Alexandersmap

    Author: nhcarmichael

    • The Cover of October Skies

      Well, it’s a marvelous night for a moondance
      With the stars up above in your eyes
      A fantabulous night to make romance
      ‘Neath the cover of October skies
      And all the leaves on the trees are falling
      To the sound of the breezes that blow
      You know I’m tryin’ to please to the calling
      Of your heartstrings that play soft and low
      You know the night’s magic seems to whisper and hush
      You know the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush
      Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?
      — Van Morrison, Moondance

      It’s no coincidence that we are drawn outdoors in October. In New Hampshire, the foliage is strikingly beautiful on some trees this year, while others have barely begun to turn. Strange what a year of near-constant rain can do to a tree’s inclination to dress up for the party. But the show must go on nonetheless, stragglers will inevitably catch up in their time. For it’s all about the shrinking days now. If leaves are the flowers of autumn, then they’re more like the blossoms of a fruit tree, announcing their time in the sun is over with a brilliant dance in the breeze on their return to the earth. Don’t we owe it to them to bear witness?

      I dwell in such things. I have a photographers eye and a philosopher’s mind, and though perhaps neither may ever be fully realized in production each sneaks out now and again. We each aspire to mastery, don’t we? Mostly I hear the call to bring the beautiful to light. It falls on people like us to keep reminding the world that it’s worth paying attention to the magic now and then in our own shrinking days.

      To reach our potential we must be attentive to every detail, and we must put ourselves in the mix. On a crisp Sunday afternoon I spent time at a four-year-old’s birthday party, gingerly holding her infant second cousin like a football, to celebrate the next generation tasked with realizing a brighter future. I spent time at a quiet graveyard, reminding those who couldn’t quite realize a full life of their own that they aren’t forgotten. That they did enough. The two sides of the spectrum dancing under the cover of the same brilliant October sky. Some leaves shine golden in their time, some have arrived back to earth. We are the witnesses to each, biding our time on a quest for mastery.

    • The Magic of Following Through

      “I can give you a six-word formula for success: Think things through – then follow through.”— Eddie Rickenbacker

      The more time I spend on this planet, the more I feel the fulfillment of deliberate action. You build momentum in your life when you do what you say you’re going to do with enough people. There’s a tipping point where everyone in your life simply identifies you as someone they can count on. Following through is a beacon of hope and light in a world where so many quietly quit on others, and in doing so, on themselves as well.

      It wasn’t always so. I once mastered the art of excuses. Lazy and unfocused as a teenager, I would tell myself that it didn’t matter whether I did what I said I was going to do. It didn’t take long to realize the error of my ways. You hear a enough feedback from people in your life who you let down and you begin to feel the urgency to close the gap between who that person was and the person you aspire to be. Following through is the act of growing up and choosing to be the adult in the room.

      Much later in this lifetime, I tend to take on more than I ought to. Saying no becomes the challenge, not saying yes. But no is part of the commitment to yes. To follow through on anything meaningful, we have to subtract something else that might have been a yes. That might be people, or putting in extra time at work instead of being home with the family, or maybe it’s saying no to that donut with our morning coffee. We are what we repeatedly do, and we are also what we repeatedly choose not to do. Over time, many of us learn to choose wisely. Choice is a commitment to that one really essential thing over all other things.

      The unspoken rule here is that we must follow through on our promises to ourself as well. We must be the person we want to be. We must ship the work, as Seth Godin would say, when we say we’re going to ship it. Putting a blog post out in the world every day is just one of many small commitments I make to myself. Like those other small commitments, it pays dividends in profound and magical ways. For in following through over and over, you begin to believe in possibilities you might not have believed in otherwise. And others begin to believe in you for the consistency you’ve shown. We live the story we tell ourselves: this is evidence of who I am.

      There’s magic in following through on commitments we’ve made. We rise to a place of honor by doing what we said we’d do. This is our uncompromising vow to others, and to ourselves. We are showing respect for those whom we follow through with, and surely for ourselves. This leads directly to a better world for those we interact with, and a better night’s sleep for us. Who said we can’t be magicians? Follow through.

