Why I Must Have Hope

I know that no matter how much life has changed in the last year, tomorrow (and the ensuing weeks of court battles and grandstanding and ridiculousness) will change the course of history. Tomorrow may not mean a lot of change in the immediate, regardless of outcome, but the next generation is watching what we decide here, and they will act accordingly. Even if Joe Biden isn't the progressive I'd hoped for, he's a step in the right direction from 4 years of a truly depressing, angering, somewhat predictable period in our history. For all of the surprise every time Trump or one of his supporters does something reprehensible and his party does nothing, I think to myself, "We should have seen this coming."

The amount of pressure is staggering. The anticipation is crippling. The air is tense for everyone, and murmurings of civil war abound as businesses quietly board up their windows. It all has an incredibly doomsday-like vibe, and I'm struggling, as I know many of us are. I've been drinking more just to cope. I walk around aimlessly throughout LA just to let my mind wander, and inevitably it wanders back to the situation our country and our world find us in. The last year, between the virus and the impending election, has put a cloud of despair always at arm's length.

I am sad that our country has so much hate. I am sad at all the things wrong in our country. It's no secret that when I graduated college, my only plan was to get away from the US. I'm the first to criticize us, and I'm usually the last to praise. I've had acquaintances message me directly to tell me to get out of the country if I hate it so much. I've had folks outside of the US spit at me for being American. I am so privileged, and yet, I've never struggled to find something wrong with the country I was born in. The ability to be so staunchly anti-American in my rhetoric is a privilege in itself.

I think though, for those who know me best, they would laugh at calling me anti-American. I am, admittedly, a pessimist. If not for myself, for the plights of the least fortunate of our country, the last four years have been hopeless and bleak. If "the president can't even condemn white supremacy and has a good chance of being reelected" doesn't make you want to curl up under a weighted blanket, I don't know what will. Life is scary right now, more so for many others than me, and maybe why that's why I'm going to say something I rarely do: I have hope.

It's probably why I haven't drank every bottle of wine in California. It was at first a very, very dim light of hope, but as the election has drawn nearer, I've felt the warmth of hope more acutely. Friends who aren't politically involved are volunteering at the polls, text banking, and even helping to count votes. I've seen people offering their services, time, and money to people suffering from the pandemic. I've heard ringing support from colleagues and friends abroad. Everyone is looking at us this week, and perhaps naively, I think we'll rise to the challenge.

In the end, it boils down to the goodness of people for me. There are a lot of suspect people out there, but I've never been the sort of person to assume someone isn't good without the proper justification for that belief. I think people are good. I see it time and time again. People are generally kind to strangers before they know their political beliefs. People generally have compassion for one another. At the same time though, humans are self-interested, even self-obsessed, myself included. The part that gives me hope is that we all find room in that self-interest to care about others. We have all sacrificed things we want in service of others.

I do not hate our country. I criticize it vehemently because I know what it can be. I know what we are capable of. It's depressing to think about children in cages, white supremacists, and voter suppression, but recognizing how depressing those things are also recognizes that we're capable of a nation without those things. Criticism of America is not anti-American. Again, for the people in the back, criticism of your country is not anti-American. Criticism is essential to the improvement of our country. I can criticize all day, but it's because I believe that our future depends on it. You cannot fix flaws without an acute awareness of them, both personally and otherwise. Our national identity is not "us vs. them." Our national identity is complicated, fraught with injustice and even bigotry. That said, we have an obligation to try to leave the world better than when we found it, and I do believe that to be possible.

If Trump wins tomorrow, I'll be sad as hell. I'll be angry as hell, but I know that if that happens, which to be clear is a worst case scenario, I have two options. The first option is that I can feel hopeless, drink myself into oblivion, and scour job sites for positions abroad. It's not a bad option, to be fair. The second option, is I can be miserable about the outcome and let it light a fire underneath me. I have hope because I know how many folks have that fire already and will let it be stoked by injustice. There are too many good people to lose to the bad ones, even if they bad ones are in positions of power. America is a fucking mess, and that's putting it lightly. There is work to be done, and tomorrow's outcome will shape the future of our country.

But hope, tenacity, compassion, acceptance, a penchant for joy, and a genuine care for our neighbor are the logical course of the American experiment. I long for and believe possible a country where we don't have second-class citizens or baseless hatred, even if we do disagree. I have to believe that country is possible, or days like tomorrow would kill me. If tomorrow goes the wrong way, lots of folks probably will actually die as a result, whether that's at the hands of the virus or as a result of a hateful and violent ideology. We need to be better than that. I believe we are better than that.

I choose to have hope because I have to. I implore you to have hope, if not in others, in that classic American self-importance. We can help ourselves and others, and we're all motivated to do so right now in the face of grave danger. The early voting numbers alone show that. Hope isn't futile. Let the next few days be a reminder that American ideals are that: ideals. We must work to make them a reality. I intend to do so, regardless of the election's outcome. Hug your loved ones tight, and take care.

Revisiting "Echoes In Eternity"

My first blog post was in 2014. So much has changed since then, and I've lived an entirely different life since I first thought this was a good idea. It started as a medium for keeping family and friends updated on my life. I moved to South Korea, and as I had when I studied abroad 3 years earlier, I thought people might like to read what my life in a new place was like.

