil-fuel dependent) "progress." And my favorite way to test that hypothesis is to looking at changes in animal and plant behavior.

Are you ready? I'm about to blitz you with a dozen or so criteria that suggest hour climate is changing rather quickly.

The cutest evidence is that Snowshoe Hares are having a hard time blending in with the surroundings. Wait, no, that ain't cute; that's deadly! Good luck escaping predators' eyes, Snowshoe Hare! Hares switch the colors of their bodies (from brown to white) when the days start shortening. Because snow is falling later and melting earlier, they are, well, standing out a bit too much. Snowshoe Hares aren't the only animals trying to survive in a new hot world—moose (meese?) got it bad, too. Moose populations are declining rapidly, and wildlife biologists think that the culprit is rising temperatures: rising temperatures = shorter and less severe winters = more ticks = sick moose.

The good news is that climate change sometimes bodes well for a few animals. The bad news is that many of those animals are pests to us humans and to current ecosystems. For example, those pesky Asian Giant Hornets (I'm sure we all want more of them!). Because, again, winters are becoming more mild, devastating colonies of bugs are living through the winter, a time when most of their populations are killed off by extreme cold. Also, the Southern Pine Beetle has made headway into the beautiful Pine Barrens of New Jersey, threatening a very unique ecosystem (much needed in that oh-so-industrial state). And of course, Mountain Pine Beetles have been ravaging the forests of the West for decades.

Animals aren't the only ones feeling the effects of climate change. So are trees and . . . insurance companies. We're having more forest fires than average in North America, and vineyards are pushing Redwood Trees out of their habitat because of climate change. And those insurance companies? They are very worried about the rising costs associated with losses from climate change related events.

We're not done. There's more. You may think that we humans are ingenious enough to escape the harsh realities of climate change, but these climate refugees aren't. Sometimes climate change beats you to the punch. How can "human ingenuity" stop the climate from taking away these indigenous people's livelihood? How can "human ingenuity" protect the very ground upon which we stand with rising sea levels!? Perhaps we humans need to a be a bit more humble? No? Then those Northeasteners better start buying more boats and canoes! You can count on more and more devastating consequences from storms like Hurricane Sandy. Hurricane Sandy was not a deadly storm in-itself; it was only a category I hurricane when it hit the northeast. What made it so devastating (to animals, the ecosystems, people, and the northeastern economy) was its 13 FOOT storm surge, which has everything to do with rising sea levels (which has everything to do with rising concentrations of greenhouse gases). Some local mayors and planners are so fed up with the political wrangling of climate deniers (who are mostly Republicans, conservatives, and tea-partiers, by the way) that they're trying to take matters into their own hands.

We mustn't also forget evidence from our glaciers, the Arctic, and Antarctica. Ice on the Antarctica peninsula is melting 10 times faster than it did 600 years ago. A large, inland glacier appears to be melting at alarming rates as a warmer than average ocean flows beneath it. What about the Arctic? Well it continues to set records for lowest amounts of sea ice—2012 holds the record; 2007 before that. And those beautiful glaciers of the Western Hemisphere? Melting.

Now if you regularly follow climate-change-denying trolls, then you've probably heard some of their counterarguments. Science junkie Donald Trump, for example, recently tweeted that those recent "record lows" in the States prove that global warming is "bullshit." He should have called me, though, because I haven't been able to ski out here in the Sierras where the snowpack is currently at 16% normal (last year sucked, too). Or maybe you've heard people claim that the ice cover of Antarctica is actually growing. Then read this article, where scientists think they have a plausible theory: climate change has resulted in stronger winds near Antarctica—while these winds do increase ice cover in some parts of the continent, overall, there is still a net loss of ice mass.

Perhaps you've heard the climate-change-denier argument that there has been no warming during the past 15 years? Well, that's partly true, in that it's a highly selective fact, cherry-picked out of 1000s of years of data. The people who crafted these nifty argument glibly ignore every year of data before 1997. They also (purposefully?) forget to mention that, despite average temperatures basically plateauing for the past 15 years, the first decade of the 21st century was the hottest on record—temperatures might not have broken new records, but they also have hovered around one of the hottest years ever recorded (1998). Climatologists and Oceanographers also believe that they have a plausible theory for the pause in rising temperatures, which you can read about here and here.

