Alexandersmap

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    • Making a Splash

      This earth will grow cold,
      a star among stars
      and one of the smallest,
      a gilded mote on blue velvet—
      I mean this, our great earth.
      This earth will grow cold one day,
      not like a block of ice
      or a dead cloud even
      but like an empty walnut it will roll along
      in pitch-black space . . .
      You must grieve for this right now
      —you have to feel this sorrow now—
      for the world must be loved this much
      if you’re going to say “I lived”. . .
      – Nazim Hikmet, On Living

      Skipping along the surface of Lake Winnipesaukee, the hull sliced through the wake of another boat, creating spray that flew off the port and starboard sides, water molecules momentarily flying once again before rejoining the lake. The likelihood of catching these particular molecules of water shining in the sun in their one brilliant moment is exceedingly remote. But we treat it with indifference because it’s something we’ve seen hundreds of times.

      This business of living is a miracle in a cold, indifferent universe. This defiant act of being born and surviving into adulthood, at this moment, on this particular series of trips around the sun for Earth, is an extraordinarily random circumstance. More random than capturing these particular water droplets dancing with the sky. We’re all just randomly formed molecules and energy brought together for our one momentary dance with the universe.

      So what do we do with such information, should we recognize it? Celebrate it? Ignore it? Become overwhelmed by it?

      We might choose to act on it. To embrace our brief moment between the earth and the sky and live. To the best of our ability, while we can. Make a splash in this moment with the sun.

    • Rafting Up on Lake Winnipesaukee

      This hasn’t been a great month in New England for some of the traditional activities of summer. Not a lot of beach days, not a lot of dry hiking days, and not a lot of days when you’d want to raft up with other boats and soak up the sun, casually float in the lake and catch up with people you don’t spend a lot of time with. July 24th was one of the exceptions to an otherwise wet month, and it was an opportunity to take advantage of an invitation to raft up for an afternoon.

      There are 258 islands on Lake Winnipesaukee, each unique and full of stories. I found myself rafted up near Little Bear Island in about 18 feet of water, one of six boats and twenty people each with plenty of stories themselves. I don’t usually slow down enough to enjoy this type of activity very often, but when you’re rafted up on other people’s boats for the entire afternoon, it forces you to chill out a bit and enjoy the moment.

      In a raft up, boats tie on to each other, and at least a couple drop anchors to hold the entire floating island together in one place. With all the rain the water in the lake was higher than normal for the third week in July. It had finally warmed up nicely, making it easy to float for hours in the water, warm up in the sun on one of the boats and then take another plunge when the mood struck you.

      If you like big crowds, people watching and a wilder vibe you might choose to raft up in another location on the lake. There’s an abundance of wilder scenes for the party crowd.. For us, anchoring just outside the channel near Little Bear Island was the best of both worlds. Plenty of opportunities to watch boats motor by in a no wake zone, and of course plenty of chances to ignore the rest of the world and look at the beautiful mountain and lake scenery all around us.

      There are plenty of people who are experts on navigating the lake and it’s many islands, coves, eateries and pubs and history. As a visitor, I had a chance to play tourist on someone else’s boat, experience the lake as a relative newbie and marinate in its waters long enough that it soaked deep into me. A weekend on the lake is just enough to help you see what all the fuss is about. And fill you with memories and anticipation to return again someday soon.

    • To Untie the Knot

      Seek that wisdom
      that will untie your knot
      Seek that path
      that demands your whole being
      Leave that which is not, but appears
      to be
      Seek that which is, but is
      not apparent
      – Rumi

      This entire blog is a work in progress. The output is the measure of the man, but the process itself is the progress. To write daily is a challenge, and I’ve had moments when I want to just stop altogether and use this time for something else. But I recognize the knot within myself that needs to be untied, and writing every day seems to be the path to get me there.

      You learn a lot about yourself in the process of daily work, and keenly come to know that which you don’t like about yourself along with the things you celebrate. But isn’t that the point? We all persist and clear our individual hurdles, and maybe turn in new directions now and then. Writers just document it for the rest of the world to see.

      This knot isn’t quite untied. But I’ll keep working at it. Thanks for sticking with me.

    • Dancing in the Gap

      “Don’t lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don’t have a career, you have a life.” – Cheryl Strayed

      “Cease to be a drudge, seek to be an artist.” – Mary McLeod Bethune

      “I knew I had been transformed, moved by the revelation that human beings create art, that to be an artist was to see what others could not.” – Patti Smith

      Today is a Friday. which in the world of work means something to the majority of people making a living. Back in the day, Thursday and Friday night meant having a few drinks after work to wait out the traffic, commiserate about the grind suffered in earnest that week, and to talk of plans for the weekend.

      I’m done climbing that particular ladder. But I haven’t quite weened myself off being a drudge. But I fight and cajole myself towards some measure of artistry. Admittedly, it’s an odd place to reside. I know people who delight in their drudgery and shun artistry. I find that they live the rest of their lives in a similar fashion.