    • The Pendulum

      “The returning good sense of our country threatens abortion to their hopes, & they believe that any portion of power confided to me, will be exerted in opposition to their schemes. And they believe rightly; for I have sworn upon the altar of god, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.” — Thomas Jefferson

      When you stand under the dome at the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, DC you can read these words, “I have sworn upon the altar of god, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.” Jefferson was directly addressing those who would take the religious freedoms guaranteed in the Constitution to roll out a national religion. Simply put, it wasn’t going to happen on his watch.

      The United States has gone through waves of fervor since Jefferson’s watch ended: religious, philosophical, political. We’re going through it right now with half the country aligned with one particularly autocratic clown and the other half holding out hope that the rule of law and concept of equality and freedom for all should survive the latest chapter of zealotry and anger. Time will tell, friends.

      The thing is, it’s our watch now—certainly for citizens of this country of voting age, but in many ways the global community as well. Look around at the rise of autocracy and extremism in the world. This is a pendulum swing into uncomfortable places. How things go from here is up to each of us. Many more voices of reason to temper the extremists on either side would greatly benefit society. Some of us believe that we’re all in this together, and some choose us versus them. I’m not naive enough to ignore the threat from some dark corners of the world, but in general a bit of creative diplomacy would solve the bulk of our collective problems, both at the dinner table and on a global scale.

      I wish more people would be hostile to tyranny, but most people are simply trying to get through the day. The lessons of history are clear enough though, when we pay attention to them. It’s a lot easier to clean up a small mess than a big one. Momentum works for and against us, and it’s still uncertain just how far that pendulum is going to swing.

    • Every Leaf is a Flower

      “Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.” ― Albert Camus

      Today is one of those foggy mornings I especially love in autumn, when the colors of the trees become mystical in their oranges and reds and yellows, muted by the mist but not to be denied. We could learn a thing or two from the autumn leaves about the urgency of the moment. Here we are at the peak of our brilliance: time to shine! Carpe diem indeed.

      For every valley there is a peak, but we forget sometimes that valleys are where forests and gardens thrive. Valleys are where the timeless rivers flow. Valleys can be beautiful too. To spend our days celebrating the beauty of the season we’re in seems the only way to navigate the changes a lifetime brings.

      The question of whether we have peaked ourselves sometimes crosses our minds, but the garden is a good reminder that there are many peaks in a lifetime. Simply persist through the decline of one and embrace the next ascent. A bit of fog now and then matters little in a lifetime of love and growth.

    • As Luck Would Have It

      On a visit to the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, DC this week, I found myself in a dark corner of the National Mall with no viable ride sharing pickup location nearby. I’d walked to the monument on dark pathways from the Lincoln Memorial and could always go back in that general direction to pick up a cab or Uber there. Alternatively, I could just start walking towards my hotel in Crystal City and pick up a ride from some business or bright parking lot along the way. I opted for the latter, and descended into yet another adventure.

      You can see the walking path I took with a quick Google map with Jefferson Memorial as the starting point and the Westin hotel in Crystal City as the end point. It looks pretty simple on the computer screen—a basic three mile walk on across the George Mason Bridge to the Mount Vernon Trail, past the airport and you’re basically there. In the daylight I bet it’s a lovely stretch of trail to take, and I’d recommend it in the opposite direction for a morning walk to the National Mall. At 10:30 PM (22:30) it feels entirely different. Once you cross the bridge there’s no illumination on the path until you reach the airport. Cars zipping along the George Washington Memorial Parkway provide ambient light, but also ruin night vision. Planes taking off from Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport launch dramatically overhead, making it hard to hear anything else. In short, situational awareness is greatly inhibited. Throw in a place you’ve never been before and only a map on your phone to guide you and you might begin to understand the potential sketchiness of the walk.

      Perhaps I should have turned back towards the National Mall, perhaps I should have walked with others. Perhaps a strong flashlight or headlamp might have helped, had I the foresight to bring them. Then again, perhaps just staying in my safe hotel room when it got dark out may have been the answer. But we ought to embrace whatever adventure we create for ourselves and make the most of it. Not in a reckless fashion, but rather as open-minded seekers of a larger life.

      The thing is, luck would have it that I made it from point A to point B with nothing but a good story to tell. Luck might also have thrown a mugger at me, or a sprained ankle on the darkest stretch of trail far from help. Luck might have had my phone die at an inopportune time. Luck is not something to rely upon. We must rely upon ourselves.

