Andy's Blog

Finding my Way

It's a rare moment when you can confidently say that you've found your place in the universe. It was about 11pm, the moon had not yet risen, the sky was alight with billions of stars, the wind was on the starboard quarter, we were making nine knots, and I was at the helm, alone, mesmerized by the phosphorescence making fireworks in our wake. I'd found nirvana. 
It was a tiring afternoon. Immediately after sending off our last bunch of kids, we left the dock, yet again, bound this time for Dominica, and this time without kids on board. I had lucked into delivering a Lagoon 440 from St Martin to Dominica, with my dive instructor Shanon. The quicker we got there the more free time I'd have to explore the island before picking up my next group of little angels. We set sail just outside the exceedingly narrow channel in Anse Marcel (so narrow, in fact, that in a cat you have to straddle one of the greens when you exit the breakwater). Anguilla channel is notoriously windy, always on the nose, and creates a strong, foul current. Beating out of it, especially in a cat, is challenging.

But we were not in a hurry. No, with over 200 miles to sail, we simply enjoyed ourselves, enjoyed the peace and quiet of no kids on the boat, enjoyed the beautiful weather. As the sun set behind us in the west behind a panorama of billowing clouds, we tacked one final time to clear St Barth's. I took the helm for the first watch while Shanon escaped below for some much-needed rest. 

I taught Shanon about nautical twilight, that magical time of day when the first few stars come out, as the sky turns the deepest blue as the last bit of sunlight fades beyond the horizon. Before GPS this was the navigator's hour, the time when the horizon is still visible in the waning sunlight and the brightest stars peek through the atmosphere, allowing him to get an accurate fix. To most modern sailors, this time no longer matters, for we simply jump below and take a fix off of that deadly accurate machine called a GPS. It's ironic that for centuries we used the heavens to find our way - now, technology has pierced the night sky and we receive our positions yet again from the heavens, the man-made stars called satellites that float around in space. 

Time does not exist at sea at night. The minutes that passed could have lasted for weeks, the hours, centuries. Yet they passed in the blink of an eye. As the boat sailed herself on a fast broad reach, there wasn't much to do to pass the time. Trim the sails a bit here or there, take a quick reef as the eastern sky seems to be darkening, plot our position, make some coffee. Enjoy the night, enjoy the silence. Live.

As my watch entered it's final hour, I fought hard to stay awake. Sailing at night is so rythmic, so enchanting that it invites peace, invites sleep. You must fight it off. I found myself in the galley nearly every 10 minutes making a cup of tea, loaded with honey. I trimmed the sails when they didn't need trimming. I sang to myself. Anything to stay awake. I found enjoyment in this challenge. 

I woke Shanon 10 minutes before her watch began so she could adjust to the darkness, rub the sleep out of her eyes. Shanon was not a sailor before this summer. She is now. By 2am, after my first watch, sleep came easy. It came easy because I trusted Shanon to sail the boat well, but more importantly, to wake me up if anything went askew. Though by then, I'd become so attuned to the boat that had anything really been askew, I would have undoubtedly woken up on my own. Sleeping under sail is incredible. So close to the hull, you can feel the water rushing by, hear every groan and creak of the boat as she pounds her way south. You can really feel the boat laying there in your bunk. It's a wonderful way to get to know a boat better...simply listen, simply feel.

My three-hour respite from the duties on deck felt like an eternity, and upon waking I had no idea where I was. Strangely, I felt more rested than I do at home in nice warm bed after 8 hours of cozy slumber. I awoke with renewed vigor. We were still sailing, 12 hours after having departed St Martin. I'd never woke before while still under sail. I checked the chart and was astounded by our progress. Every hour a new little dot appeared on the chart, nearly 9 miles distant from the previous one. Montserrat was only 5 miles off our starboard bow.

It was 2am at the start of my second watch, and the moon had risen, now nearly full. We sailed into it's reflection upon the ocean, and it illuminated the clouds in a way I'd never seen before. The clouds towered over the boat, and seemed enormously high in the soft light of the moon. I put another reef in, two now, as light squalls marched in from the west, eerily ominous as they glowed in the moonlight. The stars disappeared behind the veil of the moon.

Another three hours passed, another millenia gone in the blink of an eye. I found myself perched at the helm, looking aft at our wake. The sense of speed while watching astern was astounding, the power of the boat evident with each passing bit of foam. We were flying, now on a beam reach, right on the rhumb line. 




11 More Days in St. Martin

"It goes on and on and on and ooooh!" That's Journey, and that's what's playing on the stereo right now. I'm sitting outside at the 'Pad', Broadreach's little base in Anse Marcel, St Martin. Tonight I'll sleep in an army cot in the 'Loft', Broadreach's idea of staff accommodation. It would not be possible to describe this summer in one entry. I was just re-reading some old posts and realized that yes, my dreams have in fact manifested themselves in ways that I could never have imagined. I've sailed over 1000 miles this summer, spent 48 hours at sea, made lifelong friends from all over the world and have learned more about life and myself than I could have ever imagined or expected. I'll be gone in 11 days. It's going to be exceedingly weird being back in the 'real' world. I haven't had an indoor shower in over two months. Nor have I slept in a bed. I haven't even slept with a real pillow; I've been using my fleece rolled up into a makeshift headrest. But life in this environment is truly living. Living in the most real sense of the word. Time literally has ceased to exist, the days of the week no longer matter, nor does the date. It's just life, in it's simplest, most uncomfortably yet simultaneously enjoyable state. Have I changed? Undoubtedly. Will my life be different from now on? I don't know. I'll return home, and most likely things will go back to normal the minute I set foot on American soil. Life is funny like that...yet deep down I have changed, I know it. As another stage of my life begins, with the great unknown beckoning, I come back to the same question I ask myself in each of these situations...where will I be in a year and what dreams will have manifested themselves by then? The fun part is living it.

I'm Back Baby!

That was short-lived. But it was successful. I received a handful of postcards and a hilarious letter from Blake comparing me to the una-bomber. I concluded however, that as with most things, a balance is necessary, and in this case, email and the ability to post my thoughts in the ether of the interweb are benefits that outweigh the cost of technology eating my brain. I still think the internet is an enormous distraction beyond that though, and since moving back on the boat, I've successfully avoided it for all things non-communications related.
So, bottom line, I can still be reached by email until June 3, and I still prefer the real mail. Keep in touch. Peace.

