Alexandersmap

    Month: February 2021

    • Twice the Fun: Mount Israel & Beede Falls

      Not every amazing hike is over 4000 feet. In New Hampshire there are other lists besides the 4K list, lists like 52 with a view, which offers some beautiful views with a bit less effort than the 4000 footers. For a warm Sunday with snow melting into snowball-making consistency, a couple of friends invited me to join them on a hike of Mount Israel and for a bonus, a visit to Beede Falls, one of the waterfalls on my personal checklist to see in 2021.

      A bit of history is in order. Mount Israel is named for a settler named Israel Gilman, who lived near the trailhead for this mountain. There’s still an active farm near that trailhead, and it’s easy to imagine the land in the 1760’s when Gilman was walking around this place. Mount Israel is located in Sandwich, New Hampshire, which also has a bit of history in its name. The town of Sandwich is named for the 4th Earl of Sandwich, John Montagu, supposedly the inventor of the sandwich. Given that, I made a point of packing a sandwich for the hike, in honor of the Earl (or whomever it was, lost to history, who made sandwiches for him).

      The hike began at Mead Base in Sandwich, with a straightforward two mile hike up the Wentworth Trail. For those wondering about the name of the trail, a bit more history for you: Sandwich was founded in 1767 from a grant by Governor Benning Wentworth. Another name you’ll come to know is Daniel Beede, who was chosen to lead the settlement of Sandwich and granted 100 acres. Place names usually betray the history of that place, and if you look hard enough you’ll find Easter eggs like these on maps and street signs.

      I quickly fell in love with the Wentworth Trail. It winds through old growth oak and pine trees, with some tree trunks four feet in diameter – exceedingly rare around here. The snow cover acted as a spotlight on the biggest trees in the forest. I was smitten with one oak tree that had to be a witness to the transition from Native American land to English settlement. Further up, the trail wound around granite ledge and hemlocks, offering glimpses out to Squam Lake and the surrounding ridge line.

      The summit of Mount Israel is 2620 feet with 1900 feet of elevation. Despite its modest height relative to some of the other mountains in New Hampshire, it didn’t disappoint in views or the stunning beauty of the trail itself. Steep enough for a workout, short enough to give you time for other adventures. We made short work of the trail and before we knew it we were back at the trailhead at Mead Base and Act II.

      A half mile from the trailhead is another wonder worth visiting, Beede Falls, which is named after our friend Daniel Beede. The walk itself is wonderful, with granite ledge and scattered glacial erratics lining the edge of the trail. A large cave named Cow Cave offered a quick distraction. It was so named by some cows that decided to shelter inside the cave one day deep in the past. The cave was interesting, to be sure, but the real show was Beede Falls.

      In late February the falls were largely frozen, and we walked out on the ice that must be a lovely swimming hole on a hot summer day. The amazing part of Beede Falls in looking at them from behind. The falls froze solid in front, but you can access the back from the left and right side, and crawling behind them offered a magical trip into an icy palace. Water cascaded from the granite ledge, plunging between the icy wall you see on the outside and the cave formed behind. There’s just enough room to go all the way through it if you’re adventurous and don’t mind getting a little wet.

      In all our days on this earth, how often can you say that you got to see the world from the summit of a small mountain and from the crawlspace behind a waterfall in the space of a couple of hours? If you’re blessed with good health and mobility, then surely life is to be lived fully. Adventures like this one are within reach of most of us. All you’ve got to do is get out there.

      Frozen Beede Falls
      Ice wall in cave behind the falls
      Summit of Mount Israel

    • Be a Thoroughbred

      “What is courage? Let me tell you what I think it is. An indefinable quality that makes a man put out that extra something, when it seems there is nothing else to give. I dare you to be better than you are. I dare you to be a thoroughbred.” – Herb Brooks

      It was purely an oversight on my part to ignore the 40th anniversary of the Miracle on Ice that took place at Lake Placid when the upstart kids from the United States defeated the USSR hockey machine at the Olympics. I’ve been to Lake Placid twice since those Olympics, and stepped inside that rink the last time. It was a quiet summer day that time, but the rink was lit up and church-like.

