Alexandersmap

    Month: July 2022

    • Walk the Walk

      “Don’t explain your philosophy. Embody it.” – Epictetus

      To make giant leaps forward in our careers, athletically, intellectually… whatever, is a worthy aspiration. But should it be a goal? Shouldn’t we focus on consistently taking action towards who we want to be, instead of focusing on the end game? If you want to be a great photographer or writer or 400 meter hurdler, then chip away at meaningful activity that moves you incrementally towards realizing that dream. Talk is BS, it’s only the walk that matters.

      Shane Parrish recently wrote about Scott Adams, creator of Dilbert, who touched on this topic. Adams favors systems over goals because it reinforces success every time you do what you said you were going to do. A goal usually ends up frustrating and discouraging us while a system rewards us constantly:

      “Goal-oriented people exist in a state of continuous pre-success failure at best, and permanent failure at worst if things never work out. Systems people succeed every time they apply their systems, in the sense that they did what they intended to do. The goals people are fighting the feeling of discouragement at each turn. The systems people are feeling good every time they apply their system. That’s a big difference in terms of maintaining your personal energy in the right direction.” — Scott Adams, as quoted by Shane Parrish in his blog

      I don’t agree with Adams on a lot of things, but I definitely see the truth in this statement. We can’t possibly feel successful if a goal is always out of reach, but we can feel good about our last workout or clicking publish one more day. We all should live by our personal credo. But it isn’t what we say that defines our lives, it’s what we do that exemplifies how delusional or on point that credo is. So walk the walk.

    • Mouth Shut, Mind Open

      Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.
      Cleverness is mere opinion, bewilderment is intuition.
      — Rumi

      I had it all wrong when I was younger. I was a poser, trying to come off as someone who was on top of his game, overtly clever in my response, the one with all the answers. I knew nothing and learned nothing. It took a few years of ego knocking to start listening more and talking less. And sure, I’m still a work in progress like every other soul bouncing around the pinball machine of life.

      Cleverness denotes having it all figured out. None of us have it all figured out. We just acquire a few skills, a bit of street smarts and maybe some trivia to throw around at parties. If there is wisdom that comes with age, it’s generally learning to keep your mouth shut and open your mind instead. Life is learned on the fly.

      The point is, we’re all better off bewildered and trying to figure things out. Learning is a lifetime adventure, and we reach the end knowing we haven’t come close to knowing everything. Anyone who tells you they’ve figured it all out is expressing an opinion of themself. It might seem clever but it’s rarely more than a statement of where they are in their own development.

      This blog documents that work in progress, nothing more. It’s an attempt to document what I pick up along the way. I get a bit defensive when people I know talk about it with me, because it isn’t me at all, but a breadcrumb I left behind on the trail. It may be a part of me, but it’s distinctly apart from me. Otherwise it would be nothing but clever.

    • To Be Alive

      “When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive – to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love.” — Marcus Aurelius

      I saw the squirrel, hanging upside down in the sun, grasping the oak bark with its cleverly-designed hind claws that hinge and hook so miraculously. He was staring intently at me, wondering what my intent was. Ready to flee, preferring to hang in the sun nibbling on whatever delights he came across. “Don’t worry about me friend,” I offered. “My intent is to celebrate the day, as you clearly are.”

      We aren’t born with the tools to hang upside down halfway up oak trees, or to soar on a whim to see the sunrise from high above the valley floor. We aren’t born able to dive deep into the sea to see how far the sunbeams penetrate the salty depths. Yet someone engineered ways for us to do each of these things, should we be so inclined. We don’t celebrate the collective contribution of humanity nearly enough, perhaps because we focus so much on our failings.

      To be alive is an immeasurable gift, extraordinary in scope yet tragically brief in duration. What exactly are we doing with each day to celebrate this gift? To flip that question upside down like that squirrel in the tree, what are we postponing in our lives that rejects the gift of this day? Isn’t that the ultimate rejection that betrays our potential? For, no matter what we might tell ourselves, we may not have another.

      Maybe this is why I love mornings so much—they offer proof that we’ve been given the opportunity to be alive for at least one more day, and with it a fresh beginning. We each have the opportunity to engineer our lives from this moment to our last. To toss our limitations aside and find a way to soar.