Signing Off

This will be the last entry in my short-lived blog, for a long time, I hope. The few of you who actually read this may already know why, but I'll explain anyway.
I just configured my email to send an automatic reply to all future emails that I receive. The details of the email are unimportant, but the basic idea is this...I'm going to experiment with removing myself from the interweb for a while, and see what happens. I will still be reachable, of course, and would love to receive a real letter in the mail from my friends. All mail will be returned by myself, and from now on, when I'm out in the world, I'll keep in touch with postcards and handwritten notes sent to my friends. 
I could wax philosophically about how technology has corrupted society and how everyone exists in a tiny tiny world within themselves, removed from real life. But that's not what this is about. This about me, and me only. I want to see what it's like, to see if it's possible to go back in time a little bit. 
I want to experience real things. I just gave my digital camera to Mia in favor of a cheap film camera I bought. I've never owned a film camera, but will always remember that the most exciting and entertaining picture viewing occurred when my Mom would bring home developed photos and we'd all gather round for a look. Everyone can admit that it's much more fun to receive a hand-written postcard in the mail from a friend than it is to receive an email you'll probably forget about in 10 minutes anyway. There is something to grabbing a magazine with real pages and plopping on the couch to flip through the articles and read something tangible. 
There was an interesting article written by someone about how technology has increased our choices in life, including everything from a pair of shoes to the color of a car. The thesis was that people are more and more depressed because of the amount of choice we have, and having to choose adds stress to everyone's life. This is a little off the subject, but interestig nonetheless. Imagine if you only had to pick from two different brands of laundry detergent. It'd be pretty simple right?
Anyway, I have larger motives for this decision as well, most importantly the practicality. I'll be heading to the Caribbean this summer for three months and will be out of touch from the interweb anyway, so I figured I might as well start now, and get some practice. There is also some satisfaction to be had in actually looking up a phone number and speaking to someone rather than sending a voiceless, lifeless email, whatever the circumstances. And I've found that I enjoy writing much more when I sit down with a pencil and a notebook and just write. Granted no one else can see it, but just send me a postcard and I'll gladly send you a hardcopy of my journals if you're that interested. Or you can read my book when it's published.
I know I'm going to sound stupid for doing this, and will probably be ridiculed that it won't work anyway, and why should I want to do this in the first place. I don't know, maybe I'm bored. But it should be an interesting experience, and I hope I actually do get something real in the mail. Maybe it will add perspective to things, maybe it will force me to go outside more often, I don't know. The point is, I don't get anything particularly important in my email anyway, and all the internet has done for me lately is distract me from things I could be doing in real life. This idea is probably the product of reading too many sea stories from Moitessier, but his simplified ideas really hit a nerve with me. Just take a long hard think about this idea before you cast it off as ridiculous, and think about what life was like before the internet. If you want to join my revolution, please do. 
Send me a postcard. I'll be the first to reply with a handwritten letter. Adios.

Sterling Hayden's 'Wanderer'

"To be truly challenging, a voyage, like a life, must rest on a firm foundation of financial unrest. Otherwise, you are doomed to a routine traverse, the kind known to yachtsmen who play with their boats at sea... cruising it is called. Voyaging belongs to seamen, and to the wanderers of the world who cannot, or will not, fit in. If you are contemplating a voyage and you have the means, abandon the venture until your fortunes change. Only then will you know what the sea is all about.

I've always wanted to sail to the south seas, but I can't afford it." What these men can't afford is not to go. They are enmeshed in the cancerous discipline of security. And in the worship of security we fling our lives beneath the wheels of routine - and before we know it our lives are gone.

What does a man need - really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down in - and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That's all - in the material sense, and we know it. But we are brainwashed by our economic system until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention for the sheer idiocy of the charade.

The years thunder by, The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed.

Where, then, lies the answer? In choice. Which shall it be: bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life?"

The Business of Dreaming

Mia and I went to the Stockholm International Boat Show yesterday. It was inside at the convention center, and it was massive. We went aboard several sailboats, including a 28-foot double-ender built in Finland which was exceedingly ugly, but very intriguing nonetheless. I picked up two books, one written by a Swede who spent ten years circumnavigating and financing it by taking along paying crew. The other by Moitessier, 'Cape Horn: The Logical Route,' written before 'The Long Way,' beginning with the commissioning of 'Joshua,' his beloved steel ketch.
It's been an enormous inspiration to read about sailing once more, after having exhausted my supply of unread books in the past month or so. I'm already living my dream of circumnavigating by reading the exploits of others, and simultaneously planning the adventure in my head as I go. I almost lost my focus in the last weeks of relative inactivity, but now the inspiration has returned. It's going to be fun and exciting seeing how this drama plays out in my head in the coming years. I finally have something to focus on. I've figured out that one thing that I can do exceedingly well instead of floundering with a million projects that I can never fully see through, and my motivation to succeed is higher than ever. Of course, I'll still have my other pursuits, but now I have a clear priority.
Where that is going to take me in the next years is another question entirely. It's one thing to have a dream - eventually, the grim reality that a dream of this magnitude requires a substantial amount of cash becomes clear. The biggest challenge is going to be figuring out how to maintain the balance between living a satisfying lifestyle and not compromising my lofty ideals on how my life should be enjoyed, while earning some real money. I think I have an interesting solution, but I'll wait and see what happens. In the meantime, I'll keep reading, keep dreaming, and day by day what's already happening inside my head will eventually manifest itself into something I probably can't even imagine.

Inspiration from Moitessier

"I had no intention whatever of writing a book, thinking that one had to be very gifted to be able to write. All I wanted was to get lost among people, make a niche for myself among them, not too deep but very wide so that I could get out of it quickly in a real boat..."
"Paris...I had been there three weeks, feeling terribly out of place despite my adaptability, the secret weapon of all who spend their life roughing it. There was something which made me feel ill at ease: all those unknown hearts and faces seemed closed to me, hardened by the ruthless struggle for the daily bread."

