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    • Modern Travel

      “Modern traveling is not traveling at all; it is merely being sent to a place, and very little different from becoming a parcel.” – John Ruskin

      I smiled to myself when I thought of this quote, by a man who died in 1900, as I folded myself into a coach seat in a plane full of business travelers and tourists alike. The more things change the more they stay the same. John Ruskin was likely shipping himself by train or steamer in his latter years, by stagecoach or tall ship in his younger years. And we delight in the same observation: travel can be uncomfortable and tedious. But it can also be adventurous.

      When you travel for work on a weekend you tend to let your guard down a bit and dress a little more casually, while keeping in mind the logistics of packing light. It wasn’t lost on me (or Ruskin well before me) that packing a bag and yourself is very much the same as packing a box for shipment. Weight and size matter a lot in both situations, and you must be creative and make sacrifices.

      This business of traveling can be more comfortable, more luxurious, and a lot less stressful if you just throw enough money at it. We all prioritize what we spend money on a bit differently, and some would use theirs to upgrade to first class or take a private flight. I wish them well, even as I dismiss the very idea of ever spending that kind of money for something as basic as travel. If money is a story we all agree to tell ourselves, my story doesn’t include frivolous spending on shipping myself to places.

      Still, I heard from a friend who recently took his company’s private jet from Boston to Toronto for a brief meeting and then back again. In the time most of us would take to get to the airport and suffer through the indignities the airlines and your fellow passengers put you through he was there and back with casual, strategic conversation the entire way. Maybe there’s a place for this kind of modern travel after all.

      I think the answer, for the rest of us, is to stop treating ourselves like parcels and slow down the process of getting from point A to point B. Take a sleeper train across the country, meander across the most interesting terrain in an RV or van, sail from here to there in the company of fascinating people. Any of these is less efficient but far more enjoyable than most modern travel. For it’s fair to ask; we aren’t FedEx packages, are we?

    • A Place for Consistency

      Two weeks goes by so very quickly. If you don’t prioritize exercise you might find that the days slip by without really doing much of anything. But when you do focus on exercise, what can you accomplish in so short a time? Two weeks ago I decided to find out.

      I chose to row 5000 meters per day at 75-80% intensity. The first row reminded me that I hadn’t done it for some time, but I was patient with myself anyway. The second row reminded me that I know how to do this when I put my mind into it. And so it progressed with each row, as I relearned the rhythm of the stroke that has been with me since I was 18 years old. It works out to be roughly 500 strokes each workout, which doesn’t sound like a lot until you push yourself through them.

      And then I traveled, visiting seven states in three days. I was concerned I’d broken the habit of exercise and blown up my fortnight experiment. But I came back and hopped on and told myself to just get through it no matter what. And I hit broke my previous times during the previous streak. There’s a place for rest in your exercise routine. And there’s a place for consistency.

      The entire point is to establish the habit of movement. To pick something you love and maybe hate just a little and get after it consistently, no matter what your mind comes up with as an excuse. I used to travel a lot, so rowing was problematic for me. Then the pandemic hit and in theory I should have been rowing every day for 18 months. It turned out to be far less consistent, but I chose hiking, long walks and swimming laps as my go-to’s. Not rowing but still productive motion.

      When you do a specific exercise almost every day you learn to listen to your body instead of your mind. Your body wants to be in motion, the mind wants to be left alone. At least until you trick it into believing something within you is incomplete until you get back to it, today. And every subsequent day too.

      Today I begin another business travel journey. I know I can’t row during that time, but I can jump right back onto the erg when I return. Or not… the choice is ours, isn’t it? I have a streak to break on my next fortnight of exercise. Best to get right to it as soon as I can.

    • From Scratch, Daily

      Every morning I glance at a blank page and begin to write from scratch. I’m sure your own writing process is different in many ways, but for me the act of beginning to type is a signal to the brain to get to it already. Often I’ll delete entire paragraphs that ultimately don’t make the cut, but Stephen King told us to kill our babies, didn’t he?