    • Stepping Into a Larger Life

      “Only in those moments when we take life on, when we move through the archaic field of anxiety, when we drive through the blockage, do we get a larger life and get unstuck. Ironically, we will then have to face a new anxiety, the anxiety of stepping into a life larger than has been comfortable for us in the past.” — James Hollis, Living an Examined Life

      Many of us chase vibrant experience through state change. Early this morning I plunged into a pool to completely change my state from groggy to vibrantly aware of the world around me. As you might expect it did the trick immediately. But we don’t need a pool to change our state, any plunge into the unknown should get us there eventually.

      Many of us avoid change at all costs. There’s a reason that early morning plunges into a pool seems so unreasonable to so many—the majority would rather hit the snooze button and slowly reconcile themselves to another day of whatever it is that dictates their lives. People who deliberately and regularly challenge their comfort zone seem a bit… unusual. When you’ve got a good thing going why rock the boat? But isn’t it fair to ask: Why the heck not? When we consider the worst possible outcome to any given action, most of the time we’d come out okay in the end. We ought to take more examined leaps in this lifetime.

      What makes us unique out of the billions of people who have ever lived is our individual experiences and the perspective that is derived from them. That thought process cranking away behind those eyes that see (or don’t see) the world around them is the core to our identity. Call me crazy if you will, but I’d rather have the jambalaya version of life than the tomato soup. Throw as much as you can in the bowl and heat it up. We’ve only got this one meal together.

      The thing is, we’re all prone to both tendencies. For all my chasing of experience in this world, I live a relatively stable, some might say boring, life. But chasing state change doesn’t mean we have to throw ourselves into chaos daily. It simply means opening ourselves up to new experiences. Try to learn a new language, walk around the block the opposite way, have tea instead of coffee, write about something [eclectically] different every day, do something completely out of the norm this weekend… whatever makes the back of your neck tingle when you even dare to think about it.

      To step into a larger life, we’ve got to get used to treading into the unknown. When we dance with a bit of mystery we release magic into our lives. That measure of magic might just make us bold enough to go bigger next time, and the time after that. So it is that we grow into our lives one incrementally bolder step at a time.

    • Seeing the Magic

      Who can you tell in this world
      That when a dog runs up to you
      Wagging its ecstatic tail,
      You lean down and whisper in its ear,
      “Beloved,
      I am so glad You are happy to see me.
      Beloved,
      I am so glad,
      So very glad You have come.”
      — Hafiz, I Am So Glad

      Our spin through life is fraught with dangerous influences and evil spirits. It’s also filled with magical moments and joyful bits. Our lives are based on the stories we tell ourselves. If we become what we focus on the most, why aren’t more of us looking for the magic in our moments instead of the misery? Why are despair and disgust so prevalent, while delight and wonder are so quickly cast aside as frivolous pursuits? Who said the worst news of the day has to be our reality?

      This isn’t a call for us to collectively sink our heads in the sand. We all absorb the collective hits of the darkness enveloping parts of this world. But quietly running parallel to that darkness is progressive enlightenment. The rage that drives the very worst to action is fueled by that progress. So many prefer to focus on scarcity or the myth of the good old days instead of rolling up their sleeves and getting on with lifting our collective standards now. These are the good old days, despite the encroaching shadows.

      Hafiz saw God in a wagging tail. There’s magic in each moment, waiting for us to notice. This may seem trivial, but I’d argue that it’s essential. We lift our spirit when we feel the warm breeze on our skin, hear the song of a bird hidden in a tree, and when we see the universe in the wag of a tail. There will always be maddening news, while the timeless universe spins onward indifferent to our plight.

      The world is full of hope and despair, magic and misery. We find what we look for, and become what we focus on. The question forever will be: What do you see?

    • Delusions of a Hopeful Gardener

      “The thing is you could eat someone’s entire backyard garden and it would be less than 300 calories so what are we doing here?” — @HelloJessicaFox

      A handful of blueberries, picked before they fully ripened, was the extent of the harvest this season. The catbirds and chipmunks got the rest. But at least the tomatoes are showing some progress (until the groundhog determines they’re ripe enough to sample). Sure, gardening is a joyful pursuit, but it’s also folly.

      For most of us gardening isn’t as much about feeding the family as it maintaining a connection to the soil. We grow up watching our grandparents and parents harvesting a bounty of fruits and vegetables and somehow we feel compelled to keep the dream alive. Really, who are we fooling? My garden will produce a few good tomatoes, a summer’s worth of basil and mint and not a whole lot more. If I were a settler 250 years ago I’d have starved to death.

