Alexandersmap

    Month: December 2023

    • Pick Your Moment

      “Pick your moment and the sea will do what it can for you, however small the boat and however unpracticed the helm. The wind was steady on the beam, and as it says in the old Gaelic song, it felt as if Freyja ‘would cut a thin oat straw with the excellence of her going.’

      This moment of ecstatic ease is the significant historical fact. Anywhere that can be reached on a calm day will be reached. What matters is the invitation, not the threat, and if there is an opening, people will take it…

      The peopling of the Shiants is only one fragment of an endless chain. That is why this crossing of a potentially alarming sea, at a moment which is picked because the weather is kind and the spring is coming, because the tide is running with you and the sun is out, when you can see where you are going and you have everything you need, is one of the deepest of all historical experiences. Don’t imagine the past as a place full of catastrophe and horror. This is its colour: a chance fairly taken, a sense of happiness in the light of spring. The Minch is laced with the wakes of ancestors and this wonderful, easy-limbed stirring of Freyja on the long Atlantic swell is a stirring of the past. I smile in the boat now and open my face to the warmth of the sun and the shining of the sky.” — Adam Nicolson, Sea Room

      “While you see a chance, take it.” — Steve Winwood

      When shall we leap? When is that moment when we look around and say, “It’s now or never” and go beyond our norm? We each have these moments in our lives when we see the gap and decide it’s not all that far of a leap after all. Perhaps we’ve closed it with growth. Perhaps we’ve built a strong enough foundation that it’s not so much a leap as it is a natural next step. Perhaps. But there’s still that gap… until finally we close it. Or perhaps we reach our limit, never to be closed. What will it be?

      The breathtaking beauty of Nicolson’s prose was masterfully set up in story-after-story of tragedy at sea. Of “the Stream of the Blue Men” that is the unpredictable and unforgiving Minch sinking boats and taking the lives of leapers for centuries before. We know of places like this—places that will take the lives of the unprepared and unlucky alike. Mountains and oceans, whole continents full of wild things. Flight and now space. Frontiers are meant to be conquered, as they say. The gap between who we are and what we’ll become are meant to be closed. What matters is the invitation, not the threat. This is the way we progress. Just pick your moment.

      But don’t wait forever. The gap is our game, but the clock is our nemesis. We aren’t getting any younger, friend. Tempus fugit: carpe diem. We ought to leap when the leaping looks good.

    • Reading Good Books

      “The art of not reading is a very important one. It consists in not taking an interest in whatever may be engaging the attention of the general public at any particular time. When some political or ecclesiastical pamphlet, or novel, or poem is making a great commotion, you should remember that he who writes for fools always finds a large public. A precondition for reading good books is not reading bad ones: for life is short.” ― Arthur Schopenhauer, Essays and Aphorisms

      This year, speeding right along as it does, is reminding me that the reading has slowed considerably. When the year is done I’ll have read fewer books than I did a year ago, but on the whole better books. Foundational books, pointed to by authors I’ve admired in quotes and breathless recollection. Some history, some philosophy, some great fiction and some regional travel books too. But very few of what used to be called dime store novels—those books that were cheap, popular and formulaic. It’s not that they aren’t fun to read now and then, it’s that they keep me from reading something better.

      To keep improving we must continue to find and consume the most nutritious ideas we can feed our minds. But we can’t stop there, for ideas left adrift are doomed to float away on a sea of words, forever lost in the noise. We must write about the things we encounter, re-read key passages to understand and then make something of them. To become a better person we must raise the average—our average.

      To be an avid reader, we need to have a lifestyle that supports reading. Comfortable chairs in well-lit spaces are wonderful, but it’s more than where we place our bottom—it’s how comfortable we are in that space to open up a portal to another world right there and then. I can read just as easily in a cramped middle seat in coach as I can in a leather recliner in warm natural lighting. To immerse ourselves in anything we’ve got to feel comfortable enough in the act to take the plunge. The people who surround us are more essential to this than any architectural detail. The driver’s seat in our automobiles are a great place to read architecturally, until we start driving and must pay attention to more important things (perhaps someone can mention that to the people with their noses in their phone zipping along in the high speed lane?).

      Once we’ve established a supportive reading environment, we ought to continue raising the bar on what we read. I’m a big fan of a few e-book writers for the page-turner fiction they write, but like sugar I’ve learned that a little goes a long way while a lot will have negative consequences. A healthy ratio of nutrition balances out the empty calories. Better choices in reading material lifts us to places unseen previously. Our view expands as we rise higher and higher up the stack of books.