      I didn’t play hockey growing up in Massachusetts, but it felt like everyone else did, especially after that Olympics. Everyone knew who Jim Craig and David Silk and Mike Eruzione were, and everyone knew Herb Brooks. The gruff coach with the incredible wisdom bombs dropped on his teams. Sayings like “Legs feed the wolf” and “You’re playing worse everyday and right now you’re playing like it’s next month” were made famous by Brooks and parroted by coaches and athletes alike. There’s something about an underdog pulling off the miracle upset that inspires a generation, and we were all inspired by that team.

      I watched the movie Miracle again last night. They mostly got the Boston accents right, as right as Hollywood ever gets it anyway. And I suppose the folks in Minnesota cringed at the accents on their side. But the soul of that movie is in honoring Herb Brooks and what he created out of a bunch of kids. Herb passed away before the movie was released, but he was certainly aware they were making it. I think he would have appreciated the whole of it, even if reluctant to be celebrated himself.

      It’s hard not to be inspired by Herb Brooks quotes like the one that opens this blog and the one that follows. They make you want to go out and create your own miracle, really. And isn’t that the point? If a bunch of kids can pull off an upset like that why can’t you and I dare to be thoroughbreds ourselves? And what are we waiting for? It’s not like Herb hasn’t kicked us in the ass with his words. The rest is up to us.

      “Let me start with issuing you a challenge: Be better than you are. Set a goal that seems unattainable, and when you reach that goal, set another one even higher.”

    • The Angel’s Share

      Take a tour of a Scottish distillery and you’ll see the black stains on the sides of buildings and wonder. This is the residual build-up from centuries of evaporation of the angel’s share, the percentage of scotch that evaporates through the casks to go where it will. I’ve often thought of this evaporation process and will offer up a bit more to the angels in my own particular life when having a dram outdoors.

      Yesterday I scanned my to-do list, drew an X in every bullet I’d finished and put an > to every bullet that I simply didn’t get to and had to push to another day. This process of organizing tasks is from the appropriately-named bullet journal method, which transformed my way of managing my to-do lists a few years ago. There’s something satisfying about drawing an X through a nagging bullet, getting it done and knocking that bullet to smithereens. Crossing off the bullet is a supremely satisfying way of patting yourself on the back without making the words disappear as they would if you’d simply crossed out what you’d completed. Why diminish what you’ve accomplished?

      X Wash the dishes (Done!)
      X Write and post the blog (Done!)
      X Row 5K (Done!)

      Simple, yet effective.

      But then there are the arrows (>). Tasks moved to another time, perhaps tomorrow, perhaps in a week. But they’re moved on anyway, to be written on another page.

      The punted tasks, like:
      > Call Rick to schedule meeting (punt)
      > Go to store for printer ink and paper (punt)

      Make no mistake, these punts tortured me for years. I simply couldn’t turn the page and let the day’s tasks be. No, I’d beat myself up for not getting everything on my list done. That voice inside your head that reprimands you for not being more focused, or not working hard enough on what was important… or whatever. Head noise.

      In reality, I tend to put too many things on the list in the first place. By learning to live with them, to kick them forward to another specific day, I’ve stopped beating myself up about what didn’t get done. More frequently now, I think of these punted tasks as the angel’s share. Sorry, internal critic, that one wasn’t meant for me today, that was the angel’s share. Or maybe a future version of me. But since tomorrow isn’t guaranteed we’ll call it the angel’s share.

      Either way I’ve learned to smile a bit and close the book on another day of tasks and events. I’ve done my part for today. And that, friends, is enough. Slàinte Mhath!

    • To Roam the Roads of Lands Remote

      “To move, to breathe, to fly, to float,
      To gain all while you give,
      To roam the roads of lands remote,
      To travel is to live.”
      – Hans Christian Andersen

      Good God I’m ready to roam remote lands again. Exploring faraway places in a world that has shaken off the pandemic and opens its arms in welcome. We aren’t there just yet, we know, but every day we get a bit closer. A year into this and I’m chomping at the bit for the quirky randomness of faraway travel.

      Such thoughts are low agency conspiracies, for the world is right outside, awaiting our arrival. Crossing borders to lands remote may be just out of reach, but crossing thresholds is still very possible. And so the question isn’t the roaming, the question is the focus. I can row a million meters away (and be a different person when I arrive) right in my house, I can time travel in the chair behind me, and I can fly above the earth on snowshoes just outside the door.

      The secret all along? To push through our own borders, wherever we are, is to live. To become by working through. To move. To breathe… to gain all while you give.

