Alexandersmap

    Month: March 2020

    • Je Suis Vivant

      I thought I was doing pretty well learning French until the four people in the row ahead of me on a flight back when the world was almost normal started speaking rapid-fire French to each other and I realized I have a long way to go. It was like putting a student driver in the Grand Prix. And that’s okay; it’s a journey not a test. Those four people couldn’t speak much English but it didn’t stop them from traveling to a country where relatively few would throw them a bone and know and speak French (welcome to America!). I saw myself in those four, back when I was stumbling through Portuguese while driving across the country and falling in love with the adventure of it all. You don’t need to speak to communicate, you just need to find common ground.

      “Add up the sum of our days and that’s who we are. We get what we repeat.” – Seth Godin

      The world is in a collective, forced re-evaluation of what matters. I was suffering from bottled-up wanderlust before COVID-19, and I was traveling a lot the last six months prior… but it seems still not enough. Now that I’m camped out at home I’m finding myself less concerned about FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) and just living. Learning a bit of French every day, sticking with the habits that build up a life, whether you’re traveling or sitting at home. Eventually I’ll get to put my limited French vocabulary to the test in Quebec or Paris, but for now I’ll keep on plugging away at it.

      Travel is often the highlighted passages in our life journal and an opportunity to broaden our awareness of the world and our place in it. It’s a vehicle for growth, teaching you humility gently… and sometimes abruptly. It’s living with a purpose many don’t find in their day-to-day existence. Travel heightens observation and slows down time in that particular moment. That makes it a drug of sorts, making us feel more alive. The pauses in between travel, or between growth in general, offer us an opportunity to contribute, to give something back to the universe.

      I’ve got this restlessness bursting inside of me most of the time, but strangely now doesn’t seem to be one of those times. I recognize the need for a collective pause given the circumstances. Instead of sipping a cocktail while watching surfers in the setting sun in Sagres I’m watching the deer, camouflaged and stealthy, walk single file through the woods beyond the old stone wall that pre-dates the deer and the observer alike. I listen to the sound of water heating in the kettle for a second cup of caffeine. I feel the coolness on the tile floor on my bare feet. It seems the senses are still alive and well, observing the world and all that’s in it. Eventually we’ll be let free to wander once again. Being fully alive until then seems the least we could do. Je suis vivant, et toi?

    • Living Heartily

      “I’m not the river
      that powerful presence.
      And I’m not the black oak tree
      which is patience personified.
      And I’m not redbird
      who is a brief life heartily enjoyed.
      Nor am I mud nor rock nor sand
      which is holding everything together.
      No, I am none of these meaningful things, not yet.      ”
      – Mary Oliver, I’m Not The River

      I walked outside barefoot to a chorus of woodland song early this morning. Robins and cardinals and even those clever rascals the crows were all singing to each other at the edge of the woods where humans begin. Birds don’t give a thought to human worries about COVID-19 or mortgage payments or how many steps show up on your watch. No, they go on living heartily, not thinking about the briefness of the duration but working hard to ensure this particular moment isn’t their last.

      It’s Spring in New England. The world wakes up similarly to the way it woke up yesterday, but there’s a slight shift in attitude. The mild winter and a pandemic cancelling everything normal in life and Mookie Betts dumped for money and Tom Brady moving on all make this Spring feel different from any other in my memory, but walking out into the morning chorus you see it’s all the stories we tell ourselves. We’re all just living this brief moment and trying to live another day. Stoicism offers a guide to living more powerfully.  To accept fate (Amor Fati) and our ultimate fate (Memento Mori), and to apply this knowledge, this understanding of the world, to embrace every moment.

      “It’s time you realized that you have something in you more powerful and miraculous than the things that affect you and make you dance like a puppet.” – Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

      I’m working on things just as we all are. Holding things and people together, working to be patient with this world around me, working on small, daily improvement. Living heartily might seem a challenge right now, but it’s more important than ever. I’d think it was a lot more challenging a hundred or a thousand years ago. No, we live in relative comfort compared to those before us. They’d surely laugh at the things we call hardship. We can hold it all together and get beyond this too. Walking barefoot out to greet this first day of Spring and embrace the chorus seems a good first step. But there’s so much more to do with this day, isn’t there?