      It’s too soon for a best books of the year summary, for there’s still a few strong candidates on the shelf awaiting their turn. But looking back at the year, I’m pleased with the best of the books I’ve read for the life-changing impact they’re having. The very best books, no matter the genre, lift us up in this way. The magic in reading is finding the gold. Sure, we may stumble upon a gem on the surface now and then, but to find the richest content we’ve got to mine deeper.

      It’s true that not reading is an art in itself. A useful filter we ought to apply more often in favor of better choices. Choosing to read, but digesting better reads. Tempus fugit: time flies. So read the great stuff first. Perhaps it will be that gem we’ll want to ponder and write about ourselves.

    • The Failover Game

      “Wind extinguishes a candle and energizes fire. Likewise with randomness, uncertainty, chaos: you want to use them, not hide from them. You want to be the fire and wish for the wind.”
      ― Nassim Nicholas Taleb, Antifragile: Things that Gain from Disorder

      When the world is runnin’ down
      You make the best of what’s still around
      — The Police, When The World Is Running Down

      I’m not a stockbroker or day trader betting against the market, but I imagine a few of them have that Taleb quote taped to their computer monitors. No, I’m simply a fan of being more antifragile in a world that is a bit chaotic at times. As this is published, I’ve been forced off the grid. December storms rolled up the East Coast of the United States and eventually arrived in New Hampshire, knocking out power in some communities, including the one I call home. Lucky me.

      A bit of resiliency goes a long way when you own a home, and having a generator or battery backup is essential to maintaining some measure of normalcy when things go dark. Solar panels can charge battery banks that in turn offer clean backup power when the power grid fails you. Whole house and portable generators offer a reliable, if louder, alternative. Judging by the neighborhood when the power goes out, the clear winner is the portable generator. Most purchased in desperation during some previous storm outage. So it goes with such things—we don’t think about resiliency and failover options until we’re faced with an urgent need for it.

      Some people don’t have that luxury. Boaters need a backup should the engine fail. Even sailors need power for communication and to keep the perishables from perishing (food and people alike). Failover engines, generators and batteries offer quiet insurance for the moment things go awry. My friends over on Fayaway have several blog posts describing their redundant systems. On a sailboat the engine itself is redundant, as they’d clearly prefer to be sailing. Steering systems, communication systems, propulsion systems and in the absolute worst case, staying afloat systems are just some of their redundant systems.

      A strong failover game can save the day on a boat, in a remote cabin, on a hike to potentially lethal places, in the automobile we commute to work in, and yes, on a quiet cul du sac in New Hampshire. We ought to apply this to our finances, our support network and anything else that would be really unpleasant or catastrophic should it fail. Every life should have a primary plan with at least one contingency plan, for we are playing chess in this lifetime, not checkers.

      Asking ourselves, “What is the worst that would happen if X happened?” leads to answers on how to mitigate the impact of that worst case scenario. We all learned a bit about resiliency during the pandemic, didn’t we? The world is a bit off-kilter nowadays, don’t you think? Weather, wars, political upheaval, active shooters and the occasional shark attack. When the world is runnin’ down, you make the best of what’s still around.

      We must continuously build more resiliency into our life. A life jacket is not worn as a fashion statement, and a backup plan is never a waste of our time, even if never used. So be prepared, as any Boy Scout would insist. Be the fire that wishes for the wind.

    • The Warm Glow

      You start dying slowly
      if you do not travel,
      if you do not read,
      If you do not listen to the sounds of life,
      If you do not appreciate yourself.
      You start dying slowly
      When you kill your self-esteem;
      When you do not let others help you.
      You start dying slowly
      If you become a slave of your habits,
      Walking everyday on the same paths…
      If you do not change your routine,
      If you do not wear different colours
      Or you do not speak to those you don’t know.
      You start dying slowly
      If you avoid to feel passion
      And their turbulent emotions;
      Those which make your eyes glisten
      And your heart beat fast.
      You start dying slowly
      If you do not change your life when you are not satisfied with your job, or with your love,
      If you do not risk what is safe for the uncertain,
      If you do not go after a dream,
      If you do not allow yourself,
      At least once in your lifetime,
      To run away from sensible advice.
      ― Martha Medeiros, A Morte Devagar

      One ought to drop the mic and walk away after a quote like this, but a blog isn’t simply leaving the words of others on a post and none of our own. We ought to contribute something in our time, especially when prompted so vibrantly. And it should be noted, we ought to live largely, that we might have something to say about the matter when prompted in such a way.

