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The distance , we thought , would keep most people away . But to our surprise , we discovered that for a certain type of person – the type that Wittgenstein epitomized – the distance and the remoteness were precisely the point . Wittgenstein once wrote that to philosophize is to return to the primeval chaos and be comfortable there . This is part of philosophy ’ s difficulty since ambiguity and uncertainty are typically off-putting . To really dig into a deep philosophical question , one has to get out of one ’ s intellectual comfort zone and acclimate oneself to confusion and disorientation . For many , the trip to Ft . Davis or Terlingua represents a similar difficulty : It is too far from the cities and suburbs that academics typically inhabit . The vast Chihuahua Desert spreading out below the mountains , the mix of sky islands and arid desert landscape , the endless blue sky – all this vast and untamed land can be off-putting and even intimidating for many academics . The drive itself , measured in units of hours and hundreds of miles , presents additional difficulties .

Every year , we hear from people who had initially agreed to present at the conference but who had to back out when it was time to make travel arrangements . Always , the reason is the same : The conference site is too remote , it takes too long to get there , it is too hard . But for us , that is part of the winnowing process : the Southwestern Society of Mind is for those for whom the distance and difficulty is an attraction , not a problem .

The interdisciplinary nature of the conference also carries with it a hint of Wittgenstein ’ s primeval chaos . One never knows what is coming next – a talk on neuropsychology , a disquisition on the philosophy of religion , an interactive art exercise , etc . A narrow specialist who only wants to hear about topics and approaches they are comfortable with will not be happy . But for those who are comfortable with ambiguity and uncertainty , the exposure to new ideas and new ways of thinking can be quite stimulating . Just as entering into the vastness of far West Texas is desirable to a certain kind of person – I would hesitate to try to define that type too rigorously , but those reading this know what I do and do not mean – the openness of the conference also appeals to certain kinds of minds . To plunge into the immensity of the landscape can be tonic for the soul and can renew one ’ s capacity to think and feel . The same can be said for the jumble of topics and approaches in our conference .

The vastness of the region , the dark skies and rugged terrain dotted by small towns and large landholdings , set apart from the congestion of the I-35 corridor where the organizers live , stand apart . One doesn ' t want to romanticize the struggles of life in the Trans-Pecos , many of which might be attributed to the same features that attract us . Likewise , the openness of the conference can also be taken as a defect because it does not allow deep dives into technical details . One must pitch one ’ s talk at a more general level so the uninitiated can understand . It is perhaps always the case that the same thing is advantageous and disadvantageous at the same time , and it is up to individuals to decide which to weigh more heavily . When Wittgenstein went to the far west of Ireland to think and write , he noted the same thing : to be attracted to a place isn ' t to romanticize it but to appreciate it despite the difficulties it has . Wittgenstein consistently returned without ever denying the difficulties of life in rural Ireland in the 1940s and 1950 ' s . Likewise , for the Southwestern Society of Mind , to return annually to the Trans-Pecos is not to naively set it up as a utopia . But it is to affirm there is something in the high desert and mountains of the region that satisfies the soul ' s urges that , has by now been crowded out of the plains of North Texas by superhighways and big box stores – if it ever existed . �

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sounding sea where the “ big river ” reaches the Gulf , music rising above the levees , and cold beer on muggy nights as the tourists passed on their way to the international bridges .

Whenever I reach the mountain pass and the Rio Grande overlook , I always put down the kickstand and look west up the river and south to Mexico . Fairly often , I think of the day with Ann W . Richards and her recuperative eagle taking off from where I usually stand . The only birds I ever see up there are vultures , circling patiently over any animated life form . A solitary eagle is all I ask . The moment Ms . Richards exited Santa Elena Canyon that day and stepped onto the north bank , she had already shed any notions that she might fail and wasted no minutes looking over her shoulder . Unbidden , though , defeat came her way . A corn chip company signed her and another state ’ s governor to a lucrative contract to appear in a few thirty-second TV commercials as she transitioned from a potential presidential candidate to a kind of cultural and political icon , the last Democrat to hold a statewide office in Texas for a quarter-century and counting .

Not all her staffers kept the political faith . A few , when they realized she was no longer bound for the big show in Washington , jumped aboard the next train leaving Austin . One of her communications experts rationalized joining the Bush campaign several years later by using a craven , sexist analogy . He said he saw the future president at a function and felt the same way most men did when they were at a party with their wives and noticed a beautiful woman across the room . The former progressive thinker , and one other Richards ’ wonk , played critical roles in helping Bush win the White House , and then led the messaging campaign to justify the invasion of Iraq .

When the governor died from throat cancer , Mary Lou and I joined a large crowd of people at the public memorial inside a University of Texas sports arena . Amanda was away at college and unable to attend . She had taken the governor ’ s advice and found a campus about as distant from Texas as possible , while still barely inside the confines of the continental United States . She continues to emotionally measure the loss of someone she considered a friend , not just a mentor .

The next month after the memorial , I was back out at Big Bend . I will never be able to stay away from those canyons and the mountain ranges and stark mesas . There is something there inexplicable that wants to be understood . Ancient indigenous people of the region said it was where the Great Spirit dumped extra rocks that were not used in the creation of the world , and Mexican vaquero poets explained Big Bend by claiming it is “ where rainbows go to wait for the rain .”

Those are beautifully descriptive sentiments , but I have an unfailing , singular memory of Big Bend as a place of eagles , their great grace and beauty adding to the epic landscape . The only sadness in my memory is the certain knowledge that all eagles will , eventually , fly away . �

Cenizo