Alexandersmap

    Month: January 2026

    • What Are We Carrying?

      “It is difficult to free fools from the chains they revere.” — Voltaire

      We may see the chains that others carry, but when they’ve wrapped them around their life like a comfortable blanket, removing them becomes all but impossible. It’s part of their identity. And identity is a very tricky thing to work with. They must see the chains themselves, they must choose to release the burden they represent. We can’t make someone reject the chains they revere, we can only help them see them for what they are.

      Naturally, we have our own chains we must learn to see, and every day is an opportunity to break free link-by-link (if we don’t simply throw them all off in one swift go). Aware of our own chains, we learn that we can’t be carrying someone else’s burden too. That frustration we feel when others won’t change is nothing but links of their chain that we choose to carry.

      The world is full of anger and hate, greed and envy. The world is also full of love and joy, generosity and acceptance. We each carry our share of each of these traits (for we are human, aren’t we?). The question we ought to ask ourselves is, what are we carrying into the future? Not just our future, but our collective future. The weight of all those chains eventually sinks the ship.

    • Shake the Grass

      And the days are not full enough
      And the nights are not full enough
      And life slips by like a field mouse
      Not shaking the grass.
      — Ezra Pound

      There is a compulsion to fill my days and nights with experience. Perhaps you share this too. There is an equally pressing sense that time is slipping past us at shocking speed. Tempus fugit. We humans are bound to notice it eventually.

      Forever chasing experience. Forever working to be here, now. It’s a blessing and a curse to be aware. Mostly a blessing, for awareness offers a glimpse of all that flies past. Awareness locks a few moments in amber, that we may cherish them for the rest of our vibrant days. Awareness makes us do things like getting out of a warm bed at 3 AM to attempt a glimpse at the northern lights, or to plunge into a cold mountain stream or the bay late in the season—simply because we may never pass this way again.

      Don’t waste a moment. We ought to spend the time as we know we should. We ought to avoid distraction and waste whenever possible. And be bold and daring when we least expect it of ourselves. Shake the grass and dance all night. For today will fly by like all the rest.

    • Shifting the Good

      “Noncooperation with evil is as much a moral obligation as the cooperation with good.” — Martin Luther King, Jr.

      A while back, I had a drink with a couple of old friends who celebrate the chaotic leadership of the current administration. There’s simply no consensus between us when it comes to politics, but there is common ground that we’ve walked on for years. What I believe to be evil and they believe to be good are unchangeable. They believe I’m quaintly naive, I believe they didn’t study for the test and are smugly cheating off the wrong answer sheet. And yet we view each other as inherently good.

      We are all imperfect beings, making our way through a complicated world with a limited amount of time with which to sort it all out. We ought to live a life of dignity and high moral character. We ought to treat others as we wish to be treated ourselves. We look around at the world and see that many who fail to exhibit these traits rise—not just to power, but abusive power. We look around and see some people we thought exhibited the traits we aspire to reveling in the abusiveness of powerful people.

      Every generation has its test. We are in the midst of ours. It doesn’t matter if our neighbor or our uncle passes the test, only that we do. Those who are blind may never see. Or maybe the light will dawn one day before they pass from this world. We only control our own path through the darkness. If we become a beacon of hope for those trying to find their own way, then maybe that is enough. Pendulums swing when the middle shifts ever so slightly. Fight evil, but the real work lies in shifting the good.

    • We Become the Sum

      “What strikes me is the fact that in our society, art has become something which is related only to objects and not to individuals, or to life. That art is something which is specialized or which is done by experts who are artists. But couldn’t everyone’s life become a work of art? Why should the lamp or the house be an art object, but not our life?” — Michel Foucault

      Walking the pup yesterday during a snowstorm, I considered turning back to slip on micro spikes. Fluffy snow over ice is never a good recipe for reliable footing. Instead I shortened my stride and the leash so the dog wouldn’t pull me down in her snowy exuberance. Some life lessons are learned from a sore backside.

      We know that we are works in progress, but sometimes get frustrated with the pace of that progress. It’s okay to paint over our mistakes now and then. It’s better to make them anyway, if only to learn which paths are not ours to take, if only to not have possibilities haunting us for not having tried them at all. As Nietzsche reminded us, that which doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. In this way, we may consider each day a lesson in how to live.

      The pup and I have a loop that covers the same ground twice to get us to the desired distance. Double the distance and we’re doubling the frequency of times covering the same ground. Which is noticeable when it’s snowing out and we’re leaving foot and paw prints behind us. In this way, each loop revealed the previous ground we’d covered, but our steps never exactly repeated themselves. Our strides changed with the conditions, we were pulled towards some curiosity just a nose below the snow, a car passed by that changed our path or some such thing. As the snow accumulated, the oldest footprints faded more and more into the layers building up on top of them. Each loop was the same, yet completely different. So too are our days.

