Alexandersmap

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    • Knowing Your Place

      “Even on the most exalted throne in the world we are only sitting on our own bottom.” – Michel de Montaigne

      There’s a tiny house wren that acts like it owns the place, and carries on about it when I have the audacity to linger near her nest. I understand and concede the space. There will be a time soon enough when the space won’t be as important to her and her young and I can linger there again. We all have our place in this world. Here and now, this is hers.

      Coexisting with others offers humility.  I’m tolerant of the wren and the cardinal who nests in the shrub out front that’s in need of a trim.  Far less tolerant of the chipmunks who tunnel under the hard won ground I’ve toiled with, or the hornets who wish to reside in the grill or the weep holes for the windows.  But all of them are telling me that we’re just bit players in the game, just like they are.  Eventually we’ll move on one way or the other, just as they do.  So how do you behave while we’re all sitting here in the same place?

      From the beginning Americans have acted like we own the place, moving in and sweeping aside those we wouldn’t coexist with.  I heard a great analogy for this on Dan Carlin’s Hardcore History podcast, where we might get a little freaked out about a spider that may or may not be dangerous.  If we know for sure it’s not going to harm us we might gently sweep it outside.  But if there’s any doubt about it’s venomous nature we’d kill it in a second.  Such was the fate for the Native Americans as Europeans settled North and South America.  In the early stages of King Philip’s War peaceful “Indians” were rounded up and shipped to islands in Boston Harbor, just in case.  Eventually those same people would be used to help end that war.  Look at any war and you’ll see a similar level of suspicion of who might be peaceful and who might be venomous.  Russians rounding up people of German descent and sending them to Siberia, Americans rounding up people of Japanese descent and sticking them in internment camps in the west, the English rounding up the Scots and Irish and kicking them out of first one place, then another.  When in doubt, evict or destroy.

      The beautiful thing about America is that we’re a country designed under the rule of law, not the rule of a king or tyrant.  Checks and balances exist to ensure that those in power don’t abuse their power.  That’s being tested like never before in American history, ironically by a guy sitting on his own bottom tapping away unchecked on Twitter.  For all the abuse and fixing of the system going on by those in “leadership” positions, nature has a way of balancing things out.  First, that pesky rule of law provided delay tactics to slow the spread of tyrannical tendencies.  Then a swing of the House of Representatives as Americans reacted to the wave of indignities perpetrated on the country.  And then the tsunami of a pandemic with the associated economic gut punch and a massive reaction to social injustice reared up to test the leader, who is showing he’s not up to the task.  But many Americans are showing that they’ll coexist with a big scary spider only until they feel that it represents a danger to all of us.  Time will tell, but I’m generally optimistic about humanity and my fellow voters.  They might not have been paying enough attention four years ago, but surely they are now.

      Ultimately, we all need to get our own houses in order so we can focus on the more pressing global concerns like climate change.  Mother Nature is peacefully coexisting with us for the moment, but she’s showing her irritation.  We might think we’re perched at the top of the food chain on our exalted throne, but we’re just bit players in the timeless cycle of history.  It would be good to show a little more humility.  We’re all in this place in time together, maybe for a reason, and ought to embrace our role and get to work.

       

    • The Dreaded Screen Time Audit

      I watched a housefly bouncing about on a pane of glass, attracted to the light but unable to find a way through. We aren’t very different in this respect, are we? So focused on the bright light that we don’t see the opportunities around us. Noses pressed to screens of all shapes and sizes, and what have we to show for it?

      The fly got me thinking about my own tendency to bounce against a pane of glass. I scanned my screen time usage to see what the real story was. I don’t believe I stare at my phone all day (in fact I practice active avoidance whenever possible), but still I’m averaging five hours per day staring at my phone. Say what? But its true: 5h 10m per day. Ugh. Doesn’t seem possible! But let’s dive deeper, where was the time used?

      WordPress, Duolingo, Waze, Mail, Kindle and Podcasts are generally productive uses of my screen time. Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Safari and YouTube are generally not productive uses of my screen time. I tend to write in short bursts on the iPhone, and longer writing is done on the Mac, so there’s productivity time missing from the equation. Likewise, I tend to read more on an old iPad instead of the phone, so there’s time missing there too. Podcasts, Music, Waze are all multitasking apps and generally aren’t “counted” as nose pressed to the screen apps. But there’s clearly a trend towards more social media happening right now, and that needs to be sharply reduced.