Closing Doors

Check out this NY Times article that Nate sent me. The premise is that we often suffer psychologically by having too many options open to us in life, whether it's with friends, job opportunities, places to live, etc. The conclusion is that it's not our want of having many options on the table that make us act this way, but rather the fear of watching an option disappear.
Which is the core problem of my existence at the moment. I'm stuck in a rut of doing a lot of different things very well, but not doing any one thing particularly magnificently; and I'm not doing anything that makes me any money. It's funny, my triathlon habit reflects this problem - as a whole, I swim, bike and run pretty well, but when the events are isolated I'm only slightly above average when it comes to racing. 
And there is this business of a career. I have a million different paths I could choose, and I know I'd be good at anything I decide on, but I can't seem to forfeit one path to pursue another, and I'm stuck with exactly that - a million options and no actual career. This will be something I need to figure out come fall - until then I have the spring with Woodwind to look forward to and the summer with Broadreach, but come next winter I want to have something to really focus on and forget about all of this other nonsense that is distracting me from being successful.

Holy Shit...

I'm lucky to have a full set of teeth right now. Hell, I'm lucky I have a head right now. Maybe I should stick to swimming in the pool instead of trying to continue this Monkey Bar Gym crap. 
So like I mentioned in the last post, on swimming days in my workout schedule I'm doing body-weight workouts instead, focusing on upper-body strength and endurance and trying to work the swim-specific muscles. I know there is no replacement for actually swimming, but as I said, I hate the pool, so this will have to suffice. Plus, I feel like a badass listening to Metallica and walking around my apartment without a shirt on doing handstands and weird body-weight moves.
Tonight was the Vegas workout. This workout can be modified to include any four exercises, and is very flexible, very fun, and very exhausting. You take a deck of cards and assign one exercise for each suit. Then you shuffle the cards, and perform the appropriate amount of reps for each suit. Aces are 14 reps, Kings 13, and so on, down through 2's. So in essence, you're getting 104 reps of four different exercises, which is way more volume than if you merely did 3x12 or even 3x20. And it provides variation in that you never know what the next exercise or amount of reps will be, so it' good fun.
I did two of these workouts tonight, back to back. I spent nearly 6 days a week for a month in Prague doing variations of this workout, and at first it would take me about an hour to complete a full deck of cards, or 416 total reps. The goal is to complete the deck as-fast-as-possible, with as little rest as possible. By the end of the month, I was completing most of the decks in 45 minutes or so, and tonight I completed two decks in 1 hour 15 minutes. Not too bad.
Towards the end of the second deck (I only had 3 cards left) is when I almost lost my head. I have one of those pull-up bars that you put in a door frame. It's steel, and compresses itself between the frame, not unlike a curtain rod that holds up a shower curtain. You simple screw it into place, and it's remarkably sturdy. I also have these rubber-band like devices with handles on the ends that I can do different resistance exercises with. Well, for this particular exercise, I had the bar placed about chest-hight in the door frame and the bands attached to it. I stood with the bands stretched towards me, facing the door and the bar, arms stretched our straight, parallel to the floor, holding the bands in both hands. Then, I'd lift my arms straight up over my head, stretching the bands and creating resistance. An excellent shoulder exercise. 
About the 5th rep of this, the bar broke. The bands were stretched to the max, and, consequently, acted like a slingshot and fired the broken bar, now released from the door frame, directly at my face. I was standing about 12 feet away, and the force of the bands catapaulted this 3 foot piece of steel like a boomerang. It did not lose any height due to gravity, and was moving pretty freakin' fast. Somehow, the bar hit my chest first, still parallel to the floor, then bounced up and hit me square in the mouth, immediately inflating both of my lips. I thought for sure that I'd have a mouthful of teeth, and because I couldn't feel my mouth from the impact, I rushed into the bathroom to investigate. There was blood, but it was from my lips, and my teeth were all there. 
I was literally in shock for about 2 minutes afterwards and could not believe that had just happened. Not that it just happened, but because it didn't hit me in the face. The bar weighs like 10 lbs. and was shot at me as if from a cannon and probably could have killed me. I'm still kind of in shock, and still can't feel my face (this only happened about 10 minutes ago). Amazing.

