Alexandersmap

    Month: July 2024

    • Time. Warped

      “We must not allow the clock and the calendar to blind us to the fact that each moment of life is a miracle and mystery.” ― H. G. Wells

      In a time warp kind of year, where the very idea of time seems askew, some perspective from H. G. Wells seemed appropriate. When we think about all that’s happened this summer, let alone this year, it might feel as if someone is playing with the clock and calendar to jamb more transformative change into ever tighter increments of time. Personally I’ve seen more twists and turns and backflips to my sense of what makes up normal than you see in an Olympic gymnastics floor routine. And August is stacked—doubling down on the crazy.

      None of this is new, only our perspective has changed. The world marches along at maddening speed, and we are either witnesses or active participants. Predictable is nice, but surprising developments and plot twists are what take our breath away. Life should be a fascinating page-turner, not some tedious slog through required reading. Instead of feeling overwhelmed we might simply say, “Wow, I didn’t see that coming” and muster up the courage to write the next scene.

      This is our time, for all its glory and ugliness. We may revel in the former while finding some way through the latter to better days. It all may feel warped in some moments but the pace of change has always been relative to how we look at such things anyway. All that ever matters is what we make of this—our day. Leaving the rest to history.

    • Slicing Out the Moment

      “All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s (or thing’s) mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt.” ― Susan Sontag

      There’s a cool feature in iPhone photos where you can view the map of where your thousands of photographs were taken, with thumbnails of the photos overlaying the spot it was geolocated. It’s a great reminder of where we’ve been and what we saw at the time we were there. It’s a momentary slice of our lives from the past, and we get to relive it with a virtual flyover as we zoom in on the place. And in doing so, the pictures from that place come back to us like a flood of memories.

      I’ve taken tens of thousands of photographs, mostly with my collection of iPhones since those became the technology that replaced a camera. But my Instagram feed is only at 1700 posts. We all save the best pictures to show others, don’t we? But that particular platform isn’t always friendly when formatting our favorite pictures, and so they fail to make the cut. Not so with our library, where with time and patience we can scroll through everything to find memories.

      I’m that person at parties and family gatherings taking all the pictures. I do it because I know the moment will soon be gone like all the rest but some fragment of it may live on. I’ve captured people no longer with us, full of hope and happiness or sometimes with a knowing look that this may be the last photo you’ll get of them. My favorite Navy pilot once observed this as I insisted on taking his picture with his grandchildren. It would be years before he passed, but his belief in my motivation for taking the picture stayed with me and does to this day.

      The thing is, all of our past moments are dead and gone. The people and places live on within us for as long as we are alive, and then we in turn live on in others for as long as they are. Beyond that is beyond all of us to know. Immortality isn’t ours to achieve, but our image may live on beyond the living memory of all who knew us. So too may our words, should we be so bold as to write them down for all to see.

      We all know the score. Tempus fugit (time flies), memento mori (remember we all must die) and so the only reasonable answer is carpe diem (seize the day). Capturing a few images along the way allows us to look back on a life well-lived and trigger memories that may have faded. Memories of places and people and moments that once were our entire life for an instant and now a layer of our identity, gently folded within us for the rest of our days.

    • Never Coming Back Again

      “Because in the end, you won’t remember the time you spent working in an office or mowing the lawn. Climb that goddamn mountain.” — Jack Kerouac

      Our mountain is experience. There’s no getting around it. We must get out there and do the things that call to us. We know the stakes. Whatever we do with this day, we ought to make it meaningful for all the right reasons.

      I texted with an avid hiker friend who’s birthday is today. She always takes the day off to celebrate it, which I think is a wonderful way to mark the occasion. Hopefully there are mountains on her schedule today, or at the very least time with people who matter a great deal.

      It happens that today is also the day a woman who works for me returns from maternity leave. When she texted me that she was back I reminded her that she was to punt anything and everything that felt overwhelming over the fence to the team that’s been supporting her while she’s been away. Work is not life, merely a part of life. When we treat it like our life we limit our potential as human beings.

