Alexandersmap

    Author: nhcarmichael

    • A Ritual of Now

      If you’ll forgive the brag, the garden is looking good this year. A bit of good luck was (and is always) involved, with rain happening while traveling to mitigate the impact of irregular watering in my absence, followed by a well-timed return to tend to things when the heat rose. Whether luck or accumulated experience planting things that are happy in the microclimate I place them in, the garden is thriving. The outcome of our lives is a combination of luck and the steady influence of consistent action. We can debate the ratio, or simply accept what is and what will be.

      If you’re reading this, you’re bucking the trend in the United States to read less. I find myself writing a little less to read a little more. We give our time to what we want in the moment. I’d like to finish more books this year, even if it’s at the expense of a few more blog posts. We tend to become what we measure. Life is too short to do everything we want to do in our time. I’d like to devoir a few more books each year than my present pace.

      I’ve always been a contrarian, a maverick, a rebel. If only in my own mind. The truth is I generally follow the rules and chafe at those who don’t. That explains my overall dismay at the state of things in the country and the exuberance of those who celebrate the downward spiral. But I’m not here to preach and complain. Like you, friend, I’m here to make strides forward.

      I walk toward
      the kitchen
      door as if walking
      toward the
      door of a recognized
      heaven

      and see the
      simplicity
      of shelves and
      the blue dishes
      and the
      vaporing
      steam rising
      from the kettle
      that called me in.

      Not just this
      aromatic cup
      from which to drink
      but the flavor
      of a life made whole
      and lovely
      through the
      imagination
      seeking its way.
      — David Whyte, At Home

      The long, hot days of July are upon us. We ought to dance with each day while it remains our partner. Soon it will be but a summer fling with time gone by. We are here, now, living as we do. In the quest to become what’s next, we shouldn’t lose sight of what is. The way from here is worth contemplating, but never lose sight of the ritual of now. To celebrate and savor all of this is our bold act of presence. So be bold, and savor this day.

    • Love For the World

      “Imagine that you’re unwell and in a foul mood, and they’re taking you through some lovely countryside. The landscape is beautiful but you’re not in the mood to see anything. A few days later you pass the same place and you say, “Good heavens, where was I that I didn’t notice all of this?” Everything becomes beautiful when you change.” — Anthony De Mello, Awareness

      The world, such that it is, can be hard to take some days. As a glass half full operator, I work hard to skate my lane, leaving the pessimism and despair-at-everything to others. Life is short, after all, we must make of it what we may in our time. Still, it’s hard not to take note of the setbacks.

      Illegitimi non carborundum: Don’t let the bastards grind you down.

      Those bastards are on both sides of the political spectrum, dealing in despair and outrage and self-pity. They’re our worst enemies but sometimes also the people we love and trust the most, unloading their burden on us. But we don’t have to wear that fecal matter on our shoulders; we may choose to move ourselves away from the matter pilers altogether.

      I don’t say
      it’s easy, but
      what else will do
      if the love one claims to have for the world
      be true?
      — Mary Oliver, Lines Written in the Days of Growing Darkness

      It’s not easy to forgo outrage in an outrageous time, but it’s essential life force management for the aspiration of a beautiful soul. We don’t have to wear rose-colored glasses as we move through the world. Nor do we have to see it through a filter of pessimism, anger or misery. Simply see and be, with a bias towards beauty. When we add enough light the darkness retreats. Now how lovely is that?

    • A Birthday Wish

      Today is the 4th of July, which for America means a big shiny 250th celebration of sorts. Many of us celebrate with reservation, concerned as we are with the state of things. I won’t spend a moment longer than necessary debating with the other side on this one, any more than I’ll join a pity party. Keep calm and carry on, with a quiet resolve to see things through to a brighter future. We are where we are, doing what we can do, hopefully positioning ourselves for better than this.

      Sometimes your next
      halting step
      is more powerful
      than the grandest vision.

      All a leaf knows
      about building a tree
      is to turn towards the light.
      — James A. Pearson, How to Build a Tree

      My youngest celebrates her birthday today. We won’t see her on her birthday, but hope that she has a spectacular day full of people who care for her and quietly miss her when she’s not around, as we do. Life is better when we gather with those we love, but life isn’t that simple. In times like these, with the best and worst of us on display, all a father can do for a daughter on her birthday is point her towards the light and help her grow.

      Each day is a dance with our potential. May the best emerge in each of us today and always. That’s a birthday wish for all who celebrate today and every day. Happy Birthday Emily. And to America too.

    • The Resonance of the Ritual

      I have dreamed
      of accomplishment.
      I have fed

      ambition.
      I have traded
      nights of sleep

      for a length of work.
      Lo, and I have discovered
      how soft bloom

      turns to green fruit
      which turns to sweet fruit.
      Lo, and I have discovered

      all winds blow cold
      at last,
      and the leaves,

      so pretty, so many,
      vanish
      in the great, black

      packet of time,
      in the great, black
      packet of ambition,

      and the ripeness
      of the apple
      is its downfall.
      — Mary Oliver, The Orchard

      I spoke with an old friend this week about sailing and song. As sailors in my circle of friends tend to do, he lectured me on working too long into life, and did the quick math on life after work. So many pretty leaves, vanished in our time. And what lesson does it offer for us? We ripen so quickly, don’t we?

