Alexandersmap

    Author: nhcarmichael

    • Fully-Valued

      “To get the full value of joy you must have someone to divide it with.” — Mark Twain

      Joy shifts time. It locks moments in amber. It makes years seem like days, even as days seem like minutes. It’s all a collection of joyful minutes, sprinkled with the jolts that life throws at us all. We learn to value our time together for the shared experience of living as the world sweeps past us like a swollen river after a storm.

      Now everyone dreams of love lasting and true
      Oh but you and I know what this world can do
      So let’s make our steps clear that the other may see
      And I’ll wait for you, and if I should fall behind wait for me
      — Bruce Springsteen, If I Should Fall Behind

      We live in our time machine, my bride and I. I know it’s a time machine because I look at old photographs, or think back on certain moments, and when I compare them with the date they were taken I’m shocked by the time that has flown by. We are betrayed by years, but we aren’t yet old. But tell that to the kids and they’ll laugh. Tempus fugit, indeed.

      May your hands always be busy
      May your feet always be swift
      May you have a strong foundation
      When the winds of changes shift
      May your heart always be joyful
      May your song always be sung
      May you stay forever young
      — Bob Dylan, Forever Young

      Printing out a wedding photo, the clerk commented that I look the same as when the picture was taken. Looks are deceiving, I laughed. Health is its own time machine, and for the most part we’ve been blessed with good health, coaxed by fitness and nutrition and good-enough genes. We know that time always wins, no matter what time machine we fly about in. A joyful life softens the landing, but we’ll land one day like all who have come before us.

      Maybe time running out is a gift
      I’ll work hard ’til the end of my shift
      And give you every second I can find
      And hope it isn’t me who’s left behind
      — Jason Isbell and The 400 Unit, If We Were Vampires

      We learn not to worry about what we cannot control. To always be worrying is to forsake joy for uncertainty. The only certainty is this moment together, so make it count in quiet gestures and unspoken ways. Joy is rooted in love: love of life, love for another, love of the moments built one upon the other for as long as this ride may continue. Nothing lasts forever—we know this all too well. But enjoying each something for all it offers is a path to a fully-valued, joyful life.

    • Worthy of Its Own Passion

      “What else is love but understanding and rejoicing that another lives, works, and feels in a different and opposite way to ourselves? That love may be able to bridge over the contrasts by joys, we must not remove or deny those contrasts. Even self-love presupposes an irreconcilable duality (or plurality) in one person.” — Friedrich Nietzsche

      We all understand the concept of the battle of good and evil. It’s deeply embedded in every aspect of our lives, from religion to politics to movies and literature. Good and evil always gets our attention, which is why dualism is used so frequently by those who would divide us. As a society and as individuals, just who do we want to become? If there is an evil in this world, it surely resides in those who would divide us.

      The rhetoric of good and evil is a red flag for extremism. Such all or nothing, black and white language is designed to call us out. We’re either with the crowd or we’re suspect. They used to burn people at the stake for such things. Now we cancel people, deport or ostracize them. The outcome is the same with less screaming. If we aren’t good we must be evil, and evil must be wiped out. The voice of reason gets drowned out in the fervor.

      Manichaeism was a religion founded on this idea of light and darkness, good and evil and all that. It lasted a thousand years before being swept away by Christianity, which has it’s own dualistic tendencies. Manichaeism may have died out, but dualism is alive and kicking. We know it when we hear it, because it’s just so commonplace in our culture.

      Being a voice of reason in an unreasonable time is a lonely path. People want us to pick a side, and dismiss anyone who attempts to weigh the opinion of others deemed woke or MAGA or some other version of dark and evil. Isn’t it a pity that we’ve reached a point where reason isn’t heard? The thing is, dualism stirs the survival instinct within us, where “fight or flight” overpowers the nuance of reason.

      We ought to turn off the noise that would draw us away from reason. We ought to find more creative ways to influence and help people to see that most of the world is good, and very little of it is evil. That those who would use dualism to divide us are stoking that fire for their own gain. Is it so unreasonable to see that unity is a path worthy of its own passion?

    • Paper Tigers

      “The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life; and the procedure, the process is its own reward.” ― Amelia Earhart

      What are we afraid of anyway? Decide what to be and go be it. The alternative is to never try anything. What kind of a life is that? When we make a habit of making the bold choice something stirs within. We learn that we can do things beyond the ordinary.

      And so it is that we make our way towards the person we wish to become. Some days we leap forward, some days we slog along hoping for progress but finding we slid backwards. Looking around, we wonder if we made the right choice.

      Who we once were seems more attractive when things get especially challenging. But deep down we know better. Keep moving forward, towards the dream. Ordinary was nice, but extraordinary offers a better view.

      Be bold today—if only so that when we reach the end of the day we feel like we’ve really done something with the time. Which paper tiger do we need to tackle first? They tend to scatter once we’ve knocked off one or two of the big ones. There is no time like now to show them who’s boss.