      Like the housefly, I’m bouncing against the bright glass surface and not finding another way out. Who wants to live like a housefly anyway? Not me, thank you. So I need to wean myself off again. The biggest culprit is Twitter, which has become my default news feed. There are valid reasons to be on social media in this time we live in. But what am I really getting out of it? Validation of viewpoints I already have? On my deathbed I won’t say I wish I’d spent more time on Twitter, but I might regret not spending more time outside, face-to-face with the world and the people in it. At least the ones who aren’t pressing their own noses into a screen. What does your screen time look like? If it’s more than you’d like meet me outside – we’ll take a walk and talk. No phones required.

    • Masters of the Art of Life

      Dive deep with me on this quote, there’s a lot to it:

      “In der Beschränkung zeigt sich erst der Meister [“Only the master shows himself in the limitation,”] says Goethe. Mâle résignation, this also is the motto of those who are masters of the art of life; “manly,” that is to say, courageous, active, resolute, persevering, “resignation,” that is to say, self-sacrifice, renunciation, limitation. Energy in resignation, there lies the wisdom of the sons of earth, the only serenity possible in this life of struggle and of combat. In it is the peace of martyrdom, in it too the promise of triumph. – Henri Frédéric Amiel, Amiel’s Journal

      “Manly resignation” seems counterintuitive, contradictory and weak to some. But dig deeper here into the words used to describe resignation: self-sacrifice, renunciation and limitation. These are anything but weakness, they’re honorable traits. It takes courage to stand up and voice a counter argument, to say this isn’t right, this will not stand. It takes courage to face ridicule and violence. The weak are the blind followers.  What shall you be?

      Only the master shows himself in the limitation… visually I leap to Obi Wan Kenobi raising his light saber in concession to Darth Vader in Star Wars. But who really won in the end? In real life, it means finding common ground, conceding a point, compromise for the greater good. The art of diplomacy.  The REAL art of the deal, not the con man version.  All very adult traits that Congress might wish to return to. Traits any good leader has. Any good parent. Any good spouse. The United States is not currently being led by someone who shows himself in the limitation. But the country recoils and will spit out this poison pill eventually. I hope in a few months.

      “Masters in the art of life” suggests the easy path on its face. But life isn’t easy, and the art of life is making it look easy while you press ahead doing the work that matters.  Any fool can set aside responsibilities and chase after pots of gold on the other side of the rainbow. Decide what to be and go be it, but remember the truly great people, the masters in the art of life, are the people who sacrifice of themselves for the greater good.  Not frivolously, but for the things that matter.  Who are the masters in the art of life?  I think of Robert Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Jr., Mother Theresa, Gandhi, Winston Churchill, John Muir, George Washington, Clara Barton, and dozens more.  All of them very human, with flaws some were/are eager to point out as if to elevate their own standing.  But all rose above the common man or woman, showing themselves in resignation, not of the fight, but of the easier path.

      Maybe we all can’t be the answer on some future Jeopardy trivia question, but we can be an anchor in our family, in our community, in our careers.  We can be linchpins, as Seth Godin would put it, that hold things together even in the most trying of times.  And maybe that’s enough. To throw another couple of movie characters at you, it’s so much harder to be George Bailey in It’s A Wonderful Life or Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird, but don’t we have to try?  Looking around at the moment, it seems plenty want to try.  That’s the recoil in action.  The pendulum swinging back to center.  This is not who we ought to be.  This will not be who we will be from now on.  We can be better than this.  Decide what to be and go be it.

      In a bit of trivia perhaps interesting only to me and the parents who conceived me, Amiel wrote that entry in his journal 114 years to the day before I was born. He was 31 at the time. He was wise beyond his years. If there’s a joy in reading, its in mining gold from the ages. Tapping into the Great Conversation is available to all of us, so why don’t more people seize the opportunity?  To master the art of life, it helps to learn from those who have been here before.  I’m a work in progress myself, but try to learn a bit more every day, and apply some of that wisdom in my own life.  I may not be Obi Wan Kenobi, but I can try to be George Bailey.

