Alexandersmap

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    • Imaging Order

      “I would warn you that I do not attribute to nature either beauty or deformity, order or confusion. Only in relation to our imagination can things be called beautiful or ugly, well-ordered or confused.” — Baruch Spinoza

      The world may feel chaotic. Spinoza suggests that much of what we feel is stirred up from within—derived from our own perspective on things. It follows that we may find order in chaos with clear thinking and a calm mind.

      This year has felt chaotic for me, and perhaps for you too. In the craziest of times, it may not feel appropriate to slow down, but that’s exactly what we need the most. Order depends on us to root itself into something solid. Let that be our way of thinking about the world and our place in it. Imagine order and help it find it’s own foundation, that it may grow.

      In this way, we change the world from chaotic to something more beautiful. We are the line in the sand, standing our ground. A windbreak in the swirling madness. It may sting at times, but we guarantee a more stable future through our attitude and resilience.

    • The Emotional Landscape

      “When a man is prey to his emotions, he is not his own master.”
      — Baruch Spinoza

      The journey to personal excellence moves through an emotional landscape. To keep one’s head, to choose one’s reaction to any stimulus, moves us closer to mastery of the mind. Like arete, we will never reach mastery in anything, but we may move closer than we thought possible on our climb.

      Is it a climb or a labyrinth of our own making? Sometimes, when we feel like we’re walking around in circles, it feels very labyrinth-like. But have a glance at just how far we’ve ascended as we build our lives, one lesson upon the other. Keep calm and carry on, the British Ministry of Information would say in the darkest of times of World War II. And so must we in our own time

      “The more clearly you understand yourself and your emotions, the more you become a lover of what is.” — Baruch Spinoza

      Amor fati. Love of fate. We work towards mastery of the self despite the present madness we believe we’re in. There’s always been madness, meanness and unfairness. As Viktor Frankl reminded us, choosing how we react to the world as it presses upon us from all sides, while also trying to eat at us from within, is the only thing we truly control.

    • The Space Between

      Writing without the pressure to publish contradicts all that I’ve said about consistently shipping our work. But to choose to embrace the writing and not the streak of publishing every day for seven+ years liberated this writer from a feeling of obligation. To ramble on just to check a box felt a shallow victory. We aren’t put on this earth to check boxes, we’re put here to add our verse. Instead, I write because I have something to say.

      As with music, the space between often means far more than what initially draws our attention.

    • Anchored Here and Now

      “All change is a miracle to contemplate; but it is a miracle which is taking place every instant.” — Henry David Thoreau, Walden

      I find myself writing from a state of hyper-awareness of change. Scroll through old photo albums and decades worth of digital images representing the lives of those who have passed and we realize that change is the constant in our lives. That and the tight circle of fellow travelers we call family and friends, all working to make sense of this dynamic advancement into the future as we ourselves are. There we were, here we are, and there we go.

      The only thing to do in a changing world is to anchor into something solid. Anchors are often disguised as ritual and habit. Often it’s the very people and place that we take for granted as we move through time. That favorite café we get our liquid energy at. The bookstore we wander through when the day feels chaotic. The playlist we return to when we need a lift. A solid anchorage looks different for each of us, but serves the same purpose: keeping us grounded in something tangible when change is swirling all around us.

      If I may offer some unsolicited advice as we navigate a lifetime together, it’s to take more pictures with those fellow travelers we encounter in our todays. Tomorrow will find us wanting more reminders of what was. A photograph is an anchorage locked in amber, reminding us of how much those people staring back at us meant to us in the moment. Document names and places as a gift to those who will one day scroll through our lives in images, wondering just what those people are trying to tell them about our moment.

      We know we can’t stay anchored forever. Life advances, and so must we. We may adapt and grow into what’s next, with a firm sense of who we are and where we’ve been. With an eye on the adventures yet to come.

    • That Better Character

      “In uncertainty I am certain that underneath their topmost layers of frailty men want to be good and want to be loved. Indeed, most of their vices are attempted short cuts to love. When a man comes to die, no matter what his talents and influence and genius, if he dies unloved his life must be a failure to him and his dying a cold horror. It seems to me that if you or I must choose between two courses of thought or action, we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure to the world.” ― John Steinbeck, East of Eden

      Most people remember the latter half of this quote, but I love the entire paragraph. Perhaps because it’s a reminder that we’re all deeply-layered characters, with good bits and not-so-good. Life is a journey of discovering each layer and being proud or chagrined by what we find. In the end, how we’re remembered is for what we show the world of ourselves.

      Memento mori. So show up. Be that better character in the time that we have left. Not to be remembered differently, but to be more engaged and interested in all that we encounter, top to bottom. This is our life, such that it is. So what of it will we double down on? Set the course accordingly.