      Taking stock of the year, do we feel gratitude for the experiences we’ve had? Have we tried new recipes and dishes? Gone to performances that took our breath away? Visited places near and far just to see what all the fuss was about? Have we gathered with loved ones and laughed with friends? I hope so for you, and it surely has been so for me. May we all feel the warm glow of a life well-lived.

      They say that firewood warms us three times: when we cut it, when we split it and finally when we burn it. Life is similar, isn’t it? We are warmed by memories of a good life, warmed by how we live our life today, and warmed with a sense of hope for the future. So by all means, we must keep the journal and take the photographs, be bold in our choices today, and make those reservations for those experiences of tomorrow with the hope that we’ll arrive to dance with it.

    • Moving Forward

      A long time
      It’s taken me
      But I’ve figured out
      Now to some degree
      This life
      It happens fast
      I’ll enjoy the time in this hour glass
      Yes I will will will oh yes I will
      
Yeah, I’ve looked
      And what I see
      It’s not what’ve been
      It’s whatcha gonna be
      ‘Cause this world
      We’re walking through
      It’ll dig you out
      Or will bury you
      — Layup, I’m Alive

      The other day my bride and I went out to a local place for dinner and conversation. We secured two seats at the bar right away and celebrated our small victory with cocktails. The gent at the barstool next to me was talkative and we began chatting about the menu and local restaurants and eventually got down to the truth of the matter. He was divorced and alone on a Friday night and missing his wife and kids. He was filling holes in his life wherever he could, but not the biggest hole in his life. Not yet friend, but keep moving forward: This too shall pass.

      Bono and U2 wrote a song about his friend Michael Hutchence from INXS after the latter’s suicide. Hutchence seemed to have it all, but spiraled into a place where he killed himself despite fame, fortune, good looks and good friends. As Bono observed,

      You’ve got yourself stuck in a moment
      And you can’t get out of it

      The whole point of being alive is to grow and to keep reaching for our potential. There will be plenty of setbacks and hurdles along the way that make it all feel meaningless and futile. It’s all part of the climb. Our story in the end is not who we were, but who we become despite it all. The trick is to keep moving forward to that someone better. It’s usually closer than we believe in the moment.

      Moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting the lessons of the past. For those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it, as George Santayana stated so well. We are the sum of all of our parts; the good, the bad and the ugly. It takes time to find all three within us, and to push aside the aspects of our identity we don’t want to dance with anymore. The thing is, when we take that weight off our shoulders we become lighter on our feet, more nimble, and in turn, more alive.

    • The Audacity to Give It a Go

      I want a life measured
      in first steps on foreign soils
      and deep breaths
      in brand new seas
      I want a life measured
      in Welcome Signs,
      each stamped
      with a different name,
      borders marked with metal and paint.
      Show me the streets
      that don’t know the music
      of my meandering feet,
      and I will play their song
      upon them.
      Perfume me please
      in the smells of far away,
      I will never wash my hair
      if it promises to stay.
      I want a life measured
      in the places I haven’t gone,
      short sleeps on long flights,
      strange voices teaching me
      new words to
      describe the dawn.
      — Tyler Knott Gregson, I Want a Life Measured

      I’ve gotten out of the habit of traveling on a whim to whatever comes of the search, “waterfall near me” and “historical site near me”. Lately I’ve been tied to the desk more, with the puppy guarding me awaiting any indication that it’s time to go out and play. The thing is, shouldn’t it always be time to go out and play? We ought to build more adventures into our days.

      Yesterday, I had the beginnings of such an adventure, finding a trailhead near a meeting I was attending. Near a place I’d been a hundred times and never heard the whisper for the din of highway traffic and places to go. A trailhead that promised waterfalls and crisp, slippery December walking. I wore the appropriate footwear and got myself to the trailhead hoping to see at least one of the two waterfalls on the trail. I ran out of time and saw neither, but got a quick hike in anyway. I’ll consider it recon for the next time I’m in the area. Adventures partially fulfilled are better than no adventure at all. The audacity to give it a go is itself a measure of a larger life.