Perhaps I've gone on too long for now. Let's end with this: 99.99% of scientists who study the effects of global warming AGREE THAT GLOBAL WARMING IS INDEED OCCURRING. In the past year or so, as that article states, 1,999 peer-reviewed articles shared evidence explaining the phenomena of climate change; one presented evidence casting doubt upon the reality of climate change. And more than likely, we humans are largely to blame for these recent bout of global warming. Nevertheless, some will still maintain that these scientists are engaged in a massive conspiracy. But really? Are you willing to believe that thousands of scientists around the world (most of whom do not even know each other) have been able to successfully lie to the public this long without anyone coming forward? It's similar to my friend Doug Corbitt's reasoning for not believing that 9-11 was an inside job. "Which is more plausible," he asked me once. "That a few terrorists slipped through the cracks of our security apparatus and caused a devastating tragedy? Or that dozens, if not hundreds or thousands, of US personnel and civilians participated in this inside job without anyone yet coming forward?"

So what's more plausible? That climate science is junk, or "bullshit" as the Donald calls it? Or all these reasons I've pulled together that suggest something's amiss with our climate?

Care

I am posting a short piece I composed over three years ago in the fall of 2009. The summer before I had participated in a program called the Neptune Academy, which sought to provide exciting, stimulating summer education for local middle-school students. That fall, Doug Corbitt, Allison Wallace, Corey Womack, and I went to Washington D.C. to present on our experiences in the Neptune Academy. So I wrote a short essay on care.

I was deeply in love with Martin Heidegger and Martin Buber at the time, and I think you'll notice those strains here. Enjoy.

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People care, and people care that you care.  Young teens really do care about their futures, about their hobbies and interests, their studies, and they desperately want others—their parents, friends, teachers—to care about that care. As fundamentally social beings, we need, we crave this affirmation.  This sense of community is vital to our development.  Yet despite our individual cries for it, we ourselves often forget to dispense it to others. The teacher ignores the quiet whimpers of her student. The dad turns off his ears to turn on that night’s football game. The friend talks more of himself.

But in Honors, we remember the Other. We bow in humility before the Other and the possibilities we can have together. We give her the time of day because we recognize the sheer beauty of the Other—the fact that she sees the world in a completely different way, that she helps contribute to the whole process of the world, that she holds the special capacity to create, and that, if an honest person, she helps me to realize who I am and what I believe.

And so, in the Neptune Academy, we Young Professors actively engaged the students, letting them know that we cared, that we were genuinely interested in their concerns, that we wanted them to actualize their self-created possibilities, or first to dare to even dream of those possibilities. And boy, I saw the Other. Well, once I got past their OTD (Obsessive Texting Disorder), I saw these wonderful kids, who could be so terribly excited about life and what they found dear within it.  Eighth-graders bragging about what instruments they play, what disciplines they study, what professions they wish to pursue, how fast they can text.  And gosh, put them in the classroom!  Once their excessive energy wears off a bit when class starts, and they begin to actively participate in the discussion, they feed you, the teacher, diamonds.  I was utterly amazed at some of the profound insights these kids have, and at such a young age.  I personally handed them concepts and lessons that I wrestle with today, and that I know older people study, and yet these young students grabbed them and took off, and man, did they soar!  

Also, as an Honors student, I have seen.  Whether by experience or by the academic courage to face contentious or difficult issues, I have seen much of the world, at least more of it than a cloistered college kid who sticks to those classes that affirm his beliefs.  I guess you could say that my vision has been expanded.  Thus I take more in, and wow, I’m overwhelmed sometimes by this world’s magnificence, by its magic.  And yet my enlarged horizon carries much weight. I also see the frightening, the ugly, the unhealthy, the pathetic, the disheartening.  I can’t hide from it. I face it.  And I enter it.  And I wield my strongest weapon—the belief that I can make a difference, that my stupid, little actions actually affect the entire process of the world, and, I hope, for the health of all.

We must pass this vision on to our younger generations.  It is not an innate trait, biologically bestowed upon some by indifferent genes.  Rather, it is a capacity to be harnessed and cultivated, through education that mirrors the real world.  Not only did I want my Neptune Academy students to open their eyes and see, to stand in awe before it all, but also to stand in … fearful awe before it all, and to feel compelled to act.  I guess I wanted to pass on the Honors bug of being a “Global Citizen.” 