      That last paragraph may ultimately disappear into bits and bytes of what might have been. This one too, may pay the ultimate price for being in the early stages of a thought. Or maybe not, should I be so bold as to believe an idea is worth putting out there as it is when it dances off the fingertips. Time will tell.

      The easiest blog posts to write are about places I’ve been to or things I’ve experienced. The hardest are about things I process in my brain in the early morning hours as I contemplate whatever ideas I’m toying with at the moment. But isn’t that the way conversation works too? We enthusiastically jump into conversation about things we’ve experienced, but are more reluctant to dip a toe into deep philosophical or abstract waters. Want to ice the waters even more? Make it deeply personal.

      This blog about places I visit in the northeast corner of North America evolved into a deeper dive into waters I didn’t expect to swim in. But a blog is meant to evolve as its writer does, and this writer is ever-so-slowly evolving into something better than the person who started writing it. One book or one experience leads to another, which opens the mind to new ideas, which end up in the blog when they’ve properly steeped in the brain for a time. That’s life, isn’t it? A bunch of people figuring things out lumped together and occasionally bumping into each other.

      The easiest path to a blog post is to drop in a quote or poem that inspires deeper exploration. I use this frequently, and have a stack of drafts awaiting further exploration. Likewise, I revisit highlighted passages on the Kindle or pull old favorite books off the shelf now and then to flesh out a thought that sits in limbo a beat too long. Like that conversation you have in a coffee shop or on a quiet walk, contribution from others opens up new ideas in your own mind.

      A blog ends up being a mostly one-sided conversation, as one person figures things out in this strange and complicated world we live in. But nothing is more complicated than the human brain, reacting and adapting to the changes, both within and without. We’re all a work in progress, and a blog offers you the chance to place it out there for all to see. I wish a few more people I know would start writing their own.

      Until tomorrow….

    • To Meet, to Love, to Share

      “We are travelers on a cosmic journey, stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity. Life is eternal. We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share. This is a precious moment. It is a little parenthesis in eternity.” – Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

      We dance together in this moment of temporary, synchronized existence. This precious moment, brought to you by serendipity and chance. Who are we to squander it?

      While walking about looking for that famous fellow at Sleepy Hollow Cemetery (NY) I chanced upon the grave of a man who died at the age of 57 in 1909. His gravestone was most unusual in that he’d had a clock, his father’s clock, placed on the face of the stone. And made a point of informing the world of this fact with the words “My father’s clock placed here at my request” just below it. And I thought, what a strange combination of time and eternity, all marching together in one plot.

      I wonder at the story of our friend Cochrane, and why that particular clock was so profoundly important to him that it be placed on his gravestone in such a way. But mostly, for me, it serves to remind me of the contrast between time, all important in this world of humanity today, and eternity, the true standard bearer of the universe. What is a clock but a story we’ve all agreed to follow?

      The older I get, and I’m not all that far from where Cochrane was when he ran out of steam, the more I think about swirling and dancing in that pool of eternity. But why wait? Why not use this precious time to dance right here? In this infinitesimal parenthesis in eternity we owe it to the universe to meet, to love and to share, while there’s still… time.

    • You Only Need to Know

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

      Washington Irving was right on the mark with this observation. Imagine if he’d lived to see people staring at their phones all day? There are so many distractions today, and never enough rising above them. So it seems anyway.

      But there are plenty of people living with purpose. People who are driven to succeed in the path they’ve chosen for themselves. The trick is to find that purpose and focus on it like your very life depended on it. For in so many ways, it does.

      You know it’s up to you, anything you can do
      And if you find a new way
      Well, you can do it today
      Well, you can make it all true
      And you can make it undo
      You see, ah-ah-ah, it’s easy, ah-ah-ah
      You only need to know
      – Cat Stevens, If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out

      You only need to know what you want to do, your purpose, and then, well, you can do it today. At least begin to do it today. And isn’t that the tricky part? To stop telling yourself stories about what you are and go write a new story. Rise above the wishes and distractions and misfortunes that life stirs in our little pot and see just how far you can take this purpose of yours.