      We’ve built this social structure where taking one for the team and being a cog is celebrated. Cheryl Strayed is right to point out that your career is merely a part of your life, but it’s a big part. Aren’t we obligated to rise above the grind? We all know salespeople and engineers and accountants who spin delightful work out of what others might view as drudgery. Life is what you make of it, and so is your career. You can and should create beautiful art in your daily work.

      I’m particularly excited about a couple of projects I’m working on in my career. I’d like to weave a bit more art into each, and really, that ambition to raise the project to a level above the norm is where artists begin their work day. So what if it’s a sculpture or a PowerPoint presentation; make it beautiful.

      Our short, fragile lives are built on whimsy and chance and a bit of gumption. So why succumb to drudgery? Why not begin a notch or two above the norm and see how much you can stretch yourself? To dance in the gap between drudgery and art is to lift yourself beyond a job or a task to a place where the beautiful and noteworthy begins.

    • Walk On Into Futurity

      “What is a course of history or philosophy, or poetry, no matter how well selected, or the best society, or the most admirable routine of life, compared with the discipline of looking always at what is to be seen? Will you be a reader, a student merely, or a seer? Read your fate, see what is before you, and walk on into futurity.” – Henry David Thoreau, Walden

      Well, which are you – a reader or a seer? Are you going to live vicariously through the adventures of others or seek your own way? There’s no time to ponder indefinitely, you must choose to live, and to walk boldly towards that future you. The world shrugs indifferently at the masses who live in quiet desperation, and opens up for those who dare to break free of the routine.

      Deferring life is a fool’s game, but most of us willingly play it. What meaningful leap will you take today towards that future you so desperately cling to? For if not now, when?

      Decide what to be and go be it.

    • Magic is the Moment

      I have a bucket of magic carefully collected from places near and far. I scoop it out by the ladle and mix it together in jumbles of words with a twinkle of the eye and share it in conversations and social media and blog posts. Sometimes my efforts spark imagination and sometimes they fall into the void of indifference. It seems that sometimes I do a really good job of hiding the magic I’m trying to share. And I try to learn from these stumbles and find new ways for it to be seen.

      I’ve looked to refill the magic in Buzzards Bay and next to waterfalls, in quiet conversations, in books and in bits of poetry and lyrics, in experience and growth and learning. And yet I’ve noticed lately that my bucket of magic is running empty. But I’m unable to capture more of it for some reason. Blame it on a month of rain, or the smoky haze from wildfires thousands of miles away covering the northeast yet again, or the bad news on the COVID front about the Delta variant and the impact it’s having on the unvaccinated I care too much about.

      How can you capture magic when you’re so focused on the outrageous acts of the counterfeiters and conmen? How can you quench your own thirst when we encounter so many who drink a different kind of Kool-Aid? How can we possibly fill our buckets with magic when there’s so much misery in the world? When we share magic with people who try to refill our own bucket with judgement and hate and deception?

      Does sharing magic lead to a depletion of your own? We know this to be untrue. Just as loving leads to more love returned to you, so it is that magic magnifies magic.

      And here lies the secret: Magic lives in the place between where we once were and where we are going. You might know it by another name: now. Magic sparks in connection and our realization of the possibility of now. Magic lives in the moment. Magic is the moment.

      Instead of capturing magic and parsing it out by the ladle we would do better forming a bucket brigade to pass it from one person to another to fill the world with hope and wonder. A bucket brigade that might douse the flames of hate and division and selfishness. A steady flow of magic that could fill an ocean. Imagine that.

    • Spending Time With Profile Falls

      If time is the ultimate currency, why do we spend it frivolously? I wondered that as I drove north, breaking away from work on a rainy Monday to chase a waterfall. I knew the drive, and thought that maybe I should have combined it with a hike, or another waterfall, or a meeting with an industry acquaintance. Instead I made the falls their own destination and turned off thoughts of efficiencies.

      Profile Falls is an easy walk from the parking lot in Bristol, New Hampshire. You can’t call it a hike, really. You follow the path on the northern bank right to the edge of the water, and then decide how much you want to risk as you assess high, fast moving water, slippery rocks and poison ivy. My vote? Just enough to get a decent picture. Not enough to lose my phone and dignity to the mocking river gods.

      Profile Falls

      After following the path of least resistance, I returned to the parking lot and decided to try the view from the southern bank. The river turns just after the falls, making a view from this side trickier. I made my way past a picnic area to a wet path along the steep and rocky embankment. This quickly proved to be a dead end of sorts. The closer you got to the falls, the worse the vantage point became. I should think walking right up the river in low water might be the very best option. For me, this was enough.

      The Smith River flows a few miles from just above Tewksbury Pond, gaining tributaries and power, before it gives itself to the Pemigewasset River, which flows into the Merrimack River at Franklin, New Hampshire and then 117 miles to the Atlantic Ocean at Newburyport, Massachusetts. It’s an epic journey, and one of the highlights is surely the 30 foot plunge over Profile Falls.

      For those keeping track, there are a lot of place names there that I have a deep connection to, which should have drawn me out here sooner in my life than this, but it seems I was spending time more frivolously then. I’m making up for lost time in some ways. Chasing waterfalls in the rain and using my currency in ways that work for me.