This Academy wasn’t all roses.  Hyper 8th-graders will drive sluggish college students crazy at times. Their attention can instantly make you focus on some random, irrelevant thing.  Cody, for instance, yelled “Microwave!” during Doug’s morning pep-talk about integrity, when he saw a college student carrying one down the hall.  Or these youngsters will blatantly tell you, during your lesson, that they are bored.  And they will ask you serious questions, from which you cannot run and which you cannot cover over with ready-made, trite comments.  They will ask you about God, about dating, and they might tell you disturbing secrets about themselves or their homes.

But we Neptune Academy professors held fast to our patience. What we saw in every one of our students was a light, a flicker of amazing possibility, and we gave them the tools to cultivate that light, to tend to it, to enlarge it. We showed that we cared. We introduced them to the excitement and wonder of education—not classroom education, but real-world education. We tried to open their eyes, to wake up, and I say that if we only did so with one, we succeeded.  I can only hope that one day, you, too, will feel that awesome joy and thankfulness that I felt, when I saw some of these kids “light up,” when they fed me diamonds, made daring comments or offered astute insights, when they discovered passions that they had never known until they met me and my fellow Young Professors. 

Falling Through

As I opened my eyes, the morning twilight greeted me through my balcony door. Full of excitement, I immediately jumped out of my bed and ran across my studio to peer outside: SNOW!

Now I've had bad luck lately with snow. Snow caused me to miss my flight to Japan from Little Rock. That was one less day with Nanami. Snow also caused me to sit on the tarmac for 5 hours at Narita Airport. That was just downright painful. But I still love snow. It possesses this enchanting aura that wipes everything clean and suggests new possibilities, new hopes, new adventures. And that is what I started thinking of that morning: adventure.

My friend Frank and I had already planned to go hiking this morning. I quickly packed my gear (trekking poles, gators, water, food, and a few extra clothes for an emergency) and ran over to his apartment. He, too, was glowing with anticipation to be out-of-doors, and I told him to hurry and finish up packing as I went back to my place to get my guide book, and that I would meet him in my car.

We slowly made our way towards South Reno, and then turned west to head up into the foothills of the Sierras. The access road to the National Forest was about a foot deep in icy and compacted snow, so we parked along a neighborhood street and walked about a mile to the trail access point. Unlike the valley in which I live, there wasn't much fresh snow here--only the frozen snow of past storms. This snow had fallen as lush, soft powder, but out here in the Sierras, the hot sun and the warmer temperatures melt the top of the snow, and the low, dropping temperatures of evening, night, and morning re-freeze it, creating a thick layer of crusty ice that you can, usually, easily walk upon without snowshoes.

We made it to the trailhead and started walking along Lower White Creek. We were shielded by soaring Pines and smaller Firs, and the white landscape would at one moment be fully illuminated by the passing sun and at another moment would recede into grey shadows as a small snowstorm swept by.

After walking nonstop for about an hour, Frank suddenly stopped to marval at a "natural bridge" of ice and snow that had formed across the small creek. I backtracked to where he was and also expressed admiration, after which I suddenly said, with plenty of authority to inflate my hiking ego, "You do know that we can totally walk on that, right?" To demonstrate my superior landscape wisdom and my hiking bravado, I proceeded to walk out onto the "stable" natural bridge. Once I made it halfway, Frank began to follow me. I then announced that I would turn back to the bank, making a small circle around the bridge. Just 2 feet from the bank, I stopped to look at Frank and explain that the reason why I hadn't fallen through the ice (yet) was because, with the help of my trekking poles, I had effectively distributed my weight upon 4 points of contact (two feet, two poles). Just then, as our eyes were still in contact with each other, I felt subtle cracks and creaks beneath my feet. "Well pooey dooey," I thought. I braced myself, Frank yelled, and I dropped about 4 feet beneath the shore line.

Now 4 feet doesn't seem like a lot, but when you fall into freezing cold water, you don't give a damn about how far you just fell. All you can think about is the fur of warm, fuzzy rabbits or snuggling in bed with your favorite blanket or roasting chestnuts next to the biggest damn fire you could ever possibly make.

Fortunately, my whole body didn't fall over into the creek--those years of gymnastics that my mom forced me to go to paid off, for I landed on both of my feet. I was also fortunate that the water was only about 2 feet deep, so while my shoes and feet got soaking wet, the core of my body was okay. But I was still shocked--cold feet ain't no fun. If there's one part of my body that I want to protect the most from the cold, it's my feet.

