Alexandersmap

    Author: nhcarmichael

    • Osprey

      Few birds inspire awe like an osprey as it hovers and dives 30-40 feet to pluck a seafood dinner out of the bay. I’m grateful for digital cameras as I wasted plenty of shots trying to do the osprey hunting overhead justice. Surely a better photographer than me could capture this raptor more impressively, but here is my attempt to capture the majesty of the osprey.

      Buzzards Bay got its name from explorers confusing osprey with buzzards. I don’t dwell much on buzzards, but appreciate the deft flying skill of the osprey as they search for prey or dance together in the sky. They’re the original navy pilots, striking terror in the hearts of fish and small critters alike. Top guns of the bay.

    • The Stack

      I started last weekend with seven books I wanted to finish. It’s now Wednesday and I’m at nine. The stack grows faster than I can read it. It’s an endless climb, and I can’t say I’m thrilled about it.

      Life is full of choices. What to eat, who to spend your time with, where to work, what to watch, what to wear… endless choices. Reading is another choice, and so is what you read. I’ve decided to be as aggressive with paring down books as I am with choosing what I watch on television. If it’s not grabbing me by the shoulders and screaming look! or isn’t providing useful information that moves me forward then I’m simply not sticking with it.

      Perhaps I’ll miss out on something, but more likely than not I’ll read more, finish the good stuff and give myself permission to get rid of the rest. Enough with partially read but never finished piles on the bed stand or clogging up the Kindle app. It’s time to downsize the marginally interesting to make room for the highly compelling.

    • Diminishing Returns vs. Compound Interest

      Sunrises don’t suffer from the law of diminishing returns the way sunrise pictures do. Getting up for the sunrise in the summer means getting up early, and you’re either in or you aren’t. Yesterday morning I lingered in bed a few minutes too long and missed the sun breaking the horizon. This morning I made a point of catching that moment and still missed it by five minutes. But I managed to witness a decent show nonetheless.

      The thing about sunrises is that once you’re up and experiencing it you recognize it was worth the effort. The thing about sunrise pictures is that they become too much of a good thing already! Too many sunrise pictures on social media and you experience the law of diminishing returns. People like the first, but by the third day in a row of posting that sunrise (or sunset) they’ve had just about enough of you. Best to practice a bit of moderation already. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all.

      The first cup of coffee offers a thrill you don’t get on the second cup. Wrapping your hands around a hot mug of coffee and taking that first sip is right up there with that sunrise for sensory thrills. The last sip in that mug is just trying to capture the last of the fading heat before the dreaded lukewarm blahness takes over. You have the second cup to recapture that thrill but alas it’s not the same (but so worth it anyway). By the third cup the magic is completely gone, you’re just in maintenance mode. If you have another you start questioning your choices in life. Such is the nature of diminishing returns.

      The nature of addiction is similar to that coffee experience; always searching for that thrill, increasing the dose, continuing past the point where you know you should stop. I’m simplifying it and have seen too many people struggle with addiction to treat the topic cavalierly, but I think about it because I’m challenged on it. People toss the word addiction around lightly. I’m not addicted to coffee, but I dance on the edge with it. So too with other things. I’ve danced with the topic of how much is healthy and how much is too much? on many habits; alcohol, coffee, Words With Friends, social media… blogging.

      My wife runs almost every day, and has since well before I met her more than a quarter century ago. She’s a better person after a run when she hasn’t run in a few days. As with coffee so too with exercise: Too much of a good thing offers diminishing returns at best and injury to self at worst. I’ve seen her go beyond her comfort level in training for stretch goals and become injured. 5K to half marathon is her natural range and she thrives in it. Her habit loop is generally very positive and has given her a lifetime of good health and energy in return.

      Self-awareness helps you develop good habits, and so do the people you surround yourself with. If you’re truly the average of the five people you associate with the most, then surely having those five be purpose-driven, physically active, supportive friends is better than the five being aimless, hard-living and dismissive acquaintances would be. Coming back to diminishing returns, those five will reinforce that first, second and third act of a habit. Do one more rep versus have another drink. Habits become more about reinforcing identity and less about the result of an individual act. The return over time builds on itself. The return on moderation, consistent exercise, getting proper sleep and reinforcing good habits with a network of positive influences in your life is the opposite of diminishing returns, it’s compound interest.