    • Carrying The Weight of a Black Swan

      It seems I don’t meet the criteria for high risk with COVID-19.  That’s a blessing isn’t it?  Or is it a curse?  Depends on how you feel I suppose.  Personally I feel fine, outside of some lung irritation that’s either allergies flaring up or the virus that dominates our lives.  Who knows?  Maybe if our country had taken the opportunity to stockpile tests I’d know.  Finger-pointing won’t help anything right now, but I’ll remember with my vote in November as those previously elected either step up or stumble through this.

      That said, beyond the tragedies that are unfolding around the world, I believe that in ways we won’t recognize for a long time this pandemic is going to strengthen us as a society. Collectively we become more resilient through adversity.  And boy, we’re wading deep into it now.  We collectively have an opportunity for growth.

      When the world feels a bit more challenging than usual, revisiting some old books seems appropriate. One book I’d recommend is The Obstacle Is The Way, by Ryan Holiday. I’ve re-read this a couple of times, and credit Holiday along with Tim Ferriss for pointing me towards the stoic philosophers. Stoicism, history and poetry have been the core of my reading for some time now, pushing fiction and business books further to the side. And this quote jumped out at me as I scanned previously highlighted insights from his book:

      “It’s almost a cliché at this point, but the observation that the way to strengthen an arch is to put weight on it—because it binds the stones together, and only with tension does it hold weight—is a great metaphor. The path of least resistance is a terrible teacher. We can’t afford to shy away from the things that intimidate us. We don’t need to take our weaknesses for granted.” – Ryan Holiday, The Obstacles Is The Way

       As a society we’ve had a massive viral weight dumped on us. This is the very definition of a black swan event. How shall we remember this time? With the vast majority of people rising to the occasion or for the toilet paper hoarders and people stocking up on ammunition should things reach a level of madness none of us are imagining now. I’m in the “rise to the occasion” camp, and I hope you are too. We get to choose how we react to the events around us. History will remember the hero’s, fanatics and fools. I know which group I aspire to be in.

    • Working [Out] From Home

      If there’s any benefit to the current situation, it’s a spotlight shining on my home exercise equipment, most notably my Concept II Rowing Ergometer.  There are no excuses at the moment for not using it, or the weights or treadmill, or for simply going for a walk at least once a day.  I’m starting another streak today for consecutive days on the erg and consecutive days walking 10K or more steps.  I lost my previous streaks in both from heavy travel commitments for the first 11 weeks of 2020, but that seems like a distant memory now.

       Rowing 5000 meters per day doesn’t take much time, let’s call it 21-24 minutes for an average fitness level man (hey, that’s me!), but does a world of good for the body and mind. Walking 10,000 steps outdoors offers fitness, fresh air, some vitamin D and maybe a chance to see other humans from a safe distance. What a combination! Lifting weights a few times a week builds strength and fat-burning muscle. Combine all three and suddenly we’re in beach body shape by the time this curve is flattened.

      We all have the time to exercise. Use the commute time for exercise. Use some screen time for exercise. Use the excuse time for exercise. Just do it already. Maybe keep those lungs clear in the process. That alone seems a worthy goal. There’s no time like this crazy time to recommit to fitness. See you on the walk?

    • Dancing With Perhaps

      “I have a lot of edges called Perhaps and almost nothing you can call Certainty.” – Mary Oliver, Angels

      I’m a big believer in Perhaps, though I know Certainty has its place in this world. Certainty dances in the world of STEM. I’m grateful for Certainty and those who pursue it, but I like where Perhaps dances. Those who know me know that I use the word often, and likely too much. So be it, I find Certainty less… fascinating. So it was a delight to read Mary Oliver’s poem and read that line. Why did it take me so long to get around to it, I wonder? Dabbling too much in the world of Certainty I suppose.

