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    • Something

      “I have finally concluded, maybe that’s what life is about: there’s a lot of despair, but also the odd moment of beauty, where time is no longer the same. It’s as if those strains of music created a sort of interlude in time, something suspended, an elsewhere that had come to us, an always within never. Yes, that’s it, an always within never.” ― Muriel Barbery, The Elegance of the Hedgehog

      How so we seize what flees?
      Beyond an awareness
      of time passing by
      ritual captures
      something
      of each day.

      To do the same few things
      offers an impression
      on our dizzying days.
      To manage
      something,
      as each flies.

      No, these days are not ours,
      only each ritual—
      odd moments of beauty.
      We seize
      something,
      always within never.

    • The First of That Which Comes

      “In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed, and the first of that which comes. So with time present.”

      “Observe the light. Blink your eye and look at it again. That which you see was not there at first, and that which was there is no more.”
      — Leonardo da Vinci, Codex Arundel

      Let’s talk of matters for a moment. What we did with our time that has passed matters, for it brought us here. And what happens here matters just as much for what happens next. So the heart of the matter is an instant of action moving us from what was to what is to what will be (or will be no more). Everything changes—whether we’re aware of it or not is beside the point.

      So it follows that awareness and action are two of the most essential assets in our toolbox. We move through moments either way, but what do we really see? What do we really influence? Putting aside all that is out of our control, it’s largely ours to see and be.

      Memory is our companion on our path to what’s next. We each remember moments from our journey to now as if they had just happened. If we’re blessed with a series of good decisions, many of those memories are pleasing to recall. But we also carry our mistakes with us, nagging us in quiet moments. Memory loves to play our greatest hits, but also our biggest mistakes. It’s all a part of us that brought us here.

      Dreams are lovely things indeed. We each imagine a future full of wonderful. There are no aches and pains and lingering sadness, only blissful discovery surrounded by loved ones. Watch a commercial for a luxury cruise line or Disney World and you’ll see some version of the dream. Marketing people know how to pull dollars out of imagination.

      We ought to remember that we have agency too. To realize an imagined future requires the use of those tools in our toolbox. To be aware of where we are and what we’re trending towards, and to take action to influence a more compelling future. To be aware of time passing by and the opportunity at hand before it slips away forever, joining those regrets in our memory bank. To have awareness without action is to concede our lives to fate. Decide what to be and go be it.

      Tempus fugit, friend. Can you believe another month is over? Don’t blink! Time moves at the blink of an eye, and the future is coming for us faster than we ever could believe. Our task is to become a brighter, healthier and more engaged-with-life time traveler. So grab that tiger by the tail and make it a heck of a ride. The first of that which comes is right here.

    • Shake It Loose

      “It isn’t the mountain ahead that wears you out; it is the grain of sand in your shoe.” — Anonymous

      It’s easy to be annoyed. There’s just so much material to work with in the current state of things. Being positive feels out of touch with reality. Not having an opinion on something marks you as naive or guarded. In either case people take note. There’s just no winning when we’re all so on edge all the time.

      Simply remove that grain of sand and keep moving towards the mountaintop. It’s not that the grain of sand isn’t important, it’s just that it’s keeping us from getting to where we’re trying to go. So shake it loose and move on. There’s a mountain to climb.

    • All Else Fades

      To find the stories that we sometimes need
      Listen close enough, all else fades
      Fades away
      — Jack Johnson, Constellations

      I’ve thought about taking a walk in the woods today. Strap on the snowshoes and break new trails in the deep drifts that others may follow. Or perhaps nobody will. It’s not for me to say who follows me. There are days when I don’t like the path I’m on myself. So why follow it? Ah, but then there are the other days…

      This blog similarly has followers. Several people I know well, but the vast majority are people I’ll never meet in a lifetime of wandering the world. Then again, maybe we’ve met and neither of us knew it in the moment. Life is full of such curious miracles. Like Anthony Hopkins finding George Feifer’s own copy of The Girl from Petrovka on a bench. The only thing certain in this world is that we’re all miracles of coincidence walking through life like it’s nothing at all. Always remember that you’re kind of a big deal. You just needed someone to tell you that.

      For all the noise, we have a hard time hearing our own story being told in real time. We’d like to skip ahead a few chapters to see how things play out, and try to influence such things by eating our leafy greens and giving up on deliciously bad habits. But really, we never know, do we? We can only influence tomorrow today, not determine it. Everything else is trend analysis and educated guesses. Who really knows what comes next?