      What stirs us? Reaching the waterfall or the act of reaching out for it? Surely both, but any adventure begins with beginning. When we seek out more adventure in our lives, we generally find it. Every step out into it is an invitation to go further still. And even on those days when we have to turn back towards what is expected of us, the conspiracy of the adventurous spirit remains, whispering “try again another day”.

    • So Much to Admire

      I know, you never intended to be in this world.
      But you’re in it all the same.

      So why not get started immediately.

      I mean, belonging to it.
      There is so much to admire, to weep over.

      And to write music or poems about.

      Bless the feet that take you to and fro.
      Bless the eyes and the listening ears.
      Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.
      Bless touching.

      You could live a hundred years, it’s happened.
      Or not.
      I am speaking from the fortunate platform
      of many years,
      none of which, I think, I ever wasted.
      Do you need a prod?
      Do you need a little darkness to get you going?
      Let me be as urgent as a knife, then,
      and remind you of Keats,
      so single of purpose and thinking, for a while,
      he had a lifetime.
      — Mary Oliver, The Fourth Sign of the Zodiac

      Whispers from a poet, reminding us of the urgency of the moment. Tempus fugit… time flies. Go out and live boldly. Observe and be stirred—get right in the mix. And create something meaningful that might stand on it’s own. It’s a formula for living often repeated here, in this blog about doing all of these things. My daily reminder to not waste a second on the trivial, shared with those who wish to go along for the ride.

      The thing is, when we read the stoics, when we immerse ourselves in poetry and philosophy, in nature and travel, and most of all in the audacious act of heightened awareness, we too begin to live. Less of our own time is wasted. We become hungry for more and more experience, with a burning desire to share it with all who will listen and see for themselves. By opening the senses we let the magic in.

      “Ignorance is not bliss; it’s a missed opportunity.“ — Adam Nicolson, Sea Room

      There’s a price for ignorance paid in unfulfilled wonder and delight. There’s so much to do still. So much to admire. Like that of a poet no longer with us, it’s a whisper (or a shout) to make now count. We’re just part of the choir, singing our part, reminding the congregation to dance with the miracle of life with all the enthusiasm we can muster.

    • Adding Treasure

      “Why be saddled with this thing called life expectancy? Of what relevance to an individual is such a statistic? Am I to concern myself with an allotment of days I never had and was never promised? Must I check off each day of my life as if I am subtracting from this imaginary hoard? No, on the contrary, I will add each day of my life to my treasure of days lived. And with each day, my treasure will grow, not diminish.” ― Robert Brault

      I took a walk with the pup late last night, hoping to see the Geminid meteor shower. Most magic in the sky is inevitably obscured by cloud cover, so when we’re lucky enough to have a crisp, clear sky and a meteor shower we ought to get out the witness it. It proved to be a walk filled with exclamation points punctuating the celestial dance. Like days, every walk is different. A few are special.

      We ought to seek out that specialness in every day. It’s likely hiding in plain sight. As with everything life-amplifying, a bit of awareness surely helps. Knowing the Geminids were happening got me out of a warm house on a cold evening at a time when I’m usually fast asleep. Likewise, a bit of research before traveling to a new place nets all kinds of treasures worthy of a side trip, treasures that will whisper to us in the quiet moments until we experience them, and then whisper delightfully forever after: “We really got to experience that!”

      Awareness is essential, but so is engagement; we ought to talk to the people sitting next to us, we ought to find the local scenic vistas, we ought to dance when the music kicks up a notch. and yes, we ought to miss out on a bit of comfort now and then to try bold things. The time will flow right by either way—shouldn’t we do something more with it?

      “Rise free from care before the dawn, and seek adventures.” – Henry David Thoreau

      The mindset of steadily adding memories instead of subtracting days is a wonderful way to filter exactly what we’re going to do with this day at hand. We can’t possibly stop the flow of sand through the hourglass, so maybe taking a walk on the beach and forgetting about that hourglass altogether is our best move. When we steadily accumulate magic in our moments life becomes something memorable. Go be deliberate and adventurous—for that’s where the treasure is.

