The Borders Within Us
It’s hard to understand the coldness I see in so many of my fellow citizens. People speak of deportation as though it were housekeeping, as if families could simply be swept away without consequence. They call them lawbreakers. They use the word illegal like a period at the end of empathy. Yet many of these people have lived here for decades. They’ve worked, paid taxes, built lives. Their children are citizens. Their roots are deep. But to so many Americans, none of that matters. What matters is that, at some distant point in time, they crossed a border unlawfully.
The Lure of Complexity, the Freedom of Simplicity
We often find ourselves tangled in the threads of complexity, drawn to the idea that a fuller life must be a more complicated one. It’s a deeply human instinct, this subtle pull toward filling our days with more commitments, more possessions, more friction. It’s as if complexity itself were a measure of meaning.
You Were Never Meant to Be the Customer
In a system built on consumption, identity is no longer grounded in what we create, but in what we buy. The individual is not viewed as a generative force, but as a vessel for demand; a predictable recipient of ads, trends, and targeted offers. Even labor, once a mark of contribution, has been recast as a cost to be minimized. In this economy, you are not a producer. You are the market.
The Myth of the Big Leap
“I want to go part-time,” I say.
My manager sits across the desk, a slightly quizzical look on her face. I’ve been in a full-time position at this hospital for nearly fourteen years. I love what I do, but I’m burning out. I need more time to pursue my life.
She leans back, hesitant.
“How many hours do you want?”
“Three days, eight hours each day,” I tell her. Then I pause. “Three in a row.”
Because I know how this works. I know there will be some effort to control it, to fragment the time.
A Wrong Turn, a Horse, and a Cabin in the Rain
I drove an hour and a half to Alisa’s place, and we headed for CVG in the late afternoon. An overnight flight to London got us in early the next morning, running on airport coffee and not much sleep.
What Travel Taught Me About Freedom
In the culture I grew up in, freedom was often measured by what you could buy, own, or defend. A bigger house, a better job, the right to carry a weapon — these were the symbols of success and autonomy. But the more I traveled, the more those definitions felt hollow.