Alexandersmap

    Month: June 2023

    • Where Would You Linger?

      A question came up over dinner with close friends and active world travelers: “Where do you want to go?” for which there are naturally a full evening’s worth of answers. I think that we had the question wrong all along. Perhaps “Where would you linger?” might have been more enlightening. The value isn’t in seeing a place, it’s immersing yourself there long enough to get to know it. And, just maybe, for the place to get to know you too.

      Would you choose to stay in a place long enough to learn its ways and figure out the language and tendencies of the locals? How else would you get to know it? An Instagram photo taken at the same spot everyone else takes there’s is nothing more than evidence that we were ever there ourselves. Is that enough? It says nothing of the experience of being there, let alone how we interacted with that place. Seeing hoards of people charge in to take the same selfie before heading off to the next photo op informs. It’s okay to be the tourist, but isn’t it better to stick around to enjoy the quiet with the locals when the last bus or cruise ship departs?

      The frenetic, “sampler pack” travel, favored by many, and realized through a bus tour or a cruise, is a good example. Being part of a group that drops in for a few hours, sees a few things, buys a souvenir and ships off to the next place, allows you to see many things you otherwise might not see on a tight vacation schedule. And this has some merit. That sampler pack is designed to check boxes and quickly give you a very general lay of the land. When you only have a few days, isn’t it (sometimes) better to fill it with as much as possible? The underlying message is that if you love a place you can always go back to it. How many do?

      Is modern travel inherently designed to allow people to keep up with others at a cocktail party? That may be too narrow and cynical a view. Shared experience bonds us in some ways, if only on a surface level. It’s a starting point from which we can go deeper if we wish to. Travel means something different to each of us, but the underlying fear of missing out (FOMO) seems to drive much of the industry. After all, bucket lists are real, and life is short, and available PTO is even shorter. So by all means, we should go see the Eiffel Tower, the Grand Canyon and the Colosseum while we can. Checking boxes in such a way fills bucket lists… but is it fulfilling?

      When I think back on the places I’ve been in this world, I think about the things I missed the first time around and feel a longing to return. With every trip, there’s a lingering feeling of a place not fully realized on the first go-around. It’s natural to want to return again. Do we wonder how we’d feel if we’d simply stuck around longer?

      Great questions prompt great conversation, but also reflection. As with travel, a great question can open us up to all sorts of possibility only partially answered over a few drinks. Great questions linger even after the evening is over. Instead of always wondering “what’s next?”, we might try “what of now?”, and see where it leads us next.

      After dinner and all the talk of places nearly (but never fully) exhausted, the question shifted to, “So, what are you doing this weekend?”, which prompted my response of not very much at all. Isn’t it funny that all the wanderlust revealed in a few hours together ended with such a statement? I think it points to quietly favoring savoring: A designed lifestyle choice, not general apathy towards getting out there in the world. A sense of belonging derived from being present and realizing the full potential of ourselves in that place and time. That’s what filling a bucket really means.

    • We Are All Potentially Free

      “To move forward clinging to the past is like dragging a ball and chain. The prisoner is not the one who has committed a crime, but the one who clings to his crime and lives it over and over. We are all guilty of crime, the great crime of not living life to the full. But we are all potentially free. We can stop thinking of what we have failed to do and do whatever lies within our power.” — Henry Miller, Sexus: The Rosy Crucifixion I

      Cleaning out some old files recently, I came across an old letter I’d received from a woman I’d once dated. It was the last communication I’d ever had with her, and the only letter she’d ever written to me, stuck inside a funny greeting card. Reading it again for the first time in a few decades, I smiled at the memories and returned the letter to the box it was stored in. Perhaps I’ll stumble upon it again in a few decades more. It’s nothing more than a time stamp of who we both once were.

      I know another woman who married the man of her dreams. That groom decided that he hadn’t married the woman of his dreams and they separated. He moved on with his life, she never did, and clings to the illusion of who she once was. She never had children, never met another life partner, and is forever in limbo. Friends and family can’t shake her loose from the illusions of the past. She’s a lovely person who inadvertently became a cautionary tale for the rest of us.