    • Worthy of Devotion

      “Before you come alive, life is nothing; it’s up to you to give it a meaning, and value is nothing else but the meaning that you choose.” — Jean-Paul Sartre

      We may not know why we are here, or even why we should get out of bed at all, but the fact remains that we are here, contributing our verse (work in progress that it is), and isn’t participating in the bold act of discovery far more interesting than simply conceding that we don’t know, so why try at all? Do try, if only to find the next piece of the puzzle. If only to get beyond nothing to the abundance of somethings awaiting our discovery.

      If a daily devotional provides a spiritual set of the sail, suggesting a course correction that may need to happen, then Satre’s challenge to seek meaning is as informative as prayer. What is a devotional but the ritual of focus beyond ourselves to some greater purpose? To ask ourselves daily why we are here and what to do with the opportunity is a path to higher purpose.

      To ponder the potential of the self isn’t narcissistic, it’s expansive. When we ask, “what have I got to offer?”, we don’t focus on the “I”, but the “offer”. Devotion draws us beyond self, slipping towards the spiritual and the gracious—it slips towards meaning.

      Waking up is a strong indicator of being alive. In our quest to make this day something better than the last, shouldn’t we seek that which makes us truly feel alive? Simply going through the motions is a disservice to the potential of our vitality. What is worthy of our devotion? We may begin there.

    • Out of the Wordless

      This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
      Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
      Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou
      lovest best.
      Night, sleep, death and the stars.
      — Walt Whitman, A Clear Midnight

      Sleep comes easily on one end of the day, but retreats just as quickly on the other side. Call it the curse of the early bird in a nest full of night owls. As with any bird’s nest, a cat will create unrest. Nocturnal hunter, angry by nature—don’t you dare try to sleep any longer! And so sleep score be damned, I rise when it’s time to get up. The cat seems smugly satisfied, but her indignation is stirred when I don’t reward her wakeup call by immediately filling her bowl. That would result in an even earlier wakeup call tomorrow.

      Every morning, dark and cold though it may be, I step outside and look up at the sky to see what I’ve been missing. Maybe I’m tracking infinity through ritual, or maybe I’m simply checking in on the universe to let it know I’ve made it to another day, but the ritual feels natural, even if the night owls in my life believe it’s unnatural to rise before the sun. In my rush to slow down and take it all in, I wonder what I missed. At the moment, I’m missing sleep. Maybe tonight then?

      The cat isn’t the only restless soul stirring before 5 AM. Waking up restless is a sign that we dozed off with unfinished business on the mind. Just what quiet desperation is haunting me? I feel the urge to write until I find the words. Yes, there’s just so much to do and be and say. If only the words will come on this cold November morning.

    • Busy Got Me

      When I am among the trees,
      especially the willows and the honey locust,
      equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
      they give off such hints of gladness,
      I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
      I am so distant from the hope of myself,
      in which I have goodness, and discernment,
      and never hurry through the world
      but walk slowly, and bow often.
      Around me the trees stir in their leaves
      and call out, “Stay awhile.”
      The light flows from their branches.
      And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
      “and you too have come
      into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
      with light, and to shine.
      — Mary Oliver, When I Am Among the Trees

      Suddenly the leaves have returned to the earth. Tropical rain and gusty wind have done the job, and wet clumps of oak leaves blanket everything like a first snow. I shuffle through the fallen leaves knowing that I didn’t walk in the woods nearly enough this season. Busy got me once again.

      I too am so distant from the hope of myself when I get busy. Too busy for peak fitness or deep work or even to mop the kitchen floor. Too busy to reach out to someone who may need to talk—or maybe it was me that needed to talk. Those moments fall away like autumn leaves in a storm.

      Busy is a choice we make to subtract meaning from our lives for the belief that there is growth in hustle. There’s nothing wrong with filling our days with productive and meaningful work. Just don’t believe that busy is the same thing.

      The answer is to go easier along this path. To back away from the transactional life and choose a new direction while there’s still time. Like tea leaves, those wet leaves blanketing the ground have something to tell us. If not now, when? Don’t let busy rob you of all that is dear. All that is light. All that would fill our days if not for busy.

    • Let It Go

      “Let go, or be dragged.” — Zen proverb

      Each day we step out into the world offers ample opportunity to challenge our sense of what’s wrong and what’s right. We ought to fight for what is right, but be careful how many wrongs we wrap ourselves up in. We have a finite amount of time to spend and it’s slipping away even as we speak. Just how do we want to use this precious time before it’s gone forever?

      Counting blessings is far more enjoyable than counting grudges. That may seem naive in a complex world that wants all our attention, time and money, but what good is going to come from getting all spun up? Let it go, or be dragged down with it. Rise above it all instead.

    • Measured in Inches

      “Question yourself every day. Ask yourself: Who am I? What have I learned? What have I created? What forward progress have I made? Who have I helped? What am I doing to improve myself—today? To get better, faster, stronger, healthier, smarter?”
      ― Jocko Willink, Discipline Equals Freedom: Field Manual

      Nothing like a bit of Jocko to smack us back into focus now and then. But really, we ought to be accountable to ourselves every day without the assist. We are our own creation, like it or not, and who we are is based on how we react to the world when we wake up each day. Get up and get to work or stay under those comfy covers—the choice is ours.