    • Beginning with !

      Yesterday I took the plunge into a brisk Buzzards Bay. Temperatures were well above “numbing” but not quite “refreshing“. It was more in the “you get used to it” range. I find that more than acceptable, if a bit lonely. It seems most still have it in the numbing category and there was a lot of elbow room in the water. I’m still a bit of an outlier it seems. And as memorable as the brisk swim was, it wasn’t the highlight. That came later when my son made us an amazing dinner from scratch. I’ll remember both, and isn’t that the point? Make life memorable through experiences.

      Today I find myself back in New Hampshire and got straight back to plunging into the deep end of the pool to start the day. Water temperature in the pool is firmly in the refreshing stage. So it was just me and those bubbles, once again rising to the surface. These are days you’ll remember in January, or someday when you aren’t able to do this, so take advantage of them now. That statement applies to so much more than jumping into water. Today’s plunge wasn’t as memorable as yesterday’s, but its early yet and I’ll look for that next magic moment as the day progresses. I’m planning a long row at lunchtime, and another plunge with a few laps would be a nice reset before the afternoon stretch of work.

      I’ve long believed that you need to add an exclamation point on every day. Have you done one of those one line per day journals? An exclamation point might be that one line you’d write about. It would certainly be the thing you’d most like remember about the day. Of course every moment can’t be an exclamation point moment. You’d be exhausted. Its the equivalent of shouting all the time, but taking the highlighter out and marking this particular moment, well, why not? What are we saving exclamation points for anyway? There’s only today. Get to it already.

    • The Bay

      “But water is a question, so many living things in it,
      but what is it, itself, living or not? Oh, gleaming
      generosity, how can they write you out?”
      – Mary Oliver, Some Things, Say the Wise Ones

      These past few days I’ve gotten re-acquainted with our old family friend Buzzards Bay.  This particular body of water has always been a living force that demands attention. And I’ve paid attention. A steady stream of boats and ships and barges move across the surface. Osprey hover above until the thrilling moment they plunge to the water for a fish. Cormorants work their drama under the surface, swimming about in our world until they suddenly dive underwater in search of fish, then surface in unpredictable places that betray the chase that happened below. There’s always something to pay attention to around the bay, so full of life and activity in the warmer months, but especially I pay attention to the Bay itself.

      The tides sweep in and out, marked by ripples in the channel and the pull of boats on moorings. Big beach, tiny beach, big beach, tiny beach over and over again in a timeless gravity dance with the moon.  The tide is a big topic around these parts, whether people go to the beach or not.  I greatly prefer the ease of a high tide, but plunge in either way.  It only changes how far I walk.

      Above all, the Bay is a mother, birthing and hosting millions of lives every year in her nutrient-rich waters.  Like a mother she tolerates a lot from the kids playing games around her.  The Bay is a chameleon: changing colors with the sky. A palette of blue, green, silver, gold, orange and dark gray flecked in white announce the mood of this old girl, and you’d best pay attention. She has no patience for those who don’t respect her moods.  I’ve learned to give her respect, and I’m grateful for her generosity in the times when I didn’t pay enough respect. It will not happen again.

      I clearly remember the first time I swam in Buzzards Bay, tasting the saltiness of the water, and the relative warmth compared to the water north of the Cape.  I was in awe then, and still am in many ways.  I’ve raised my own children to love the Bay and hope they’ll pay it forward for future generations.  I think she’ll be in good hands.

    • Live Well With Who Has None

      “Live in the sunshine, swim the sea,
      Drink the wild air’s salubrity:
      When the star Canope shines in May,
      Shepherds are thankful and nations gay.
      The music that can deepest reach,
      And cure all ill, is cordial speech:
      Mask thy wisdom with delight,
      Toy with the bow, yet hit the white.
      Of all wit’s uses, the main one
      Is to live well with who has none.”
      – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Merlin’s Song

      You see this Emerson poem abbreviated to an inspirational quote as “Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild.”  And yes, boiled down, he says these very words.  But clearly so much more too (The quote above is an excerpt of the poem).  Who can live in these times and not read the lines “The music that can deepest reach, And cure all ill, is cordial speech” without thinking he knew the path forward for all of us?  Emerson lived in tumultuous times too, and published Merlin’s Song just two years after the end of the Civil War and the assassination of Abraham Lincoln.  He was a man familiar with conflict and the worst traits in mankind…. but also the best.  Was there a better example than Abraham Lincoln himself?