Triathlon Training

I'm beginning Week 3 of 15 today, leading up to the Black Bear Half Ironman Triathlon, in Jim Thorpe, PA. I won the event's 20-24 Age Group last year, albeit against only 10 other competitors. A win's a win though. I imagine this year is going to be significantly tougher, however, since last year was the inaugural event and this year should see many many more competitors. It's my last year in the 20-24 Age Group and my only race scheduled this season (due to working in the Caribbean - a shame, I know), so I want to do well and repeat.
I've set some pretty lofty time goals for myself this year, and I'm not going to achieve them if I keep sitting on my ass over here and not working out as hard as I could. At the moment, I have absolutely nothing important I have to do, which lends itself to me sitting around reading, writing, cleaning and thinking, putting off everything even slightly important until later because I have all day to do anything. It's a bit frustrating, but I'm trying to be productive nonetheless. I've gotten three agreements from magazines to publish my articles, finished the website I'm working on for Sarles Marina, and have been exercising, but that still leaves a lot of time in the day to do nothing.
Anyway, back to the training. This week I put in over 8 hours of work, which is a bit more than what I've been doing all winter, but not near the 12-15 I'll ramp up to in the coming weeks. I put about 100 miles on my new fixed-gear bike last week, which provides a tremendous workout since you can never stop pedaling. It's mentally tough riding in the cold weather too, and at times last week my heart stopped as I rolled ever-so-carefully across several patches of ice that remained on the roads in the shady spots. It feels great to be back on a proper bike with my gear and my shoes that Mom sent over, and I'm quite used to the cold. My feet get numb, but otherwise it's not too bad.
Aside from that I've continued running, though now with more of a purpose to each workout instead of just for the sake of running. Yesterday, for example, I ran 60 minutes at RPE 3 (Rate of Perceived Exertion - scale of 0-10), interspersed with 'stride intervals', where you slowly accelerate to a near sprinting pace for 20-30 seconds, while focusing on short, quick steps and proper upper-body form. I'm noticing that the running is becoming almost effortless, and despite taking a month off from it in Prague, a 10-mile jaunt feels like a short workout.
Swimming is my biggest weakness, and expectedly, my least favorite thing to practice. I've been slacking in this department, and have only been in the pool 3 times since I started training for real two weeks ago. Instead I've continued the Monkey Bar Gym body-weight workouts that I did mostly in Prague, and my upper-body strength has increased measurably. I can hold a non-assisted handstand for 5-10 seconds now, and can handstand with my feet barely touching the wall, for over a minute. This will be my primary means of working out this summer in the islands, and I really enjoy the movements. I have to poop. 
Done and done. Back to racing. In light of my hatred of the pool - due mostly to the fact that the pool here in Uppsala has only one lane reserved for real swimmers, and it's usually clogged up with 5 other people. We have to swim a circle inside this little lane, playing follow the leader. This would be fine is everyone swam the same pace and was doing the same workout. But inevitably, you have people trying to pass each other - mainly me, because I'm so freaking slow - and you have people standing at either end resting. This causes me much grief. One might argue that swimming in a crowd is beneficial practice for a triathlon where 50-100 people might start at the same time. One would be correct, however in a real race, everyone is swimming the same direction, and we're not worrying about a workout, just to get to the bike. It's fucking annoying in the pool - I've decided to focus on the other disciplines for a few reasons. 1). Even in a half-ironman, the pool portion only lasts, at most, 45 minutes. A 5-minute faster swim time in a race that takes upwards of 5 hours will not make much of a difference, and this is all I can reasonably expect to increase in 3 months of training. 2). I hate swimming in the pool. I would much rather focus on biking and running because I actually enjoy them. Maybe I should become a duathlete. 3). I can realistically lower my bike time from last year by 20 minutes and my run time by 30 minutes. I'll gladly trade 5 minutes in the pool for 20 minutes on the bike any day.
Which brings me to my goals for my only race of the year. Last year I finished in 5 Hours, 38 Minutes, with the following splits: 33 min. swim, 3 hour bike, 2 hour run, with about 3 minutes of transition time. I want to break 5 hours this year, and this is how I'm going to do it: 35 min swim (the course was shortened last year making it faster than it should have been), 2 hour 40 min. bike (I'll have to average over 20mph - doable since i averaged 22.5 mph in the Annapolis Tri at the end of last season) and a 1 hour, 40 minute run (also doable - I completed the B&A Trail Half Marathon in 1:35 last March). This is all assuming I run my best-ever half marathon following my best-ever 56 mile bike ride, following my best-ever 2000 yard swim. I've never strung all of these times back to back to back, but then again, I barely trained for last year's race and still managed a 5:38:00. Totally doable this year, and I'm already in better base shape than I was a year ago, with three months to ramp it up. 4:55:00 baby.

On Revolution

After re-reading that piece about India that I wrote a full five years ago as a sophomore in college, I've been thinking more about revolution. Specifically, revolution and how it might be possible in the United States; or rather, how it's not possible, and not necessary. 

Chuck Klosterman wrote a piece with a similar thesis for Esquire magazine in 2006, which was then republished in his book 'IV.' His conclusion was that no matter what the circumstances, the average American is incapable of revolting, and even if he were, he wouldn't know who to revolt against - the government, the population and our social structures are simply too huge and too complicated for any kind of revolution to even begin.

I disagree with this sentiment, and believe that given the correct circumstances, Americans could, and would revolt successfully. However, some people tend to think that revolution is impossible because it hasn't happened despite the continuing downward slide of our country since 9/11. The general feeling of Klosterman's essay was that if id hasn't happened by now, it won't happen.

But revolutions don't occur in modernized, democratic countries, where even though the social, economic and political climate may be in relative turmoil, people are still generally comfortable in their daily lives. A society must be truly fucked up before anyone will think about revolution, and the majority of its people must be suffering on a daily basis beyond just paying exorbitant fuel prices (which by the way are still insanely cheap compared to Europe - a gallon of gas is upwards of $8.00 in Sweden). 

When a society is ripe for revolution, this is truly the only thing important to it's people. Take Gandhi's India for example.