      We’re two days from Halloween, and the sheer ubiquity of chocolate is testing my willpower. I’m a little too casual with the carbs lately too. As the weather gets cooler and the nights get longer, it’s easy to eat a bit more, sleep more, ride the couch with a snack and something to wash it down with. We are what we repeatedly do.

      Excellence, then, is a habit. It’s discipline and doing what we promised we’d do, again and again until we’ve done that thing. Sneaking Socrates quotes in is an old trick, and I know you’ve seen that one before. The point is, we can’t let up now when there’s so much more to be done. Shake it off and get to work already.

      “Nothing is going to change, unless someone does something soon.” — Dr. Seuss

      So do something. Now. Today anyway. Something that moves the chains towards the goal. Something that takes this inclination for comfort and ease and turns it into sweat equity. Discipline equals freedom from those pesky inclinations. Personal excellence, our old friend Arete, is not for the undisciplined excuse-makers. We inch towards our potential through self-accountability, rigid routines and hard work. Does that sound fun? No? That’s why it’s hard.

      The world already has plenty of people who don’t want to do much of anything. To have the audacity to dream of excellence requires more than big talk, we have to navigate the excuses that will inevitably get in the way with every step. But we know that, don’t we? So get to it already! Today is well underway, and tomorrow is too late. Progress is measured in inches, and so is comfort. The choice is ours.

    • Leaves and Plastic

      Nature’s first green is gold,
      Her hardest hue to hold.
      Her early leaf’s a flower;
      But only so an hour.
      Then leaf subsides to leaf.
      So Eden sank to grief,
      So dawn goes down to day.
      Nothing gold can stay.
      — Robert Frost, Nothing Gold Can Stay

      Each October day the carpet grows. Where once there was grass or pavement, now a fallen kaleidoscope blankets all. The neighbors, eager for pristine green and neatness, rush out with their leaf blowers and oversized mowers to whisk it all away. I will be the maverick in the neighborhood who will wait it out for the love of fallen leaves and pine straw.

      Why do we rush from one thing to the next, never seeing the season we’re in right now? Where do all of the plastic decorations go when their time is up? I believe that storage rental companies conspired with large box stores to create a fear of missing out on molded plastic skeletons and fake cobwebs. FOMO is alive and well in suburbia, just not in me. No matter: whatever Halloween plastic was tempting the masses, it’s too late, because the Christmas plastic is now on display for another week or two before the beachwear is back on the shelves. Blink and you’ll miss it, so buy today!

      Just what do we want our yards to say about us? My own says that my bride loves Halloween while her husband loves to linger with the season a beat longer than the average. In other words, minimal plastic with a touch of whimsy, and a lawn that the neighbors will scorn on a windy day. I like to share in that way. The trees were here before the neighborhood, and their leaves ought to have their moment before being blown away in a roar of machinery.

      Don’t get me wrong, I love a clever Halloween decoration as much as the next person, but everything in moderation people. Running up the credit card on plastic yard bling isn’t a recipe for a happy holiday. Those credit card bills will come due just in time for Black Friday. It’s all a vicious cycle designed to slowly kill the middle class.

      If all this feels like a rant against consumerism, well, I’m glad you’ve been following along. Late October is about that blanket of leaves frozen solid by the first hard frost, that smell of pine straw on a brisk walk in the woods, and the brilliant blue sky conceding to an explosion of stars as Orion hunts Taurus yet again. You can have the plastic—I’ll enjoy the leaves.

    • For Your Consideration

      If I could write words
      Like leaves on an autumn forest floor,
      What a bonfire my letters would make.

      If I could speak words of water,
      You would drown when I said
      “I love you.”
      — Spike Milligan, If I Could Write Words

      When I look at the number of words written and published in this blog this year, it equals the length of a long novel. Looking back over the last six years since I turned blogging from an every now and then thing to an every day thing, it translates into roughly eight novels of average length worth of words. And there are another couple of novels-worth of blog posts sitting in draft form. That, friends, is a lot of words given to the vacuum of the Internet. And here is one more for your consideration.

      All this talk of words has me wondering where they’ll lead to next. Words pull the writer along just as much as the reader—perhaps more so. Pile the words just so and you have a blog post or a poem or a novel. Which is worthy of our weight in words? We know it when we feel it. The act of creating things is a ritual of discovery.

      Just because we write a lot of words doesn’t mean that we have a lot to say. Our voice (if we’re lucky enough to be born in a free society) is our birthright, our audience is earned. We ought to experience a few things in this lifetime to pick up the pieces, glued together with our perspective, and presented to the reader to wander about with and occasionally knock down our walls. Burn it all down if you like—the words that were once mine are now those of someone I used to know.

      These words have turned into a blog post. If you’ve followed along this far, thank you. If the words and I should meet again tomorrow, I hope we will have our time together yet again. Until then?