      Do you wonder what memories of today will stumble back into your mind in a few decades time? What will we cling to, and what will fade away? Are we like farmers, perpetually working the same land, or hunter-gatherers, endlessly moving forward towards something new? We’re a bit of both, aren’t we? Perhaps the better analogy is a weight-lifter. Each lift breaks something down within us but may strengthen us over time. If we were to forever carry that weight we wouldn’t go very far at all.

      I mentioned before on this blog that I gave both of my adult children Some Lines a Day journals for Christmas, that they might have moments like the greeting card moment I had, but every day going forward. The trick is to regularly write down what was important in any given day. It forces you to observe, but also creates desire to do something worth writing down. The magic comes in subsequent years, when you can look back on what you did on that day and compare it to who you’ve become. May it be growth.

      We can’t live in the past, but we can surely use our days to build a strong foundation, that we may reach higher in our days to come. The people who come and go from our lives, the people we ourselves once were and never will be again, are all memories of a lifetime. They ought to be building blocks, not a ball and chain, and not nails in our coffin. Growth is nothing more than learning who to be next. We’re all just figuring this life out, aren’t we? It’s okay to hold on to memories, but shed the past and go be who’s next. I bet it will be quite a character.

    • Are We Growing?

      “Are we really growing towards a realization? Or are we, perhaps, just going in circles—we who think that at some point we shall escape the circle of existence?” — Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

      Good habits and bad alike offer ample opportunity to become trapped in a cycle of routine. Writing every morning is likely a good habit for me, running several times a week is great for my bride, and hiking every weekend has transformed some friends who are rarely seen in social settings anymore. There’s no arguing that positive habits have the potential to offer growth and vibrancy, but it’s fair to question now and then whether we’re simply going around in circles.

      What are we chasing? What are we moving towards? Are we collecting experiences or are we accumulating wisdom and leaning in to growth? We ought to look around and ask ourselves hard questions now and then, questions that force us to see who we are becoming. It is only through seeing that we find our direction.

      None of us is getting out of this alive. What we do with this knowledge is essential to who we become in our brief dance. Do we embrace a life of nihilism and distraction or do we double down on finding a purpose that resonates for our time?

      Growth offers the opportunity to make a bigger splash, doesn’t it? We all sink in the end, but each of us offers a ripple that carries across the plane of existence even after we’ve disappeared from sight. Ripples are circles too, but radiating beyond us, that we might touch others, even those who appear out of reach. This is true in our time, and surely beyond it.

    • Borrowed Awareness

      “One day Rumi was teaching by a fountain in a small square in Konya. Books were open on the fountain’s ledge. Shams walked quickly through the students and pushed the books into the water.
      “Who are you and what are you doing?” Rumi asked.
      “You must now live what you have been reading about.”
      Rumi turned to the books in the fountain, one of them his father’s precious spiritual diary, the Maarif.
      Shams said, “We can retrieve them. They will be as dry as they ever were.” He lifted out the Maarif to show him. Dry.
      “Leave them,” said Rumi.
      With that relinquishment of books and borrowed awareness, Rumi’s real life began, and his real poetry too.” — Coleman Barks, From the introduction of Rumi: The Big Red Book

      There’s a creeping awareness that comes over you when you read a lot of books. A realization that you’re simply borrowing knowledge but not living it. It’s the equivalent of being all talk and no action. Being well-read is only a starting point, the rest is up to us.

      Humanity is filled with people who are formally educated but not fully realized. We each have an opportunity to meet our potential, but most of us hide from it in books. Our development doesn’t stop when we finish the book—really, we’ve only just begun. The universe shows us the way and nothing more. This is where we pick up and carry ourselves forward into who we will become.

      There’s nothing wrong with reading books, but we must get out of the covers. We’re far better for having borrowed the knowledge, we just can’t stop with that, satisfied and on to the next. We must stand up on those books, and from that higher plane, reach for something that might have been out of our grasp otherwise.