      A lifetime of getting up early and seeing the sunrise has generally benefited me more than staying up late watching television or closing out the bar would have been. There’s a place for those things too, but I’ve found the benefits of staying up late offers diminishing returns as I get older while getting up and getting the heart rate up, reading a bit and writing has given me compound interest. And after all, are we riding the wave to the beach or sliding sideways to the curve? The end might be the same but the journey should be more interesting along the way.

    • Kalmar Nyckel

      The Mayflower is famous as the ship that brought the English Pilgrims to settle in Massachusetts Bay in 1620.  Less famous (in the northeast anyway) is the ship that brought Swedish settlers to the lower Delaware River (roughly where present-day Wilmington is) in 1638.  This began the wave of Dutch settlement in the region, largely focused from Philadelphia to Manhattan (New Amsterdam).  This morning I watched a replica of the Kalmar Nyckel motor down Buzzards Bay on her way to visit the Hudson River Maritime Museum in Kingston, New York.  That prompted me to look into the history of this ship I should have known a lot more about.  Sometimes you need the world to remind you of what you don’t know.

      The Kalmar Nyckel was built in Sweden in 1625 and named after the Swedish city Kalmar.  She had two moments in her history that should make the name more familiar than it is.  The Kalmar Nyckel’s most famous moment occurred in 1637, when Governor Peter Minuit negotiated the purchase of land from the sachems of the Delawares and Susquehannocks in the cabin of the Kalmar Nyckel on the shore of what is now Manhattan.  This transaction transferred ownership of the most expensive piece of land in North America from the Native American population to the Dutch, and lives in infamy as the most one-sided transaction ever.  The next year the Kalmar Nyckel sailed to Fort Christina (Wilmington, DE) with that first group of settlers, marking her as the first ship to bring Swedish settlers to America.

      The Kalmar Nyckel was sunk by the British Navy off the coast of Scotland in 1652, in the early stages of the First Anglo-Dutch War.  Her most famous passenger, Governor Peter Minuit, died off the coast of St. Christopher the same year that Kalmar Nickel was delivering settlers to Fort Christina in 1638, either the unlucky victim of a hurricane or a murder plot, depending on who’s account you believe.  Either way, the Kalmar Nyckel would outlive the governor by 14 years.

    • Collectively More Jaded

      In 2016 we took a family vacation to Orlando the same week that a pop singer was murdered there, a young child was killed by an alligator at Disney and the Pulse Nightclub mass shooting occurred. The news from Orlando was about as grim as it could possibly be. And yet we carried on with our vacation, escaping into Harry Potter and roller coasters, aware of the darkness nearby but determined to enjoy our vacation.

      Two more mass shootings in the last 24 hours and no end in sight. Unstable, generally white men lash out in acts of cowardly violence against innocents and we all reflect on the senselessness of it all. The world around us is more enraged and indignant than it was three summers ago, but more cynical too. We mock spineless politicians with their “thoughts and prayers” and grow hardened to what was once uncommon horrific violence. Change comes painfully slow in our society, but it comes. That common sense prevails is proven out over time offers no solace in El Paso or Dayton this morning.

      Terms like “shelter in place”, “run, hide, fight” and “lockdown” were virtually unknown until twenty years ago when Columbine started this endless string of mass shootings. Now people know the types of weapons used and can figure out the manifesto of the madman by where and when it happened. Lower the flags yet again, order the flowers and light the candles. Just don’t mess with their right to bear arms. Mental health screening? Just a foot in the door and before you know it they’re taking everyone’s guns… I know the NRA response as well as I know the rest.

      As with three years ago I’d prefer a vacation without the body count in my head. But if I had my way a lot of things would be different. Instead, of writing about an otherwise beautiful morning on Cape Cod I’m reflecting on mass shootings yet again. Looking up, I watch boats heading out of Buzzards Bay while others bob on the water fishing for whatever is biting today. The world marches on, collectively more jaded than yesterday morning. Maybe this time something will change. Or maybe tomorrow.

    • The Hold of Stuff

      I gave a friend a chain saw that another friend had given me. It was a great saw, and a joy to use. All around me are trees that need trimming or encroach into the yard. There’s no logical reason for me to have given it away, but I felt better about having released it immediately. The saw was never mine to begin with, but I’ve had a couple of moments of regret for having given it up. Such is the hold of stuff in our lives.

      Looking at the garden, it’s clear that I’ve over-planted. What appears to be empty space in May is chock full of healthy plants muscling each other out for space. It’s a common gardening mistake and I’ve made it many times. I’ve got to thin out the garden and relocate some plants that I eagerly purchased just a few months ago.