An Essay on Indian Nationalism

Revolutionary struggles are traditionally defined by the use of violence as a means to an end; that end being dramatic changes in both the social and political spheres of any given country. From the Revolutionary War that was responsible for the birth of America, to the French and Russian Revolutions, and especially modern, guerilla revolutions in places like China and Cuba, violence played a key role in determining the outcomes. Battles were fought and lives were sacrificed all in the name of revolution and change. 
However, defining revolution in this traditional sense dismisses the cases where non-violence is the means to the ends. Revolution is formally defined as a sudden, profound, deliberately provoked crisis about legitimate state power, tending to produce upheaval and change in both the political and social spheres. The formal definition of revolution includes no such provision pertaining to violence. In the case of India, non-violence was the critical factor in determining the outcome of revolution. Mobilized by a charismatic leader, one Mahatma Gandhi, the people of India used non-violence as a weapon against colonialism, a weapon strong enough to defeat at the time arguably the most powerful nation in the world.
Revolutions do not simply arise. Many factors affect the origins of revolution and also affect the means by which the revolutionary struggle will be conducted. Internal factors such as the relationship between the working class and the elites, the role of government in society, the distribution of land, the overall prosperity of the country, and the economic system, among others help determine the ?need? for a revolutionary uprising. External factors play perhaps an even larger role. In the early 20th century, the Gandhi-led Indian revolution set off a wave of anti-colonial revolutionary struggles. The root of these revolutions was found in the fact that a ?superior? country was ruling over a separate people geographically distanced from the ruling country?s political center. Specifically in India, this gave the Indians a sufficient cause for being upset; they wanted independence and self-rule.
In a similar sense, these same factors help to determine the means by which the revolutionary struggle will be conducted. Will the revolutionaries take a violent approach? A non-violent one? A mass-based movement of the peasantry, or an elite-based movement of the aristocracy?
Finally, revolutionary ideology and leadership play perhaps the greatest roles in determining the outcomes of revolution. At the heart of every revolutionary struggle is the desire for change; and change is felt by the individuals that participate in the revolution. Peoples? everyday lives are affected by revolution; ideologies are created and charismatic leadership emerges in the name of the people, in order to heed to their demands and exonerate their suffering. Essentially, this is what revolution is all about: the people. In India, the charismatic leadership of Mohandas Gandhi and his impact on the revolution was felt by everyone who participated in the revolution, whether by choice or simply by fate. From speeches he gave urging people to support kadhi or to ignore the salt tax, to the letters he so graciously responded to almost religiously, regardless of topic, the impact of Gandhi on the people of India is undeniable. His revolution touched nearly all of India?s people, from all walks of life.
But people alone do not encompass the entire revolution, nor does the outcome of a revolutionary struggle depend solely on the will of those that fight for it. In the case of India, internal and external factors independent of direct human intervention played a substantial role in the ultimate success that the revolution later achieved. Similarly, additional factors determined the means by which the revolutionary struggle was conducted; in India?s case, these factors led to a non-violent struggle against colonialism. However, the means, the outcome, and the effects of revolution are meaningless without the combination of all three. 
Revolution in general depends on an amalgamation of all three ideas into one initiative that defines the entire revolution; its means, its outcome and its effects. The ultimate success of the revolution in India depended on the integration of internal and external factors, the charismatic leadership of Mohandas Gandhi and the participation of the general population who so ardently followed his word.
By examining internal and external factors, revolutionary struggles become much clearer; shedding light on the means by which the revolution is fought as well as the outcome of the revolution itself. In India, several factors, internal and external, relating to society, politics and the general welfare of the nation, combine to create a revolutionary situation in which non-violence became the primary means for dismantling the old regime.  
Britain had ruled over India from the mid-18th century, and did so through a ?divide-and-rule? strategy. Viceroys were sent to maintain control over certain areas of the country, effectively cutting them off from one another, and even going as far as ruling over them with different sets of laws. India was separated through lingual, religious and economic barriers. When the people of India decided they had had enough of the British influence, this made it nearly impossible for them to unite and form a mass movement that encompassed the entire population. Without mass support, India was doomed from the start, as seen in the failure of the Mutiny of 1857, the first real uprising against British rule.
The Indian population attempted to gather widespread support for the first time in 1885 with the inauguration of the first Indian National Congress. According to Jim Masselos, author of Indian Nationalism, the creation of the Congress was the first significant event in forming a national identity in India. Prior to the Congress?s conception, Indian politics consisted mainly of scattered and dispersed regional organizations, bent on dealing with local matters. Congress, in its initial stages, acted rather timidly, as national politics in general were a new phenomenon in India. However, as time passed and leaders such as Allan Octavian Hume - the ?father of the National Congress? ? emerged, so did the stability and confidence of the Congress. Congress began meeting annually to discuss issues of relevance in both social and political spheres. Each year Congress was held in a different location, further emphasizing the nation-wide aims that the Congress had in mind (Masselos).
Britain?s divide-and-rule strategy alone was not enough to force the revolution onto a non-violent course of action. A major factor contributing to Gandhi?s adoption of non-violence as a revolutionary strategy involved an obscure law that made it unlawful for Indians to be armed. This seemingly simple law contributed heavily to Gandhi?s strategy. Without arms, a violent revolutionary uprising was nearly impossible. Gandhi saw that it would be much easier to engage in a non-violent struggle than attempt to unlawfully arm the country with illegal weapons. In order to gain the mass support needed to uproot such an entrenched regime as the British, a different strategy would have to be taken and Gandhi recognized this.
A third factor contributing significantly to the non-violent struggle was India?s reputation as a society and culture strongly rooted in religion. Gandhi recognized this, and as a devout Hindu himself, adopted a strategy founded on non-violence and compromise that was consistent with his religious beliefs as well as the beliefs of many of his countrymen.
While these factors among others contributed to the strategy of the revolution, a final external factor was mostly responsible for the revolutionary struggle. Britain had controlled India as a colony since the mid-18th century, and during the time period between their initial colonization and the first attempts at revolution, India lost much of its national identity, thanks in part to Britain?s divide-and-rule strategy. The de-industrialization of India at the hands of British exploitation in order to hasten their own industrialization also contributed to India?s lack of national character by the late 1800?s. India struggled in the early stages of nationalism to create an identity for itself that would unite the masses. As noted above, the Mutiny of 1857 was narrowly focused, unorganized, and lacked mass-support due to lack of national unity. The creation of the INC was a step in the right direction for India to successfully create a true national character, unique in its own right. However, the progress the INC had made in its first 30 years of existence began to subside and the congress became divided. India was missing a crucial piece that was needed to continue the revolution.
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi was able to provide the catalyst necessary for a true, mass-based revolutionary struggle. A combination of the factors mentioned previously led Gandhi to believe that non-violence and the creation of national symbols were the best way to mobilize the decidedly disjointed population. Based on previous experiments with Satyagraha (?Truth-Force?) in South Africa and locally in India, Gandhi was able to formulate a strategy of non-violence as a weapon against the British.  
Similarly, the same factors that contributed to Gandhi?s association of national symbols contributed to mass-mobilization, the impetus for a non-violent struggle. He introduced national symbols such as Khadi (Indian cloth), and salt to the Indian public as a way of uniting the country in a way that avoided any social, political or religious implications.
The combination of internal and external factors forced India into creating a national movement. The Indian National Congress provided the initial spark needed to launch such a movement, and later Mahatma Gandhi would provide the catalyst that helped the movement mature into the mass-based, non-violent struggle that it became. By integrating the many factors involved, Gandhi?s choice seemed almost inevitable, and in the end, proved to be successful.
Many similar factors that contributed to the rise of non-violence as the primary means of struggle contributed to the ultimate successful outcome of the revolution. As defined by Samuel P. Huntington, India?s revolution followed an ?Eastern? model of revolution. Huntington?s Eastern model depended on an extremely strong regime entrenched for a long period of time as the ruling body. Before the regime could be detached, the revolutionary country must first build its national strength (Huntington 40). This is significant because Gandhi spent a sizeable amount of his energy on creating a national identity through the means mentioned earlier. The fact that his efforts worked to create a national identity was a key to the revolutions success.