So after Frank finished displaying his major repertoire of expletives, I told him to get off that "bridge" of ice and snow, lie down on the bank, and pull me out of the water. He bravely and expertly performed his rescue duties, and effectively humbled this self-proclaimed "expert" hiker. Of course, Frank didn't have time to snap a photo of me in the creek, but we did eventually take a shot of the place where nature taught Patrick a quick lesson:

Two lessons can be gleaned from this encounter: Sometimes, my friends, we fall through. We fall through the cracks, we get stuck in holes, we fall down. And there are many times when we can do nothing to prevent such a slip-up. We may be overzealously confident about our decisions, our skills, or our immunity to making mistakes, and yet I am confident that this haze of fury that we call 'life' will trip you up in some way. This inevitable falling through the cracks warrants no fear, though. Why should it? Why should we be afraid of slipping up every now and then? What's wrong with wet socks and blue, shivering lips? Perhaps these are the prices we pay for simply being alive. If so, pay that price, and be thankful for being alive! Perhaps these are the prices we pay for going out on a limb, for exploring new territory, for walking across new bridges. If so, then we should definitely embrace the inevitability of these falls, for the only other option is a life of safe, albeit habitual, routine, and nothing withers the spark of life more quickly than unthankful, unconscious complacency. 

The second lesson is this: I might have fallen through a sheet of ice and snow into ferociously freezing waters, but don't forget the second half of the story: I had a friend who jumped ashore next to me, dropped his entire body to the ground, and stuck out a hand of refuge. I first looked down into a rushing torrent of pain and discomfort--"Dear Jesus!" I thought, "I'm gonna die!" (we're often quite hyperbolic right after tragedies such as this). But when I looked up out of my own pain and discomfort, I was greeted by another who was willing to share the weight of my burden. With friends and family, or perhaps with good books and uplifting music, we can get up; we can climb out of those cracks and holes of freezing discomfort. Be thankful for that.

So, I told you earlier that I packed extra clothes for an emergency. Well, I didn't pack extra socks. So we left the woods earlier than I wanted . . . but that's okay, for I left humbled, more learned, and thankful for all the lessons the wild had taught me. 

Loneliness

I have no shame in admitting that, in the past few days, I have felt quite lonely. I have just returned from a 25-day trip, where I spent a week in Little Rock catching up with my good friends from college, my family, some professors, and, most importantly, my dog, Socks.

For the next 18 days, I traveled in Japan with my fiancée, Nanami, who I hadn't seen for almost 7 months. Together we explored Tokyo, where she currently lives and works, and Kyoto, and traveled to her hometown where we spent a week laughing, eating, and traveling with her family.

The warmth and happiness I felt with my ole' friends created a beautiful aura about me--it felt so good to be back to how things use to be, nurtured by relationships that have taken years and years to build and cultivate. Everything made sense, everything felt right--the everyday habits of waking up next to someone you feel like you've known forever (and who you know you'll spend the rest of your life with) or drinking coffee and eating dinner (once again) with the same ole' people takes on incredible significance when one realizes that even those mundane moments are meaningful and ameliorative to the human spirit, despite their impermanence. Yes, walking down the stairs of my parents' house, following the smell of the morning coffee, greeting my dad and dog; yelling at Nanami to close the door to the bathroom hotel so no bad smells will intrude upon my peaceful sleep; drinking a few beers or cooking a simple breakfast of sausage and eggs with college friends while we ponder the meaning of life--these are the rewards and gifts of my being alive. Not my career (whatever that is); not my monetary pursuits; not my possessions. But rather these moments of mundane intimacy.

When I returned to Reno, I walked into my cold, dark apartment and realized, "Dear God--that's all over now. I'm alone in this apartment, in a city I just moved to. And worse yet, I have to eat dinner alone . . . again." To mirror my dour mood, I chose to eat peanut butter and jelly.

I've been trying to get back into my routine of reading, writing, studying, and preparing for school, but frankly, it's been hard. It's hard to shake off the memories of such a beautiful trip so that I can busy myself with work--work that I do love, but that sometimes seems insignificant in comparison to what I have left behind. The aching pain is so potent that at times I find myself on the verge of tears, swamped by a horde of self-doubt and confusion--Have I made the right decisions? Do I have my "priorities" straight? Will I have regrets in the future? When will everything be okay?

