This continent, man. The hugeness of it. The diversity of people, of weather, cities, landscapes. I am in awe. I feel things that I can’t articulate, things that can only be described by the word “God” – but only in its least religious context. 

 (We just returned from ten days in Mexico – specifically Tulum – and I’m having some feelings.) 

This planet is a fluke. We lucked out. Not just by being able to live here, but just by being aware of how lucky we are to live here.

We also fucked up by trashing the place and letting each other down, and we continue to fuck up.

Most of us are just doing our best, the best way we know how. For some, doing their best is simply staying alive. For others, doing their best is getting the girl, or attempting to help others stay alive, or gathering money and things, or flailing in an attempt to reverse the irreversible things we’ve done to our home and to each other. (That word. “Other.” The great lie, the word that kills so many.)

Most of us are probably getting it all wrong. Putting our efforts in the wrong places. And that’s okay – as long as we’re trying. 

The more of this world I see, the more I love it: warts, decay, rebirth, and all. Humans are terrific, terrified, and fucking terrifying. You can’t deny that there’s beauty in that.