Alexandersmap

    Author: nhcarmichael

    • Love Again the Stranger

      The time will come
      when, with elation,
      you will greet yourself arriving
      at your own door, in your own mirror,
      and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

      and say, sit here. Eat.
      You will love again the stranger who was your self.
      Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
      to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

      all your life, whom you ignored
      for another, who knows you by heart.
      Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

      the photographs, the desperate notes,
      peel your own image from the mirror.
      Sit. Feast on your life.
      — Derek Walcott, Love After Love

      Life will change soon enough. It’s always changed, as we learn, as we also learn that some years bring more changes than others. Through it all, there is us. We are the main actor in our lifetime drama (or comedy, if you like), and we are the only one in the audience who sees the entirety of our acutely aware presence amongst the living. That ought to count for something.

      I’m approaching a milestone with this blog, and it may be a great point to call this project done. At what point do you feel like you’ve said enough? At what point do you look for a new way beyond blogging to say what ought to be said?

      The thing is, planning to savor all that we’ve done and have become is a fool’s game. We ought to feast on our life today, while there’s life to savor. Tomorrow is too late and always has been. Pour the wine, break the bread, let’s enjoy this time together now. Rest assured that there are a few more pages in this long love letter, if fate allows.

    • A Wee Bit Louder

      “If you ask me what I came into this life to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud.” — Émile Zola

      Many of us consider before we act, look before we leap, weigh risks and assess odds and all sorts of things that keep us out of trouble, but also keep us from doing the stuff of life. Be bold, I say, but don’t be reckless. That caveat makes all the difference between a life lived out loud and a quietly stable life that’s good enough to pass the deathbed test.

      We all want to sing that old Sinatra song out loud, shouting we did it our way, with too few regrets to mention, but most of us will keep a mental ledger of the things we didn’t do anyway. We believe that it’s the things we do that get us into trouble and opt for the safer regret of not having leapt into the stormy sea. Consider it a moral victory? Sure, if it helps. We may be present in the commitments we’ve made in our lives while still living as an example of how much more living one might do if we’d just turn up the volume.

      I used to write about places I wanted to go in my lifetime, only to see people in my life go to those places while I stayed behind. I found myself chagrined by others doing the thing I’d wanted to do, someday. Was the chagrin aimed at them or myself? We all know that comparison is a fool’s game and a joy killer. It’s on us to make bold plans and to act upon them. Part of growing wiser (if not yet wise) is learning to stop talking about what we’re going to do and just go do it. That, friend, makes us more interesting to others, but especially to ourselves.

      What did you do today?” is a far better question to answer than “What are you going to do today?” So I won’t tell you where I’m going next, what my plans are for the future, or even what I’m going to do today; but I may just write about it afterwards. Or simply use the time to move on to the next thing beyond the limit of what was once considered a stretch. To live a wee bit louder is the aim; may my aim be true.

    • Taut Boldness

      “I don’t care about spending much time with people who haven’t a definite personality. I am that kind of an equalitarian. I like to mix with my equals, people who have as much personality as I have… but the great thing is taut boldness… People… will tell you that freedom lies in being cautious… Freedom lies in being bold.” — Robert Frost

      Robert Frost’s take on boldness is surprising if we think of productive poets as disciplined, but less so if we think of them as audacious. Don’t we have to be a little audacious to publish our work expecting the world to take notice? I think this is especially true of poets. What fascinates me is the company he kept. To be at that table with those bold characters, talking of bigger things than the average. Am I so bold as to believe I could hold my own?

      I’ve long believed that boldness offers opportunities seldom available with timidity. Maybe mothers don’t like to hear bold talk, but free spirits are stirred by it. For all the structured discipline in my life, there’s still a wild child hiding within. Now and then he sees the light of day.

      The world is full of exceptional people, each bold in their own way to reach the higher stratosphere in which they fly. Each day builds or erodes personal excellence. Boldness plays as much a role as grit or resolve do. We choose who we will become, how high we might fly, and yes, the company we will ultimately keep.

