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    • Perspective on Valentine’s Day

      Do you ever wonder about this Roman character, San Valentino, who was martyred when he died around 268 AD? He was the patron saint of courtly love, beekeeping and epilepsy, according to his Wikipedia page. That’s a trifecta right there. I’m not sure if the beekeepers celebrate him the way the lovers do, but you’ve got to hand it to the Christians, they’ve kept him busy in his afterlife.

      Then again, I’m not sure how much work sainthood really entails anyway. Cupid seems to do all the early work. He was the son of Venus and Mars, which fittingly represented love and war, respectively. Most relationships have a healthy mix of each, for while we unite as one we remain independent as well. The key is the balance between unity and independence, as any long termer might point out.

      The real winners on Valentine’s Day are the companies that cater to the audience: Hallmark, jewelry stores and florists, and the chocolate makers. For what says “I love you” like a gift from Kay? Humph. The hardest part of the lead-up to Valentine’s Day is navigating the card aisle at the local stores. Here you’ll find some of the lamest expressions of gushy love ever created. Which is why I head right for the humorous cards, looking for some magic in a clever punchline just inside. Inevitably most of these fail horribly as well, leaving you to find the best available under the circumstances. For me, a card that gives me enough room to write something more meaningful than the punchline is my first choice.

      When you stack up enough Valentine’s Days with someone, the marketing doesn’t resonate quite the same. For you show your feelings with action and consistency and the occasional bouquet of flowers on a random Wednesday. Valentine’s Day is an acknowledgement that another year has gone by and I’ve still got your back. The rest is just clever punchlines and cheap chocolate.

    • Moving on, Always

      What if we could stay together
      And simply move on day after day after day
      Sun and stormy weather
      You and I together
      Moving on always?
      — Ryan Montbleau, The Boa      t Song

      There’s a time warp experience to walking on the same beach with the same person from one year to the next. On an unusually warm Saturday in February I took a 3 mile walk on Hampton Beach with my bride. We had plenty of company, for everyone else had the same idea. Power walkers, casual strollers, hard core swimmers, horse riders, and seemingly every dog in New England chose to be on the same beach at the same time. But at low tide on that particular beach there’s no shortage of elbow room.

      I tend to celebrate quiet beaches more, but the people receded into the background on this walk. For it was a walk through time. Reflecting on the past, talking about the future, observing the present stepping across the fragile hourglass of life as we moved across the sand beneath us. She talked about time spent right in this very spot as a child years ago, the memory still fresh in her mind. I recalled a similar walk several years ago and her same observation, when we were both so different and yet the same. Everything changes on the beach, including the people who walk it.

      The parade of dogs kept bringing us back to the present. Dogs of all shapes and sizes celebrating the moment at hand. Dogs, like children, have a way of bringing you back to the present. And there we were, walking the beach, considering the deck of cards we’re playing at this moment in our shared life, knowing the challenges coming soon but assessing the opportunities too. You can cover a lot of ground walking the beach, even when you can see the end clearly from where you began.

      Sand and warm sunshine Saturday, snow on Sunday. Sun and stormy weather, all in one weekend. Such is New England. Life isn’t always a walk on the beach, but then again, on some precious few days, it is.

    • The Proof Will Be In Your Living

      “I don’t know what that means. To truly live.’…
      ‘To find work that you love and work harder than other men. To learn languages of the earth, and love the sounds of the words and the things they describe. To love food and music and drink. Fully love them. To love weather, and storms, and the smell of rain. To love heat. To love cold. To love sleep and dreams. To love the newness of each day.’
      He stared at his hands.
      ‘To love women. To pleasure them. To make them laugh. To be foolish for them. To respect them. To listen to them’ He paused. ‘They are the lifegivers. To live is to love them’
      ‘You will see,’ he said. ‘The proof will be in your living”
      ― Pete Hamill, Forever

      Forever is one of those books that I’ve come back to a few times, and I celebrate the magic Pete Hamill weaves into the novel. We must weave magic into our own lives, mustn’t we? Books do that for us, even when the world itself doesn’t always measure up.

