Alexandersmap

    Month: February 2023

    • Finding Aurora

      “The Aurora Borealis is a fickle phenomenon. A week can pass without a flicker … then bang! The Northern Lights come on like a celestial lava lamp.” — Nigel Tisdall

      I went to Iceland expecting to be disappointed by the weather. I’m not a pessimist by nature, but the forecast simply didn’t look good. There are a lot of reasons to go to Iceland in winter, but the primary reason is to see the Aurora Borealis. Yes, there are waterfalls and volcanoes, geysers and glaciers. These are spectacular, but also things that you can see any old month. But the Northern Lights are more evasive than that. Dark, clear skies are merely a starting point. You must also have some luck. Winter brings ample darkness but also some challenging weather conditions. We put ourselves in the way of beauty, but a bit of luck goes a long way too.

      Sure enough, we arrived to heavy snow. That might have frustrated me, but I’d already seen the Northern Lights on this trip. We’d had an ace up our sleeve, a window seat facing north for the flight, which carried us over the snow-laden clouds, up where auroras dance. It’s there that I finally glimpsed it, checking a box I wondered when I’d ever get to. There’s still hope for more dances with Aurora, should the weather cooperate, beginning tonight. Bucket lists deserve more than a brief encounter to savor, don’t you think?

    • Each Page

      All of Time began when you first answered
      to the names your mother and father gave you.

      Soon, those names will travel with the leaves.
      Then, you can trade places with the wind.

      Then you’ll remember your life
      as a book of candles,
      each page read by the light of its own burning.
      — Li-Young Lee, Become Becoming

      Recently, I spoke about travel with people who aren’t traveling right now for the same reasons I once didn’t travel. Different chapter of life, as the saying aptly goes. Each page offers value and helps complete the story, but we don’t always see that when the story is incomplete.

      The thing is, the story is always incomplete to the very end. We live a novel life with the last page ripped out. There’s simply no knowing how this one turns out until we get there ourselves. Each page is ours to write, mostly ours anyway, edited by the troupe that presently surrounds us. Our task is to make it a hell of a story.

      Page-turners tend to be thrilling but lack substance. Weightier tomes sometimes feel plodding and a chore to get through but leave a mark long after we’ve tucked them up on the shelf. Somewhere in between is a life’s work that is meaningfully appealing and often reflected upon.

      Ultimately there will be other chapters. Aware of this, we might choose to weave magic and depth into this one. When we arrive later in our story, the pieces may finally all come together. It’s then that we’ll remember the true meaning of each page.

    • The Grand Accumulation

      “The value of things is not in the duration, but in the intensity in which they occur. This is why there are unforgettable moments, inexplicable things and incomparable people. ” — Fernando Pessoa

      Experiences matter a great deal in moving us. For this reason seeking diverse and rich experiences in our lives moves us a great deal farther along the path to becoming than limited experiences do, but it all counts. We are what we repeatedly do (and I repeatedly use Aristotle’s quote in this blog as a reminder to myself), so we ought to do things that move us in the direction we aspire to go.

      The question of value is appropriate to ask ourselves. Just why do we value certain things more than others? Is a dinner at a Michelin-level fancy restaurant a greater experience than eating an apple on the summit of a mountain you’ve struggled to reach? One can make a case for the apple without diminishing the value of the restaurant experience. Each resonates in their own way. Each may be savored. Each counts towards completing our picture.

      Experiences may pull us up or drag us down, so we must be diligently aware of the collection of experiences that, stacked together, make up our lives. With value as a lens, we may be selective in the experiences we seek, the things we collect and the people we associate with. If this sounds rather elitist, it’s just the opposite. We can be inclusive and open in our engagement with the world, while prioritizing the moments that resonate most deeply for us.

      When we think back on the days gone by, what moments shine particularly brightly? Usually it’s something surprisingly ordinary, amplified by something unique, like a chance encounter with an old friend, a beautiful vista earned with a hike or early rise, an unusual bird at the feeder, a line from a poem that floored us, a new song that we’ll forever associate with the moment we heard it. These are highlight moments amongst the ordinary prose of life.

      Still, we can make a case for ordinary too. The ordinary is the foundation from which the extraordinary rises. With each extraordinary moment, layered ever higher one upon the next, our foundation also rises. This grand accumulation of moments, things and the people we surround ourselves with may just lead to an unforgettable life. Perhaps even we ourselves will reach incomparable. Too bold? Add another layer. It won’t be such a reach.

    • Anticipation and Memories

      And tomorrow we might not be together
      I’m no prophet and I don’t know nature’s ways
      So I’ll try and see into your eyes right now
      And stay right here ’cause these are the good old days
      — Carly Simon, Anticipation

      I’m reluctantly trying to reign in my anticipation of an exciting trip I’ve planned. That word, anticipation, prompted Carly Simon’s song to play on repeat in my head until I finally conceded and used the lyrics here. When the muse speaks, or sometimes sings, we must listen. And these are indeed the good old days, simply because we’re an active participant in now.

      The thing is, the anticipation remains, and flavors the time leading up to bigger adventure. That anticipation is very much a part of the big adventure, just as the inevitable stories and photos that fill our moments after are a part of it. We ought to add more flavor as this in our days, for we simply don’t know how many more we might have. None of us wants to go out on a bland note. Punctuate the stillness with a cadenza.