    • Doing Our Damndest

      “Life happens too fast for you ever to think about it. If you could just persuade people of this, but they insist on amassing information.” ― Kurt Vonnegut

      Every day is another stack of life lessons. It’s all a blur—a rapidity of memories rushing past. Right to the end. And to borrow from Vonnegut again, so it goes.

      I shake my head at all the books I’ve read trying to find answers to life’s questions. Philosophy, business, poetry, history, a taste test of the world religions, biographies of the greats, and that lumpy guilty pleasure category that I shudder to think about as I get older, self-help. What we consume comes to consume us. So we ought to make it as nutritious as possible.

      Looking back on a list of goals I stumbled across from three decades ago, I saw that I’d accomplished some, I’d thrown others onto the pile of “not in this lifetime”, and one or two still gnaw at my soul, awaiting my attention. In this way, I’m like everyone else who’s ever lived long enough to see the past receding into the distance. If we’re lucky, we’ll reach the end feeling like we’ve done enough.

      Enough. What is enough anyway? It’s a question that rises up within as we get older. Is this enough or should we do more still? Just when are we going to slow down and enjoy where we are now? We can’t possibly do everything, we can only decide what to be and do our damndest to be it. Maybe we’re already there.

    • Changing Tunes

      Don’t worry about a thing
      ‘Cause every little thing gonna be alright
      — Bob Marley & The Wailers, Three Little Birds

      I was reading an old journal I wrote when I was separating from my first wife (a long, long time ago). Honestly, I’d forgotten that I’d written it, let alone kept it, and forgotten who that guy was who was struggling with that moment. Thanks for the reminder, I guess. We remember the lowest moments, but not always the daily slog through the darkness.

      If I could go back to that guy and tell him anything, it would be to stop listening to Pearl Jam’s “Black” and listen to Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds” instead. Because everything would be all right, as soon as I stepped out of that miserable cycle of a failing marriage and stepped towards the uncertainty of a far brighter future. We all go through our share of crap. Why swim in it any longer than we absolutely have to? Move on to brighter days.

      Within a few months everything changed for me. I’m still riding that wave of brighter days all these years later. I just needed to find the right person to spend forever with. And realize that every little thing was gonna be alright. Sometimes we just have to change our tune to a better soundtrack for the place we wish to go to.

    • Slow Down

      Slow down, you move too fast
      You got to make the morning last
      Just kicking down the cobblestones
      Looking for fun and feelin’ groovy
      — Simon & Garfunkel, The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin’ Groovy)

      I had a college philosophy professor who used to mock this song in class, for all is not groovy in the world and we must be aware of that fact. But I keep coming back to the lyrics, slow down, you move too fast, and recognize the truth in them. Time is flying past, and we must slow down and have a look before it’s gone forever. Tempus fugit indeed.

      Awareness is the goal, not grooviness. It’s cool to be groovy, it’s vital to be aware. For our vitality is wrapped up in being here in this moment, making the most of it before it’s gone. This is us, we are here (but not for long). Groove on that for a while.

      Looking around, I see I have way too much on my plate. But before you preach to me about taking my own advice, recognize what I have seen: that this is a temporary condition of a productive life, and this phase will pass soon enough. Amor fati. Make the moment last, such that it is, but be sure to slow down too. That would be groovy.

    • Steeping in This

      To live a full life seems to be the goal for many of us. “Full” denotes an expansive, experience-rich life. That seems appealing to those who wish to see the world, read much of a rich library, roam the hallways of the greatest museums, or thrill to the bucket list items available to many of us in a free society.

      The alternative is to live a simple life, full in its own immersive way, with daily rituals, familiar and trusted friends and family, and work we can gently hang up at the door as we walk in to greet our family. In a maddening world such as ours, doesn’t it feel comforting to live a life filled with a strong sense of place, community and predictability? There’s richness in ritual. Take the teabag out of the cup before it’s had a chance to steep and we’re left with weak tea. It ought to linger a while before being plucked out for a quick sip.

      Which is the better life? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What is clear is that trying to have both dilutes the experience of either. Wherever we are, we ought to be all in in that lifestyle. Not just physically present, but also not scheming some escape plan. Be here, now. Or be there. Not forever in limbo between the two.

      Steep on that a while.

    • Pinus Strobus

      “How much of this invisible dust must be floating in the atmosphere, and be inhaled and drunk by us at this season! Who knows but the pollen of some plants may be unwholesome to inhale, and produce the diseases of the season?” — Henry David Thoreau

      For all my love of the outdoors, there are a few weeks a years that tax the soul. We’re in the thick of it now: pollen season. Specifically, the pollen of the white pine tree, which expels clouds of pollen that coats everything vomit green with a tinge of phlegm yellow.

      Now I know that statement has a negative connotation, because it’s absolutely meant to, but that doesn’t mean I hold a grudge against the trees. They were here first. I think that I should go instead. Buy a boat and sail away from green clouds to experience blue water.

      Trees are rooted to place. Humans are built to move. Preferably somewhere beyond the reach of Pinus Strobus.