      I’m writing less, which means I’m publishing fewer blogs. Yet I’m living a fully aware, active life. We reach a point where the length of work is less important than the resonance of the ritual. In a world that is upside down, we find meaning in the little things stacked together just so. The aim hasn’t always been awareness, but surely it is now.

      Consider what we will never do in a lifetime. The list is far longer than the things we will do. There’s a restlessness that stokes a fire in us, pushing us to do more and still more with the time we have. If we’re lucky and aware, we learn what to leave behind as not for us. People, jobs, projects and places all recede from possible to probably not. We are forever reconciling our probably nots.

      Rather than dwell on probably nots, there is joyfulness to be found in the ritual of what we’ve said yes to. Each day is a dance with yes. It becomes less about filling bucket lists and more about more of this, please. The time will still fly by relentlessly, but the hours are measured in what we bring to the world.

    • The Path Becomes Clear

      “In the end, it is important to remember that we cannot become what we need to be, by remaining what we are.” — Max De Pree, Leadership Is an Art

      A couple of weeks ago in Paris, my bride and I were taking the Metro after a night around the city back to our hotel. We’d done this ride enough in our few days in Paris to have a clear idea of direction. But something unexpected happened; we stopped at a station and everyone was told to get off. The line was shut down because of an incident one stop away, which was exactly where we were heading to make a connection.

      Most people simply started walking, either to another line for an end-around, or got out of the Metro altogether to walk, Uber or attempt a taxi (no easy task with hundreds of people trying the same thing). One young man sat stubbornly in his seat, arguing with the Metro officers insisting he get off. What are we to do in such moments? Start with a map, or nowadays, an app, to show the way.

      Take the average of this blog and you may find it’s largely focused on the act of becoming what’s next. Decide what to be and go be it, as The Avett Brothers put it (so often quoted in this blog). Well, what happens when we arrive at what we wanted to be? Or just as often, what happens when the universe denies us the path we were on to reaching that place? We pivot and decide on what to do next.

      We are attracted to moving water over stagnated water because we intuitively know which is better for us. To be like water, fluid and forever transforming as life rolls on, is a path to avoid stagnation and more, to thrive. We are forever pulled in different directions. The needs of others in our lives are one pull. The current and future needs of ourselves is another. Work or other pursuits are right there pulling too. Write the book? Buy the boat? Move across town or to another country? Retire or work to the end of our days? So many choices, so precious little time to do it all. No wonder so many simply stay right where they are.

      We need a good compass in such moments. We need to stop talking so much and listen. The right way is calling, waiting for someone to pick up. That someone is us, buckaroo. Just what are we waiting for? Where to next? Calm down and have a look at what needs to be done next. The path out of confusion is always one step at a time.

      That night in Paris, we saw that the answer was to walk 20 minutes to a station where we could get directly on the Metro line we needed to be on to get back to our hotel. Every taxi had a red light. The Uber pickup area was jammed. Walking was our answer. So we walked with a gradually thinning crowd as each individual’s path became clear to them. We all have our path beyond the confusion of the moment. Sometimes we just have to pause a beat to see it and go be it.

    • Participation

      This blog is on a sabbatical of sorts, with an occasional post to let you know I’m still around. I’m not sure when or if I will return to posting every day, but I can assure you that I still have much to see and do and to ponder and write about. The world demands only our brief presence with it, not our participation. Participation is a choice we make to dance with life in our time and place.

      For the last two weeks I’ve been in France, experiencing that country’s joie de vivre first-hand, and also the extreme heat that has made the news around the world. The heat modified a few plans, but it didn’t cancel any. We are changed for having been there, which is exactly what travel offers. Will it influence my daily rituals now that I’ve returned? Almost certainly. Just as assuredly, my perspective and writing will also be transformed for having been. With France, you never really leave it, it stays with you for as long as memories do.

      Rather than post a bunch of familiar pictures of the Eiffel Tower or the Mona Lisa or some such bucket list item, here are three pictures of the sun from uniquely beautiful locations. Each has their own story, as each day must. Like every great experience in a lifetime, we will linger on each memory with the hope of returning one day.