    • I’ve Loved Them All

      And in the end
      The love you take
      Is equal to the love you make
      – The Beatles, The End

      Which Beatles album is the greatest? The answer is different for most everyone, but it usually comes down to Rubber Soul, Revolver and Sgt. Pepper’s each wrestling for number one, with a couple of votes each for The Beatles (White Album) and Abbey Road. It’s a bit like asking which is your favorite child; you simply love them all as they are.

      The Beatles are always in the background of my life. Always. Born at the height of their popularity, you simply grew up listening to them. For those of us born “too late”, we missed out on the anticipation of a new album being released, for it was all out there when we began listening in earnest. When you’ve heard the later work, your jaw doesn’t drop quite as far to the floor when you listen to Rubber Soul. But you still appreciate the creative leap forward from Help! (a great album itself).

      All these places have their moments
      With lovers and friends I still can recall
      Some are dead and some are living
      In my life I’ve loved them all
      – The Beatles, In My Life

      Which is your favorite Beatle? This tells more about you than you might think. For me it was always George Harrison. The quiet Beatle. And for all the brilliantly prolific work of John Lennon and Paul McCartney, it was George who dropped some of the best songs into the mix of “best Beatles song”, which is close to impossible to determine.

      With every mistake, we must surely be learning
      Still my guitar gently weeps
      – The Beatles, While My Guitar Gently Weeps

      If George has 3-4 songs that ought to be in the mix for the best Beatles song, Lennon and McCartney had even more individually, and collaboratively co-wrote some of the greatest songs ever written on some of the best albums ever released. So how do you choose the best? Look at their solo careers? Here too, the ratio seems about the same.

      We could spend our lifetime debating such things or just agree that it was a brilliant run for the Fab Four. For this business of picking a favorite is nonsense. In the end we love them all.

    • COVID Truth and Consequences

      “It’s often easier to discover the truth if we believe it’s there in the first place.” – Seth Godin

      Speaking with a gentleman I once worked for a dozen years ago, we quickly caught up on life since the last time we saw each other. You do that with old acquaintances, find the common anchoring points, fill the voids, and reset to the present. In filling voids I’d heard about his brother, who recently passed from complications related to COVID. He spoke of the abruptness of it all, and the hole it left in his heart. He then told me he didn’t believe in the vaccination, felt it was too dangerous to take and he was going to Las Vegas for a trade show this coming week. And my head spun.

      We all choose the information we consume. We all get to decide what’s right for us. The problem we have today is there’s more conflicting information available to choose from than at any point in our history. And we’re choking on it. And it’s killing us.

      There’s no time for all of this. If the truth is that the virus is far deadlier than the vaccine, and far deadlier for those who are unvaccinated, then we have no time to debate ad infinitum whether the vetting process was long enough for the vaccinations. The barbarians are at the gate, throw up the damned defenses. Will there be long term health issues for those who opted to vaccinate? Highly unlikely, but possible. Is the Delta variant accelerating through the unvaccinated at alarming rates? Definitely, and highly probable.

      The truth is out there, but seemingly harder to reach consensus on than ever before. And maybe this is our fate, to stall and debate and wait for the world to fall in line with our beliefs. Knowing all along that it doesn’t really work that way.

    • Clever Enough to Be Crows

      “If men had wings and bore black feathers, Few of them would be clever enough to be crows.”
      – Henry Ward Beecher

      I stood at the window and watched three crows walk across the lawn, pausing now and then to pluck some edible creature out of the grass. Each walked with intent, and the three of them orchestrated a reconnaissance mission of the terrain, assessing every morsel and every threat together. The shiny black feathers were striking against the muted green lawn and the relentless fog enveloping everything.

      Crows communicate like no other birds, with a rich and diverse language of their own, and a particular nuance in how they move and gesture to each other that is beyond the understanding of this simple human on the other side of the glass. I had no doubt they were aware of me, and no doubt they recognized the glass for the barrier it was. I thought I was observing them, but you forget in that moment that you too are being observed.

      Standing there, just beyond my gaze, on the far side of the lawn near the relative safety of junipers, was a wild rabbit, young and cautious, also making breakfast at the lawn buffet. The crows and the rabbit were indifferent to each other, aware but knowing the threat level each posed to the other. Each looking outward for the first sign of a fox or coyote or maybe an overzealous neighborhood dog, and with a common purpose, they became allies of the moment. I was the odd one of the bunch, at once a part, and apart, from the action.

      I suppose there’s nothing of travel and philosophy or fitness in this post; no mountains summitted, no waterfalls gazed upon, no international borders crossed, no personal milestones broken. Void of such action, you might think it a frivolous cluster of words. I’ll concede there’s little to glean from these words on travel and fitness, but you might just find a bit of philosophy in the four creatures working the foggy lawn, or the one observer seeking to understand the foggy world on the other side of the glass.

      The crows stayed with me long after they’d taken flight, leaving me with the fog and empty lawn. I’d like to think this observer lingered in their mind well past our moment together. But that would be folly. Crows have better things to ponder than the frivolous life of humans.