    • Let’s Begin

      It’s our time to make a move
      It’s our time to make amends
      It’s our time to break the rules
      Let’s begin
      — X Ambassadors, Renegades

      If you want to feel hope for the future, go to a ceremony honoring High School graduates awarded their scholarships. I was awestruck hearing their accomplishments over the last four years, much of which was endured during and in the aftermath of a pandemic when mental health and questions about the future of leadership in this world were very much on display elsewhere. The future, at least in that room, looked very bright indeed.

      Our stories are constantly evolving. Sitting in that room listening to the brief biographies of those kids, with no stake in the game myself, was one of the most enlightening nights I’ve had in a long time. Surely it made me question my own productivity over the same duration. How do we see greatness and not want to have some of it for ourselves? The thing is, greatness is earned, not taken. We may reach higher still.

      Carpe diem: Seize the day. These words are forever associated with a fictional high school class in another time and place. Isn’t it something when you witness it in real life? It’s all around us, hidden in the quiet resolve of people getting things done. Given the same amount of time in a day, we each choose what to do with the minutes.

      It’s easy to see a group of high achievers and feel optimistic. It’s also easy to question what we’ve been doing with our own time, and perhaps feel a bit of an underachiever by comparison. It’s essential to remember in these moments that comparison is the thief of joy. Let us instead be inspired by those reaching for greatness and help them find the way. Greatness isn’t a destination, it’s a never-ending pursuit of mastery in one’s chosen path. If that pursuit is never-ending, it also means it’s always beginning. As in, here we go again. Shouldn’t that realization excite us?

    • Breaking Free to Go Be

      I want to break free, I want to break free
      I want to break free from your lies
      You’re so self-satisfied I don’t need you
      I’ve got to break free
      God knows, God knows I want to break free
      — Queen, I Want to Break Free

      When does a great habit ground another habit before it can take off? Are habits mutually exclusive in this way, or can we stack them together into a meaningful routine? There’s no reason why we can’t have the kind of life we desire. We just have to break free of ourselves first.

      Meaningful routines develop from saying no to the things that steal our time away, and instead using that time for something better. I write almost every morning, no matter where I am in the world, and click publish before the world forces me to decide whether to say yes or no. In this way I’ve gained momentum and an overwhelming desire to keep the streak alive. When I’m sick or traveling or my day is otherwise upside down from the norm I still find a way to publish something. On those days, checking the box may not lead to my best writing, but it’s still one more vote for the type of person I want to become, as James Clear puts it. That’s a win.

      We know when we’re in a bad routine. Our lives feel unproductive and lack direction. We might have obligations we can’t say no to that are holding us back. The only way to break through that wall is with momentum. Small habits strung together and repeated regularly are the building blocks of better.

      We often imprison ourselves with self-limiting beliefs. Breaking free of these beliefs is essential to living a meaningful life. Nelson Mandela spent years in prison, doing manual labor during the day. His cell was barely big enough to move in, and yet he developed a routine that would keep him fit and focused for decades:

      “He’d begin with running on the spot for 45 minutes, followed by 100 fingertip push-ups, 200 sit-ups, 50 deep knee-bends and calisthenic exercises learnt from his gym training (in those days, and even today, this would include star jumps and ‘burpees’ – where you start upright, move down into a squat position, kick your feet back, return to squat and stand up). Mandela would do this Mondays to Thursdays, and then rest for three days.”. — Gavin Evans, The Conversation, How Mandela stayed fit: from his ‘matchbox’ Soweto home to a prison cell

      Environment plays a big part in the meaningful routines we create. For years I didn’t write, until I created the environment for myself to do the work. It’s the same with exercise and flossing and productive work as it is for binge eating or drinking or immersing ourselves in distraction: the environment we create for ourselves matters a great deal. If we want to fly, we must clear the damn runway.