      Earlier today I saw a re-post from someone on Facebook – one of those I dare you to post this re-posts equivalent to chain mail.  It was using a tragic event from 2011 as if it were current news, challenging us to forward it along.  I started typing a reply to point out the age of the original event to correct this deliberate oversight that’s being bounced along the uninformed, when I caught myself and deleted the comment.  An hour later I read Merlin’s Song with fresh eyes, and lingered on the last lines: “Of all wit’s uses, the main one Is to live well with who has none” and thought to myself, how often has someone lived well with my ignorance?  More than I realize, I imagine.  Believe me, I appreciate your patience as I continue to figure things out.

      These times we live in – these are not the worst of times.  Not yet anyway.  We can still get this thing back on track.  It starts with cordial speech, living well with those who might have a viewpoint that differs from our own, and taking care of our own souls with immersion in the natural world: living in the sunshine, swimming in the sea, drinking the wild, and lingering with the stars.  And then rolling up our sleeves and cleaning up the mess.  Find the moral high ground and behave like we belong there.  We don’t have to be Merlin to figure this out.

       

       

       

    • The Moon, Pluto, Jupiter and Saturn

      The deep orange sky at 4 AM was largely faded by 5 AM. What kind of world is this that 5 AM is too late in the day for the show? It’s the price of the longer days of June. You want the full show? Get up earlier. And I’ve learned another lesson in my time with the sky; You really want the full show? Look around. For there directly behind me was the Moon, Jupiter and Saturn in a dance with a faded Pluto. It seems 4 AM wasn’t quite early enough to find Pluto, even with binoculars. But now that I know you’re out there I’ll look more closely tonight.

      A sunrise marks the beginning, a sunset announces the end. Nothing revolutionary in that observation. Here’s the thing about sunrises and sunsets that really strikes me: there’s far more of them that we miss than we can ever possibly see. I’ve missed thousands of stunning sunrises simply by being in the wrong place. Or, as with Pluto this morning, sometimes you just don’t get there in time. And sometimes you’re busy with other things. Or sometimes Mother Nature makes the decision for you. Then again, sometimes it’s on you. And I figure if I’m blessed with another day I ought to at least make the effort. There are only so many sometimes, aren’t there?

      Monday is upon us. And with it a new beginning. Work to do, people to help, life to live. A chance to put a dent in the universe. A handful of sunrises and sunsets there for the viewing should you choose to put your eyes in front of them. And a planet dancing with two other planets by the glow of the moon. Now tell me, who would want to miss that?

    • Sunset

      “Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

      The end of the day, the end of the weekend, and what did we accomplish? Enough? There’s always more to do, isn’t there? But fight the good fight, ignore the inner critic, and enjoy the view. Tomorrow is indeed a new day… and a Monday no less. Instead of looking backward, maybe this is a good moment to look ahead. Or better yet, maybe instead just focus on… now.

    • The Highest Alchemy

      “The process of life should be the birth of a soul. This is the highest alchemy, and this justifies our presence on earth. This is our calling and our virtue.” – Henri Amiel

      I’ve managed to finish three books this year, a disappointing total to be sure.  But I’m actively reading every day, and balance a stack of virtual books on the Kindle app that I read through often with an actual stack of books that I return to now and then.  I’m reading a lot, and yet I’m not finishing a lot of books.  Go figure.

      I’ll often read a quote like the Henri Amiel quote above and immediately research the author’s work on Wikipedia, scroll through highlights of their publicly available work and if inspired I go on Amazon and add to the stack.  I added to the stack with Amiel’s Journal, widely declared his master work (free on Kindle)… and published posthumously.  Which brings me back to the quote that inspired the search, and emphasis on the quote that wasn’t there previously.  Quotes are funny things, we pull out a set of words that seem especially powerful, tag the author and leave it out there like a neon sign on a dark night.   Knowing something of the author brings context and resonance.  It’s something that Maria Popova is masterful at with Brain Pickings, and you’ll see my own attempts at it here now and then.