      You want Certainty? Certainty is a kettle whistling when the water boils enough that steam trapped inside screams to get out, now! How many mornings have I been quietly lost in thought, reading or writing when that kettle calls for my immediate attention? Countless. And I appreciate Certainty knocking on my forehead now and then, prodding me back to reality. I don’t especially like to linger in Certainty but I find it comforting to visit once in awhile.

      Mary’s famous line from “Angels” is this:

      “I don’t care how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. It’s enough to know that for some people they exist, and that they dance.” – Mary Oliver, Angels

      I don’t think all that much of angels dancing on pins either, but do I think of ghosts whispering history when I arrive at places of significance and listen raptly as the oaks welcome me back to their woods. Places speak, if you’ll listen and observe. There is no better practitioner of observation than the poet. Sure, scientists do pretty well too, but I’d contend that they’re secretly poets with a formal education. But what of religion? Isn’t that Certain? Believers might tell you there’s Certainty in the Bible. I’d contend that there’s far more Perhaps in the Bible than Certainty. Zealots arrive at Certainty about their religious views or their political views or their social views and work to impose Certainty on others. We get in trouble when too many people arrive at a Certainty that conflicts with the other guy’s Certainty. Leave room for Perhaps.

      So we’ve entered a strange new world, stranger than the world we’ve been living in for some time now (and that was pretty strange indeed). It seems a good time to look inward, to turn off the panic news and read the works of those who came before us. The poets and Stoics and Transcendentalists and philosophers. They dealt with far more uncertainty and death than we have (they’re all dead after all). Shouldn’t we learn more from them?

      Whatever you believe, leave a little room for Perhaps. That’s where you’ll find me most of the time. Come visit now and then if you like. I’d certainly like that.

    • Breaking Ropes

      “If you don’t break your ropes while you’re alive
      do you think
      ghosts will do it after?”
      – Kabir

      When the world is upside down and stress boils up inside you, how do you set it free? I release it slowly on long walks, or feel it melt away listening to immersive music like the album Beyond The Missouri Sky (Short Stories) by Charlie Haden and Pat Metheny, or reading some Mary Oliver poetry (Thanks, Mary for the Kabir quote). I don’t often get stressed out, but the world can creep up on you sometimes. Tonight after a day of work and a few home renovation hurdles I was about at my limit. So I made mine a double: poetry and music. I listened to Missouri Sky twice before I forgot what I was stressed about. Turns out it wasn’t anything all that important.

      So back to Kabir; Part of my stress is a desire to get out and see the world, but blocked by ropes of my own making and a few that fate threw at us all. Seeing the world shut down in profound, unprecedented ways is a bit of a curveball, isn’t it? London, Scotland and even Nashville seem a long time ago. But this is no time for casual travel. No, not right now. Now we collectively try to flatten the damned curve. But there are other ropes to break besides travel. And it turns out those ropes are best broken with time and effort and isolation and thought.

      Life is short and unpredictable, and who can’t see that now? Given that, when else are you going to step up and break a few ropes that are holding you back? Seems now is really the only time to do it. Those Northern Lights and the Southern Cross will have to wait for healthier days. And my God I hope they return soon, I won’t waste a moment getting to them given the opportunity. Until then, break those writing ropes. Break those learning ropes. And let yourself free.

    • Let Setbacks Deepen Your Resolve

      “When aiming for the top, your path requires an engaged, searching mind. You have to make obstacles spur you to creative new angles in the learning process. Let setbacks deepen your resolve. You should always come off an injury or a loss better than when you went down. Another angle on this is the unfortunate correlation for some between consistency and monotony. It is all too easy to get caught up in the routines of our lives and to lose creativity in the learning process.” – Josh Waitzkin, The Art Of Learning

      I have two college kids who are looking at the next few weeks of online learning, cancelled events at school and the real possibility that the semester will be spent remotely. That’s a tough hand to be dealt to a college Junior, and even tougher for a college Senior. But that’s the world we live in at the moment. There’s nothing routine about a pandemic. Perhaps that jolt to our collective routine will spur unparalleled creativity and advancement. Perhaps we’ll collectively all watch Netflix. I hope for the former.