      Yet we press ahead, planting our gardens full of hope, only to have them dashed by Mother Nature and her cast of flying monkeys gobbling up every last blueberry. We dare not complain should she toss in a swarm of locust for good measure. Live with that handful of produce and count your blessings. There’s always the farm stand down the street.

      Still, there’s always hope, and this season I pushed through the challenge of being away most of June and kept almost all of the edibles on track. The season is still early, and there’s still a chance for a bounty of delicious fruits and vegetables… Do you see? The delusions of a hopeful gardener on display.

    • Developing Insight, Courage and Endurance

      “Jung observed that the work of being an evolved human being consists of three parts. Psychology can bring us insight, but then, he insisted, come the moral qualities of the individual: courage and endurance. So, having potentially come to consciousness, to have embraced insight as to what a dilemma is really about, one then has to find the courage to live it in the real world, with all its punitive powers, and to do so over time in the face of opposition both external and internal.” — James Hollis, Living an Examined Life

      We’re all evolving at our own pace, becoming what we will, sorting out our individual lifetime feedback loop as it becomes apparent to us. We might have a clear idea of what we are becoming, and then again we might not. There’s no doubt that a strong compass heading offers focus and purpose to an otherwise meandering life, but that doesn’t mean a bit of meandering isn’t essential as we find our way down the path.

      Hunter S Thompson, surely more evolved at 22 than I was at that age, wrote an extraordinary letter to a friend who had asked for advice, replying that one reason he might be struggling to know what to do with his life was that “he’d lived a relatively narrow life, a vertical rather than a horizontal existence.” There’s merit in expanding horizontally, for it develops in us this insight that only comes from meandering a bit off our upward climb. Insight may lead to dissatisfaction with our current path, which in turn might stir enough courage within to make the changes necessary to climb a different path.

      Some of Thompson’s sage advice in that letter to his friend was to “decide how you want to live and then see what you can do to make a living WITHIN that way of life.” But the universe doesn’t just bow to our wishes, we must fight for the life we want to live. Inferred in that “see what you can do to make a living” nugget is finding the courage to push for what you want your life to be, not just externally, but especially, internally. Finding the gumption within ourselves to tell that internal voice inside of us to piss off and go for what we want is the real trick to a fulfilling life.

      I finally got around to reading Band of Brothers recently after re-watching the series for a third time. The paratroopers who made up Easy Company in the 101st Airborne Division who jumped behind enemy lines on D-Day didn’t just strap on a parachute and jump out of an airplane for the first time that day. How could anyone find that level of courage to do such a thing? They took small steps, first jumping off a small platform harnessed to a cable, then a higher platform, and progressing to a jump from a plane above their base. It took five of these jumps to earn their silver wings, which indicated to the world that they were paratroopers. Even then, it wasn’t until they parachuted into France under fire that they became combat veterans and earned that nickname “Screaming Eagles”.

      How are we to be expected to just jump into the thick of it in our own chosen life path? We must pay our dues, apprentice and stumble through the learning phase before we can gain any measure of expertise, let alone develop the courage to leap into the unknown and the street smarts to stand up again unscathed. Our lives are a work in progress, built layer upon layer, and the work never stops. And that’s where endurance comes in. We must strategically sprint now and then throughout our lives, but we can’t forget in our rush to get past the pack that most of life is steady state. If we don’t find a pace that we can sustain that pack will reign us back in and leave us far behind.

      It’s easy to write that we need to develop ourselves, but much harder to get out there and tackle it day-after-day. For me, reading, writing this blog (and other things better left unpublished) and generally sorting through life as it comes at me offers the necessary “chart time” to figure out both my current and future place. I’m by no means an expert at this business of living, but I’ve found that this routine levels off the highs and lows of daily living by offering and reinforcing perspective. This is my steady state between the mad dashes of life.

      So there are the three legs of the our evolutionary stool, according to Carl Jung: Insight, to help us understand what we want out of life. Courage, to pursue what we want most. And endurance, to sustain the long, arduous slog through a universe that always has other plans for us. Our daily rituals develop all three, and help to keep the dream alive with the proper fuel and maintenance. Those rituals then help us set our course for wherever we dare to take ourselves next.