    • A Blessed Unrest: Martha Graham in 7 Quotes

      “The only sin is mediocrity.” – Martha Graham

      I only know of Martha Graham, and associate her appropriately with modern dance, which admittedly I wrestle with. I’ve witnessed way too many angst-ridden dance competitions on the journey of my daughter dancing from kindergarten to High School Senior. But I respect the beauty of formal dance (while struggling with the abundance of teen angst), and wanted to understand the genius of Graham through her words. As with other geniuses, her brilliance transcends her art and her life. Speaking of the sin of mediocrity speaks to her passionate pursuit of the exceptional.

      “There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. … No artist is pleased. [There is] no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”

      Do you feel the urgency in those words? I do. I read a quote like that and understand. What is your quickening? Are you translating your vitality through action or wasting it in the trivial pursuits? Graham lived to 97 and packed those years with transformative action. What of our life force?

      “‘Age’ is the acceptance of a term of years. But maturity is the glory of years.”

      Growing older but not up is a state of mind; to remain young at heart. But it can also be an excuse for not getting to where you want to go. The glory of years is an accumulation of life and accomplishments and the ripples that resonate well beyond our time. It’s something to aspire to, not “getting older”, but accumulating maturity.

      “Practice is the means of inviting the perfection desired.”

      There’s no secret in how people reach mastery. We know it intuitively even if we don’t see the hours upon hours of work that go into muscle memory. These are the layers of competence that stack up to brilliance. Put in the time, do the work, make the mistakes, and reach for the next level. It’s the only way.

      “Some men have thousands of reasons why they cannot do what they want to, when all they need is one reason why they can”

      What is your why? Why are you doing all this in the first place? What whispers in your ear and prods you along? Without your why you’re just going through the motions. And what a waste that is.

      “Movement never lies. It is a barometer telling the state of the soul’s weather to all who can read it.”

      For all our words, our thoughts are betrayed by our bodies. You see it in how someone greets you, how someone answers a pointed question, and in how they dance with the world around them. We frequently won’t listen to what our gut is telling us, instead only believing what the mind is telling us to believe. Not wanting to be ignored, the gut tells the world what we won’t hear in ourselves.

      “Think of the magic of the foot, comparatively small, upon which your whole weight rests. It’s a miracle and the dance is a celebration of that miracle.”

      I’m not much of a dancer, not like those well-choreographed, practiced dancers people naturally circle on the dance floor in reverence, but I like to dance my own clydesdale celebratory dance anyway. Someday when the pandemic is over and weddings and other such gatherings seem appropriate again, we’ll find ourselves on a dance floor somewhere and we will rise up to celebrate life in all its glory. The celebration of that miracle – our being, our aliveness, the magic of it all, was the why in Graham’s life, and shouldn’t it be in our own lives as well? For we dance with life in all its complexity, pain and joy. There’s magic in being alive, and that’s reason enough to dance. And to rise up to more.

    • What Are You Waiting For?

      “Dare to be wise; begin! He who postpones the hour of living rightly is like the rustic who waits for the river to run out before he crosses.” – Horace

      When you really think about it, what are we waiting for? The right time? That river keeps on flowing by and never runs out. We run out.

      Of time… opportunities lost watching it all run by. So then what of this hour? What shall it launch?

      Begin. Do you feel the urgency of time? Do what must be done.

      “Start where you are, use what you have, do what you can” – Arthur Ashe

      Easy for me to say, right? Who am I to challenge you? Make no mistake, I’m dipping a toe in that water myself. For I have my own chasms to cross. The only way across is by putting action where words are and getting to it.

      I like a good challenge. Do you? What can you accomplish, see, or become in ten days? Focus on living rightly in each moment, getting across whatever your river is. From today to March 4th and written about right here on March 5th. Comment on that post if you’ve taken the challenge yourself. What are we waiting for? Hurry! For it’s already slipping away.

    • And Yet it Moves

      The secret of the illusoriness is in the necessity of a succession of moods or objects. Gladly we would anchor, but the anchorage is quicksand. This onward trick of nature is too strong for us: Pero si muove. When at night I look at the moon and stars, I seem stationary, and they to hurry. Our love of the real draws us to permanence, but health of body consists in circulation, and sanity of mind in variety or facility of association. We need change of objects. – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature

      This phrase, Pero si muove, mentioned in passing by Emerson, is famously Galileo Galilei’s. Forced by the Catholic Church to recant the truth of the matter that the earth revolves around the sun, Galileo dropped this little truth bomb after recanting. “Pero si muove” or, “And yet it moves”.