      When Waitzkin points out the unfortunate correlation for some between consistency and monotony, he includes the important qualifier for some. He rose to be one of the best in the world in a couple of very different pursuits (chess and martial arts) because he embraced monotonous routine instead of becoming bored and moving on to some other pursuit. Don’t we owe it to ourselves to find the magic in our own routine? How else do you achieve mastery?

      Today is the first day of working from home for a lot of people. I’ve worked from home for years, but always sprinkled with travel and meetings. I love activity, and now I need to focus on a different kind of activity. But so does everyone else. Included in that are a couple of twenty-somethings who get to experience a completely different college experience. We’re all on a new learning routine, every one of us, with new obstacles highlighting the frailties of our old routines. Time to step up – ready?

    • RCA Studio B

      Elvis used to book his studio time from 6 PM until 7 AM Monday morning at RCA’s Studio B in Nashville and just crank out the songs. After one of these sessions he walked outside to a waiting Army Jeep to report for draft service. You walk into that studio today and it looks a lot like it did then. Same floor and walls, same light fixtures that Elvis requested (“mood lighting”), and same piano Elvis played. The room reverberates Elvis, and it’s fair to say he was the biggest of a long list of performers who have recorded in this studio for the last 6 decades since Roy Acuff built the studio in 1956. . When you walk in there’s a “Wall of Elvis” hits recorded in this studio. Young Elvis was prolific, working hard and building the legend. That wall shows some of his work.

      There’s a certain sound in this room that carries across everyone who’s recorded here. Its an echoing richness to the songs that is very distinctive in songs recorded in Studio B. That sound became known as the “Nashville Sound”. Listen to Jim Reeves (“Welcome To My World“), Dolly Patton’s “I Will Always Love You“, Floyd Cramer’s “Last Date“, The Everly Brothers’ “All I Have To Do Is Dream” and Roy Orbison’s “Only The Lonely (Know The Way I Feel)” are all examples of that sound, all recorded right there in that room.

      The best story I heard about the room was Elvis’ recording of “Are You Lonesome Tonight“. As with all recordings then, it was a single track – you either got it right or you didn’t. The song was recorded in the dark, with all the musicians playing and harmonizing by the glow of a single red light. Towards the very end of the recording Elvis bumped his head on the microphone stand. If you listen to the song you’ll hear the click right at the end of the song. They left it in then and it remains to this day.

      As a music lover it was a bit surreal to be in that room as they played a few of the songs recorded right in the very place. You feel like you’re in a time warp in a way, the walls embrace the sounds and you and in a way you are timeless with that song. Some of the instruments haven’t left that room since they were used in the recordings. I felt a bit like I did when I stood in The Cavern in Liverpool; this was where it all happened. I often write about the ghosts of history whispering in your ear when you visit a place of significance. RCA Studio B is surely a place of significance, but the whispers here are heard around the globe in that Nashville Sound, deep and rich with a little hiss from the recording tape. Magic.

      Elvis’s piano, still in Studio B and still being used today

    • A Mirror of Roughness and Honesty

      “The water of a pond is a mirror of roughness and honesty—it gives back not only my own gaze, but the nimbus of the world trailing into the picture on all sides…

      All things are meltable, and replaceable. Not at this moment, but soon enough, we are lambs and we are leaves, and we are stars, and the shining, mysterious pond water itself.” – Mary Oliver, Upstream

      We’re all connected, and that’s never been more apparent. If that pond is indeed a mirror of roughness and honesty it surely tells us a lot about ourselves right now. Political divisiveness, nationalism and now a pandemic all collectively dance around us, joining our “normal” complexities in life, and all a reflective nimbus as we stare at ourselves in that pond. What’s new to us isn’t new to humanity. It’s all been here before and returns once again to show we still have a ways to go.