      So how do we clear the runway? Designing a meaningful routine begins with asking ourselves, just who do we want to be? What does a perfect day look like for us anyway? Where do we wake up every morning? What does our first interaction with the world look like? Are we grabbing our phones and checking social media or are we jumping right into our first great habit? Those first moments matter a great deal, for they set the table for our day, and our days.

      When we look at someone like Nelson Mandela following through on his promise to himself despite the conditions he was living in, who are we to accept our own excuses and distractions? We’ve got to break free of our stories and get on the path to what we might become. It’s now or never friend.

    • Finding the Boldly Creative Work Inside of Us

      “Some arrogance is essential to the creative process. The very idea that your private thoughts or feelings are worth sharing with anyone outside your family or friends is already a kind of arrogance. Arrogance is the exit and entry point to the humiliation that art requires. Not unrelated is a dubious courage that when you find yourself out of your depth in troubled waters, you will discover how to swim. Another daft but true idea that creativity seems to depend on.” — Bono, Surrender

      “Resistance is experienced as fear; the degree of fear equates to the strength of Resistance. Therefore the more fear we feel about a specific enterprise, the more certain we can be that that enterprise is important to us and to the growth of our soul. That’s why we feel so much Resistance. If it meant nothing to us, there’d be no Resistance.” ― Steven Pressfield, The War of Art: Winning the Inner Creative Battle

      Taking a leap into anything is a bit scary and uncomfortable. Think a moment about public speaking. Did you shudder just then? Walking up to a microphone to deliver a speech can be daunting, yet some of us flip the switch and do it anyway. It’s nothing more than playing a character—a bigger version of our normal self. A bigger version that has something to share that others may find connection and meaning from. That voice inside that says you don’t deserve to play that bigger version is the real fraud, not the person you’ve become. Every step on the climb can be thought of as arrogance should we surrender to the Resistance.

      Art is very much like public speaking, in that we are putting ourselves out there for all to judge. There is a large sample size of writing now that would give the world a pretty good idea of who I really am deep down inside. Is there arrogance in thinking anyone really cares to find out? Surely there’s some truth to this, but how else do we move forward in this world were it not for the boldness to speak up and show our work?

      I’ll embrace arrogance if it means I’m bold. I’ll embrace the courageous leap into the unknown if it leads to growth and better work. I’ll risk it all for better. How about you?

      Behind those words are other words. The self-talk of someone who knows that there’s still so much work to do. The words of someone who doesn’t dare leave this world without putting my best out there, but knowing the best is yet to come. Feeling that urgency and acting on it is all that really matters. The rest is just talk.

      “Decide what to be and go be it.” — The Avett Brothers, Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise

    • Begin Every Day

      If I flinched at every grief, I would be an intelligent idiot.
      If I were not the sun, I would ebb and flow with sadness.

      If you were not my guide, I would wander lost in Sinai.
      If there were no light,
      I would keep opening and closing the door.

      If there were no rose garden,

      where would the morning breezes go?
      If love did not want music and laughter and poetry,
      what would I say?

      If you were not medicine, I would look sick and skinny.
      If there were no leafy limbs in the air,
      there would be no wet roots.

      If no gifts were given, I would grow arrogant and cruel.
      If there were no way into God,
      I would not have lain in the grave of this body so long.

      If there were no way from right to left,
      I could not be swaying with the grasses.

      If there were no grace and no kindness,
      conversation would be useless, and nothing we do would matter.

      Listen to the new stories that begin every day.
      If light were not beginning again in the east,
      I would not now wake and walk out inside this dawn.
      — Rumi, Wake and Walk Out

      Perhaps the rain has kept me from waking earlier than normal today. Perhaps the grogginess that accumulates inside over a long and productive week is best expressed with sleeping in. Or perhaps it was staying up late, not wanting the day to end, conceding it at last as the calendar turned to a new day. Perhaps… or surely it was all of those things.