I chose the name "Echoes in Eternity" out of a vague aspiration that what I had to say might resonate with other people. The phrase comes from a quote by one of my favorite thinkers of all time, Marcus Aurelius. He said, "What we do now echoes in eternity." When I started writing for other people, I wanted to be heard. The meaning of that phrase has evolved for me over time, as any good axiom does I think.

Being heard is less important to me now. I think I'd still write if no one read. I enjoy the process of putting thoughts into the ether as a means of helping my brain to digest them. Aurelius's phrase resonates with me now more than ever, though. The concept that our actions cause a ripple effect that reverberates endlessly is something that is much easier to see concretely when it's viewed as a literal virus, as an action for or against the oppression of a people, or in service or detriment to a dying planet.

After months of isolation, I started to view small things as actions with consequences I hadn't considered before. Let's say I didn't wear a mask or didn't isolate and I caused the sickness or death of someone around me. That action, although seemingly small on my part, could affect that person, their family and friends, their community, and the futures of countless people. That is an incredibly powerful concept to me. In this instance it's rather negative, but think of the implication that positive actions could then have. The virus has shown me that we do, as individuals, truly have the ability to change the world for better or worse.

As protests have continued in the wake of the deaths of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, Jacob Blake, and about a dozen others in recent months alone, I've realized that my contribution matters. What I say, what I think, and what I do both send a message and alter the course of history. I think part of my problem up to this point was not thinking that what I had to do or say made a difference, even if I wanted to be heard. The changes we make within ourselves and in our immediate sphere reverberate. The ripple effect has become more evident to me now than ever before. It's motivational in so many ways.

I've come to realize over the years that Marcus Aurelius wasn't talking about legacy when he wrote that phrase. He wasn't talking about being heard. He was talking about the immense power of each one of our actions, I think. We are all so much more powerful than we understand. I think about the power of social media. If you're posting about racial justice or the need to save our planet and you make one person think about their actions, and they make one person think about their actions, it frames change in less daunting terms. It also means that our poor actions can reverberate negative consequences, and it heightens my sense of responsibility for always trying to be a better person. It makes me want to live. It makes me want to try harder.

What I have to say is no more or less valuable than the next person, and that was a daunting prospect to me at first. I wanted what I had to say to be more valuable than those around me. I wanted to be someone whose opinion was sought after. Part of growing up for me has been realizing how petty that notion is. Being a leader isn't about tangible influence for me anymore. Being a leader is about living my life in a way that I feel a leader should live it, and hoping that I change even one person for the better, and they in turn change those around them. When I act, I try to think about it more concretely. "What are the potential consequences of this action not just for today, tomorrow, or Friday, but for the future?"

I've got more hope than I did a few weeks ago from the mulling over of all of this, and if writing is worth anything for me, there's a solid reason. Onward and upward.

Virus Life. Let me know if I can help!

If there's one thing coronavirus has taught me, it's how incredibly lucky I am. I have a job. I make ends meet financially and more. I have the best supportive friends. I have parents who offered to drive to New York from Missouri to pick me up. I have healthcare, which it seems so absurd to say in 2020 is a privilege and a luxury. I have mental health concerns, and the quarantine is absolutely
putting those concerns on edge, but remembering how absolutely staggering the amount of fortune I have is humbling in the face of all this. That's not to gloat that I'm doing fine as much as it is to highlight that not everyone is doing so fine. I think that always, but particularly now, those of us who are doing fine have a moral obligation to look after our peers who may not be doing so well. Some of that is on the macro level; donate to food banks. Donate to health organizations. If you have money to
give, it helps. If you don't have money, write or call your congresspeople. Let them know that the response is inadequate and that people across industries and incomes need relief. It also has to be on the micro level. Check in on your friends and coworkers. Send a pizza over to your quarantined friend's house. Check in on the people at risk in your life, not only of the virus, but those at risk of letting the world surrounding the virus consume them.

Social distancing and quarantining are the most solid reminders that we are all in this together that I can think of. We do these things for one another, and others are doing it for us. If one link of the chain fails, it can cause others to fail. We are having the backs of people in different cities, states,
and countries by taking the necessary precautions. It is a global pandemic in the sense that it is a threat to all of us. The rich might be able to pay for prevention and detection, but as we've seen with high profile reports, the virus attacks rich and famous also. The rich might think they're quarantining
for themselves, but frankly, I don't care. They, whether knowingly or not, are distancing or quarantining for all of us. It might be forced, but to me, it's beautiful nonetheless. Only after 9/11 can I remember a time in my life where it felt like people wanted to be here for each other like this. It's the one spark of hope that I have that maybe we can pull together despite the complete sham of a government we have right now.

So, I didn't come here to preach, or to tell you what to do, or to tell people how to handle this crisis. I have suggestions obviously, but you're no less for not taking them. We're all handling it differently in some ways. That said, if you need a friend to call, or a pizza, or a meme sent your way to make you laugh, I'm happy to help. I am incredibly fortunate. Many of us are. If I can ease your burden in one way or another as we all navigate this mess, don't hesitate to reach out. Love and health, ya'll.

-Ryan