      I have a lot to write about after this week’s trip to Nashville, but like London and Scotland last fall I’m stepping away for now with stories unwritten. The stories are still fresh but the mind is restless. Stories have their time: This isn’t the time for those I’d planned to write. The weight of the pandemic can weigh you down. Worry about what you can control, not what you can’t. Don’t get roped into the news cycle, but do educate yourself on what to do to get by. I’ve managed to be around way more people than I would have liked this month, but took what precautions I could save scrapping everything and living in isolation.

      “I remember once when I was walking with my teacher Ajahn Chah he pointed to a boulder in a field and asked, “Is that heavy?” I replied, “Yes, of course.” Ajahn Chah smiled and said “Not if you don’t pick it up.” – Jack Kornfield

      There were plenty of people being cavalier about this pandemic in Nashville and in memes on social media. It’s gallows humor on the one hand, but there’s also a bit of active denial going on. I saw many people not “picking it up” over the last few days. Hell, I could be accused of that myself given the travel. Don’t carry the weight of the world, but own your own behavior. All things are meltable and replaceable, and it appears that we’re entering a reckoning.

      So what to do now? Travel is done, hope you didn’t pick up COVID-19. Now continue good hygiene and increase level of social isolation in earnest until you’re sure A) you didn’t pick up the virus already and spread it to others and B) help flatten the curve. Carefully analyze every cough and sneeze. And dive right into the work that needs to be done at home, or find a way to move the chains forward while working from home. But just to keep a sense of optimism, I’m going to plant some basil tomorrow. Gardening brings normalcy back to life, even in rough times. Maybe take a long walk. Far from people of course. Two nice ways to shed some of the weight of the world.

    • The Honky-Tonk Line Between Order and Chaos

      If you like live music, Nashville is your place. If you believe right now mitigation and social distancing are in order, well, it’s not optimal. Every honky-tonk bar you walk by has the back of a drummer facing you and music playing. It must be a madhouse during a normal SEC tournament (cancelled this year), or a normal Spring Break (extended for most out of an abundance of caution), or a normal year for that matter. As everyone knows now, 2020 hasn’t been a normal year. But people here are determined to dance the news away. Broadway in New York has shut down. Walking down Broadway in Nashville the music and neon pulls you in, the sounds of celebration are still there. It turns out there are still people jamming into clubs despite the news. It’s just… tempered a bit. There aren’t as many people but the music is throbbing and people are jamming together dancing and flirting and drinking. There’s a spirit of celebration in this city that’s great to see and be a part of. Just not this particular week.

      I’m not oblivious to the threat, and wash my hands often. Hand sanitizer stations are everywhere and I’m using them. I’m practicing what can be considered social distancing in downtown Nashville, but know the risks are very high here in the clubs. We sat outside in a rooftop bar, but you still wade through humanity when you use the bathrooms or get a drink. Again, not optimal. I brought alcohol swabs to wipe down phones and such but I’m not naive, we’re swimming in the Petri dish being out. There are no surgical mask-wearing dancers bobbing on that dance floor. When I get home I’m self-quarantining myself just to be sure I’m not spreading anything I might have gotten to others.

      This trip was scheduled before the acceleration into madness but we knew what was about to happen. Two days earlier and we’d have thought less about it. Two days later and we would have cancelled. You dance along that line between order and chaos, hoping you don’t lose your balance. Americans love to debate, ignore the future for the present too much, and are resistant to change, but we rally when you punch us in the mouth. That punch hasn’t fully landed on the jaw but the gut punch that preceded it this week has taken the collective breath out of people. Out of an abundance of caution is a familiar phrase to everyone now, even if they aren’t showing it in the honky-tonks just yet.

      Tomorrow seems a long time away with the accelerating news of COVID-19. I left fully prepared for the shortages created as people snap up supplies and the supply chain that fills those shelves is impacted. Perhaps we should have shown an abundance of caution with more abundance, but time will be the jury on that now. We’ve lived deliberately, and tomorrow morning we’ll circle the wagons back at home for an extended and hopefully heathy stay. Today? Today we’ll celebrate life with as much social distancing as travel allows. Pass the soap?