Growing up in my house there was a lot of Grateful Dead. A lot of John, Janis, Joni. I deeply understood from this early age that I missed something; that a movement had happened that I was meant to be a part of it.
Every piece of Dylan resonated in my blood and I was sure I’d overshot my generation.
In my adult life, I’ve spent a lot of time coming to terms with this, in a way that was, at first, angsty and apathetic. I had friends who felt the same way, so we recreated in our smallest ways possible and talked. Talked and read and listened to music. And did nothing.
People asked all the time why we were coming here. I cycled through several answers about writing, about this being our chance, about all things Lao, but all felt like half-truths.
I now know my answer in the purest form possible—the revolution.
I came here because I knew, in that bone shaking part me, that the revolution is out here. And I knew that with Bryce, I could finally correct what had felt like a huge generational oversight.
It’s an overwhelming testament of collective consciousness that this movement brings me here, to this part of the world that so deeply shaped the revolution I longed for.
So, here I am, with my amazing partner, in this country of profound beauty and grace, able to think clearly and let the momentum take me.
Here: truly happy and sure that I’ve found my revolution.
Imagine what will happen, the forces we will fight, when we educated the children and empower the women worldwide.
This is the revolution of my generation and I couldn’t feel more at home in it; like the home of my childhood, filled with Dylan, it feels right.