      I’ve returned to reading the stack of fiction that’s been mocking my time with business and history books. I give a nod here to Forever, but my attention is on novels new to me that spin their own magic. Perhaps I’ll quote them in the blog, but certainly I’ll learn something from each writer’s style. What is your writing style? And is there enough magic weaved in to transform the reader?

      The central character in Forever is a man named Cormac O’Connor who comes to New York City and lives forever as long as he doesn’t leave the island of Manhattan. When you live forever you get a chance to accumulate experiences and languages, master a musical instrument or two, navigate a few relationships from beginning to end, and reinvent yourself every new day. There’s joy and pain inherent in watching people come and go in your life, there’s accumulated wisdom of bringing each day’s lesson home with you.

      You and I won’t live forever. But we too can accumulate our share of experiences and celebrate the newness of each day. We too can weave magic into our lives. Ultimately, the proof will be in our living.

    • Meaningful Todays

      “So imprudent are we that we wander in the times which are not ours, and do not think of the only one which belongs to us; and so idle are we that we dream of those times which are no more, and thoughtlessly overlook that which alone exists.” – Blaise Pascal

      Pascal died at the age of 39. His measure of time that was his was relatively short compared to the average lifespan today. But we all know the deal. No guarantees about tomorrow and all that. You may have read a blog post or two from this writer about it along the way.

      Shah-la, la-la-la-la live for today
      And don’t worry ’bout tomorrow hey, hey, hey
      — The Grass Roots, Let’s Live For Today

      Sure, let’s live for today, and make the most of it, but remember to hedge our bets about tomorrow. Don’t throw away your future being reckless with today, but also remember not to be reckless with today by staking all your hopes on a future that could fall away in a second. Make the most of this moment at hand, while keeping the 401(k) in the back pocket.

      Have you ever stood next to someone who radiated energy? Fully alive, vibrant, aware of the moment—living in the moment. Not delusional about the challenges life throws at you, but also not pissing it away in drudgery or low agency. Instead they dance with life. Grab the moment and make something memorable and meaningful of it. String together as many meaningful todays as you can muster. That’s not drudgery, that’s purposeful.

      Stick with what that which is ours alone. Live it with a gleam in your eye and a thirst for adventure. Making the most of what we have in this moment. Sounds a bit more fun than deferring to tomorrow, doesn’t it?

    • Upon Reflection

      “Long had he believed that a gentleman should turn to a mirror with a sense of distrust. For rather than being tools for self-discovery, mirrors tended to be tools of self-deceit. How many times had he watched as a young beauty turned thirty degrees before her mirror to ensure that she saw herself to the best advantage? … When the celestial chime sounds, perhaps a mirror will suddenly serve its truer purpose—not revealing to a man who he imagines himself to be, but who he has become.” — Amor Towles, A Gentleman in Moscow

      I was looking for a quote online, recalling a bit of it but not enough to find it easily. In my search I stumbled on a few sites lingering near the very top of Google’s results with titles along the lines of “inspirational quote for your Instagram post” or some such nonsense. And I thought about how fragile the collective ego of this online world really is.

      Want to improve your reflection? Put yourself out in the world more. Read more. Join the conversation. Stumble a bit more. Write badly and steadily find your voice. Live a bigger life. But do it on your terms or you’ll never be satisfied with yourself.

      Life is about becoming the person we want to be, and learning to live with our shortcomings. Whether your reality check is a mirror or a bank account, number of followers or the stamps in your passport, we all have our reckoning with self-deceit. If we’re honest with ourselves that reckoning might just lead to self-discovery and a new path on our journey. Venture out to meet your future self one step at a time. We never quite reach that perfect image of ourselves, but we reach a point where we’re satisfied with the person looking back at us.

