Alexandersmap

    Month: November 2024

    • The Bold Step

      “If you think adventure is dangerous, try routine; It is lethal.” — Paulo Coelho

      Comfort is a quiet killer. It stalks us every day, pulling us from our pursuits with its promises. Comfort means well for us, and so we trust in it. And then it steals our life away.

      We must choose adventure when it calls to us. Take the risks that inspire but make us feel a little nervous inside. Inaction is the real risk. More of the same may feel prudent, but where is it taking us?

      A full life demands boldness. Boldness in turn is a step away from the routine. It won’t call for us forever. Sooner or later it will think us like all the rest and move on to another dance partner. When we change the routine in our lives, we change our life. So shake things up. Take the bold step.

    • The Shape of Stories

      “You should write because you love the shape of stories and sentences and the creation of different words on a page. Writing comes from reading, and reading is the finest teacher of how to write.” ― Annie Proulx

      Finding stories is relatively easy when we’re paying attention to the world around us. I could write a week’s worth of blog posts based on my experiences of just the last 24 hours. That’s a 7:1 ratio for those keeping score, which infers that an active and engaged mind has infinite possibilities to create something. That doesn’t make the story interesting or easy to read, for there’s work to do beyond the first telling of a story, but it’s a great starting point.

      Here’s a story: I confronted two small disasters in my world since the last blog post dropped yesterday morning. In both cases life lessons were learned and we lived to see another sunrise. Shall I end the story there or flesh it out with more detail? A story must have structure and purpose and most of all enough interesting detail to pull a reader in. Having failed thus far at the basics, allow me to continue…

      We have one of those double ovens, top and bottom, that allow us to bake something in each independent of the other. For several years now this has worked out quite well for us. Yesterday, Thanksgiving, I turned on the oven and tucked the turkey in to roast. I inadvertently heated up the wrong oven, and our turkey sat for almost three hours in a room temperature oven before I discovered the mistake. Timing is everything with Thanksgiving and this had the makings of a disaster. After a few moments of despair, we did the only thing one can do in such moments and creatively solved the problem. Our oven has a convection bake function that greatly speeds up the cooking process. We’d never used it on something as big as a turkey but it saved the day yesterday. Crisis averted.

      Now I could have fleshed out that story with some juicy bits of dialogue between my bride and me, with her saving the day with the convection suggestion, but that’s the stuff of second or third drafts. In a proper telling of the story I would be the one stumbling, and my bride would be the hero that saved the day (she’s been saving my days for years). In my first draft, we just covered the basics and moved on to other things. In this case, there’s that second small disaster I teased earlier. Shall we continue?

      This morning I walked down the stairs in the dark, feeling my way along as I always do with a hand on the railing and years of muscle memory carrying me along. As I reached the bottom, my hand felt the dogs face greet me in the dark. “That’s not like her,” I thought to myself as I whispered a quiet good morning. I reached the kitchen, flipped the light switch and discovered something out of a murder scene. Spatters of intestinal distress all over the kitchen, literally everywhere a dog could, uh, go. “Oh no,” I muttered to myself as a reconciled myself to this new reality. But then I thought to myself, “Well, I was going to mop the floor this morning anyway.” and moved on to the next. The only thing to do in such moments is to tell the pup everything would be okay, bring her outside, grab the paper towels and begin cleanup in aisle 12.

      Again, first draft, could be fleshed out and made to sparkle with spine-tingling detail. Perhaps remove the intestinal distress part and make it a truly grisly encounter and we have the makings of a real page-turner. Stories are what we shape them into. The underlying message in both is that there’s always a solution to a problem, beginning with the decision to persevere. And from there the hero’s journey may ensue.

      So was this a memorable blog post? It can always be better but we must ship our work every day. And yet good is the enemy of great. What’s a writer to do but their best in the time they have? Only you the reader can decide whether this post was worthy of your precious time. Still, it was a memorable day since last we met. One can only hope to do their disasters justice in the storytelling.