      Our canvas transforms with every stroke of the brush. Each offers lessons on where to go next. Each fades further into the background with the addition of yet another. But here lies depth and progress. The richness of life is found not just in the changes we make to our days, but in the rituals that anchor them. It all builds upon itself to form the work of art that is our life. In this way, we become the sum.

    • Emerging Possibilities

      How long did all those possibilities sleep
      during the years
      before this emerging
      — Michael Ondaatje, The Then

      There are hints of our future together all around us. We may see some version of ourselves emerge from the habits that we develop, or those that hold on to us (try as we might to break from them). We are what we repeatedly do, and so it is that we become what we surround ourselves with. There will always be a gap between who we are and what we want to be. Is that gap closing or becoming a chasm?

      We see in the world possibilities emerging that we never imagined. We may share mutual disgust and dismay. But I’m here to tell you that there are other possibilities hiding right in plain sight, possibilities that we can control, should we become aware of them. Life is what we make of it—it has always been this way and always will be. Fight the good fight, but for the love of God start within.

      What we tend to see is that which demands our attention, be it a heart attack or an autocrat or the waiter asking us what we want to drink. Immediacy demands focus. Do we remember the Eisenhower Matrix? Right next to that “urgent and important” quadrant lies the “not urgent but important” quadrant where the real work of becoming resides. Our future lies in seeing what might be, not forever reacting to what is thrown on our shoulders to somehow carry.

      Everything begins with awareness. When we are self-absorbed we don’t see the soulmate standing right in front of us. When we are distracted by the despair machine, we don’t see the pendulum swinging towards decency. When we are wrapped in the comfort of easy, we don’t see the path to personal excellence available when we become inclined towards harder. Possibilities are all around us, simply waiting for opportunities to emerge. Feed them the attention they need.

    • And Now We Rise

      A day once dawned, and it was beautiful
      A day once dawned from the ground
      Then the night she fell
      And the air was beautiful
      The night she fell all around
      So look, see the days
      The endless coloured ways
      Go play the game that you learnt
      From the morning
      And now we rise
      And we are everywhere
      And now we rise from the ground
      And see she flies
      She is everywhere
      See she flies all around
      So look, see the sights
      The endless summer nights
      And go play the game that you learnt
      From the mornin’
      — Nick Drake, From the Morning

      I’m told that Nick Drake’s family had the two lines from this song, “Now we rise and we are everywhere” engraved on his gravestone (a simple Google search verifies this). Could there be a more beautiful choice of words to mark a life? Nick Drake’s career rose quietly, posthumously, and is now everywhere (should we listen for it). Our work outlives us, doesn’t it? So it follows that we ought to put our very best into the work that matters most.

      We are creative beings, putting our dent in the universe, such that it is, before we fade away into eternity. Knowing this, we ought to rise up to meet the work as best we can, to put something of ourselves into it that makes it uniquely ours. And then to let it fly, to find its own way in the world like a moth rising to meet the light. Most everything is consumed and disappears, but some work might just break through and go everywhere.

      I think sometimes, is this blog enough? The question betrays the answer. There is far more to do. We put our best hours into other things, knowing that the days flow into nights and begin again and again. And we only have so long to play this game.

    • Digging Our Ground

      The trouble, doll, is not moving mountains
      But digging the ground that you’re on
      If it’s true that good fortune gives no change
      We got just what it takes
      — Jakob Dylan, Something Good This Way Comes

      Nowadays, doesn’t it seem like everyone is angry or depressed or resentful of others? We know there are legitimate reasons for concern, but there’s also a collective amnesia about how good we really have it. It’s driven by an information diet that tells us how awful we should feel about the state of the world, about those “nasty” people on the other side, about the number staring back at us on the scale or the fact that few of us look like those fit, fashionable and well-traveled people we see on our screens. We know that comparison is the death of joy, but our feeds are relentlessly pushing for comparison anyway.

      There’s nothing wrong with aspiring for more in life, for that is how humanity grows and evolves. That’s how we grow and evolve. But we shouldn’t lose track of that which we are blessed with. How many people throughout history would have given everything for what we have right now? They’d be shocked by our lack of awareness of all that surrounds us.

      Gratitude grounds us. It changes our mindset from feeling like we live in scarcity to knowing we live in abundance. When we’re grateful for where we are, with what we have and who we’re spending our precious time with, it’s hard to feel like we aren’t living a great life. So maybe it’s time to start digging the ground that we’re on, and stop clawing for more of what’s over there. Because over there ain’t all that either.

    • Courage

      “What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?”
      — Vincent van Gogh

      When we look back, how does the path that brought us here look? Probably full of switchbacks and a few dead ends, some steep learning curves and false peaks, disappointing descents and surprising vistas that taught us a thing or two. Life is a series of attempts at something new. We may be bold today and again tomorrow, or we can shrink into familiar and less risky ventures. Which is the hero’s journey? Which will give us a better story in the end?