      It’s not my birthday today, and I don’t have a newborn at home drawing my attention, but I do have the same 24 hours to work with. What will we remember most about this day at the end of our days? We ought to do more of that. Make it special, for it’s never coming back again.

    • Raising Our Voice of Reason

      Our little lives get complicated
      It’s a simple thing
      Simple as a flower
      And that’s a complicated thing
      — Love and Rockets, No New Tale to Tell

      Wrestling with what comes next with the generation ahead of mine is complicated. Offering guidance to the young adults we raised when they have good heads on their own shoulders is also complicated. We ought to let people find their own way as much as we can, while remembering that we’re in their life for a reason. Sometimes we have something to offer in such moments.

      The world is very complicated right now. Sometimes it seems like our only purpose is to be a voice of reason in a maddeningly confused time. It seems some people are outraged by the opening ceremonies at the Olympics. I’m more outraged by children dying on a soccer pitch in the Golan Heights for no reason but that they were born in a place and time that made them expendable to someone with the means and inclination to wipe their lives away. I’m more outraged that we’re pissing away time focusing on petty instead of looking at the bigger issues this planet is facing right now. And yes, I’m more outraged that people are outraged by things they’re told to be outraged about instead of following their own moral compass.

      “Frodo: I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.
      Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”
      ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

      I don’t particularly want to make this blog political, and choose to focus on finding common ground instead. I feel the world needs more people pointing out the things that link us together instead of people pulling us apart, and so I use my keyboard accordingly. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t point out when we go astray. The human race is staggeringly complicated and stupefyingly simple all at once. Art is finding the beauty in the madness and helping others see what was right in front of them all along.

      Our job, should we choose to embrace it, is to raise our voice and bring reason to the conversation. The world doesn’t need another person screaming, and it doesn’t need another person who chooses to stay silent, it needs thoughtful consideration about what comes next and a measured response. It needs people who rise up and do what’s right when it feels like rising up will get you knocked down. This is our time, after all. So what will we do with reason when it asks for a voice?

    • Too Present to Imagine

      Age saw two quiet children
      Go loving by at twilight,
      He knew not whether homeward,
      Or outward from the village,
      Or (chimes were ringing) churchward,
      He waited, (they were strangers)
      Till they were out of hearing
      To bid them both be happy.
      “Be happy, happy, happy,
      And seize the day of pleasure.”
      The age-long theme is Age’s.
      ‘Twas Age imposed on poems
      Their gather-roses burden
      To warn against the danger
      That overtaken lovers
      From being overflooded
      With happiness should have it.
      And yet not know they have it.
      But bid life seize the present?
      It lives less in the present
      Than in the future always,
      And less in both together
      Than in the past. The present
      Is too much for the senses,
      Too crowding, too confusing-
      Too present to imagine.
      —Robert Frost, Carpe Diem

      Nothing brings you to the present like taking a leap. You’ve left your familiar, solid footing behind, are airborne for an instant and sure to land somewhere new any moment now. We don’t have to imagine the landing in such moments of leaping, we need only prepare ourselves for its inevitability.

      I begin most mornings with a leap into the pool to shake off the cobwebs, and the sensation of leaping never gets old. I recognize the privilege of having a pool in the first place, for it’s a relic of the past that lingers like old soccer balls and scooters. The difference is that it still brings joyful moments even as the life it was built for has changed. Empty nests make for still water most all of the time. Still, I leap.

      We can’t mourn the past that has left us, simply acknowledge that it is a part of who we are now. It’s like the library of books read and placed on the shelf to be referred to now and then. We are the sum of all of our experience, yet forever leaping into the future. In these moments I come back to seizing the present. Carpe diem is that airborne moment we scarcely think of in the midst of leaping, but it’s everything too present to imagine.

      We must remember we’re standing on the bridge to our future, but not obsess over it to the point of being seized by it. Happiness is bliss in the leap with optimism for the landing. The joei de vivre we fold into the present is one more book on tomorrow’s shelf. We are building a meaningful life as our library grows by the day. Each a present to reflect on, even as we leap for the next.