    • To Rock the Boat or Stay Afloat?

      Rafted up for a fireworks show over a dark pond, I casually watched the heavily overloaded pontoon boat next to the boat I was on tilt precariously to port. Shouts erupted and intoxicated people shifted a bit too far to starboard, more shouting and finally everyone froze in a state of fragile equilibrium. The fireworks were about to happen and damnit if everyone on that boat wasn’t going to see them. We all want to be part of the story—sometimes we come dangerously close to writing a new story in the process.

      The irony of the moment wasn’t lost on me. The fireworks were in celebration of Independence Day, yet here they were so eager to be a part of the group that they nearly overwhelmed the very thing they all wanted to be a part of. A few characters jostling for better position and the danger of capsizing and thus losing everything was apparent to everyone. I don’t know if they even noticed the fireworks had started until well into the show.

      We live in a world where everyone is jostling for a seat at the table. Those who hadn’t traditionally been invited to the show naturally expect their fair share. Those who traditionally had the show to themselves resent the competition for the best seats and buy into stories about scarcity and loss of identity. And Mother Earth rocks dangerously close to capsizing while we all shout at each other.

      Happy Independence Day, America. Let’s be smart and look out for each other. For the world is watching and hoping for the best. Aren’t we too?

    • This Milky Sea of Mystery

      “Whether you show up as you in this brief transit we call life or are defined by history, or context, or shrill partisan urgencies substantially depends on you. No greater difficulty may be found than living this journey as mindfully, as accountably, as we can, but no greater task brings more dignity and purpose to our lives. Swimming in this milky sea of mystery, we long to make sense of things, figure out who we are, wither bound, and to what end, while the eons roll on in their mindless ways. It falls then to us to make sense of this journey.” — James Hollis, Living an Examined Life

      This business of living offers plenty of opportunities to fall in line, blend in, and simply do what’s expected of us. Far more interesting to go our own way. Somewhere along the way this blog transitioned from documenting who had the best fish and chips to more a trail of breadcrumbs documenting my wade through, as Hollis so eloquently describes it, this milky sea of mystery. That doesn’t mean you’ll never see me celebrate a great meal now and then, but we become what we focus on, as much as what we eat, and a blog on becoming will leave its breadcrumbs du jour.

      The question is, where do we go from here? What exactly are we wading into anyway? One way or another it seems to come up in conversation after publishing, and doesn’t that influence what’s written next? Surely fish and chips are less of a leap.

      Hollis reminds us that the task itself is noble. Trying to make sense of this journey is bound to lead us up the wrong trail now and then. Those breadcrumbs might come in handy should we ever need to double back. If all they do is indicate where we’ve been, well, that’s okay too. Just remember that by the time you read this I’m already thinking about where I’m going next.

      Wading in

    • A Swim in the Broth

      “Consider the ordinary barnacle, the rock barnacle. Inside every one of those millions of hard white cones on the rocks—the kind that bruises your heel as you bruise its head—is of course a creature as alive as you or I. Its business in life is this: when a wave washes over it, it sticks out twelve feathery feeding appendages and filters the plankton for food. As it grows, it sheds its skin like a lobster, enlarges its shell, and reproduces itself without end. The larvae “hatch into the sea in milky clouds.” The barnacles encrusting a single half mile of shore can leak into the water a million million larvae. How many is that to a human mouthful? In sea water they grow, molt, change shape wildly, and eventually, after several months, settle on the rocks, turn into adults, and build shells. Inside the shells they have to shed their skins… My point about rock barnacles is those million million larvae “in milky clouds” and those shed flecks of skin. Sea water seems suddenly to be but a broth of barnacle bits.” — Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

      I confess to briefly recalling this tidbit from Dillard while reacquainting myself with Buzzards Bay, but mostly I considered the front paws of my canine swimming partner enthusiastically paddling in my direction, and equally pressing, the rumble of morning thunder close enough to keep the swim brief. We don’t think about barnacle bits when we swim in salt water any more than we think about the vapor particles we breathe in in a crowded room (at least until the pandemic). These are simply part of the deal. We embrace the universe as it snuggles in close or we curl up in terror under the covers.

      The point is, we’re meant to be out there living in the world. So dip a toe in the broth, or better yet, plunge right in. For we are very much a part of the stew of life and ought to celebrate our brief moment together. But appreciate that outdoor shower afterwards just a little more.