      No matter if later than before, we must rise once more. There’s work to be done each morning, to set up the day for success, whatever that means to each of us. Life is about meeting our purpose and being productive with our time to fully realize our potential. Nothing matters but this dance with life.

      And what is life? It’s the stories we write in these moments of clarity and awareness, days stacked one upon the other, until we cease beginning. Is every story a page-turner? Of course not, but doesn’t it help set up the next chapter?

      Each morning I’m struck by the wonder of being, but isn’t that wonder grounded in the awareness of ending? Our story will end. That may be someday, or it may be today, but it isn’t just yet. Knowing this, don’t we owe it to ourselves to properly rise to meet this day?

      In this quest to be more productive and purposeful, sometimes we don’t see the things that sparkle in our days. Things like poetry and a walk through the garden and the tickle of the breeze. What is a breeze but the change of the air? So it is with us, feeling the tickle of change within us. We must always be aware of the sparkle, and lend it our light, that it may offer reflection.

    • Stories, and How We Interpret Them

      “Be careful how you interpret the world; it is like that.” — Erich Heller

      “We are defined by the stories we tell ourselves.” — Tony Robbins

      Our beliefs do have a way of defining us, don’t they? Tell a story enough times and it begins to feel like our truth. Stories about who we are, the type of lifestyle we live, the work we do and the people we spend our time with. They usually have similar stories to ours, don’t they?

      Listen to other storytellers. This can be dangerous and disruptive. Wars have begun over stories that don’t jibe with another. Entire cultures have been crushed by stories. There are whispered cries in history for the injustice and pain of a bad story, implemented. An entire lifetime can be wasted when hooked to the wrong story.

      There’s friction in changing stories. How do you shake off the grip of long-held beliefs? The first step is to get out of the echo chamber of reinforcement. Digest new information, find new places, reach beyond what is comfortable.

      Given the stakes, it’s fair to question what we believe to be true in the world. It’s fair to choose to change our story. This is where boldness comes into our story. To be bold is to step away from our previous self and begin the long climb to a better view.

      The trap is to try to pull other people along who haven’t changed their own story just yet. Rarely does another soul want to hear that their story is wrong. Telling people anything is a sure road to resentment and conflict. Let them see instead. When we see we begin to change ourselves, and step towards a new story previously unimagined.

      As with any great story, the first draft is nothing to celebrate. We don’t arrive in this world perfect in every way, no matter what our mother tells us. But we must keep editing. With time and patience and more than a little effort, eventually we’ll arrive at our masterpiece. At least that’s the story I tell myself.

    • The Self-Delusional Effectiveness of Texting Combined With Literally Any Other Activity

      We’ve all felt the pull of the notification. The sound triggers something deep inside us, call it fear of missing out or the overwhelming desire to be a part of something in this moment, or maybe boredom with whatever you’re currently doing. I don’t really care, unless you’re immersed in adult-level activities that require your full attention. Things like doing heart surgery or landing an airplane, or maybe something more common like participating in a serious conversation or driving a two-ton automobile at terminal velocity.

      Whatever that activity is, we aren’t as good at multitasking as we think we are. It’s usually completely obvious to everyone else not currently nose down in their own phone what the multitasking texter is up to. And we all want the other person to knock it off immediately and join us in the real world. Call me old-fashioned, but I like people who focus on the essential. Professionals and fully-functional adults stay focused on their most important tasks, while amateurs spread that focus way too thin.

      I bet even Steve Jobs would have shaken his head in disbelief had he time travelled to our present. Try holding a meaningful conversation with a distracted texter Mr. Jobs, before we fully celebrate the computer in every pocket. The future always looks bright when you’re inventing the cool technology, the trick is to put the bumpers on so the amateurs don’t roll over into someone else’s dream. This is why I welcome self-driving cars, if only to put a stop to the chuckleheads absently drifting back and forth, slowing way down and speeding way up in a not-so-subtle attempt to still get from here to there while writing War and Peace (or perhaps simply watching cat videos). Maybe technology will save us from technology in the future? I hope we survive long enough to get there.