    • Tradition (Happy Thanksgiving)

      “Tradition is the illusion of permanence.” — Woody Allen

      The fact that we’ve always done something a certain way doesn’t mean that thing ought to be done that way forever. Tradition is merely a form of habit, ritualized and accepted as the way. But life is change, and tradition is thus always in a fragile state. We all crave some measure of permanence and familiarity in a world that guarantees nothing. And so it takes people deliberately choosing to do something the same way again and again that makes a tradition stick. For Americans, the ultimate expression of tradition is Thanksgiving.

      For more than half my life I’ve been getting up early and prepping a bird for a mid-afternoon meal with family and friends. It’s a lovely tradition, but admittedly unusual. I mean, it’s right in the middle of the work week, we’re all spread out across the country now, and the whole thing is just so expensive in time and effort. And we love it so because we’re all together again, for no other reason than that we choose to be. And that’s cause for celebration.

      We know (or we must know) that time flies (tempus fugit) and we’re all quite fragile (memento mori), and any one of these Thanksgivings may be the last for us. The whole holiday is an acknowledgement that we made it to here, today, and mostly together despite all that is happening in the world, and we ought to celebrate our arrival here today with a traditional meal altered slightly for dietary considerations. Yes, life is change, and we are surely changed by this complicated business of living, but today we still have this wonderful tradition and each other. Happy Thanksgiving.

    • Now on Bluesky

      Honestly, I long for the days when choosing a social media platform wasn’t a declaration of one’s political views. But here we are, and it feels like we’ll be here for some time. I quit that other platform just after the purchase and while it was still called something else. I’ve tried Mastodon and Threads in the time since, with mixed results, and now I’m trying Bluesky. To me it’s simply a place for someone to find my blog without the “obligation” of subscribing (I haven’t exactly made that easy either, but it should be cleaner now). So if you’re trying Bluesky and want to follow me there, you can find me at @nhcarmichael.bsky.social

    • By Whatever Name

      Every day I’m still looking for God
      and I’m still finding him everywhere,
      in the dust, in the flowerbeds.
      Certainly in the oceans,
      in the islands that lay in the distance
      continents of ice, countries of sand
      each with its own set of creatures
      and God, by whatever name.
      How perfect to be aboard a ship with
      maybe a hundred years still in my pocket.
      But it’s late, for all of us,
      and in truth the only ship there is
      is the ship we are all on
      burning the world as we go.
      — Mary Oliver, On Traveling to Beautiful Places

      It’s late for all us. We can see this when we pay attention to such things. We can see the world burning as we go, we see the games of distraction that keep the masses occupied while the power brokers pad their pockets, and apparently we can’t do all that much about it. As I’ve said before, all we can really do is build resiliency and beauty into our own lives. But maybe we can do a little more. Maybe we can help others, lost in the darkness, find their way to beauty too.

      To be aboard a ship with maybe a hundred years still in my pocket… Ah the places we’d go! We’ve only got this one go at things, and it’s late for all of us. Where shall we go today? The more I see, the more I come back to where I started. Our life’s work is ourselves, and as Michelangelo put it, seeing the angel in the marble and carving until we set him free. Yes, it’s getting late for all of us, but we may still keep carving to release the angels.

      I’m not particularly religious (when you see the power brokers for who they are you see them everywhere), but there’s an undercurrent of spirituality running through me that is best expressed in empathy and reverence. Perhaps you feel that too. What’s beautiful in this world is realizing the connection. We’re all in the same boat, spinning through the universe, infinitesimal yet infinite all at once. Isn’t that miraculous?

    • Saunter to the Craft

      “The really efficient laborer will be found not to crowd his day with work, but will saunter to his task surrounded by a wide halo of ease and leisure. There will be a wide margin for relaxation to his day. He is only earnest to secure the kernels of time, and does not exaggerate the value of the husk. Why should the hen set all day? She can lay but one egg, and besides she will not have picked up materials for a new one. Those who work much do not work hard.”
      — Henry David Thoreau, The Journal of Henry David Thoreau 1837 – 1861

      Thoreau was a famous saunterer, but he was also a prolific writer. Leisure, mediation, exercise and hard work all have their time. We know when we’ve reached balance and when we’ve stumbled off the line between chaos and order.