    • The Better For It

      “Love what you do. Get good at it. Competence is a rare commodity in this day and age. And let the chips fall where they may.” — Jon Stewart

      “The artist uses the talent he has, wishing he had more talent. The talent uses the artist it has, wishing it had more artist.” ― Robert Brault

      Over time we become proficient at some things at the expense of other things we might have done instead. We simply can’t do everything in this world, and when we try we dilute our potential to master anything. Focus matters a great deal in becoming competent at anything, let alone to master that thing.

      Lately when I click publish there’s a wave of purposelessness that washes over me for just a moment. The dialog goes something like this: “I’ve completed the blog for the day, the one nagging thing that drives me out of bed that must be done is done… so what now?” And that’s usually when the noise of the world fills the void and my purpose becomes clear once again. Do the things that must be done that have been ignored that you might do this other thing. The fog lifts and I get to it.

      Sometimes the noise of the world keeps me from writing the blog until later in the day. Those are days of great discontent, as if I’m being held back from something essential. Now don’t get me wrong—what is essential to me is mostly noise to the rest of the world, if heard at all, but it’s another rung on the ladder towards better that I must climb. The talent uses the artist it has, and I hate disappointing it with lackluster effort.

      When we love what we do, we keep doing it with an earnest focus on something beyond competence. We owe it to ourselves to reach for excellence in whatever we’re doing in this moment. We can always be better, until one day we can’t be. The race for mastery has an expiration date that we’re charging towards faster than we might believe. Shouldn’t we love the work enough to put our best out there right now? If we’re blessed with tomorrow we’ll be the better for it.

    • Designing the Sweet Life (La Dolce Vita)

      “A man must find his occasions in himself, it is true. The natural day is very calm, and will hardly reprove his indolence.” ― Henry David Thoreau, Walden

      In a full confession that will surprise no one in my circle of friends and family, I struggle with the act of idleness. I rarely sit still, even on vacation, choosing to explore whatever place I find myself in, and too often stack too many activities into those “idle” days. There’s no lying on the beach for hours for me. The default is activity over idleness. I marvel at the pets for their ability to simply nap away hours of a day. If I nap at all I set the alarm for 15 minutes and get right back to moving about as soon as possible. And the idea of sleeping in? There is no snooze alarm in my world.

      But that doesn’t translate to being productive all of the time. We can putter about without really getting anything done. The world is full of people quietly quitting the work they have in front of them. There are plenty of people opting out of frenetic lifestyles. There are whole cultures built around the sweetness of doing nothing (dolce far niante: I’m looking at you Italy). So how do we restless souls learn to chill out a bit and live the sweet life (la dolce vita) ourselves?

      “Doing less meaningless work, so that you can focus on things of greater personal importance, is NOT laziness. This is hard for most to accept, because our culture tends to reward personal sacrifice instead of personal productivity.” ― Timothy Ferriss, The 4-Hour Workweek

      The thing is, Thoreau and Ferriss, both known for promoting more strategic idleness in our days, have also produced some significant work that resonates beyond the moment they created it. For all their perceived idleness, there’s an underlying productivity hidden in plain sight. That’s what people miss in the idea of la dolce vita—it’s living the sweet life while still keeping the lights on with productive work. It seems we can have it all, if we create a lifestyle that is both pleasurable and productive.

      The trick is being far more strategic in our productivity, thus giving breathing room for idleness. We ought to know what we’re really setting out to do in this lifetime, and break that down into milestones. Milestones in turn are achieved through work strategically designed into our days. If that sounds like the antithesis of dolce far niante, well, I understand. But it really is the essence of living Thoreau’s “natural day”: filled with enough idle time to feel we’re not cogs in a machine while still producing something memorable.

      Productivity (and idleness) requires focus. Doing the work that matters most in the moment and then get on with living that sweet life. We’re all students of maximizing the potential of our lifetime. We ought to know what makes life sweet, and also meaningful. Designing a pace of life that balances the two is the essence of a sweet life.

      Ultimately, designing a lifestyle that maximizes our potential should be our focus. But potential for what? Wealth? Fame? Isn’t it really time spent doing the things that makes a life sweet? Time with people who matter a great deal to us. Time doing the things that make life a pleasure. Time structured in a way that it doesn’t feel like we’re biding our time but living it.

      So the question when designing a lifestyle is, “what will maximize the number of beautiful moments we may stack together in this finite lifespan?” Nothing brings focus to our days like remembering we only have so many of them. Memento mori. Stop wasting time thinking about it and go live it, today and every day we’re blessed with. The Italians are on to something, don’t you think?