      I think about Galileo’s mic-dropping truth in a particularly dark time for truth in history as reality-based people of the Earth coexist with the buzz of maddening conspiracy theories, flat-Earthers and rigged election believers. The simplicity of truth seems lost in the escalating rhetoric of these online screamers. Imagine for a moment Galileo and Emerson returning to the world of today and listening to this din of despairing dolts. They’d lose all hope in humanity and throw up their hands in despair. There are days when I want to myself. Aren’t we past all this nonsense?

      It’s ironic that all this craziness is happening at a time of brilliant scientific advancement. We see images and hear sounds broadcast from the surface of Mars. We embrace the heroic efforts of the scientific community to develop viable vaccines to fight off COVID, and to stand up a delivery system to get it into the arms of the billions of people on the planet that desperately need it and a return to “normal”. We see the smartest among us looking at the problems humanity has created on this fragile blue ball rotating around the sun and tackling climate change and plastics and clean water and the related list of short-sighted gains that created long-term problems for future generations.

      There’s hope in the world, but there’s also a healthy dose of self-inflicted despair and rage. And we won’t get past it without facing the truth. Pero si muove. Or consider again Emerson’s words: “Our love of the real draws us to permanence, but health of body consists in circulation, and sanity of mind in variety or facility of association. We need change of objects.” I think all of this social isolation has stirred the pot of madness a bit too much. Sanity of mind seems to be a real issue for way too many people looking for something to cling to in the swirling uncertainty of the age.

      I find hope in Galileo’s phrase. For all the forced dogma of his time, the truth prevailed. And it lives on in the majority of people in the world today. There have always been laggards on the bell curve of reality, they just happen to have a louder voice at the moment. Pero si muove. Truth finds a way to shine through in the end. So long as people have the courage to stand for it as Galileo did.

    • To Live is to Function

      “In this symposium my part is only to sit in silence. To express one’s feelings as the end draws near is too intimate a task. But one thought that comes to me as a listener-in. The riders in the race do not stop short when they reach the goal. There is a little finishing canter before coming to a standstill. There is time to hear the kind voice of friends and to say to oneself that the work is done.

      But just as one says that, the answer comes: The race is over, but the work never is done while the power to work remains. The canter that brings you to a standstill need not be only coming to rest. It cannot be while you still live, but to live is to function. That is all there is. And so I end with a line from a Latin poet, who uttered the message more than fifteen-hundred years ago, Death, death, plucks my ear, and says, ‘Live. I am coming.’”
      – Oliver Wendell Holmes (from a radio broadcast when he turned 90)

      This image Holmes painted of cantering after the race is over, living but not quite in the race anymore, lingers. I’ve seen a few people who’s cantering ended sooner than we all wanted, but bless them, they were cantering to the end. Their work was done, and they functioned as best they could until they left us. And whispered a reminder that soon our own race will end, so best run it well.

      The canter that brings you to a standstill need not be only coming to rest.

      My own race took me around a snowy loop in the woods again yesterday, snowshoeing in deep snow, following cross-country ski tracks in a quiet patch of woods that doesn’t see a lot of action from the conservation land walking crowd. Just me and a trusty map, making my way alone in the woods, working up a sweat with a brisk pace as I broke trail next to the ski tracks. This, the morning after, I stepped out of bed gingerly to test the legs and found myself doing okay. Looking back on February so far, I’ve gotten out to snowshoe or hike most days. For I’m still very much in the race, after all, and far be it from me to start cantering now.

      To live is to function – to be out there in the world doing. A challenge to us all from Holmes, all those years ago. To be engaged with those around you, to be charging around the track of life all frothy and full of joyous exuberance at full gallop. Holmes was a Civil War veteran, wounded in battle, a Harvard-educated lawyer who rose up to the Supreme Court and the oldest serving member of that court. A living link between Lincoln and Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He lived in Mattapoisett and Beverly, Massachusetts and by all accounts lived a rich, full life during his own time in the race.

      Death, death, plucks my ear, and says, ‘Live. I am coming.’