      None of this will mean a thing a hundred years from now. If we’re lucky maybe one small thing will break through and resonate beyond. Whatever project we’re currently working on is unlikely to resonate through the ages like Irises. Does that mean I shouldn’t write this blog post or go to work today? Purpose is discovered through daily action and the courage to change course when the one we’re on isn’t bringing us to where we’d like to go. Van Gogh painted Irises shortly after checking into the Saint Paul-de-Mausole asylum. Do you wonder if he considered his own path clear and straight to the top?

      It’s not just okay to try new things, it’s imperative that we do so. Exploring new paths opens up new opportunities, it colors our world with new perspective, it teaches us who we might be simply by stepping away from the tried and true. Some paths turn out to be magical, but we’ve learned that some will crush our spirit. Knowing this, courage is indeed necessary to rise again to try another. And another. And yet another. In this way, we grow into who we might become in this lifetime.

      Irises, at the J. Paul Getty Museum

    • Stop Feeding the Monkey

      In the course of my pursuit of better, I have accumulated systems and routines that in themselves burden me with more things to carry, do and track. For example, I have five notebooks going right now, one strictly for work notes, one for tracking fitness, my Some Lines Per Day notebook to note just what I did on this lucky day of being alive, and a general notebook that sits on my desk for quick notes for any old thing. This of course is way too many notebooks, but I believe in a separation of church and state, and I believe that bleeding work into personal notebooks or vice versa would be a hot mess. And so I’m left with what I have.

      The thing is, it wasn’t always this way. I’ve tried Bullet Journals and Franklin Covey planners and all manner of electronic devices to mimic the simple analog efficiency of a notebook with purpose. Inevitably I drift away from all of them in favor of pen to paper. But I keep looking for the perfect solution to consolidate and simplify what should be a very simple act of tracking activity and thoughts.

      Just yesterday, I purchased yet another notebook. This one has grids on every page, which appeals to my spreadsheet mindset, but admittedly leaves something to be desired for the writer in me. It was an impulsive purchase, but something I sought out for a reason known only to my monkey mind (that restless spirit within that seeks to distract me from doing anything useful or productive).

      Notebooks are my thing, but the monkey mind consumes all kinds of things to keep us off track. Perhaps you’ve accumulated apps on your phone, or electronic devices that promise all manner of productivity and entertainment. How many streaming services are we up to now anyway? Usually two or three more than we’d like. How full is the closet? How many devices do we really need to cook dinner? How many tools do we need to maintain our home? We all have our version of “notebook” that keep us from the real work at hand.

      The thing is, we can bog ourselves down in systems and preparation, accumulate tools and techniques, acquire knowledge, degrees and certifications. But in the end, all that matters is the action we take towards a goal, and the work that we ship today. Everything else is background noise that drowns out the message. The answer is to simplify, focus and relentlessly cull the collection of things in life that keep feeding the monkey. At least that’s what I wrote down in my notebook. Which one, I can’t tell you.

    • The Slow and Difficult Trick of Living

      It isn’t very far as highways lie.
      I might be back by nightfall, having seen
      The rough pines, and the stones, and the clear water.
      Friends argue that I might be wiser for it.
      They do not hear that far-off Yankee whisper:
      How dull we grow from hurrying here and there!

      Many have gone, and think me half a fool.
      To miss a day away in the cool country.
      Maybe. But in a book I read and cherish,
      Going to Walden is not so easy a thing
      As a green visit. It is the slow and difficult
      Trick of living, and finding it where you are.
      — Mary Oliver, Going to Walden

      It isn’t very far at all for me to visit Walden. I could be there in about an hour, accounting for rush hour traffic in that general direction. I’ve gone there before, just to be there on some random Tuesday or Wednesday or whatnot. While others worked I would play hooky for an hour or two, just to see the water, just to feel like Thoreau in the interlude between responsibilities. Inevitably I’d return better for having been there. Some might argue that my nose to the grindstone for those couple of hours would have been a better use of the time. Let them think what they want. We’re all different people, aren’t we?

      I can feel that it’s almost time to re-read Walden again, just as I felt today it was time to revisit Mary Oliver. There are other voices beyond the hustle culture that ought to be listened to. There are other ways to spend our precious time. The trick to living is awareness and presence in the invaluable now. To learn and grow and become at a pace that we can maintain for the long haul, even as we know that the time slips away so very quickly.

      You won’t find me at Walden today. I assure you it will be just fine without me. For a Monday I ought to be in more of a rush somewhere, but what is on the other side of that hustle? Just what do we arrive at when we go from here to there anyway? Maybe that’s why I keep writing—to remind myself to be aware of the time going by, or to simply remind myself to cherish the view along the way. To be here, now feels like more than enough. Why would we ever rush away from it?