    • Action Plans and Comfort Zones

      Don’t look now, but as I post this on February 9th, we’re almost 11% through the year. How are those New Year’s Resolutions looking? Yeah, I know what you mean. Action plans without execution soon fall away like so many broken dreams.

      I don’t make resolutions, I chip away at habit formation. I’m particularly locked in on writing every day, as quirky and all over the map as it might be for the reader. I’m a streaker, if you will, committing to not breaking streaks in the habits I want to have in my life. Writing, reading, learning a bit of a foreign language or two, getting a full night’s sleep and eating relatively well are consistently checked off on the streak list.

      But then there are the broken streaks: rowing and lifting every day, not drinking on weekdays, and some work productivity goals that pain my friend on sabbatical too much to mention. My action plan for each of these have all succumbed to the comfort zone. It’s so much easier to just make a coffee first thing in the morning and begin writing than it is to jump on the rowing ergometer and row for 10,000 meters. It’s so much more pleasant to have a glass of red wine with dinner than to drink yet another glass of water. Comfort trumps committed action when you haven’t established routine.

      So I’ve put the action plan aside in favor of the habit tracker. Each morning I have my reckoning, checking off the things I did the day before. And leaving a glaring void where the things I meant to do (or not do) missed a day. And then I try to avoid having two of those voids in a row. Sometimes it works, sometimes I go a long, long way between check marks.

      Ultimately, life is meant to be lived to our fullest extent possible. But we live in a pay me now, pay me later reality. The bad habits add up, just as the good habits do. Decide what to be and go be it. But don’t lie to yourself.

      I still make action plans, but now I try to identify the key daily steps that lead to success down the road. Sometimes I succeed, often I don’t. But I just keep trying to check the box. After all, there’s a certain comfort in established habits too.

    • Enough

      You try to accomplish things, to win, to reach goals.
      This is not the true situation.
      Put the whole world in ambition’s stomach,
      it will never be enough.
      — Rumi, I Met One Traveling

      I’ve been mentally stacking mountaintops, places to summit in my short time here. You tend to feel you’re falling behind when you’re always chasing something more. Maybe each blog post, such that it is, is my summit for the day. But I wonder, sometimes, is this the right mountain to climb at all?

      Maybe for one more day.

    • The Crunch of Now on an Icy Trail

      Friday offered heavy rain that turned to sleet and finally snow. With temperatures plummeting, this quickly turned into a frozen mess on the roads. And temperatures stayed well below freezing, guaranteeing that anything frozen was likely to stay that way for a few days. The snow was transformed to rock-hard ice, with a light frosting of granular snow atop it. It was perfect for slipping on boots and micro spikes and heading for the trails.

      The same conditions that make roads miserable transform trails into magic carpet rides. Most of the sins of the trail are locked below the frozen hard pack, and with the right gear the trail is a joyful peregrinate through the wonders of the forest. Streams and waterfalls become sculpture. Granite recedes from primary feature to delightful accent locked in the ice blanket. The trail itself offers an entirely different experience than it did just days before when snowshoes were the kit of choice. In winter every day brings something new, should you go out to find it.

      Much like the landscape around you, walking alone through the woods on a frozen but brilliant sunny day you become intensely embedded in the moment. You don’t walk with purpose to a destination, the walk is your destination. Every step becomes the point of your being here. With micro spikes announcing their grip on the ice, every step becomes a cry of Now! Here! Now!

      I visit a frozen waterfall. I only seem to visit it in winter, when it’s locked away in ice, and each visit I tell myself I ought to stop by in spring when the water is running angry. We all feel locked away ourselves in winter, I suppose the waterfall and I are kindred spirits in this way. My visit becomes a vote of solidarity with the falls behind the ice. I promise once again that I’ll be back, and believe I mean it this time. The frozen waterfall is indifferent to my promises. All that matters is the present for a waterfall. The future lies upstream, waiting for its moment. Whether I’m here for it doesn’t matter to the waterfall.