Perhaps the single biggest factor in determining the final outcome of the revolution was the onset of World War II. By the late 1930?s, India was gaining momentum in their struggle for independence as they built themselves up as a nation and continued Gandhi?s non-violent strategies. When Britain became bogged down in the second Great War, they began to lose their hold on India at the same time as India was gathering strength. Anti-colonialism began to take hold in Europe and America as well as around the globe. Prior to this time period, western culture deemed it okay, even helpful for a ?superior? power to govern a decidedly ?inferior? people. Much of this thought process can be attributed to Charles Darwin and his natural selection / survival of the fittest theories. Later, Herbert Spencer adapted these theories that Darwin applied to nature, into theories that could be applied to society. ?Social Darwinists,? as they were dubbed, adhered to the concept that it was a nation?s duty to govern the less fortunate. The British felt obliged to rule over India if only for their own good. Such was the thoughts of the times (Kishlansky 802). Only later would this thought process be reversed. India?s success set off a revolutionary wave against imperialism, contributing eventually to the liberation of several nations.
With the advent of WWII, Britain ultimately became stretched beyond its means. The military struggle was taking its toll on the British, who no longer had the support of the Indian people in their ranks (Prior to 1900 and also during WWI, many Indians participated in the British military, and even Gandhi himself had a strong influence in recruiting Indian troops). But Winston Churchill, Gandhi?s old adversary, remained adamant about refusing India any concessions: ? ?I have not become the King?s First Minister in order to preside over the liquidation of the British Empire? ? (Arnold 208). However, following the Japanese success in Southeast Asia in 1942, Britain?s hold on India became increasingly weaker with time. Britain desperately needed India for the war effort, and clung tightly to the dwindling support that remained in India: ?The loss of India would have been catastrophic for Britain?s morale and its ability to continue the war in Asia, North Africa and Europe? (Arnold 209). By this time during the war, countries abroad, including the United States and even members of British society became increasingly sympathetic to the Indian cause. Gandhi created a stir in the 1930?s with his Salt Satyagraha and Civil Disobedience movements which gathered worldwide attention. 
Combined with the violent retaliation by the British, Gandhi?s movements grew in popularity across the globe. WWII provided the final blow to the British that eventually led to India?s independence in 1947. Britain?s thinly stretched resources and army combined with increasing dissent in both Britain and abroad ultimately led to Britain?s final concession of Indian independence: ?On June 3 1947, Mountbatten announced that the transfer of power would take place by August 15 1947? (Masselos 223).
Several factors contributed to the eventual independence that India experienced, marking the success of a revolution started nearly 60 years earlier. The entrenchment of the British Crown that led to India?s need to build a nation, based on Huntington?s ?Eastern? model was a key factor in determining the revolutions success. Gandhi?s uncanny ability to create such successful national symbols that united the people and at the same time avoided alienating anyone was key to their success. However, the largest factor in the revolutions success remained the onslaught of WWII combined with the weakening of British power and worldwide sympathy gathered across the globe ultimately were the factors responsible for the revolutions success.
Internal and external factors undoubtedly play a critical role in determining both the means of revolution as well as the outcome of revolutionary struggles. However, human interaction ultimately plays the greatest role in any societal struggle, be it revolutionary or otherwise. India?s successful revolution depended on the people that fought for it. The charismatic leadership provided by Mahatma Gandhi provided a catalyst for mass-mobilization. Gandhi is often credited for India?s success at creating an independent nation and oftentimes the role of the common person is overlooked; yet without the masses and ultimately the individual, no revolution can be successful, regardless of the leadership. Gandhi based his movement largely on non-violence and compromise and emphasized the importance of the individual in the struggle for freedom. Gandhi?s adherence to the individual is reflected in his countless speeches, letters and personal journals throughout the revolutionary struggle. By examining these letters, speeches and personal notes, Gandhi?s revolution becomes clearly centered on the individual and his commitment to appeasing the common man at all costs, by personally imposing his ideologies on them through intimate communication.
Often heralded as Gandhi?s most successful non-violent, non-cooperation movement, the Salt Satyagraha of the 1930?s crystallized the myth of Gandhi and solidified his nickname as the ?Mahatma.? The people of India literally lived and died by his advice; Gandhi was well aware of this fact and was eager to do whatever was necessary to help the revolutionary cause, especially from his leadership standpoint. But the period during the Salt Satyagraha in the 1930?s marked an era in which Gandhi?s communication with his followers was critical to the revolutions success. By this point, the movement was gathering huge momentum, and it reverberated around the globe, touching places as distant as America. Nevertheless, Gandhi remained committed to communicating his ideology and advice at all costs.
Gandhi maintained near God-like power over his people during the imperative stages of the revolution. Prior to the Salt Satyagraha, Gandhi laid out specific plans for what was to occur when he gave the final word to begin action: ?they all may regard this as the word from me that all are free and those who are ready are expected to start mass civil disobedience regarding the salt laws, as from 6th April? (Gandhi Vol. 49, Page 3). He later lays out the plans by which the movement is to follow, defining specific courses of action pertaining especially to non-violence. This is merely a prelude to the personal and minutely detailed communication that Gandhi maintained with the people of India.  
Gandhi was able to maintain constant communication with those more intimately connected to the leadership of the revolution. Gandhi?s subordinates apparently requested his advice on nearly every subject. Responding to a letter from Narandas Gandhi, ?Bapu,? as he often signs his letters, gives explicit instructions on what to do with everything from money and donations to incoming letters, articles and even luggage, yet at the same time gives no indication of ever feeling bothered by these seemingly trivial queries: ?Send money to Krishnadas as and when he asks for it. You need not consult me so long as he asks for Rs. 100 at a time and the total does not exceed Rs. 1,000. If you yourself feel like asking me, you may do so? (Gandhi Vol. 49, Page 19). Gandhi?s incredible patience and compassion shine through in numerous letters such as this and others.
Many cases exist in which an individual ensconced in the revolution struggle appeals to Bapu for advice on how to contribute individually. One such case involves a woman by the name of Anasuyabehn Sarabhai. She apparently had requested a plan of action from Gandhi of how to further help the cause of revolution. Gandhi?s response echoes his ideology once again, that the revolution is an individual struggle, and its success lies in the hands of those who fight for it: ?Shankerlal and you should carefully study the suggestions I have made to the women and if they appeal to you, take up the work. Do not do it because I have suggested it, but consult your own desire. No work once started must be abandoned afterwards? (Gandhi Vol. 49, Page 69).
Perhaps the greatest insight garnered from Gandhi?s extensive collection of personal letters comes in the form of his strict adherence to his ideologies, at all costs. Numerous letters reflect Gandhi?s ultimate ideology of individual struggle and non-violence; however perhaps none more than a letter addressed again to Narandas Gandhi. Seemingly frustrated by the salt tax, Narandas, in his own way trying to contribute to the revolution, asks about smuggling salt. Gandhi?s response once again echoes his already solidified beliefs: ?We cannot smuggle salt even for committing disobedience of the salt law. How can we employ as a means of satyagraha what is in itself wrong?? (Gandhi Vol. 49, page 70). Regardless of the potential success smuggling may have for the revolution, Gandhi remains strict in his ideology, forbidding any such action. In a letter addressed to Bhai Kantiprasad, Bapu offers advice on how this individual can personally contribute to the revolution: ?If there is nothing else you can do, you should at least do khadi work? (Gandhi Vol. 49, page 14). Gandhi is reinforcing khadi as a symbol of national identity while at the same time offering sound advice on how one particular person can contribute to the revolution.
The effects of India?s revolution on the people who participated in it are surprisingly accessible. Personal concerns of those involved in India?s movement for independence clearly shine through in Gandhi?s countless letters. People of all walks of life, including the commoner right up to Gandhi?s fellow leaders were greatly affected by his ideologies and the revolutionary struggle itself. After examining the letters, tremendous insight is garnered into the real effects the revolution had on the individuals who battled in its name.
Revolutionary struggles arise from intense pressure on all aspects of a society; political tension, economic tension, and general dissatisfaction of the population all contribute to the revolutionary situation. By examining numerous factors involving both internal and external conditions, historians are given a clear indication of how a revolutionary struggle is conducted and ultimately whether or not it is successful. But in my opinion, much more is needed to determine the true means of revolution. Factors themselves do not produce ideologies; they do not fight for a cause, they do not die for a cause. Internal and external factors do in fact play a significant role in determining whether or not a revolution will occur and to some extent the means by which a revolution is conducted. However, it is people who ultimately decide the revolutions fate. 
Historians tend to overlook the importance of the individual when analyzing revolution and instead focus too intently on conditions and traditional ?theories? of revolution. Mahatma Gandhi was all too aware of the importance of the individual and based his entire movement on this fact. By adhering to the individuals? concerns, Gandhi was able to create a mass-movement founded on national symbols and individual participation. In the end, Gandhi?s revolution was ultimately successful not due to the numerous internal and external factors surrounding British rule, but instead on the tremendous willpower of his leadership and the individuals who subscribed wholeheartedly to his method and ideologies.