      It’s not just work, it’s inspired work that is the ultimate goal for all of us, and it’s out there waiting for us to grab hold of it and take it as far as we can. It’s just hidden amongst all the other tedious, uninspired labor that passes for work. We owe it to ourselves to do work that carries us towards personal excellence, whatever that is for us. Any work that isn’t bringing us somewhere is dragging us sideways down the cliff. We ought to choose our work accordingly.

      Efficiency is the trick. When we focus on the essential work in its time, not only do we get so much more done—it’s done so much better. Take writing for example; I can either turn off the world and write this blog post within this hour, or I can succumb to the distraction of the text messages buzzing me, wonder about the weather today, get up to feed the cats, check the news and watch some video on social media curated especially for me based on previous views. The hour will slip away in any case, but what will we show for it?

      The thing is, most of us love a job well done. We want to bring something meaningful to the world for our efforts, and not look back on the day like we laid an egg. In order to reach our potential, a bit of focused productivity goes a long way. Go ahead and saunter, but when we meet our task we must do it wholeheartedly, that we may rise to our potential. That isn’t tedium, it’s craftsmanship, and isn’t that a far more interesting expression of our time?

    • Leave No Crevice

      “To fill the hour,—that is happiness; to fill the hour, and leave no crevice for a repentance or an approval.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays: First and Second Series

      Here’s a deep dive: What is important to us? Of those important things, what is essential? And of those essential things, what’s the one thing that we want to leave as our legacy, that others may remember of us until they too pass? This is our driving mission, above all the rest, that we must deliberately fill our hours with lest they be lost to the whims of the universe.

      Writing is essential for me, but it hasn’t yet crossed into a driving mission. If it had I’d be a lot more jealous of my time with it. I’ve made writing a habit in a busy life, and I’m happy its stayed with me. In fact I demand that it stays with me by starting every day with it. Habit formation takes time, but habits die from neglect. I know my tendencies (when was the last hiking entry in this blog?) and if I’m not doing this every day I’m doing something else instead.

      It’s those something else’s that make the days feel so busy but unproductive. We get wrapped around the pole with so much clutter and mayhem, and feel obliged to pay attention to each thing that bounces into our path. I have people in my life who would happily watch pop-up videos one after the other on their phones than put it aside and engage with the world. I don’t want that for myself, thank you. I simply want to feel like each day wasn’t wasted on trivial pursuits, for we’ll never get it back.

      Emerson didn’t have to deal with dog videos popping up in his social media feed, but he surely had distractions that pulled at him. The monkey mind is timeless, we just have more tools at our disposal now to suck our vitality away. Focus isn’t what we do in a lifetime, or a year or even a day. It’s what we do with this hour and nothing more. That’s the root of productivity. Stack enough productive hours together and we’re really on to something. The rest of our hours will sort themselves out in time—what shall we do with this one?

    • A Series of Projects

      If life is a series of projects in various stages of completion, then I’m in the midst of another stage of life. The problem with living in a home for a quarter century is that what was once new feels a bit dated. A series of projects ensue, the free moments fill up with tasks, and time seems to fly by in the seemingly never-ending pursuit of incremental improvement. Like Sisyphus with his rock, we finish one climb only to descend back to begin all over again.

      I thought we were done after the last project, but then the washing machine needed to be replaced and that started a series of observations from my bride about the things she hated about the laundry room. We’d modernized it during the pandemic, but had missed a few key things she wanted resolved. She knew just the person to talk to about it. You know the old expression, “Happy wife, happy life”? Some may view that with a negative connotation, but not me. If I can make my life partner happy by simply doing work I usually enjoy doing, then sign me up for the mission! Chasing happiness is folly, but it’s a dividend we find together on the journey to better.

      I know people who have never painted a room in their home, never mowed their own lawn or done fall cleanup, never done more than swap out a picture or two on the walls. I envy the free time they’ve carved out to pursue other things. Indeed, the tax on projects is time, and we all need to decide if that tax is worth paying. That time and the money used to complete every project could surely be going towards a trip or dinner out, couldn’t it?