      Developing greater awareness seems to me the way to catch more miracles in our lives. They’ll slip away undetected otherwise, unless we trip over them. I mean, we look in the mirror most every day and don’t even see the one looking back at us. Listen closely and all else fades. And sure, we might just find the stories that we need. We’ve been writing ours all along, like it or not. So why not add more “like it” chapters? The trail has been ours to blaze all along.

    • Opened at Last

      That day I saw beneath dark clouds
      the passing light over the water
      and I heard the voice of the world speak out,
      I knew then, as I had before
      life is no passing memory of what has been
      nor the remaining pages in a great book
      waiting to be read.

      It is the opening of eyes long closed.
      It is the vision of far off things
      seen for the silence they hold.
      It is the heart after years
      of secret conversing
      speaking out loud in the clear air.

      It is Moses in the desert
      fallen to his knees before the lit bush.
      It is the man throwing away his shoes
      as if to enter heaven
      and finding himself astonished,
      opened at last,
      fallen in love with solid ground.
      — David Whyte, The Opening of Eyes

      Lately I’ve been missing the owls. I walk at night with the dog, assessing the latest accumulation of snow and ice, and I wonder where the owls have gone. They haven’t gone anywhere, I know, for they’re non-migratory. And yet I don’t see them. I don’t hear them. They’re here, but invisible. A whisper in the dark, like so many hopes and dreams. No doubt they’re watching the pup and me, quietly assessing the seekers. We aren’t food or an existential threat, so why bother with us? The fascination is entirely one-sided. The thing is, one doesn’t walk around the neighborhood with a pair of binoculars and remain on good terms with the neighbors. They already think me a curiosity for all the walking the pup and I do. And so it goes that the owls remain hidden in plain sight.

      We move through life meaning well, but easily distracted by the immediate concerns of the day. We all have our owls that whisper to us, waiting to be found. But how hard are we really looking for them? What seismic shift needs to happen? What triggers action towards our grandest plans? After years of conversing, when do we finally hear those whispers loud and clear?

      The answer is sometimes a jolt to the routine. Glancing up at just the right place to catch an owl staring back at us, or stumbling into the right job. But usually it’s being present with the blank page writing, deleting and writing again until just the right words come to us. Whatever that version of writing is to each of us, the ritual of staying with it until we find it is the same. Serendipity aside, we don’t find what we’re looking for if we aren’t out in the proverbial woods with our nose up and our eyes open. Discovery is nothing but being out there in it, today and every day, aware that we may just find possibility yet.

    • It’s Our Time Now

      “The final mystery is oneself. When one has weighed the sun in the balance, and measured the steps of the moon, and mapped out the seven heavens star by star, there still remains oneself. Who can calculate the orbit of his own soul?” — Oscar Wilde, De Profundis

      The end of the Winter Olympics brought with it the usual mixed feelings. On the one hand, there’s a glow from witnessing the pursuit of excellence that inspires and stimulates one’s own pursuit of arete. When we see elite athletes performing at a high level, it’s natural to ask what in the world we’re doing with our own precious life.

      The answer, friend, is the best that we can given the circumstances. We are on our own path of discovery. We are on our own climb to better. We may celebrate the excellence of others, but don’t dare to compare, for we know that comparison is the death of joy.

      The end of the Olympics also releases us from watching them, that we may go forth and do our own thing once again. We are in the business of optimization of the self, first and foremost, because that’s who we’ve got to spend the rest of this lifetime with. So take stock of what’s working and keep moving in that direction, but surely, also make note of what’s not working and begin to reinvent, remove and restore accordingly. For it’s our time now.

    • Bringing Ourselves to Life

      It’s hard not to notice the connection between habits and momentum. Do something once and nothing much happens. Do something every day and it gradually manifests into identity. We simply become what we do over and over.

      Every time I think I’m going to shelve this daily blog to focus on something else, I think about the streak that I would break. Sure, missing one day of thousands isn’t the end of the world (and let’s face it, it will happen one day), but it’s the end of a streak. And with it some incremental bit of identity would go with it. So it is with the things we do. They become us, and we become them.

      This year is almost two months old, and already there are trends. Forget about politics or the weather, I’m referring to the things that we can control. How many books will we read this year? How much money will we make, or invest? Where is our momentum carrying our fitness and health? Are we seeing intellectual growth or decline though the actions we take today and each day? Habits are the compound interest of identity.