In Sweden, Canada is 'Kanada' and nobody is circumcised

I just watched a Peter Forsberg interview completely in Swedish. I know he's a Swedish guy and all, but he lives in America and now plays (again) for the Colorado Avalanche. It just seemed weird for him to be speaking Swedish.
On a related note, the Swedes spell 'Canada' with a 'K'! For some reason this is immensely satisfying to me. It also raises some questions. Why do other languages spell and pronounce countries differently? Why can't all countries just be spelled in their native languages. America is always 'America', Germany is always 'Deutschland' and Sweden is always 'Sverige.' Why have languages come in and changed everything? And how the hell did we get the word 'Germany' from 'Deutschland' anyway?
Finally, on a completely unrelated note, Dane would fit in marvelously in Sweden! Apparently circumcision is a very American (and Muslim, and Jewish) tradition, and it has definitely not spread to the Nordic countries. Why this conversation came up tonight I do not know, but after some fact-checking on Wiki, I've determined that I'm decidedly in the minority. Maybe it's a warmth issue or something.

Interesting Quotes from Interesting Musicians

"I absolutely feel crazy at times. Anybody who turns on the TV and actually thinks about what they're watching has to believe they're going insane or that they're missing something everyone else is seeing. When I watch the Fox News Channel, I can't believe how much nerve those people have and how they assume that people are just going to swallow that shit. And I find myself thinking that I must be missing something."
-Thom Yorke, Radiohead
"I'm almost scared to say this, but I'm really starting to believe George W. Bush wants to experience the Rapture in his lifetime."
-Jeff Tweedy, Wilco
"You can't go home with the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. You don't sleep with the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. You don't get hugged by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and you don't have children with the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I want what everybody else wants: to love and to be loved, and to have a family. Being in love has always been the most important thing in my life."
-Billy Joel

At the Weekend

Monotony was starting to set in, so we opened a bottle of wine and sat on the balcony in winter jackets and scarves and we drank. We spoke about the future mostly, and joked about what we must have looked like to the neighbors across the way, had they taken two seconds to look out the window. Our balcony doesn't have the best of views, overlooking a gravel-covered road that doesn't allow cars, and a two-story brick apartment building (identical to ours and the dozen or so others around the complex) provides the dismal backdrop. But if you stared into the sliver of black sky that poked out from under the overhanging roof, you could see the stars through the haze of our frozen breaths, and that's why we sat there.

Choosing red wine seemed like a good idea at first (I always prefer red wine in winter, while in summer it's best to drink wheat beer). As the time passed the wine became too cool, and I wished it had been white instead. We hid the opened bottle inside the closed balcony door to preserve what warmth we could. I've been quietly looking forward to the warmer climes of the Caribbean, and she has been troubling over a decision to switch schools. I spent a large part of my wine recalling old memories of my college classes and just what the Tourism program was like back home. With no resolution, but both feeling alive, we drained the last of our glasses and returned to the warmth of our apartment, and I wished I was outside again.