As every generation of human beings has said (yes, every), we live in strange times. We are a species of animal that is deeply and innately social. Practically everything about us is a social inheritance, it seems, whether it be the genes passed down from my ancestors to me, or the ideas (memes) that I have knowingly (or unknowingly) borrowed from family, friends, writers, philosophers, musicians, politicians, etc., etc., etc. And yet the practices of modern academia and economics requires that intimate social relationships be broken so that individuals can pursue their personal dreams. And I am not so sure that those individual pursuits justify the loss of intimate relationships.

So I feel stuck . . . and desperately trying to find a way out, a solution, a lifeboat, anything!, I ask myself, "What do I do?!" Do I sacrifice one for the other (career versus relationships)? Or, perhaps, is it possible that both can coexist?

With the support and advice from friends, I am beginning to see that, yes, we can have both. And indeed, it would be epistemologically and existentially hypocritical of me to choose one over the other, for globalization has created who I am, just as much as intimate relationships have created who I am. Globalization brought me fascinating academic studies that I would never have encountered had globalization never occurred. And, of course, Globalization brought Nanami to po-dunk Conway, Arkansas, where we met in a Chinese class, which I decided to register for when in China the previous summer with my very good, Chinese friend, Andrew Ni.

So, to comfort myself, I'm trying to reassure my doubts by noticing the creative possibilities offered by our world today. Did you know that I can iMessage my family and friends for free, and they'll receive my words within microseconds? Did you know that Nanami and I can spend about an hour per day talking to each other for free, while seeing each others' faces? Did you know that I can fly to my hometown and Japan for less than 5% of my annual income? Did you know that an incredibly efficient and cheap mailing system allows my mom to send me care packages and allows me to send Nanami Twizzlers? Did you know that one of the [intended] purposes of Facebook is to peruse past photos, comments, and posts, so as to remind oneself of the relationships she has had and her obligation to keep tending to them?

And, of course, if we find ourselves separated from loved ones, we can always begin the slow and difficult process of settling in to our new locales--growing roots of connectedness with the land and people around us, who, albeit strangers, may one day also become our intimate friends. And I am very fortunate to live in a place where that seems to be happening.

So, in short, if you ever find yourself feeling a little lonely, don't look down into your sorrows too long. Look up, and see the creative possibilities we have. Ponder what has been, and be thankful for it. Then imaginatively discover new ways to maintain the relationships you left behind, and don't be afraid to create new ones. This life isn't easy . . . but with the presence of friends and family, whether that presence be physically near you or virtually expressed on the web, life can easily become a rich, meaningful, and beautiful experience.

UCA's Mistake on General Education

I recently read that the University of Central Arkansas' Student Government Association voted unanimously to change (i.e., dumb-down) the General Education requirements for all undergraduate students. The core requirement will be reduced from 47 hours of required interdisciplinary study to 38 hours of quasi-"interdisciplinary" classes, many of which could easily be circumscribed within a students' major when we take a closer look at the official report.

While there were undoubtedly problems with UCA's Core Education requirements (and I voiced many concerns while on the student task force), UCA, following the dictates of Arkansas legislatures and bureaucrats out-of-touch with the educational needs of an informed citizenry, has not reformed the General Education program into a laudable and interdisciplinary program that provides its students with a holistic understanding of our world and its complexities, but has instead deformed it, slowly dismantling its ideals so as to produce laborers much more quickly, and easily, for the mill of capitalistic markets.

UCA has sold itself down the river. It once had the largest and most rigorous General Education requirements in the State of Arkansas, and one of the most interdisciplinary programs compared to public institutions in the entire South. But the legislatures and bureaucrats (and completely uninformed student faux-legislatures) could not stand the fact the UCA was the last bastion of a civilized, liberal-arts grounded, holistic education program. Despite the merits and benefits of such a holistic conception of education--an informed citizenry (which is vitally needed for this dreadfully difficult form of government we have--democracy), more intellectually aware and active individuals (which undeniably enriches one's life)--UCA has chosen to reject that ideal of education because it is too slow, because it is too expensive, because it is too taxing upon our poor, poor students who need to be pushed through the education system so that they can do the most important thing in life: get a damn job and contribute to the rising of American GNP and GDP.