      Looking forward carries us there, often with a tinge of excitement about things to come. Looking backwards fill us with memories, sometimes better than the current moment. Comparison is the devil dancing in our heads. Looking around at where we are in the present is figuratively where it’s at. Yet we’re filled with all of them, toying as they do with our heads and habits. Anticipation and memories are our reference points for what we do in this moment at hand. We must remain the conductor of our days and remember that the moment is what matters. To stay right here ’cause these are the good old days, even as we look ahead to what’s possible.

    • Walking to a Better Place

      “Above all, do not lose your desire to walk: every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness; I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it.” — Søren Kierkegaard

      As I write this, it’s warmed up to -12 degrees Fahrenheit outside. On the summit of Mount Washington, a few hour’s drive away from me, the temperature is currently -45 with a wind chill of -107 degrees. Simply put, this is not a good day for a hike. But every day is a good day for a walk, conceding that some days we have got to be a little more creative to get the steps in.

      If my family or my neighbors were to observe my behavior on certain days when I feel trapped in the house, they’d think I was crazy (they likely do already). I’ll walk up and down the stairs ten times to get the blood moving between meetings, circumnavigating the interior of the house in a circle (always counterclockwise, for reasons I can’t explain) and now and then throw in some burpees or pushups to spice things up. This has not led to six-pack abs, but nonetheless it does a body good.

      Clearly, getting outside is the better way to move. Long walks on pavement are okay, but I prefer to walk on local trails not far from home, with trees and the occasional dog walker as company. Hiking is a favorite form of exercise, practiced in moderation for reasons of practical living as opposed to lack of desire for more. We simply can’t do everything, but doing a lot of things in moderation seems to work for me. We are as much what we say no to as the things we say yes to.

      Walking has remained the one constant form of exercise that has followed me wherever I’ve gone in this world. I’ve walked in places as diverse as the Old City in Jerusalem, the Mayan port city of Tulum, Red Square in Moscow, amongst the Redwoods in Muir Woods and followed in the footsteps of Thoreau at Walden Pond, but I’ve never taken more steps in any place than I have on the plot of land I currently reside on in New Hampshire. Place is variable, the stride varies, but the act of walking remains a constant companion.

      As the temperatures creep back up I’ll plot my escape from this self-imposed exile I call home and get back to outdoor walking. There are empty beaches to explore, ridge trails to traverse, and faraway places calling me. Walking is the most reliable way to get to a better place, simply by putting one foot in front of the other.

    • Eternal Sunrise

      Having been married awhile, my bride and I know each other’s tendencies. She rolls her eyes at me when she sees me watching YouTube videos of faraway places. I’ve got a regular playlist of places I’d like to go that I visit regularly, and virtually tag along with friends as they sail around the world. She anticipates my travel proposals well before I open my mouth. In turn, I roll my eyes when I hear her turn on home improvement shows, and feel like I live in one for all the projects her viewing inspires.

      There’s an undercurrent of restlessness that flows through many of us, wanted more in our time, whatever that “more” happens to be. In the best of times it’s positive and productive. Perhaps improvement on our lot in life or progress towards a personal goal. In the worst of times it might inspire jealousy and betrayal. Look around at the world, it’s easy to see examples of both.

      The question of how we’re perceived, or how we perceive ourselves, begs to be answered. The world is very good at showing us what’s possible with the right mix of resourcefulness and boldness. For all the cries for instant gratification in media, in reality most of us simply chip away at things until we get there. We can become some version of who we choose to be over time, but we must apply patient action.

      “The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd – The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.” — Fernando Pessoa

      At what point is enough enough? When are we satiated and content with our share, pushing our proverbial plate away? This seems to be the moment where we embrace bliss. Change will always happen, we just learn to focus on what we can control and find happiness there. The rest is just an entertainment of ideas.

      For us, the nest is always being improved upon, even as we try to fly away from it. Sometimes we go, but we always return. Both the nest and the residents of it change over time. This is our eternal sunrise, as we are forever becoming something new, embracing change as it rises before us.

    • Be Whole

      To be great, be whole;
      Exclude nothing, exaggerate nothing that is not you.
      Be whole in everything. Put all you are
      Into the smallest thing you do.
      So, in each lake, the moon shines with splendor
      Because it blooms up above.
      — Fernando Pessoa, Poems of Fernando Pessoa

      An early morning. Out the door long before the dawn brought me deep into the heart of New York City commuter traffic. I still tell myself that this is the price of greatness, something I’ve told my children more than they want to hear, something I don’t always want to hear myself. Yet it still applies, and should for a lifetime. For don’t we owe it to ourselves to put all we are into everything we do?

      The price of greatness is consistently showing up and doing the things we know deep down that we must do. We might never reach greatness even paying the price, but we’ll surely get closer than we might otherwise. Mostly, we honor a commitment to ourselves to at least reach for it. Without this honor, we aren’t quite whole are we? We’re incomplete because we left something of ourselves out of our work. We owe ourselves something more. To be whole.

    • Simply Do

      “I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous, or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular, but because it never forgot what it could do.” — Naomi Shihab Nye (with a nod to @MayaCPopa for showing the way)

      Fame is overrated, contribution is where it’s at. We are utilitarian at the root of it, here to be productive in our time, whatever our calling, lighting the way until we pass the torch.

      We tend to lean into complicated. This is a distraction from the beautiful truth, a collective turn away from the briefness of being, a wish before the song fades and we blow out the candles. It’s contribution that lives beyond wishes.

      Poetry stares the truth in the eye, wanting nothing more than to face it. I wished somedays I was a better poet, a better writer. I’d forgotten what I could do. Now I simply do.