Alexandersmap

    Author: nhcarmichael

    • You Are Young. Live!

      “Live all you can. It’s a mistake not to. It doesn’t matter what you do — but live. This place makes it all come over me. I see it now. I haven’t done so — and now I’m old. It’s too late. It has gone past me — I’ve lost it. You have time. You are young. Live!” — William Dean Howells

      I’m writing this on the opposite end of the day from the norm. The reason is a keen inclination to live today, despite the usual distractions that life throws at us. And oh, the distractions! But it’s now or never, when it comes to living. Tempus fugit.

      It doesn’t matter what we do, so long as we live. There are no do-overs, there are no second-chances, there are only regrets if we wait any longer. There is only now.

      As The Grass Roots put it, Sha-la, la-la-la-la, live for today. Sure, plan for tomorrow, but never defer that living part. We are young, or at least as young as we’ll ever be. So carpe flippin’ diem, already.

    • Wise Guy

      “The art of being wise is knowing what to overlook.” — William James

      If I struggle with anything in life, it’s containing a streak of sarcasm that runs through me, seeking attention through expression. There is a big difference between being wise and being a wise guy. The former are revered, the latter get knocked off by rival gangsters. Just who do we want to be anyway?

      On the road to arete, one must shrug off the inclination to be clever all of the time. The trick, I think, is to stop thinking of things to say all of the time and learn to listen, observe and absorb what is being said and done around us, that we may be more informed. Personal excellence is a chosen path, achieved one good choice at a time. Choosing to be less clever and more attentive is a step closer to reaching our potential (should we dare).

      There’s nothing wrong with having something to say. That doesn’t mean we have to say something just to fill a gap in conversation. A pregnant pause usually births some insight we might have missed if the space had been filled with all sorts of clever nonsense. Mind the gap, as the Brits say. There’s usually something hiding there.

    • Progression

      “I am suffocated and lost when I have not the bright feeling of progression.” — Margaret Fuller

      I have a garden and fancy myself above average in gardening. But I’m the first to tell you I haven’t reached mastery in the fine art of horticulture. My vegetable garden is barely holding on. A friend who focuses exclusively on his vegetable garden knows more about tomato varieties than I ever will. I know exactly who to ask for advice when my own tomatoes aren’t thriving or are getting nibbled on by some critter in the night. But in general, my gardening skills progress every season.

      A life of progression is a happy life. The alternative is stagnation or regression, and what fun are either of those? No, we must be advancing in a clear, positive direction to live a fulfilling, joyful life. At risk of an eye roll or two from the friend group, progression requires production. We must produce the results we aspire to achieve.

      We usually progress in one area of life while regressing in another. We can’t focus on everything. Every yes is a no to something else. I choose to be completely ignorant of pickleball and cribbage, that I may aspire to greatness in, say, gardening and writing. That I haven’t reached greatness in either is beside the point. I am happy with progression. The key to a happy life is finding that something to progress towards.

    • To Rise Above

      “Great minds have purpose, others have wishes. Little minds are tamed and subdued by misfortunes; but great minds rise above them.” — Washington Irving

      It happened again just yesterday. A friend called to use me as a sounding board for a self-described obsession over a shocking trial happening in Massachusetts right now. I listened politely for a while as she failed to pick up on my signals that I was the wrong audience for shock gossip. Eventually I was saved by a call coming in to exit stage left.

      For the record, I’m the wrong audience for any shock gossip. Don’t tell me what the neighbors have done now, tell me what you are doing to rise above it all. Forgive me if I pull away from the misfortunes of the world. One may be aware and empathetic without swimming in a pool of misery and indignation. Call me boring, call me ill-informed, call me no fun at all if it helps, but don’t call me to gossip about the world.

      I won’t apologize for my focus on the productive use of my days. We may debate whether the output is worth the trade-off in precious time, but the point is to be useful doing something meaningful, not gossiping about the folly of mankind. Here is real empathy: We’re all just stumbling around in the dark, trying to find our way in this lifetime. Mistakes and misfortune happen to all of us. It’s what we do about it that will matter in the end. The conversation I want to have is on just how we’re each achieving liftoff in our own quest to soar.