      Whatever we do, whether it’s walking alone in some dark and isolated place or stepping into a crowded, target-rich hostile environment in a city we aren’t familiar with, we must keep our wits about us. Just as we can’t have good situational awareness if we’re distracted with our phone, we can’t make good decisions about what to do next when we stumble into potential danger if we panic. So take a deep breath, assess the situation and choose the best option available at the moment. That’s generally where our luck begins to improve.

    • An Evening Walk in Washington, DC

      America’s capital city is beautiful in the daylight, but it sparkles at night. This was my feeling as I departed a dinner and walked seven looping miles around the National Mall back to my hotel instead of using Uber. Some of the employees of Washington, DC disappoint Americans all the time, but its not the city’s fault, it’s those darned politicians, lobbyists and bureaucrats. The walk was magical, with a little drama mixed in for good measure.

      The walk began with a quick stroll to the White House, or rather, as close as one can get to the White House without a pass. For this walker that meant Lafayette Square, directly across Pennsylvania Avenue from the White House. Unfortunately, world events had that location full of Palestinians protesting boisterously, with a line of police officers lining Pennsylvania Avenue between them and the President’s place of residence. Not to be deterred, I found myself a spot between the protesters and the barricades to snap a picture of the White House and quickly got myself out of there.

      After deciding it was impractical to head towards the US Capital I headed directly for the big Presidential Memorials: Washington, Lincoln, and Jefferson. Each is impressive, with the Washington Memorial the appropriate central point of the National Mall and the Lincoln Memorial the Daniel Chester French masterpiece must-see with the crowd to show it. I can’t come to Washington, DC and not visit Abe. Lingering a bit, I take the time to read the Gettysburg Address engraved on the wall. If I did nothing else in Washington I would visit this place whenever possible.

      After Lincoln there’s a lovely photo opportunity at the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool with the Washington Memorial rising behind it. Nearby are the Vietnam and Korean War Memorials, both striking at night. I paid my respects to an uncle who’s name is engraved in the latter wall and moved on to the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial overlooking The Basin. Not far from this is the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial. It’s quietly impressive at night, with the bare minimum of lighting and cascading water filling the senses.

      The Jefferson Memorial is quietly impressive, but it’s no Lincoln Memorial. One must commit to visiting it, especially at night. The walk along The Basin at night is dark and lonely. As a tall man I don’t think of myself as vulnerable in situations like that, but I maintained situational awareness nonetheless. The National Mall area is generally pretty safe but one must always be aware. I would need that awareness again later in the night, but that’s a blog post for another day.

      There were several other Memorials and Monuments skipped on this walk depending on the path chosen. The World War II Memorial is particularly impressive, and some other sites were just far enough off course to warrant a visit another time. But the highlights were covered on a wonderful walk in America’s capital city.

    • Somethings

      “Recall a simple and ancient truth: the subject of knowledge cannot exist independently from the object of knowledge. To see is to see something. To hear is to hear something. To be angry is to be angry over something. Hope is hope for something. Thinking is thinking about something. When the object of knowledge (the something) is not present, there can be no subject of knowledge.” — Thich Nhat Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness

      We are each connected to the world in big ways and small. The things we focus on, our somethings, are the essence of that connection. When we become aware of these connections we immediately see our place in the world differently. We are not independent observers to the world, we are very much a part of it.

      So when we inevitably ignore our mother’s well-meaning advice and talk to strangers, is it a voyage of discovery or do we put up walls? Walls come in many forms, from being reserved to working to be overly clever. To be genuine and open is to welcome connection. It’s our gateway to discovery.

      My primary purpose in life is to bridge the gap between the known and the unknown. That bridge is built on human connections—trusted relationships built one genuine and open connection at a time. That connection is substantial, and indeed means something. After all, it’s the stuff of life.

    • A Special Kind of Magic

      This flame that burns inside of me
      I’m hearing secret harmonies
      It’s a kind of magic
      — Queen, A Kind of Magic

      Queen is one of those arena rock bands from my childhood that I thought I’d never see perform live. I mean, after Freddie Mercury dies, how does a band carry on at all? Yet they have, finding a singer of Mercury’s caliber in Adam Lambert who can hit those extraordinary high notes with all the campy energy Freddie brought. Lambert brings it, but so does the band, driven by ageless wonders Brian May and Roger Taylor.