      I come across a few people along the way, couples and dog walkers and snowshoers gamely giving it a go on the ice. Read the room, folks. The trail betrays all who have come before me: fat tire tracks, boots, paw prints and snowshoe tracks. We believe we’re the only people on earth when we’re alone in the frozen woods, yet here was proof of all who came before, with all that you chance upon. You aren’t really alone in the woods, you’re alone in the moment. And there’s a measure of delight that washes over you as you make your way towards your own future.

      Waterfall, locked in the moment
      Frozen granite

    • Living a Bit More Like Thich Nhat Hanh

      “People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child—our own two eyes. All is a miracle”. — Thich Nhat Hanh

      When Thich Nhat Hanh passed away in January, I didn’t treat it like a celebrity passing, I didn’t mention it at all, really. I let the moment pass with a virtual bow. He may have passed from this world, but he’ll live on as Thoreau or Mary Oliver or Marcus Aurelius lives on. Such is the power of the written word.

      “I promise myself that I will enjoy every minute of the day that is given me to live.”

      We live in a contentious, angry world. And yet, you and I aren’t angry or contentious. You and I are living a contemplative life, a celebratory life. We embrace every moment for all that it implies. We walk through this world like our feet are kissing the earth, gently embracing our time here. We fight the urge to amplify hatefulness, and offer love instead.

      “Breathing in, I calm body and mind. Breathing out, I smile. Dwelling in the present moment I know this is the only moment.”

      If we pick up anything from Thich Nhat Hanh, it ought to be this hyper-awareness of each moment for all that it offers to us. We will surely slip back into the hectic and annoyed frenzy of our purposeful action bouncing up against an indifferent world, for life isn’t just meditation and sipping tea, but his wisdom offers an opportunity to recenter ourselves. A chance in the madness to pause, breath in and celebrate the miracle of that particular heartbeat.

      “My actions are my only true belongings.”

      Sure, celebrating each moment of aliveness is lovely, but what are we offering back to the world for our being here? What is our contribution? This is where East meets West, for we all want to bring something to the dance, don’t we? The very question means we don’t see the forest for the trees. Our lives should be a positive vibration that tickles the fancy of those we touch, that inspires a smile for the encounter. Maybe that’s our ripple.

    • Can’t See the Open Road

      Mellow is the man who knows what he’s been missing
      Many, many men can’t see the open road
      — Led Zeppelin, Over the Hills and Far Away

      Huddled in a group at an Irish pub, four men scheming for the future: one free of obligations and ready to roam, one surfing the peak of his career and working to cash in before it crashes, one just riding the swell and hoping this time—this time— he’d caught the right wave, and me, a would-be writer and wanderer observing the human condition. I’m surfing my own wave, of course, but don’t we all dream of coming about, hoisting the main and sailing away instead?

      “We labour at our daily work more ardently and thoughtlessly than is necessary to sustain our life because it is even more necessary not to have leisure to stop and think. Haste is universal because everyone is in flight from himself.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche, Untimely Meditations

      Nowadays we can all see what we’ve been missing in YouTube videos, Instagram and Facebook posts, or wherever you choose to live vicariously through the lens of others. My own favorite footage often involves drones flying above stunning landscapes, as if I were flying myself. And don’t we all wish to fly?

      But the question is, do we wish to fly away from something or towards something? For life is short and we can’t waste our precious time running away from ourselves. Yet so many do, in distraction and debauchery and debate. It’s easy to run away, but impossible to really get away from that nagging discontent.

      Old friend Henry David Thoreau pointed out that “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” He would also say that, “So thoroughly and sincerely are we compelled to live, reverencing our life, and denying the possibility of change. This is the only way, we say; but there are as many ways as there can be drawn radii from one centre. All change is a miracle to contemplate; but it is a miracle which is taking place every instant.”

      In other words, life is change, everything is changing around us even as we debate what we ought to do with ourselves. Which brings me back to a constant refrain: We must decide what to be and go be it. And be content with that which we leave behind.