      I spent the first two months of gardening season pulling morning glory seedlings out of the garden. Like Sisyphus pushing the rock up the hill it’s an impossible task. Once they’re in your garden they’re a part of your life. And sure enough I went away on a business trip and came back to a thriving morning glory population laughing and singing in the sun along with those unruly cherry tomatoes. They’re mocking me, I know it.

      As I was writing this I glanced up and saw a rabbit on the lawn. By the second paragraph there was a second one. I refilled my coffee cup and walked out to see a third. The rabbits were offering emphasis literally right before my eyes. Stuff accumulates in our lives and sometimes an aggressive pruning is required. But you can’t stop with one pruning, because things can get out of hand quickly (The rabbits returned when our dog passed. I can’t say I prefer the trade-off but we’ve learned to coexist).

      So I gave up the chain saw that could help thin out trees encroaching on the yard like those morning glories encroach in the garden. Not the best choice for eliminating stuff, yet I feel better for having done so. I can borrow it back if I need to, and don’t have the burden of ownership that comes with accumulation. It’s a small beacon of hope in a house full of twenty years of this and that and the other thing.

      The friends who gave me the chain saw could teach a master class in simplification. They stepped down from a house full of stuff to an apartment full of less stuff to a sailboat with just the essentials. Nothing forces aggressive pruning like downsizing (It’s not like they can tow a shed around with them). We aren’t downsizing at this time, but the siren of simplification is calling, and it’s time to listen.

    • Progress Whispers

      Scales don’t lie, and this week I added a couple of travel pounds. Sales meetings involve unnatural portion sizes repeated often, with snacks in between. And so the pants were a bit more snug than when I arrived. That seemed to be the consensus as all 90% of us immediately agreed to lose 10 pounds by a trade show in September. Peer pressure multiplied by $20 each generally does the trick.

      “Progress…. is quiet. It whispers. Perfectionism screams failures and hides progress.” – Jon Acuff

      Some words jolt you awake and help you see things a bit more clearly. Progress whispers resonated for me this morning. Progress towards our objectives is often painfully slow, and we find ourselves growing frustrated by the level of progress we might be making. Acuff makes another point in highlighting perfectionism as the antagonist to progress, undermining it with its relentless chirping.

      Steve Pressfield describes this as “The Resistance“, Seth Godin calls it our “Lizard Brain“. It’s the inner voice that tells you it’s not good enough and not yet. Godin’s advice is to start pulling the thread anyway, to learn to dance with The Resistance. To ship your work, even if it’s not perfect. The concept of shipping a Minimum Viable Product (MVP) is common in nimble businesses today, but harder to dance with when it comes to writing your first novel or starting a business.

      Sales is a numbers game, and so is losing weight, writing a novel (or blog) or accomplishing any worthwhile objective. Progress whispers, and you need to break it down into the smallest increments to track it just to see any meaningful forward momentum. The 12 burpees I do every morning aren’t all that much, but they add up to 4380 in a year. I’ve noticed the change in my body even from this small amount, done repeatedly and consistently over time. So it is with sales calls, writing daily, and other accretive activity.

      Losing weight is tougher as you get older. You may say it’s because our metabolism slows down. I’d certainly say that too. But then I look at the guy I went to college with who rides his bike every day and hikes the rest of the time. His high activity level has bought him washboard abs, without sacrificing career or family. Another friend who embraced CrossFit shortly before turning 50 is now in better shape than when he was 25. No, “metabolism” is “Lizard Brain” in disguise.

      Activity over time equals identity. Athletic, writer, Rainmaker, parent, spouse and trusted friend are all identities I try to embrace. I’m a little better at a few than others but hope to make progress with each. My progress may be a faint whisper but it’s progress nonetheless. Best for me to listen for it more. Throwing $20 dollars and the threat of peer ridicule to the mix amplifies the goal a bit too.

    • The Thing About Chess

      When I was in college I’d play chess for hours with roommates during the winter break.  We’d all come back from our respective part-time jobs and rotate in to play whomever the winner was.  Chess was the only thing I had in common with a couple of those guys and we drifted apart as rowing (for me) and other distractions (for them) took over.  During a college trip to Finland and what was the Glasnost-era USSR I picked up a magnetic chess set and we played the whole flight back.  But chess drifted away when the convenience of time that college offers drifted away.