    • Purpose Coming to a Head

      The Universe is but the Thing of things,
      The things but balls all going round in rings,
      Some of them mighty huge, some mighty tiny,
      All of them radiant and mighty shiny.

      They mean to tell us all was rolling blind
      Till accidentally it hit on mind
      In an albino monkey in a jungle
      And even then it had to grope and bungle

      Till Darwin came to earth upon a year
      To show the evolution how to steer.
      They mean to tell us, though, the Omnibus
      Had no real purpose till it got to us.

      Don’t you believe it. At the very worst
      It must have had the purpose from the first
      To produce purpose as the fitter bred:
      We were just purpose coming to a head.

      Whose purpose was it? His or Hers or Its?
      Let’s leave that to the scientific wits.
      Grant me intention, purpose, and design —
      That’s near enough for me to the Divine.

      And yet for all this help of head and brain
      How happily instinctive we remain,
      Our best guide upward further to the light,
      Passionate preference such as love at sight.
      — Robert Frost, Accidentally on Purpose

      A hard frost last night had me thinking about Mr. Frost, which had me looking through some poems and quotes, that delivered this delightful nugget. The poem above was published in the March 1961 edition of The Atlantic, well before my time on earth began. But the universe opens up for those who seek more, or at the very least for those who have a subscription to a magazine that offers its entire archive online simply for the asking. We ought to support independent voices for all they offer, not just in complicated times such as these. As we are reminded of when chaos rules, consistency matters a great deal in our march through a great life.

      I spent entirely too much time ignoring poetry as a younger man. I was simply too busy with clever pursuits—or maybe foolish pursuits, it hardly matters. It was when I began writing every day when I was instinctively drawn to poetry. Call it an aspiration for brevity, or a delight in the dance of words, or simply a logical turn towards that which awes. Whatever it is, I saw what I’d been missing and decided to miss as little as possible.

      What is our purpose? We spend too much time dwelling on it, and not nearly enough time pursuing it. Sure, we ought to think about the heading of the compass, but we must set the sails and get moving before the wind dies and we’re left adrift on a cold, dark sea. Sure, that’s a well-worn analogy tossed deliberately into the mix, but heck, what are analogies for but to use in the most obvious moments?

      That digression aside, the question lingers about intention, purpose and design. Poetry prompts such questions, just as art and prose and science do. Humans reaching for some greater truth than what to should have for lunch today naturally evolves over time to form some philosophical core that snowballs into something approaching sublime.

      We might look around and see that the majority isn’t exactly inspiring awe, they’re simply following the easiest path to get through their days. We all fall into that trap now and then, we just can’t allow it to become habitual. Reaching towards our greatest potential is also habitual. It demands that we transcend the limitations of self and strive for a level of perfection and beauty far beyond the limits of our lifetime. That’s on each of us in our time.

    • A Trouble of Excitement

      “I think you write only out of a great trouble. A trouble of excitement, a trouble of enlargement, a trouble of displacement in yourself.” — Eleanor Clark

      Do you feel that restlessness, that trouble of excitement, that comes with being fully alive? To do and be more naturally lends itself to conflict, both internal and with people who want to treat us as who they’ve grown to believe we are. Without realizing that maybe that’s who we once were and nothing more. Of course, we ought to recognize this in ourself as well.

      I was talking to an automotive shop owner who replaced the previous owner, since retired. I asked if he still saw the previous owner, and he told me, all the time. He was bored in retirement and visited the shop to stay connected with who he once was. We know many people, don’t we, who are simply repeat who they were day-after-day until one day they’re expected to leave that another may take over and do the same. Human history may be thought of as generation-after-generation of people taking their turn in a job, a home, a relationship, or a voice of reason in the latest chaotic moment in history. We are simply taking our turn at this thing we do today, and then we will take our turn at something else tomorrow. Trouble begins when someone can’t or won’t follow the natural order of things. Does that mean that trouble is a bad thing, or simply recognized as change?