    • Unencumbered

      “Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

      They say the best professional athletes have the shortest memories. Striking out in your last at bat doesn’t mean you’ll strike out in this one. It simply means you’ve seen this pitcher before and hopefully learned a thing or two in the encounter. And that philosophy carries the day in all things in life. Don’t let yesterday’s nonsense encumber us on as we rise to meet each bright, clear morning. Do what must be done with the clarity of hope and purpose.

      I’ve been carrying this post for twelve hours awaiting this next paragraph. There was a time when I would write a couple of crappy paragraphs just to round it out to something worthy of the post. But I’ve learned that throwing up a post with the primary aim of word count leads to some not very good blog posts. To encumber the reader with fluff words does a disservice to each of us. So let us leave on good terms. Until tomorrow then?

    • Thoughts On Metacomet

      I let it slip by yesterday, mostly because my mind was on other things. 350 years ago yesterday, Metacomet, also known as King Philip, was killed in Mount Hope (Bristol, RI), effectively ending the war named for him. I’ve spent some meaningful time in that area, read my share of history of the events leading up to and during the war, and have my own feelings about how the whole thing went down. America’s history is full of violence and injustice. To think otherwise is naive. The question is always, what are we doing today to influence a more positive outcome for all of us tomorrow?

      When I started writing this blog, local history was more prominent in the posts. I had more time to wander about in the region that makes up Alexander’s Map back then than I do now. I’m still a student of history, and still seek out places where things of consequence happened. Like most of us, focus shifts as we move through stages of life. This blog shifts accordingly.

      Still, Metacomet has always been on my mind since reading his history. His wife and son were sold into slavery and most likely sent to Bermuda. While in Bermuda last year I wandered around in the old graveyard behind St. Peter’s Church and wondered if they were buried there. Such things are likely lost to history, but we may remember, and we may learn.

      King Philip’s War was fought to stop the relentless encroachment of English settlement in the northeast corner of North America. Like the French and Indian War (known globally as the Seven Years War) and the Revolutionary War, it was one of three major events that determined the future of the region. The New England colonies and adjacent colonies, the maritimes in Canada, and the lives and histories of countless peoples and cultures were determined by these three events. The tragedy of King Philip’s War is that it was a clash of cultures that would play out again and again in North America. The winners always write the history, the losers fade from memory.

      Being educated on historical events offers an enlightened alternative to being blissfully unaware of who we are and how we got here. Maybe this blog won’t ever be a social studies class for the masses, but touching on interesting landmarks, milestones and artifacts of our history highlights our shared identity. We either learn from history or eventually repeat it. As Metacomet would remind us, nothing is forever. That’s something to remember.

    • The Doing and the Done

      “There is no pleasure in having nothing to do; the fun is having lots to do and not doing it.” ― Andrew Jackson

      I’d like to get around to enjoying doing nothing when I have a lot to do, but honestly, it’s just not my style. I’m happiest when I find things to do when I ought to be doing nothing much at all. Call it an inclination to make order out of chaos. Sometimes I have to find chaos to make order of.

      Does this mean I won’t embrace retirement one day? Are we who fancy productivity doomed to work ourselves to death? Or simply focus on something else instead? A hint of how we’ll act tomorrow is how we act in our non-work time today. I believe we don’t have to lock ourselves in our career track to be doing useful things, we simply have to be inclined to be useful.

      While there is satisfaction in getting things done, isn’t the real joy in life to be found in the doing? To be active in the game is to be playing the game. Fun isn’t just where we find it, but what we make of it.

    • Who Knows Where the Time Goes?

      Across the evening sky,
      all the birds are leaving,
      But how can they know,
      it’s time for them to go?
      Before the winter fire,
      I will still be dreaming,
      I have no thought of time.
      For who knows,
      where the time goes?
      Who knows,
      where the time goes?
      — Sandy Denny, Who Knows Where the Time Goes?