      Fast forward years later and my grandfather moved up to Massachusetts from Florida when my grandmother passed away.  I’d schedule nights with him every week or two, I’d order some sandwiches and we’d play chess once or twice before calling it a night.  Chess with my grandfather was story time, and he’d tell me stories of working at Eastern Airlines in Miami where he’d play chess with some older black men who also worked there.  In the 1960’s that wasn’t the norm in Florida, but he told me he didn’t much care.  Just two guys playing chess during a work break.

      I tried to steer my kids towards chess, but no luck.  Too many other activities in their lives and it was a game that required some learning.  Checkers for awhile, and then it was on to sports and video games.  So I’d hit a dead end where there wasn’t an opponent to play against, and so the game drifted away again.  Playing the game in the newspaper or on a handheld device never appealed to me.

      Eventually I rediscovered chess on my Mac.  There are settings that allow you to make the virtual opponent devastatingly difficult or ridiculously easy.  Eventually I got a place where I’d win sometimes, the computer would win sometimes and the pace of play was satisfying enough to make it interesting.  Computer chess doesn’t offer the nuance of playing against a real person or the tactile experience of picking up and moving pieces, but it’s better than nothing.  Like other computer activity it becomes a time suck if you let it, so I’ve established rules for myself where I’ll only play in the evening on the home computer for a max of 3 games at a time.  None when I travel or during the work day.

      While there are chess clubs everywhere, when you live in the suburbs it’s not as convenient to find an opponent.  I think if I lived in the city I’d be drawn to the places that offer chess boards for anyone to sit down and play.  Harvard Square has a spot where I could play a chess master in one game and a homeless person in the next game.  I’d surely never leave if I lived or worked in Harvard Square.  Chess welcomes all players, and offers an opportunity to deeply focus on the complexity of the game with someone you might be on the opposite end of the spectrum politically, socioeconomically, in age or in countless other ways.  The world could use more chess players.

    • Expected Storms

      Flights all around me are being cancelled preemptively with severe thunderstorms expected this evening. I’m driving so I’m not worried about flight cancellations this trip, but do the mental math of the impact severe storms might have on my drive time. When you drive you control your destiny more than the flyers can, but also bear more of the mental burden of getting from here to there. Still, it’s a good trade-off.

      Weather forecasting has reached a point of accuracy where anticipated storms dictate flight cancellations more than actual storms seem to. There’s value in this of course, tempered with a dose of frustration when things get cancelled and the predicted apocalypse doesn’t appear. Those are the days meteorologists earn their money as people forget the overall accuracy and dial in on the inconvenience of the moment.

      Looking out the window I see sunny skies, but it can change at any time. If there’s a lesson a road warrior may offer, it’s to prepare as best you can, pivot quickly when possible, and take the rest as it comes. Stoicism in practice, you might say.

    • Rising Above the Sprawl

      I was contemplating the Ramapo Mountains early this morning. I get up early for the magic it brings. This morning didn’t disappoint as the slowly brightening sky highlighted the fog dancing through the hills of Ridgewood State Park. That there’s a highway, gas stations, bus terminal and assorted strip mall horror below this didn’t change my focus on what was beautiful, though I remained aware of the encroachment. There’s really no other way to move through this life – focus on the good, pragmatically manage the not-so-good.

      “God never made an ugly landscape. All that the sun shines on is beautiful, so long as it is wild.” – John Muir

      My drive down here Sunday involved miles of choking, soul-crushing traffic. Playlists and podcasts only go so far in the face of this. Most every car was filled with people coming from or going to something more beautiful, be it family or vacation or a day at the beach. And yet our collective journeys brought us all to the ugliness of gridlocked highways. Surely there’s a better way.

      Society pivots over time. At one point someone pushed for the protection of the forested hills of the Ramapo Mountains, saving them from a carpet of condos or some other indignity. Ridgewood State Park was born the same year I was. Now 53 years later I’m drawn to the very hills that inspired their protection. Good things can happen if we work at it. There’s talk of electric cars and Musk’s transportation tunnel and other such miracles of technological advancement. Perhaps it will transform our highways and cities from gridlocked misery. Society is slowly… slowly, pivoting.

      These hills around me are a good reminder of what preservation can do to protect us from ourselves. Sometimes we don’t see the forest for the trees. We know we shouldn’t eat the French fries but we eat the French fries. We know we should build clean and sustainable infrastructure and we build wider highways. The contrast between the transportation infrastructure below and the cooling green of the Ramapo Mountains above is a striking reminder of what’s possible if we’d only work at it.