      My response is that incremental improvement of the environment we spend all our time in makes our time in that environment incrementally better. Over time, project-by-project, we may create a place far beyond what we walked into on that day we first got the keys. The point of all these projects isn’t to get rid of the old, it’s continual transformation of dreams into reality. That is part of our overall pursuit of personal excellence (arete). That series of projects is a lifetime pursuit of our potential, expressed in the form of sawdust and paint.

    • A Sense of Our Season

      “The follies which a person regrets the most in his life, are those which he didn’t commit when he had an opportunity.” — Helen Rowland

      What season are we in? I don’t mean autumn (as this is published), I mean what season of life are we in? There are things we regret not doing in each season of our life carrying us to here, and things we celebrate having done before that door closed forever. The trick is developing a sense of our season and learning to optimize wherever we are now.

      Lingering in the past is either a comforter that warms us or an albatross weighing us down. Either way, it’s not serving us today. We may know that our past decisions created who we are now, whatever that looks like for us, but it only influences tomorrow to the extent that we keep holding on to whatever we’re carrying. Previous choices are merely lessons learned that must be invested in our decisions going forward. Just learn the most important lesson: don’t make the same mistakes over and over again.

      I’ve reached a point where I don’t want to carry the weight of what a younger version of me didn’t do once in another season and instead focus on doing what I can do in the now. For me, comfortable routines were always the whisper of what felt like reason holding me back from adventures I might have taken. Knowing that tendency within me, I simply ask myself whether the next step is towards comfort or adventure, and which will I regret not taking one day in my future? What’s the worst that can happen? It’s usually not all that bad, and probably not as bad as carrying regret for the rest of our days.

      The currency of our lives are time, wealth and health, and we spend what we have in each season. Saving for the future makes some sense (we all like having a nest egg), but some currency can never be used in future seasons and can’t be wasted by not spending it now. Health is a good example of that. A younger, more fit version of me toyed with the idea of running a marathon. Those days are long gone now. Will I regret not having run one on my deathbed? Probably not, but the fact is I missed my chance.

      We may never have just the right amount of health, wealth and time, but we may have just enough of each to do something special with the season we’re in. And whatever that season is, we ought to do more with it, simply because we may not have the right ratio of currency in future seasons. And that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Do something special with this season before it’s gone, when all we’re left with are regrets.

    • A Bundle of Memories

      And the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view
      And we’ll live a long life
      — Mumford & Sons, Ghosts That We Knew

      My vehicle turned 100K yesterday, which in itself indicates nothing more than time and mileage together. The very point where it digitally flipped from 99,999 to 100,000 was a point on Interstate 495 known for being a choke point. Sure enough, I was in traffic barely moving when the odometer flipped, and took a picture for posterity in the relative safety of not really moving much at all. If I’d had my druthers, my truck and I would have done 100K on epically beautiful roadways while circumnavigating the continent, but alas, most of us simply drive from here to there again and again. The location was appropriate for the places in the northeast I’ve driven to. And just like with any other birthday or anniversary or milestone achieved, I simply kept on going.

      Earlier on this same trip, while taking the train from New York to Boston, I looked out at the Thames River in New London, Connecticut as we crossed the bridge there. Just upstream I saw the Coast Guard Bears Sailing Center at Jacob’s Rock, which back in the days when I rowed was roughly the finish line for the 2000 meter course. Sitting on that train looking upstream at that spot, the entire race came back to mind in a flash, with a different version of me sitting in the five seat. We ended up losing that race when we stopped just short of the finish line. Call it home field advantage or an oversight on our part, either way I never got a Coast Guard shirt.

      The thing is, we often cross paths with the ghosts of who we once were as we navigate the world. The train track itself has carried many versions of me to and from New York, the stairs that I walked down this morning have known a quarter century of me as I’ve known each step. Every day is a milestone, every familiar path carries some older version of us we may revisit. Life is change and familiar routines, all rolled up into a bundle of memories. We may hold on tight to them or let them drift away until some random glance brings them back into view. ’tis best to give our ghosts a nod and keep on living this life in the now. One day it will be today’s version of us that will be the ghost. Just what will we think of it then?