      Injecting clever quotes and catchy tunes into your day is one thing, but finding purpose and following it are another. The point here is that there’s so much noise in our lives that we never really listen to hear what our calling is. If you aren’t listening, you aren’t focused. And you miss the purpose as life noisily passes you by.

      Listen. Focus. Find a new way (yes, you can do it today).

    • A Visit with Andrew Carnegie

      “The man who dies rich dies in disgrace.” – Andrew Carnegie

      Andrew Carnegie was born into poverty, turned steel into gold and then gave away 90% of his fortune in the last 18 years of his life. Of all the places in the world he could spend eternity, he chose the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. I wonder at such things – why here? Why not his beloved Scotland? Why not Lenox, Massachusetts, where he spent his last couple of years? The only way to know is to visit the place.

      Walking around you realize that Sleepy Hollow is a beautiful spot, and likely was peaceful once, before cars and sirens and encroaching development squeezed the solitude right out of the place. But deep in the heart of the cemetery, way up on the hill, you find it grows relatively still, even now. And this is where you’ll find Carnegie.

      Looking around at the grand celebrations of wealth displayed in death at Sleepy Hollow (You see? I mattered!) I was struck by the simple and beautiful Celtic Cross gravestone rising amongst the trees at Andrew Carnegie’s burial plot. Granite ledge behind him and a gentle sloping hill in front. Peace.

      Wealth bought him elbow room in death, and wisdom guided him to use it in the most simple, dignified way. I should think he made a point of being placed at arms length from the wealthy posers of the day. He was especially good at calling them out for what they were:

      “There is no class as pitiably wretched as that which possesses money and nothing else.”

      I’m not particularly interested in being buried in one spot. I think I’d rather have my ashes scattered to the winds and sea – to be an eternal traveller in this world. But I see the value of having a place where people can visit you, as I visited Carnegie this week.

      Carnegie became larger than life when he gave away his fortune before death. That Celtic Cross serves as a compass in his absence, pointing the way for the generations who followed him. Quietly reminding us to do enough in our life that others might want to invest a bit of their own brief lives to visit you long after your gone.

      Simplicity and elbow room at Andrew Carnegie’s final resting place.

    • Visiting a Legend in Sleepy Hollow

      “To look upon its grass grown yard, where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one would think that there at least the dead might rest in peace.” – Washington Irving, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

      There are two Sleepy Hollow Cemeteries of note. There’s the one up in Concord, Massachusetts with it’s Author’s Ridge populated with the bones of Thoreau, Emerson, Alcott and others. And then there’s the one here on the shores of the Hudson River, where the wealthy vacated the city for one last time and tried to one-up each other in death with grand mausoleums as their final statement about how rich and powerful they were.

      Those rich folks can wait in their eternity. For there’s really only one name that matters when you talk about Sleepy Hollow, the guy who put it on the map: Washington Irving. Irving wrote two of the most familiar short stories in our cultural memory: The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Winkle.

      It’s that tale of the headless horseman that inspires people to visit his grave at the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. Irving is buried in the oldest section of the graveyard, with unpaved roads crisscrossing un-mowed plots with headstones protruding up in neat columns. That walk up the hill to visit his grave seemed perfect. Like walking back in time to visit those who came before us.

      I didn’t visit out of some ghoulish fascination with his short story, but for the whispers you hear at their resting place. Cemeteries generally hold the lay of the land as it was on the day they buried someone, and Irving’s resting place nestled amongst his family on a hill overlooking the Hudson River Valley seems a lovely place to spend eternity.

      Of course, Irving doesn’t need to whisper, for he wrote plenty for us to draw on. His stories will likely outlast every gravestone in Sleepy Hollow. Does that make him a legend?

    • Diner Talk

      Everyone thinks of travel as exotic, and business travel as bordering on gluttonous. Well, let me shatter those illusions. This evening I’m staying in a dumpy Hampton Inn with a privacy lock that appears to have borne the brunt of a few too many kicks to the door. If there’s anything good about seeing that, it was quickly forgetting about the mildew smell that greeted me as I opened the door. But hey, the hotel sneaks just under the maximum rate for this particular corner of the world.