    • Ought To’s and Got To’s

      “Change your life today. Don’t gamble on the future, act now, without delay.” — Simone de Beauvoir

      We ought to act with more urgency in our days. Ought to’s aren’t the same as got to’s though, are they? We know we ought to work out more, eat and drink less empty calories, read more, make the call we’ve been meaning to make and do that other thing that’s been nagging at us for some time now. What did we actually get to yesterday? That’s the stuff of consequence that moved the chains in our march through time. Got to’s are palpable because we feel the change that comes with them.

      There are few things more fulfilling than a solid day in which we do the things we’d promised ourselves that we’d do. It sets the table for a bolder tomorrow, clears the deck of yesterday’s commitments and confirms for us that we got to do the things we knew we ought to do. Excuses fall by the wayside as accomplishments stack up behind us.

      We know that there’s always another ought to rising up to meet us. That’s life. But that next ought to is easier to face when we’ve gotten to the things that came up before. Each lifts us to a higher place; a staircase of accomplishments rising to a higher identity. The view is distinctly better the higher we climb. Certainly better than down there treading water under the weight of all those ought to’s.

      The thing is, we read an inspiring quote like Beauvoir’s and feel the lift of her words. Do we act on it in the moment? Changing our lives seems pretty big when we think about it, but really it’s just the next thing we’ve got to do completed, and the one after that. So by all means, we must act now, and leave today’s ought to’s in the past where they belong.

    • Monsters and Miracles

      “Whilst we seek out causes and solid and weighty ends, worthy of so great a name, we lose the true ones; they escape our sight by their littleness. And, in truth, a very prudent, diligent, and subtle inquisition is required in such searches, indifferent, and not prepossessed. To this very hour, all these miracles and strange events have concealed themselves from me: I have never seen greater monster or miracle in the world than myself: one grows familiar with all strange things by time and custom, but the more I frequent and the better I know myself, the more does my own deformity astonish me, the less I understand myself.” — Michel de Montaigne, The Complete Essays

      We are, each of us, walking contradictions in identity. We can be lazy or vigorous, distracted or focused, incompetent or prolific contributors to the causes most meaningful to us. And most every time beauty is in the eye of the beholder. We are our own worst critic, and ultimately the one who pull ourselves out of a tailspin to soar once again.

      Today I aim to do better than I did yesterday. Now yesterday was memorable for a few good reasons but not nearly as good as the day before was. Yesterday the ego got in the way a bit too much, the lazy me got the upper hand. I didn’t reach the level I aspire to for myself in many ways. But today is a new day and anything is possible. Just who will I be today?

      Self-awareness is our scorekeeper. We can assess our performance against the standard we set for ourselves and face the truth of who we were in the moment. Sometimes we let ourselves down, sometimes we surprise ourselves with the heights we reached. In the morning we may mourn or celebrate these realizations, but always with the intent to aspire for better. Today is a new day, and a new opportunity to reach higher.

    • Solitude and Service

      “He who delights in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.” — Friedrich Nietzsche

      I recently spent some time on an island, and fancied what it might be like to live there. A boat could bring me back to civilization as needed for provisions and conversation. The rest of the time? Blessed solitude. Libraries of books being read and re-read. Volumes of prose written. Time to meditate on the meaning of life. Processing elbow room for the mind and soul. Wonderful, sacred solitude.

      It’s nice to ponder, but I suspect I wouldn’t be truly fulfilled in a life of solitude. I feel another gravitational force pulling me in the other direction. My attention always comes back to a familiar world of contribution to and appreciation for the circle of people who make up my identity beyond the self. For most of us, service to others is our primary purpose.

      Blame it on growing up in a big family or participating in a team sport instead of individual pursuits, but I just seem to be built for social interaction. That doesn’t make my time in solitude any less valuable, but does make it obvious that it’s a now and then thing not an all the time existence. But is it enough?

      The most interesting islands are full of connection to others. Fellow inhabitants, bridges and ferries to connect you to the mainland, Internet and cellular telephone service. Each brings connection for those times when solitude is just too much. We don’t have to live on an island to find solitude any more than we need to be off the island to find connection.