      What are you going to do when you retire? I have no trouble imagining the answers myself. One day, when I’m done with all of this, I will travel and garden and spend time with people inside and out of my current orbit. Perhaps I’ll be a grandfather who disrupts the fabric of a child’s proper upbringing. Perhaps I’ll follow through on bold claims of long hikes and longer passages on a boat that hasn’t been adopted into my current lifestyle yet. Perhaps all of these things or things not yet imagined in the current state of creativity an interesting life demands of us. I believe that whatever the future brings, I will write something about it for as long as my mind and body allow.

    • Something Tangible

      It ill becomes me: that I’m older,
      Time I should be more sensible…
      And yet the frivolous disorder
      Fills every jitter of my soul.
      — Alexander Pushkin, Confession

      I had the house power washed a couple of days ago. I say this with some chagrin, for I own a pressure washer and generally do such things myself (fancying myself a homeowner for some time now). But I will acknowledge that things fall through the cracks when we get busy living under the robe of identity we weave for ourselves. It was easier to simply pay someone to do what I could well have done myself.

      My job was to remove the screens from the windows. Let me confess that some of those screens haven’t been removed in twenty years. We thought we had clean windows because we could see out of the glass. It turned out we did not have clean windows. But now that we do, the revelation of all that we’d been missing is a little embarrassing. That we can see clearly now makes the time not seeing clearly all the more surprising. There are of course analogies to be drawn between those windows and the current state of things in the world, but really, why go there yet again? Most of us can see it now, but there are still too many blissfully unaware of what they cannot see.

      We all get busy and focused on things that make us not see other things that whisper for attention. Sometimes we have to be jolted into awareness by a check engine light, or the sudden passing of a friend we thought was doing okay because they simply said they were. We ought to dig deeper, we ought to be more rigid in maintaining order in our own lives, that nothing escapes us. But this is folly; the very act of focusing on one thing means that we inevitably take our focus off of something else. We can’t be everywhere at once, we have to trust that some things will take care of themselves.

      So it is that things slip through those cracks. Dirty windows aren’t the worst of things, and I’m pleased that they’re now clean again. It’s prompted me to look at other things that have whispered for attention and to knock off a few other things before the long, cold winter calls. I’m older now, even if I’m not yet old. There are things that must be done to keep order with myself, and not just this house. Disorder is an acceptable condition of youth because there always seems to be more time left to get back on track. In time we either learn to see clearly or have our light dim for want of attention.

      The opposite of frivolous disorder is focused discipline. That may not sound fun at all on the surface, until we put one foot in front of the other and make meaningful progress in our lives. I used to love that line from The Beatles’ song, “Oh that magic feeling, nowhere to go”. But I’m older now, and it turns out that I’m quite fond of having someplace to go, and something to do when I get there. We’ll never have it all figured out, but we ought to find something tangible to call our life.

    • Your Needs Answered

      And let your best be for your friend.
      If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
      For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
      Seek him always with hours to live.
      — Kahlil Gibran, On Friendship

      A long conversation about friendship last night has me thinking about it again this morning. I once reminded people in a wedding speech that there are two kinds of friends—friends of convenience and friends by choice. We learn over time who will stay the course with us, and who will fade away. It’s up to each of us to put in the work needed to keep any relationship of consequence going.

      Those who would use us to fill their own needs without reciprocating are not friends, they’re emotional leeches. Too harsh? Perhaps, but isn’t it fair to our emotional health to step back and ask ourselves, are they filling or sapping my spirit? The thing about a leech is they will hold on for dear life, making it hard to dislodge them from our lives without a little pain. But once separated, they no longer have the power to sap our life force.

      My favorite line of Gibran’s poem is not included in the excerpt above. It’s this little wisdom nugget: “Your friend is your needs answered.” What is a friend but another soul who fills a void in our lives? Be aware of who is filling us with joy and purpose, and spend more time with those who amplify our lives in positive ways. For they, friend, are truly friends worthy of our precious time.


    • Buried Deep

      “The friends we have lost do not repose in the bosom of the earth, but are buried deep in our hearts; and it has been thus ordained that we may always be accompanied by them.”
      — Alexander Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

      This may be the last quote I offer from this novel, as I’ve finished it and resolved to move on to the next great read. Having spent a fortnight off and on with Dumas, I believe that his classic will stay with me for as long as my memory does. Great books, like great people, have a way of residing within us even when we’ve had to move on in our lives.