      How do you read these words spoken by Oliver Wendell Holmes nearly a hundred years ago? As a reminder to get out and live while you’re still in the race? Or as a dark reminder that death is coming for us all? To me the only choice is the former. To have Holmes quote the stoics near the end of his own life, well into his cantering years, is a wake-up call for the generations lining up for the races after his own. Fast forward to today and now it’s our race. So how shall we run it?

    • Considering the Music of 1973

      Oh, give me the beat, boys, and free my soul
      I want to get lost in your rock ‘n’ roll
      And drift away

      Dobie Gray didn’t write Drift Away, Mentor Williams wrote it. But Dobie made it an international hit. The right mix of sing along, stirring lyrics and his silky soulful voice made it magical. I go about with life, forgetting about a song like this for a time, and then hear it on the radio or shuffled on a playlist of songs and it washes over me all over again, bringing me back to the first memories of hearing it. Dobie’s version was released in 1973, by all measures a very good year for music, with some of the greatest songs ever written released that year.

      Consider these ten 1973 classics:
      Give Me Love (Give Me Peace On Earth)
      Ramblin Man
      Let’s Get It On
      Just You ‘N’ Me
      Angie
      Money
      Bad, Bad Leroy Brown
      Over the Hills and Far Away
      Jet
      Love, Reign o’er Me

      And that’s just scratching the surface. Big albums were released in 1973, including Dark Side of the Moon, Band on the Run, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Houses of the Holy and Quadrophenia. Individual songs were brilliant, but this was the peak era of albums, when the entire record was a work of art gift-wrapped in an album cover to cherish. Radio latched on to songs and made them hits, but the fans were eagerly listening to deep cuts on the best albums and finding gold.

      The world itself was upside down in 1973, with Watergate beginning to boil up, the Paris Peace Agreement to get the United States out of Vietnam, inflation running amuck, and our parents dressing us in some crazy multicolor outfits. But hey, at least we had the music. And if you were a kid growing up in the early 70’s you were immersed in some of the greatest music ever created.

      1973 was a stacked year in a string of stacked years for rock and roll. Scan the music released in any year from 1965 to 1975 and you can create a heck of a playlist. These were the golden years for rock ‘n’ roll, when each release, and each year, tried to raise the bar. Popular music tried to stay hip and part of the action, and sometimes a song would rise up and become that classic for the ages. If we’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that popular doesn’t always equal good, and there were some really bad songs hitting the charts in each of those years too, but those tend to drift away, don’t they? As with life, we tend to remember the best things. Like great songs. You know a melody can move me…

    • The Business of Choosing

      I’m not a surfer, but I imagine them bobbing about in the swells, deciding which wave feels like the best for an epic ride to the beach. On some mornings writing feels a bit like that, with a series of false starts and bits of poetry and verse toyed with then put aside for another day. Each is wonderful and you eagerly want to share them, but they just don’t feel right for this proverbial ride to the beach.

      Writing is a way to sort it all out, of course. Deciding which swell of bubbling thought energy to surf. Once committed, you either ride it to glory or watching it sputter out into nothing much to speak of. But there’s glory in being in the swell too.

      “Your job is to collect good ideas. The more good ideas you collect, the more you can choose from to be influenced by.” – Austin Kleon

      This business of choosing applies to everything we do. Picking the right mate, the right career, the right friends and business associates, the right place to live, the right strategy, the right fitness and nutrition plan for your lifestyle, or the comparatively simple right ideas to explore in a blog. Sometimes the well runs dry, and sometimes the ideas stack up so high you can’t see the forest for the trees. When you’ve reached the bottom of the barrel or conversely when you can’t see the horizon anymore because you’re buried in ideas, a quick change of perspective does wonders for the mind.

      I’ve managed to get out on the snowshoes three times this work week for a quick lap around one of the trails. Twice at lunch and once at the end of the day with the sun setting and a headlamp at the ready should I need it. The cold air and crunchy snow quickly do a number on whatever was scrambling my brain. A rising heart rate always seems to clear a mind that’s turning on itself. In each case I returned home renewed and ready for the next wrestling match with work or words.

      Choosing is the tricky part, but I agree with Kleon, the more good ideas you collect, the more you can choose from. Get out and experience life. Read more material that stretches you in new directions. Get your heart rate up to push it all to the side so you can see where you need to go. And then do it. Even if the wave sputters out on you, you’ll still gain something from the ride.