      I write this knowing there’s work to be done on my own habits, even as I celebrate the fruits of some habits that manifest themselves in what appears to be good fortune. Sometimes we are lucky, no doubt, but mostly we move in the direction determined by our daily actions. So do something positive today, and then repeat it tomorrow. And then try to keep the streak alive.

      Simple, right? Life has a way of blowing up our greatest plans. But we can’t worry about all that life will bring to us, all we can do is act today to bring ourselves to life. Momentum will never develop without a start. We’re all writing our story, one day to the next. Take interest in what compounds, for it becomes our story in the end.

    • Snow and Boots and Paws

      The snow began in afternoon this time around. Each storm is unique and memorable, if we observe the weather for what it is—alive and vital in its day. We get so busy complaining about the weather that we forget to simply coexist with it. The weather simply is, as we ourselves are. We share this day together and nevermore.

      We walked together, the pup and me. On snowy streets quietly tracked with tires and footprints of those who had ventured out before us. This winter the plows wait a while before facing their task. Why bother? The snow will just keep coming. The price they will pay is the heaviness of their burden. Our price is a slow shuffle through the clinging accumulation. The snow clings to boots and paws, and we feel ourselves rise higher with each step. The pup uses her teeth to pluck the clumps off her paws. I’m not that dexterous and simply kick off the clumpiness.

      All of this makes for a slow go in the snow. But our nightly walk is our ritual, no matter the weather. A hush falls over the street, but for the soft tread of boots and paws, moving through time as the layers accumulate. Each step is heard. Each step is felt. Flake-by-flake and step-by-step, we mark time with progress. Snow and boots and paws. Tomorrow will tell its own tale. Tonight belongs to the three of us.

    • Keep a Light On

      “When little men cast long shadows, it is a sign that the sun is setting.” — Walter Savage Landor

      The world is full of little men casting long shadows. Outlast them. Everything will shift back to reason one day. Perhaps we’ll even be alive to see it. Perhaps the environment, libraries, global economic stability and our national psyche will survive to see it (sure, the list could have been a lot longer). The trick is to survive to thrive again one day as the society we aspired to be.

      When the sun feels like it’s setting, be a beacon in the darkness. Sanity begins at home. Nurture an environment that enables resilience through structure and stability and growth. For there will come a day when it doesn’t feel so dark all the time. All it takes is enough beacons to light the way. Cockroaches scurry away in the light. So it follows that when the shadows grow long, bring more light.

      There will always be humans behaving badly for as long as there are humans. Never fall for the us versus them logic, for it’s an easy trap. We’ve all got a bit of each within us. We’ve seen that some have a bit more than others. It never was nor ever will be about good versus evil. It’s simply about keeping the lights on so humanity can find its way home again.

    • Places to Go, Places to Be

      “Don’t you know that we must always have a place where we never go but where we think we’d be happy if we did?” — Nicolas de Chamfort

      “He who travels much has this advantage over others – that the things he remembers soon become remote, so that in a short time they acquire the vague and poetical quality which is only given to other things by time. He who has not traveled at all has this disadvantage – that all his memories are of things present somewhere, since the places with which all his memories are concerned are present.” — Giacomo Leopardi

      A conversation just yesterday reminded me of the places I used to go and the person I used to be. I was that character in Up in the Air, collecting air miles and hotel points, skipping the regular line for the high roller service. In Ottawa one day, Miami the next. I actually had a TSA Agent so familiar with me that he’d ask where I was going this time as I made my way through the screening process. Those were the days.

      I don’t miss them. Sure, I miss the air miles and finding interesting places. This blog started because of those interesting places I’d stumble across in my travels. I could sniff out a waterfall or an historical monument with the best of them. And I do miss that part of my travels. I just don’t miss the gap between home and away. Instead of the rhythm of business travel, I’m immersed in the rhythm of home life. And with it, a sense of place redevelops. I’ve been here before, but my perspective has changed.

      There is still travel. There will be more waterfalls soon enough. The passport will likely fill with stamps again. Not as frequently, but filled just the same. New borders to cross, new languages to attempt, new people to remember one day when we reminisce. That is the beauty of venturing. But we can’t forget the beauty of returning back to the place we ventured from. A home port has its own appeal, should we linger long enough to remember.

      The thing is, we have places we want to go in this lifetime. Some of us wear our heart on our sleeve about such places. But we’ve also got places to be. And being is the whole point of living. To be present with where we are now, and to be in this moment fully alive and aware, is to capture something of it that we will one day remember. So stop hustling about, dreaming of the next. Be here now, and have a look around. For it will all change one day just as we ourselves will.