UCA has fallen in line behind the rest of higher education, which is so eager to adapt a corporate model of organization and instruction. The purpose of college education is no longer seen to be the crafting of individuals and groups who will nurture sustainably and effectively their own lives, communities, countries, and planet. Nope, that noble conception of the life of the intellectual is gone. UCA has announced to the world that it believes that the purpose of education is vocational training--mechanically building (not creatively nurturing) automatons for the labor force, which can only be accomplished by reducing the rigor of interdisciplinary education to classes that merely inscribe rote "skills" into students-seen-as-robots.

The General Education program was critiqued for being a "hurdle" to students' getting a degree. Quite ironically, by deflating the capabilities of that laudable program to create true intellectuals, UCA has reduced higher education to nothing but a set of hurdles, so that, alas, one can earn money, money, money--the golden star of our collective value system... for now, at least.

The Threads of Love

My name is Patrick Russell. But what am I? Am a singular entity, born into this world by complete random chance to make a mark (if I'm lucky), and only to die and fizzle away? Am I simply the collection of tasks that I have done and the thoughts and ideas that I have had? Or am I a self-enclosed potentiality of possibility, of future being? Am I just this body, of a particular weight and height, with possibly a balding head and, fortunately and the flip-side, the capacity to cultivate an impressive beard?

Perhaps... but maybe there's more to me, in a way that is not me at all.

Recently, my late-evening habit of listening to music from the movies Shame and Cloud Atlas, paired with a good ol' cup of hot cocoa, has been inciting this somewhat eerie, and partly mystical, calm in me. I slow down. I sit (either in the bathtube--the greatest think tank ever--or on my porch if it ain't too cold). I still my mind. I listen. I feel. I remember and reflect. I breathe, and I watch.

And quite suddenly, visions start hitting me--not ethereal, "hokey-pokey" visions, for I really believe all that to be somewhat malarkey. But visions as concrete realizations; visions grounded in materiality. Visions of you--my ancestors, my family, friends and even strangers; philosophers whose works I have read, actors and actresses whose performances I have watched and admired, and teachers I have had, whether my kindergarden teacher, my first basketball coach, or my gymnastics instructor (thanks for signing me up for that, mom).

And then this odd visual arises in my mind--I imagine threads tying all of us together, "weaved-up" into one big blanket that tells a grand but humble story--for all of us, the grand story of our becoming, our sharing, our fighting and our loving; and for me (and all individuals), the humble and somewhat miraculous funneling of that grand narrative into me, right here and right now. Out of the billions of choices, the billions of tiny events, and the billions of random twists and turns, you and I have come to be. Completely random? yes; but incredibly miraculous? most definitely.

The more I trace these threads, the more I not only travel our world, but the more I also begin to envelop myself in a blanket of relationships to "not-me's." I feel the thread of dependence between my hunger and the farmer who produces my food, the soil that nourishes those plants and animals, the rain that watered that soil, and the oceans from which those rain clouds came. I feel the thread of love between the spark of life within me and my family members who first saw me seconds after I was born. I feel the thread of indebtedness to all my friends, even the ones I no longer talk to--the laughs we had; the ideas we shared; the occasional fights that taught us lessons about ourselves and the nature of relationships; and the midnight runs through sprinklers in our underwear. I remember it all, for it has all coalesced in me, in this moment, in the contours of my body and mind. Every detail of every escapade, every word quietly uttered, every facial feature of every friend and every stranger with whom I made eye contact--I somehow remember all of it. And all these threads come together in me, the locus of millions upon millions of extensions and relationships to Others.

So yea, I'm Patrick Russell, 6'1" and 142 lbs, with a dream to teach and be an environmental philosopher, who has had a set of calculable and definable experiences. But I am also so much more, simply because of what I am not. I am also this tiny little stitch in our shared tapestry of existence. And what is a tapestry, if not the culmination of countless stitches?

Moving Back

We've heard quite a bit lately about "Moving Forward." But forward to what?  Equality, for sure. Equal opportunities for all persons, no matter their race or socio-economic situation or, especially in this election and the coming years, gender. I believe we are moving forward towards respecting the value and rights of our natural environments, to which we are like tiny red blood cells in a vast body--if that body, our home, is sick, then we probably won't fare that well either. And perhaps we are moving forward in our relations with all peoples of the world. For quite a while, we Americans and our political leaders thought we had some natural right to dictate to smaller, weaker, and ideologically-different countries and groups. Fortunately, we have begun to realize that such hierarchical relationships, whether country-to-country or person-to-person, never engender trust, respect, and mutual concern. So, sure, we are moving forward, and we need to continue moving forward.