      As with everything, life is about balance. Balance is something we feel, and perhaps the best thing we can do for ourselves is to build a life where we feel our balance between solitude and service are mostly in blessed equilibrium. Surely it’s something to aspire to in our creative, engaged and productive lives. Wherever we may find it.

      Solitude

    • What Feeds Your Head

      “I would urge you to be as imprudent as you dare. BE BOLD, BE BOLD, BE BOLD. Keep on reading. (Poetry. And novels from 1700 to 1940.) Lay off the television. And, remember when you hear yourself saying one day that you don’t have time any more to read- or listen to music, or look at [a] painting, or go to the movies, or do whatever feeds you head now- then you’re getting old. That means they got to you, after all.” — Susan Sontag, from the 1983 Wellesley College commencement speech

      I’m far from the most productive productivity zealot out there, and I’ve always positioned myself as the late bloomer figuring things out as I go. One thing I figured out a long time ago was that I need to have a head start to keep up with that which I aspire to finish today. It’s no secret that I try to jamb as much as possible into the morning hours, that I may be ahead of the game as the world washes it’s nonsense over me. This morning? 11 mile ride, feed the pets, water the plants, read two chapters, responded to essential work emails and now writing this blog in hopes of publishing before 8 AM. Will my hours be as productive as the day progresses? Likely not, but at least I’ve done what I’d hoped to do when I woke up.

      We can’t run on empty forever. We’ve got to fuel the engine that keeps us running down the hours. Hydration and nutrition are a given, but we can’t forget to refill the mind’s battery. A good night’s sleep to keep the brain fog at bay, then seek to fill up with as much nutrient-rich experience as we can find. What feeds our head? We ought to be more creative and attentive to our choices. Garbage in, garbage out and all that.

      I’m pressing for more travel, more music, more art, more face time with interesting people, and more diverse experience than I’ve accumulated thus far. How much is enough? We’ll know it when we get there, and I’m a long way from there now. Sontag’s speech to young graduates was likely well received, but it’s their parents and grandparents who really knew the score. Life will constantly get in the way of feeding our mind and soul. We must carve out the time and jealously guard it, lest it disappear forever.

      So be bold today. It’s not the first time I’ve asked, and won’t be the last. I’m asking it of you and also of me. Today’s the day. Nice starts are great, but sprint to the finish this day. There’s just so much to see and do and only now to work with.

    • Attention is Vitality

      “Do stuff. be clenched, curious. Not waiting for inspiration’s shove or society’s kiss on your forehead. Pay attention. It’s all about paying attention. attention is vitality. It connects you with others. It makes you eager. stay eager.” ― Susan Sontag

      Many things compete for our attention. The pup wants very much for me to pay full attention to playing frisbee with her for the entire morning. There’s a part of me that would rather do that than shift attention to other work. But there are things we must do in our lives that call to us. What we pay attention to determines where we go after all.

      Perhaps I love my return to cycling because of the state change it brought to me, or perhaps it’s because I’m very focused on the act of staying upright and making miles when I’m doing it. There’s no texting or doom scrolling on my part, and hopefully not on the part of the drivers nearby. There’s just full attention to the joyful act of flying inches over the pavement, with the occasional hill to punch up the heart rate.

      During this morning’s frisbee session I listened to the world around me. The sound of a horse whinnying at the farm beyond the woods, a crow having a conversation with another crow that preferred silence (thank you very much!), the hum of distant morning drivers on country roads, the sun shining brightly upon grateful oak leaves, the still wet footprints from an early morning plunge in the pool, a bit of coolness in the air. Paying attention offers a wealth of information from which to become engaged with the universe. Alternatively, we may focus our rapt attention on one thing until it’s done. I’m particularly good at the former, and force myself towards the latter. Some tasks are easier than others.

      There’s just so much to pay attention to in this world, screaming as it is for ours. The trick is to filter it all out and listen to the call of the wild within us. What excites us? Why aren’t we doing more of that to see where it leads us? Life is a meandering path of engagement and diversion with an undefined destination set against a clock ticking relentlessly in the background, reminding us that we’re running out of time. Do stuff! While we still have the currency of attention, health and vitality to stuff those minutes full of experience.