      I’ve learned over the years to dig a bit deeper in my own process of life.  To linger on something that others might skim over.  And most of all to learn, and to hopefully add a bit of value to the rest of the souls walking this earth now, and maybe some future then too.  To pursue the highest alchemy, if you will.  And I’m seeing some return on investment with my two adult children.  Both are deeply empathetic, thoughtful observers with strong leadership traits.  If nothing else comes of my time on this earth, the ripples from these two might be enough.  But that shorts my own time here, doesn’t it?  We’re all a work in progress in our time, from day one to the final day, and there’s still plenty of time to add more.  Today anyway.

      Alexandersmap started out as a blog about the places I was visiting, digging deeper into the history of the place, occasional insight into the best fish and chips or whatever.  And I surely will dabble in these observations again when travel isn’t limited.  But the blog evolves as I read more, think more, observe more….  and write more.  It turns out I’m digging deeper into myself, and putting it all out there for the world to see (thanks) or not see (yet).  That’s writing for you: taking you places you didn’t expect to go.  Then again, maybe deep down I did expect to get here, I just needed to write about fish and chips enough to reach this point.

      “You get better at the craft of writing the more you do it, and that’s the beauty of non-fiction writing being a craft rather than an art. You can practice it, you can get better, whereas with an art, you’re either a genius or you’re not.” – Alex Perry (via Rolf Potts interview)

      Writing, like life itself, is a process.  We’re all just birthing our souls here.  Some remain soulless (I’m not naming names) while some illuminate the darkness for all to see.  Personally, I’m on the journey and marking the trail as I go.  I’m not sure I’m illuminating darkness for anyone, but I’m lighting the way for myself one post at a time.

       

       

    • Return of Wonder

      “Wonder dies and is replaced by boredom, as we develop language and words and concepts. Then hopefully, if we’re lucky, we’ll return to wonder again.” – Anthony de Mello, Awakening

      The hummingbirds work their way across the mounds of honeysuckle in turns. One fills up and flies off and another takes its place. The vine and the birds return year-after-year and each season I marvel at the intimate dance of the honeysuckle and the hummingbird. I’ve learned over many seasons together to sit silently and let the dance happen. I’m rewarded once again in 2020, a year like no other, and nod in gratitude to the dancers.

      I keep returning to Anthony de Mello, and why not? Every visit mines gold, like a hummingbird returning to honeysuckle. This is an especially good year to re-read Awakening, and lately I’m scanning a few pages in between history and philosophy and poetry. There’s so much you miss the first time through with great books, and I’m reading it again with a new sense of wonder. And isn’t that the way with everything worthwhile? The garden is different every time you visit it, and so is the forest, and the ocean, and mountains, and old friends in our lives and surely a spouse. And so are we, if we’ll just sit still long enough to see.

      I’m lucky. I know this. I can sit quietly in the garden and watch hummingbirds. I can walk on a dark street alone at night looking at the stars without concern. Born in a place and time with a skin color that offers me a silent leg up over people who are in every way my peers or a few notches above me. I’m not struggling the way many people struggle, and I’m grateful. But what do you do with the gift? Become bored with it? Jealousy hold it tight, not willing to share it with others? Lecture those who don’t see the wonder?

      I think the first step is to appreciate the beauty in your own life. To truly see it anew. And then share it with the world. Pull wisdom from the ages and embrace it, and shine a light on it for others to see. To be a stabilizing force for those who need a hand, and a teacher for those who need to see the wonder in all of us. I view the merit of another person by the sparkle in their eyes, not by the color of their skin or the position they hold. Help others to see. To find wonder themselves. We all live by concepts we’ve learned along the way. Concepts are funny things. They change when the student is ready and not a moment sooner. Offer a hand to those struggling with the climb, an ear for those who need you to hear and a shoulder for those who are hurting to cry on. Share wonder with the world and dance with those who rise up with you. And keep offering a place on the dance floor for those who aren’t there just yet. They could use some wonder too..