However, we need to qualify how it is that we move forward, because until we understand just how this rhetoric becomes embodied practice, it will remain simply fluffy speech and lofty ideals--the common banners of Facebook status updates, "favorite quotes," and character-limited tweets (as if we can really share and discuss ideas in 140 characters or less!).

I've been thinking about this because of my watching and listening to people's words and actions during this election. And what do I hear? What have I witnessed? A mass, general abandonment of personal agency and [local] community action. Go over your Facebook updates; review the editorials in your local newspaper; re-tweet all those tweets; peruse your web-history for the titles of news articles that you have read, and you'll quickly realize that the focus of most of these posts, and the people who authored them, are distant ideals pegged to distant people and distant campaigns, entities (and nothing more) with whom neither you, nor I, have had any serious, slow, meaningful conversation.

I believe that quite a few of us, too many of us, have forsaken our ability to act and to live according to these ideals, and, quite pathetically, we have replaced that capacity with only a [virtual] vocal one: repeating political mantras that are quite hollow, and do nothing to advance our shared, political stake.

I'll provide one quick example that I think many of you can identify with (especially if you reside in the South). One fine morning, after an exquisite [and wet!] float down the Buffalo River, my lady and a few friends and I went to Jasper for a good ole' dinner at a famous grease-joint. While waiting for our table, I stood outside on the wooden porch, soaking up the mystique of this small, enchanting town. An ol' country boy sat down beside me in a rocker, and we began to shoot the bull with each other. While I  proudly consider myself a liberally-educated human being who intellectually scorns idle chatter, I find that I can never quite forsake my Arkansan accent and knack for talking about completely meaningless stuff when surrounded by these folk. All was well and entertaining until my neighbor dropped a line that I cannot quite stop thinking about, despite it being well over 8 months ago: "You wanna' know why's I moved on up hur'? Don' tell my wife, cuz she don't like hearing it, but I wanned get away from all dem damn niggers." Oh boy. I prided myself on being a liberally-educated human being, right? Despite my partaking in idle chatter, surely I couldn't partake in racist hatred and ignorance, right? So now was my chance to lash out at this guy, to castigate his heart and soul, to judge him, verbally with my irate body, according to his very own morals, which I assumed to be Christianity (a safe bet in rural Arkansas)!

But I didn't. I simply whimpered a "Hmph" and said that I had to go inside, that my table was ready.

Had I moved forward intellectually and in my beliefs? I sure do think so. But what went wrong? Why didn't I speak up? Why did I not announce my ideals to this pitiable man with my acting, talking body?

After 8 months of thinking about that episode (and too many others to mention here), I've realized that in order to move forward towards our ideals and hopes for a better community and better lives for all, we must first move back. Back to where? Back to our bodies; back to our homes; back to our relationships with friends, family, and even strangers; and back to our communities, our neighbors--humans and non-humans.

We've somehow collectively come to think that, in order to consider oneself progressive and a good human being, we simply have to make reference to a set of liberal ideas (equality, human rights, justice, peace) and, every now and then, vote for someone we've never talked to who matches those ideas and, when we're feeling really pumped up, posting a blurb to the virtual world (a world largely removed from bodies and communities). But might it not be time to start thinking about how we can engrain these ideals into the actual contours of our communities? Can we not start creatively imagining how we may embody these beliefs into our everyday actions, including the minutia of our petty existences--brushing our teeth, traveling to work, refraining from group jokes that demean others? Can we not discover practical methods to incorporate these ideals into our communal relations to each other, whether human or non-human?

I think so. I sense it coming. And this movement will inevitably grow for one of two reasons: either we'll recognize its potency and efficacy and willingly adopt it; or unfortunate events will force us to live in such intentional ways. It is my hope that the former plays out first.

Now, I'm always leery of making particular suggestions to people about what this lifestyle may look like. All too often such rhetoric is reduced to self-ingratiating bravado. I'll let the ideas speak for themselves as they take root in our bodies, propelling us to act and think in radically different ways. But do know this: every facet of our lives, from the grand to the incredibly particular, will change accordingly... if we allow it to, and if we are willing to live more inconvenient lives. Because yes, according to our prevailing cultural norms, a life of bodily awareness and activism is not convenient, for it demands constant attention. But I think it is existentially worthwhile, and ethically necessary.

So please remember that, as we move forward, it is wise to first move back.

Welcome back home, y'all.