      With this band, you know immediately that they’re doing work that they love with the talent to back it up. You don’t leave a Queen concert disappointed, you leave awe-inspired. Witnessing sustained mastery in the wild generally inspires awe. You leave wondering just how they do it. You leave wondering what more you can do with your own life’s work.

      The thing is, it’s not simply the laser show and incredible graphics flashing on the screen. It’s not just the amazing talent on the stage. It’s not even the video of Freddie Mercury himself making a couple of appearances during the show. It’s the collective love of a multigenerational audience bringing love and vibrant participation to the party. And it’s a feeling that in this time of music legends passing away seemingly every day now, having the chance to be in the room with these guys playing at a high level is a special kind of magic.

    • Maintaining a Steady State

      We each plot our beginnings in this lifetime, but what of our endings? When do the wheels come off? When will be the last time we do that thing we love to do? We ought to look this expiration date squarely in the eye and be aware that all good things must pass, thus cherishing the time we have with it. I may never again row a 2000 meter race for speed and it won’t break my heart, but I’ll happily row beyond that mark with far less intensity. The goal is no longer to be the fastest, but to sustain a base level of fitness from now until the last.

      When I run out of things to write about, I’ll simply stop writing. The words that resonate will be rephrased into the words of others, ideas will become turned over like compost and feed a new generation of seekers. It’s bold to think so, isn’t it? More likely the blog will quietly fade into the past, as we all must do some day. Each of us has our time to shine.

      Perhaps the point is to build and carry the very best of ourselves to our last days, that we may offer something meaningful for those who follow us on the path. More essential still is to lead by example now, that others have the courage to find their own verse. To be steady in a time of turbulence offers more value to others than being first across any proverbial finish line.

      Some aspire to be on top, and that’s great for them. Most of us aim to maintain a steady state, filled with the highs and lows of a lifetime, but generally predictable progression to something… better. Not dull, mind you, but sustainably predictable growth. As any financial advisor will tell us, there’s a lot to be said for predictable growth. Leave volatility for the young and restless.

      I write this having added a puppy to my life, which tends to turn a well-established routine upside down. This may signal the end of my blogging days, or perhaps a reason to reinvent that steady state with a burst of volatility and restless energy. Whatever the outcome, it won’t be the same old thing. But who says a fresh perspective isn’t welcome in an otherwise steady life?

    • The Fullness of Time

      “The measure of a life is a measure of love and respect,
      So hard to earn so easily burned
      In the fullness of time,
      A garden to nurture and protect
      It’s a measure of a life
      The treasure of a life is a measure of love and respect,
      The way you live, the gifts that you give
      In the fullness of time,
      It’s the only return that you expect”
      ― Neil Peart

      I missed a few days in a row of my one line per day journal entry. What exactly did I do on Wednesday? Work from home? Take the dog for a walk? Write a blog and drink too much coffee? Yes to all of those things, but what was the essence of the day? That journal is my daily reckoning. When you go back to it after a few days to fill in what you’ve been up to you quickly realize that much of your days are pretty much the same, repeated over and over again.

      When I look at the year, it’s been full of wonder and adventure. Visits to stunningly beautiful places, big life events in the family, a new puppy. It would be hard to summarize the fullness of this year in a few short sentences. But what of the individual days? Individually, our days are feast or famine, with some jammed full of adventure and others rather bland by comparison. Every day can’t be a lifetime highlight. Some days are simply average.

      Sure, we ought to fill our time with more adventurous fare. Add more micro adventures and left turns to see what is out there in the world. We know intuitively that time is flying by, but what do we do to make each day uniquely special? If today was our last, will we make it an exclamation point or end it all with a simple period? I like to think I’ll go out with an ellipsis (…) just to make the world wonder what I was up to next.

      “The day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking towards me, without hurrying.” — Jean Cocteau

      Cocteau reminds us of our impermanence. It’s a lovely vision of life and death coming closer by the day, until one day we meet the infinite once again. Our lives are a singular entry in the vastness of time: here today, gone tomorrow. Knowing this, we ought to raise the average in our average days, we ought to sprinkle in more adventure and mystery and love, we ought to “live like we were dying” as that song goes. Life shouldn’t be a nihilistic series of meaningless days, it ought to be a gift we give back when we’ve done something meaningful with it. We know that our days will pass, but will they be filled with substance? We each have the opportunity to answer in our own…