Public Transportation, Relativity, and Utopias

Public Transportation: On my commute home from work yesterday, I sat next to a woman carrying a package of eucalyptus stems. I couldn't help but thank her for the beautiful aroma she brought to the el train for us all to enjoy on our ride home. Just before she exited at her stop, she pulled a stem from the package and shared it with me. What a treat. I noticed, though, that my one stem of eucalyptus was not able to create the ambrosial effect that the entire bouquet had. It was a pleasant smell as I held it up to my nose, but the single stem was incapable of affecting the air of the entire train car. I thought to myself, "how perfumed the air would be if everyone carried one stem of eucalyptus with them."

Relativity: Yesterday evening, discussing with Barrie about the trials and tribulations of the world, he questioned the relativity of poverty. What does it mean to consider my lucky position in relation to those worse off than I? Any good deed I push out into the world seems inane as I return to my well stocked refrigerator and heated apartment despite the starving masses across the world. What happens if we admit that there is no end to the relativity? If I were to give up everything I own and live in a mud hut, there would still be someone worse off than I. And, anyway, what is helpful about forcing myself in to poverty? It's defeating to think that there is little I can do from a position of poverty and also little affect that my good will can do from a position of affluence (or relative affluence).

Utopia: I believe, though, that acting with kindness, making benevolent decisions about how to interact with fellow humans, and using compassion as a life compass will have an impact. It will not save the world, it will not cure Ebola, it will not end world hunger. But, like the eucalyptus on the el train, if everyone carries a blossom of kindness, perhaps the air across the world will smell a little sweater. 

European Window Hanging

There are seven things that signify hanging out of a European window.

• Two shutter windows open inward by turning the handle to unlock
• There are no screens
• There are also no bugs
• The breeze is invariably perfect
• The sound of a water fountain is not far off
• Neither is the clanking of cafe cups and spoon
• Ambulance "bee boo bee boo" floats in from time to time

Swiss Things

I am traveling for work on behalf of the University of Chicago and I currently find myself in Switzerland.

First things first: I had a steak frites for lunch that will make you believe in entrecôte. My hotel recommended two restaurants. Each serves only one dish: steak frites. My self determination in the matter was whether I wanted butter or wine sauce. I went with the wine sauce at a restaurant called Wine & Beef. You are given a menu when you sit down but it is for wine selection only. Beyond that, the salad, followed by the infamous beef dish is brought to you in due time. No ordering needed. One of the many things French cuisine has work out: do one thing and do it well. And do it in a turn of the century architectural beaut with glorious wrought iron tables and chairs.

Second: Since starting this job with UChicago, I spend a significant portion of my time hearing stories from our alums. Being a university that admits a high caliber of students combined with the sheer volume of folks I talk to from around the world (literally), I've been fortunate to hear some intriguing stories and perspectives. Two of them included here:

Cows can walk only up stairs. Why do humans insist on going up and down continuously?

I met with an alum who was in Chicago from his home in Madagascar. Beyond his place of current residence, I knew little about him. Over breakfast in Hyde Park, he nonchalantly told me his story which included living in California and New York working in mathematics and the stock exchange industry. At some point he decided to give it all up, travel the world for a year and then settle ultimately in his favorite place as it would surely be discovered during his travels. This place was Madagascar. His entire life story was extremely interesting and what has stuck with me most is his perspective on the flow of life. I asked how he dealt with being an expat. Had he intended to stay abroad forever? If so, did he ship his things abroad? If not, is he storing things state side? He responded that, for him, all of those things are anchors to the past and life is a forward moving experience. What matters is what's next and with whom you do it. The artifacts keep us from experiencing the next. This forward looking outlook was inspiring as I, myself, struggle with how to be mobile while carrying along with me 300 books and furniture built of memories.

Philosophical big bang

Sitting on the banks of lake Zurich watching the sun set on the Swiss Alps (terrible view...), a nearby (non-UChicago alumni) group drew me in to conversation. With the input of a drink or two, the conversation quickly turned to perspectives on human interconnectedness. One particularly inspiring idea is that we must recall that we are all, in fact, one in the same. Physically, it all started with the big bang. One piece of matter exploding and thus launching the cycle of evolution that brings us to where are are today. But fundamentally our physicality existed as the same molecule (prior to big bang) and are, then, fundamentally the same as everything around us. And our physical selves, these overdeveloped particles from the big bang, are houses for our transcendental spiritual selves. This perspective is enticing given the aforementioned grappling with how to deal with "things" in my life as I simultaneously am compelled to be nomadic. Also appetizing is the language it gives us for being compassionate to fellow humans. No matter cultural, linguistic, or even physical differences, there is a connection.

Reflect, Refresh, Restart

This past week was my 30th birthday and in the necessary nostalgic and reflective mood that comes with a milestone birthday, I subconsciously found my way back to this blog. I was blessed with having some very dear friends join in throughout the week for various celebratory experiences. One of those dear friends that came to Chicago from California, Daniel Hoffmann, is also the person I mention in my very first blog posting. It has been nearly 10 years  since Daniel and I set out on our Euro adventure and his friendship and our travels were and continue to be life defining. We sat in my kitchen this past Tuesday night drinking wine, eating homemade chicken and dumpling soup (a dish I wish forever associate with the Hoffmann family for no logical reason) and read through our blogs. It was such a joy to bring forward those memories, reflect on who we were and where are find ourselves on this journey of life, and wonder what comes next. In looking back, it is apparent that my blogging fits are synonymous with adventure. However, in reflecting on what I've learned about myself throughout and in between all those adventures, I do know that I enjoy writing. It is time that forces me to be quiet and slow down, something that gets away from me more often than not. In an attempt to channel the self that found solitude at the base of a mountain in the middle of Austria and who spent hours upon hours reflecting on my experiences somewhere in the middle of Morocco, I'm back to blogging.