      On the plus side, I got to experience the natives in the wild. By wild, I mean I went to a New York diner (open 24 hours!) and listened to the father and mother conversation at the table closest to me. Ever wonder if people talk like George and Jerry on Seinfeld when they’re at the diner? I’m here to tell you they hit the mark.

      The son (more George than Jerry) did almost all the talking, with Mom playing the dutiful part of good listener. Talk ran from the state of the New York Yankees and reminiscing about the good old days of George Steinbrenner to a new car this poor guy purchased two weeks prior that clearly didn’t measure up to expectations. But mostly it was an overall appreciation for the amazing onion rings he crunched on between Yankee and car talk. After all, this was a New York diner, and food is a big deal here. The menu runs heavy and varied, while the bar menu runs comparatively light (5 choices of mainstream beer, and a choice of 5 mixed drinks, featuring a classic hit, the White Russian). But people don’t go to diners to pound drinks, they go fill their bellies and talk about the state of the world.

      Now don’t get me wrong, I didn’t go to this diner to eavesdrop, but the sheer enthusiasm expressed for the range of topics made it impossible to focus on reading the latest book on the Kindle app. Sometimes you’ve got to savor the moment as it’s presented to you. I might be a few chapters behind pace in finishing that book, but my gosh I soaked up some unadulterated New York diner talk. And realized in the process that I’ve missed these moments of travelling bliss more than I dared believe.

      By comparison, they probably thought my table pretty boring.

    • Nature’s Pilot

      “THE DEVIL. What is the use of knowing?
      DON JUAN. Why, to be able to choose the line of greatest advantage instead of yielding in the direction of the least resistance. Does a ship sail to its destination no better than a log drifts nowhither? The philosopher is Nature’s pilot. And there you have our difference: to be in hell is to drift: to be in heaven is to steer.”
      – George Bernard Shaw, Man and Superman

      On the long road to knowing, admittedly some of us are late bloomers. But the path is long, even as life is frustratingly short. We humans, pre-built with an expiration date, aren’t designed to ever know it all. But in learning we might find the right path instead of wasting this precious time wandering about in trial and error.

      What is philosophy but refined knowledge about how to best live? It is knowledge acquired and contemplated on, which offers channel markers as we navigate uncertain waters in our time. This is what we draw on from humanity’s philosophers, and increasingly from ourselves as we grow.

      Growth is a choice. And choosing this line of greatest advantage offers the opportunity to steer instead of drift. In Shaw’s work, Hell is populated with the posers and drifters. To transcend this fate, we must strive for improvement:

      “I tell you that as long as I can conceive something better than myself I cannot be easy unless I am striving to bring it into existence or clearing the way for it. That is the law of my life. That is the working within me of Life’s incessant aspiration to higher organization, wider, deeper, intenser self-consciousness, and clearer self-understanding. It was the supremacy of this purpose that reduced love for me to the mere pleasure of a moment, art for me to the mere schooling of my faculties, religion for me to a mere excuse for laziness, since it had set up a God who looked at the world and saw that it was good, against the instinct in me that looked through my eyes at the world and saw that it could be improved.”

      The truth about philosophy is that it isn’t a thought experiment, it demands active participation. To go through the motions in life is the greatest of sins, for it’s a betrayal of the self. We owe it to eternity to use our time as best we can. Our moment to steer is now.

    • Among the Trees (for Pops)

      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

      A year flies by, doesn’t it? And beneath it all, carried quietly, my own grief and sense of loss. Buried so that others might bear their own.

      You knew the trees and taught us to see them too. And you taught us the simple joy of being alive while there’s time. And, as Mary Oliver puts it so much better than I, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.

      Today, among the trees, we’ll remember you again (as if we ever forgot). To feel you stir in the breeze and see the mischief carried on in the eyes of those who knew you best. We’ll close this one chapter and begin the next, knowing you’ve never really left us. Not really. For you’ve filled us with light.