The next morning I made breakfast for myself and a cup of coffee for the wallpaper man. The house was disassembled, the dining table, couch, chairs, plants and small refrigerator all piled on top of one another in the center of the room ensconced in protective plastic. The man was painting the ceiling a bright white, and he wasn't sloppy. The old wallpaper had been torn down the day before, and the walls were bare, save for vertical white stripes of leftover glue. After attempting a brief conversation in misunderstood Swedish with the wallpaper man, I bounded out the door, my bag stuffed full of what I'd need to spend a day on the streets of Uppsala. I had my laptop, my book (Sterling Hayden's Wanderer), my spiral notebook, my Speedo and goggles (but no towel – I'd regret this), a thermos full of milk, a Ziploc full of muesli, leftover hummus sharing space in an old Tupperware container with some broken pieces of knackebrot, and two containers of whole wheat pasta. I pedaled into town on my newly acquired girls bike with the green frame and blue seat that was six inches too low for me.

My days have been spent exercising, writing, reading, and trying to do interesting things so that I have something interesting to write about. I sat down in a small café, Café Linne, my favorite spot in Uppsala to have a cup of coffee, but since I stopped drinking coffee this week I had a cup of tea. The cups they serve tea in are enormous, and I'd pee about six times that day, and it became very difficult to focus on a cohesive essay when I constantly had the urge to relieve myself. I got through editing an essay I planned on sending to a magazine. Then I focused on a few blog entries, drank some more tea, peed a few more times, and headed to the library where I devoured every word of a recent Spinsheet magazine, "researching."

I was in a wine mood that evening. I returned smelling like Chlorine because I didn't shower with soap after swimming in the pool. 2000 solid meters of training interspersed with tips on my form as she swam circles around me, and I became frustrated. I'm fitter than most, so why am I so freaking slow in the pool? The apartment resembled something like normalcy, save for the pile of crap that remained in the center of the living room. The plastic was gone, and the walls now glowed a soft lime green, which was supposed to be striped and grey but the wallpaper man couldn't follow directions. I organized the place, even going as far as re-installing the psychedelic curtains and watering the plants. Our blue couch does not match the green walls.

Since I was supposed to meet her for a drink after work, I opened a bottle of wine. It was cheap and Italian and tasted cheap but didn't taste Italian. I drank the whole bottle and then got on my bike again, feeling like a superhero, and rode into town faster than I ever had before, my scarf trailing heroically in the breeze behind me. Toward the castle I flew, and I descended upon the town, where she waited for me on the bridge. We turned a corner and crossed under an ancient iron gate into an enclosed yard filled with large oak trees. The pub was down the cement steps of an old basement, and the entrance was two steel doors set at a 45-degree angle, opened towards the sky, the kind that hid the entrance to your best friends basement where you'd go to hide and play army with nerf crossbows. They asked me for my ID, to which I obliged, and they did not ask for a cover fee. We emerged into a small room with brick walls that gently curved inwards and formed the arched ceiling, low enough that I had to duck in places. Small alcoves with protective iron grates on either side of the room housed candles that provided the light and the ambience. Nirvana's Unplugged in New York played loud enough to hear, but soft enough to enjoy, and my 5th glass of wine tasted remarkable.

She worked again the following morning, but not too early, and we enjoyed an enormous breakfast together. My mind was submerged in fog, but I was not hung-over, and I set out before her, bag packed again, but this time for fun and not work. The bus to Stockholm was to leave at 10:40am, and I only left the apartment at about 10:33, nervously walk-running to the stop where I met her friend Karin, pronounced Car-in. We made small talk about Sweden and traveling and tea, and once we hit the open road I dove into my book and didn't emerge until well within the city limits. My astounding sense of direction was of no use when we got off the bus, because I did not know the destination. I was at the mercy of Karin, and resigned to the role of follower as we rode the escalator downhill.

She finally showed up about six hours later as I was making dinner for us all. The first glass of wine evaporated the fog in my brain, and the second only made me sleepy. The third heightened my senses, and the fourth put my in a decidedly cheerful mood. I ate far more than I should have on Saturday evening, including an entire steak, a large fillet of salmon, two football-sized baked potatoes drowning in olive oil, grilled Portobello mushrooms, zucchini and a salad. I topped it all off with a chocolate-filled banana that spent 10 minutes melting in the oven and about one minute melting in my mouth.

We rode the train back to Uppsala because I love riding the train in Europe, a method of travel that somehow went the way of the covered wagon in America. I began the journey reading my book, and writing my own story in my head. My mind speeds along with words and sentences, yet I struggle to put them on paper. Every waking hour I spend rehashing my life and trying to figure out how to make it sound interesting when the stories flood the pages in my head. In a moment of clarity I immediately put down my book and spent the duration of the train trip staring out the window and watching the scenery go by. I experienced the present and at that moment detached my brain from it's longing of the past and restrained it from speeding into the future.

I decided then to start doing things worth writing about. I thought to myself, if I want to write a book about my life someday, now is the time to fill the pages with experience. The writing will be easy then.

The scenery drifted by, and my right arm supported my head, while she stroked the forearm of my left with her soft fingers. She has hands that are difficult to describe, but are the first thing I noticed about her long ago. Hands were the first things I noticed about every girl I've ever laid a curious eye on, and if they were not right, the girl was immediately dismissed. Her hands were right. When we met, they were athletic but unmistakably feminine, and they were perfectly proportioned, the knuckles not too big but not too small either, and when she nonchalantly rested a hand on a knee, they assumed an aesthetically pleasing form that I usually associate with boats and cars and mountains. The only other person with hands as perfect as hers that I've ever met was my high school gym teacher, but she was a foot shorter than me.

Most of the way we saw farmland and horse racing tracks and green forests with grey rocks in them and no snow and it could have been Berks County but no, it was Sweden. The train stopped and we got off and we walked the few miles back towards our apartment. I rode the one bike we had between us while she sat on the back, her hands securely around my waist. We waited until we were on the bike path though, so the police wouldn't catch us like they did two weeks ago when I pedaled, drunk, into town to see a band. Then we got home, she went to work, and I commenced reading, then writing some. I tried to fix myself a hot drink with rum and fresh squeezed orange juice, because alcohol always makes me write better and we were out of wine, but it tasted terrible so I poured it in the sink. Darkness had settled in long ago, and the hour approached 10:00pm. I read what I had written, and I was pleasantly surprised by the words like I always am after completing an essay, and then I wanted to go outside in the dark and run, because I wanted to have something more to write about later, but I couldn't.