      The other day I heard the honking of geese as I sat under the umbrella reading in the shade. I only heard and never saw the geese, but a sudden pop on the umbrella made me stop reading and look up. It turns out the umbrella saved me and the book from an unpleasant deposit a goose was making on its flyover.

      Yes, the geese are back. A sure sign of the summer season shifting towards later in the game. And have you noticed? Sunrise is later too. The summer harvest is abundant and relentless. Acorns are already bouncing off the pavement. Back to school sales are in full swing, and Halloween candy will be sold out if we dare wait until October to buy it.

      Ready or not, time moves on. Memories relentlessly pop up in social media feeds. WordPress prompts us to look back on our own posts from this date in previous years. Reminders are everywhere to look up from what is occupying our attention and have a look at where we are, where we’ve been, and what’s changed.

      And still, we have no thought of time until something jolts us into awareness. Beating a familiar drum, we ought to savor those summer tomatoes and corn, soak up the sun and time with one another. For who knows where the time goes? Tempus fugit. It flies right along like geese on a mid-August day.

    • Life and Poetry

      All the things to which I give myself
      grow rich and spend me.
      — Rainer Maria Rilke, The Poet

      We are what we focus on, for we are spending our lives in the process. Wherever we go, whatever we do, we are doling out our grains of sand. The time will never return again. Awareness of the value of time is our curse and our saving grace. The only answer for tempus fugit is carpe diem.

      I read poetry to encounter verse like that above. I write to try to arrive at something approaching the feeling I get when I read it. Perhaps you read it the same way, or wonder what the fuss is about. We all bring our own lens to life and poetry. For me, Rilke demonstrates that we are timeless and fragile all at once.

      I’m delighted by the perfect crust on a sourdough. The aroma of fresh herbal bread made on a hot day when I had no business using the oven but eagerly pay the toll for the way the house smells as the bread bakes. Candles are nice, baking bread is nirvana. Should we not pursue with vigor all that makes us feel alive?

      Sourdough is a two-day event. One makes the dough today to bake tomorrow. That in itself is an act of faith that we’ll be around tomorrow to enjoy the bread, but life’s greatest rewards aren’t immediately gratified. One must earn tomorrow today.

      That which delights us offers a higher return on the minutes spent. It’s not nihilistic to seek a higher return on our time, it’s our duty to our one precious life to maximize our value. To derive meaning from minutes spent vigorously. The spend will happen on its own. ’tis the vigor we bring that makes all the difference, now and in that uncertain future awaiting us.

    • Pebbles

      “It isn’t the mountains ahead to climb that wear you out; it’s the pebble in your shoe” — Muhammad Ali

      Inevitably, after doing some workout and feeling the rush of adrenaline that washes over you when you finish, I tell myself I ought to do that more consistently. I mean, a year ago I was working out twice a day for 75 days, so why am I not working out at least once a day now? Maybe working out twice a day was a bit much, but not working out at all was a bit too far in the other direction.

      Habits come and go. I wrote this blog every day for seven years and just stopped one day just to reset myself and stop that creeping feeling that writing was an obligation and not a privilege. I’m writing again with new perspective, and without feeling like I must publish today no matter what. Hopefully the content feels less like an obligation to read too.

      Habits stick when we love doing something. When it becomes so ingrained as part of our identity that we can’t imagine not doing it today and for every tomorrow we have left ahead of us. When it nags at us like a pebble in the shoe, we’re far less likely to follow through with it today. And our actions today are all that matters in all things.

      Today I took my bike out for a 15-mile ride. That’s nothing for a hard-core cyclist, but it’s not a bad use of an hour for a casual cyclist trying to get back in the habit again. It turned out what was nagging at me was how much I missed being out on the bike while stuck in a routine chock full of excuses. Tomorrow will take care of itself, but I’ll celebrate today for all the right reasons.