      The sun slowly dropping into the hazy English Channel as seen from the top of the hill at Arromanches-les-Baines in Normandy. 82 years ago this was the sight of “Port Winston”, the artificial port built here to create the essential supply chain that would decide the outcome of World War II. A visit reminds you not only of the sacrifice of so many, but the stunningly beautiful place that it had been before the German occupation and is once again.
      The sun rising above the mud flats and shifting sands of the Bay of Mont Saint-Michel. There is quicksand and a rapidly rising tide in the flats, making it treacherous for those who don’t heed the warnings. Mont Saint-Michel is a stunning destination worthy of the pilgrimage so many took to arrive here. We spent one night on the island, which gave me the opportunity to take this photo as the new day began.
      Sun setting over the Loire River from the banks of Amboise, France. Just behind me over my right shoulder is the Château Royal d’Amboise, where Francis I, former King of France, lived. Francis invited Leonardo da Vinci to spend his final years in Amboise, given a generous stipend and a home at Château du Clos Lucé just up the road. Leonardo da Vinci final resting place is in Amboise, supposedly in the Château Royal d’Amboise with a view similar to this sunset view. I can think of worse places to spend eternity.

    • Alive and… Well?

      To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.
      — Mary Oliver, Yes! No!

      What we pay attention to determines how we live, who we are and who we will become. To notice the little details is immersive, or it’s distracting—it all depends on what our attitude is on the matter. There’s just so much to pay attention to. There’s just so much to see and do and be.

      I’ve noticed that some people have receded from the conversation. Or maybe it was me all along. I’ve been sliding in the direction of less is more for some time now (even as I’m busier than ever: I’m a living contradiction). Shifting this blog from every day without fail to now and then when I have something to say is indicative of an inclination to step out of the noisy lane towards a quieter path. Perhaps one day I’ll get there.

      Alive and, well, less focused on rushing this moment along for the next dose of click bait or sound bite packaged just so. Social media, text streams, demands for our time, and good god, the news of the day. It’s all just so distracting and not us. We are here, now. We ought to be aware of it all, at the expense of all that we ought to ignore.

      “The essence of greatness is the perception that virtue is enough.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

      To be engaged with everything is to be focused on nothing. Slow down and have a look around. See the world as a poet or a philosopher observes it. This is the path to a deeper awareness than the fast track offers. Where is the fast track bringing us anyway? Life shouldn’t be a blur of forever next. It all flies by fast enough already. To be quietly virtuous, aware and fully alive: That feels worthy of our remaining time together. This is our great life, so have a look around.

    • An Expansive Life

      What do you want from life
      To get cable TV
      and watch it every night
      There you sit
      a lump in your chair
      — The Tubes, What Do You Want From Life?

      I was talking to someone I’ve known a long time at a family event last week, and mentioned that I’d be visiting Paris later this summer. His response surprised me. He looked at me earnestly, and asked, “But what about the rioters?” And with that, he reminded me that underneath his gruff exterior, he was a fearful boy who watches too much television “news”.

      I’m not here to judge the person I was talking to (I like him very much), or to berate the entertainment vehicle he watches that calls itself a news program (I would rather have my nails extracted than watch news programs), but I think it’s fair to ask ourselves, what exactly do we want from life? To be spun up in a fearful ball afraid to venture across borders real and imagined, or to reach beyond our comfort zone to try something new? We will live a life as expansive as we wish it to be.

      We have agency in how our lives go. We may be street smart and still venture into unfamiliar places far beyond our locked doors. Be bold! Life will end either way. ’tis better to wear out than to rust away. The world awaits our next move.

    • Old Men Ought to be Explorers

      Old men ought to be explorers
      Here or there does not matter
      We must be still and still moving
      Into another intensity
      — T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets: East Coker

      Not old. Not yet anyway. But oh my, we’re getting there. And so there is a calling to do more with the time available. To become more in the process of doing. Old men ought to be explorers.

      I’m publishing less often these days. Consider it a sabbatical of sorts, with an abundance of other things to focus on. I enjoy the process enough to suggest that I’ll be back again. With the level of surety of one who knows the fragility of promises.

      To return means to first venture somewhere. To be and see and do that which transforms us in meaningful ways into a greater version of our selves. Returns, like tomorrows, are never promised, but they’re suggested. I would suggest that this blog, founded on the idea of travel and history, poetry and song, will return again with something more to say.

      But first, there’s this matter of moving into another intensity.

    • Imaging Order

      “I would warn you that I do not attribute to nature either beauty or deformity, order or confusion. Only in relation to our imagination can things be called beautiful or ugly, well-ordered or confused.” — Baruch Spinoza

      The world may feel chaotic. Spinoza suggests that much of what we feel is stirred up from within—derived from our own perspective on things. It follows that we may find order in chaos with clear thinking and a calm mind.

      This year has felt chaotic for me, and perhaps for you too. In the craziest of times, it may not feel appropriate to slow down, but that’s exactly what we need the most. Order depends on us to root itself into something solid. Let that be our way of thinking about the world and our place in it. Imagine order and help it find it’s own foundation, that it may grow.

      In this way, we change the world from chaotic to something more beautiful. We are the line in the sand, standing our ground. A windbreak in the swirling madness. It may sting at times, but we guarantee a more stable future through our attitude and resilience.