      The quote had me thinking about a few people from my past recently. Some have passed away, some have slipped away. Time marches on, but I can still hear their voices and still smile at something said once upon a time. Those who passed away are locked in the amber of our moment together. Those who slipped away feel like they’re one chance encounter from being back in my life again. But more than likely they’re like the dead: ghosts that we knew.

      Did they recall our time together and smile, or were they simply relieved that they’d moved on? I suppose that depends on how much I held up my end of the bargain in our time together. We all ought to remember that time is short, and to make something of the moment at hand.

      After thinking about past acquaintances, I thought about some people in my present. Some are already receding into memory, some continue to stubbornly hold on (as we hold on to them). Deep connection isn’t mined in a day, it takes a shared history, shared highlights, and yes, shared suffering. The fact is, people come and go, while we keep going. Life is full of loss, but also full of discovery and the occasional happy reunion.

      Then again, they’re all still with us, in their own way.

    • Sagacity

      “It is only with prudence, sagacity, and much dexterity that great aims are accomplished, and all obstacles surmounted. Otherwise nothing is accomplished.” — Napoleon Bonaparte

      Having wisdom without purpose makes us worthy of nothing but trivia night at the local pub. What is the use of being wise if we don’t then use our accumulated sagacity to navigate the complexities of life with greater efficiency and tact? If purpose is our fuel, and action our engine, then wisdom may be thought of as our navigation system.

      We age, acquire knowledge, and fill our cache with street smarts. It’s easy to believe that we have it all figured out. But in a time with so much foolishness in the world, sagacity clearly isn’t a given. Just because our average lifespan increases doesn’t mean that wisdom is keeping pace. To be learned, we must be inclined to learn.

      With that in mind, I’m trying to use my time to advantage. When I tell people that this book isn’t going to read itself , I mean it. Reading isn’t the only way to gain wisdom, but it’s a proven path to greater insight. When we graduate out of the classroom, our path to wisdom is only just beginning.

      In order to finish what we start, we’ve got to persist in the activity to its conclusion. It’s appropriate to then ask ourselves what we’ve learned from what we just traded some of our life to obtain. Each great lesson advances our wisdom, each wasted opportunity stalls our advance.

      As with everything, reaching our potential is largely dictated by what we say yes or no to. We cannot control everything in life, but we do have the agency to choose how sagacious we might become. Rather than hoarding wisdom, sagacity may be a gift we offer to help others rise above the din of dim wit that passes for clever nowadays.

    • Hold Your Hat

      Dogs lay down in the evening heat
      Fish do worse when they leave the sea
      Songbirds only end up where they’re going
      In this autumn town where the lights can change
      Some get mercy and some get blamed
      Some get lost when they feel the river flowing
      It’s all holy smoke and the flame dies fast
      We hold our hats while the days fly past
      Cold wind comes and we wait but it keeps going
      Father, Sons and Holy Ghosts
      All come back or they all come close
      Songbirds only end up where they’re going
      Some get hard and some go home
      Some want flesh and some want bone
      I just want to see you in the morning
      — Iron & Wine, Autumn Town Leaves

      Taking a lunchtime walk yesterday, I finally saw the grapes I’ve been smelling on evening walks. The grape leaves have largely vacated the vines, leaving the grapes exposed for all to see. I left them hanging for the birds and squirrels to eat. I savored them this season with my other senses, and that’s enough for me.

      This will be written and published on the tenth day of the tenth month. Two years ago, according to my line per day journal, we had a tremendous aurora borealis lighting up the skies. The great thing about a line per day journal is that we are reminded of things like that as we enter this day’s line.

      Some days bring more to wonder at than other days, but they all might be savored. The objective, of course, is to do something eventful enough to be noteworthy. Magic may or may not ensue today, but surely we can make it interesting.

      How the days fly by while we hold our hats and lean into our lives. Go for a walk in the woods, go to the orchard for apple cider donuts and pumpkins, feel the warmth of the sun counter the These are days to remember, as we live them. Whatever we do, be there for it.