Alexandersmap

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    • Moving Through Us

      “Greatness is a transitory experience. It is never consistent. It depends in part upon the myth-making imagination of humankind. The person who experiences greatness must have a feeling for the myth he is in. He must reflect what is projected upon him. And he must have a strong sense of the sardonic. This is what uncouples him from belief in his own pretensions. The sardonic is all that permits him to move within himself. Without this quality, even occasional greatness will destroy a man.”
      — Frank Herbert, Dune

      You know when you’re in the midst of greatness. You can see it with your own eyes, feel it in your nervous system. There are so few who reach that level, and fewer still who can stay there for any amount of time, that it’s memorable when it washes over a moment. Tom Brady had a long dance with greatness. So did Michael Phelps. Sydney McLaughlin-Levrone is currently in the midst of greatness in the 400 meter hurdles and dash. Greatness is myth-like because it’s just so far beyond merely being good.

      To be sardonic is to be cynical, highly skeptical, and maybe a little sarcastic. Tom Brady had the perfect foil in Bill Belichick. We all need someone that keeps our ego in check and knock us down a notch when we begin to believe the hype. The alternative is to get too big for one’s britches. How many rise to greatness only to stumble back down to average when they succumb to the myth?

      People love the hero’s journey, but they learn to hate the person who is on top for too long. Maybe that’s because they keep the next hero from rising all the way to the top. It’s the rare few who are loved for their greatness because they exude something beyond the norm. Usain Bolt ran with a brash joyfulness that thrilled even the most casual observer.

      We may aspire to greatness but still be humble. Like a writer or artist who view themselves as a vehicle for the muse to bring art to the world, each of us are similarly bringing something beyond ourselves to whatever it is that we do. We ought to do it exceptionally well, that we may earn the right to do it again tomorrow. And maybe even better. We just can’t get so full of ourselves that the greatness has no room to move through us.

    • A Win For the Day

      “The vast possibilities of our great future will become realities only if we make ourselves responsible for that future.” — Gifford Pinchot

      I was pondering a different quote than the one above, one by John Wooden, who said, “Make each day your masterpiece.” I think we’d all love to make a masterpiece, but find most days the end product is somewhere closer to good enough. Maybe that’s why there are so few masters in any field. That singularity of purpose is exceedingly rare.

      I believe Wooden meant to raise our personal standard. When we hold ourselves to a standard of excellence, we may not exceed that standard, but we may get far closer to it than we otherwise would have. String enough of those days together and we’re really on to something.

      The thing is, we know most of that talk is great for a motivational poster on the break room wall, but it doesn’t mean a thing unless we internalize it and make it our own. We either raise our standard or we opt for something less for ourselves. Whether that’s comfort or laziness or distraction, something pulls us down from reaching excellence most days. But maybe today we can see some incremental improvement and call that a win for the day.

      When I write about arete, or personal excellence, it’s not some fluffy self-motivational expression, it’s a reminder to try a little harder today. As adults, we must be responsible for our own development and do a little better at the things we do today, and then stretch even further tomorrow. And see where it takes us. It can’t help but be somewhere better than the place we started.

    • Worthy of Our Time

      “Beware the barrenness of a busy life” — Socrates

      The peril of productivity is that we get so busy doing things that we forget to look up and see all that’s passing right before our eyes. I’m not a fan of busy, but I love being productive with my time. And of course beauty is in the eye of the beholder. We can feel when our time is well spent and when it’s not.

      It helps to look ahead. What will we miss most when it’s gone forever? Conversations with people we love. The field that deer and turkey gather in on foggy mornings that will become a development in a growth-at-all-costs community. The quiet rituals in a role we are currently in but won’t be in forever. So much is here today and gone tomorrow. What is worth saving and what is worth letting go?

      The key to a full life is to look for the barrenness and to endeavor to fill it with meaning. What’s missing? What can we add to fill that void? Filling gaps is not busyness when it’s purposeful. And what is full of meaning already that we should endeavor to save for a future we all hope will be brighter? If barrenness is the antithesis of a full life, what is truly worthy of our time?

    • Deliberate With the Highlights

      How do we fill our days? Life is a stack of days, as we know. What fills them fills a life. So we ought to choose wisely. I may have said that once or twice, but I assure you it’s to remind myself to bring out the highlighter now and then.

      On a warm October weekend, I spent the bulk of it working to ready the home and yard for the coming of colder days. Hours with a pressure washer cleaning all the newly vacated surfaces. And warm enough for shorts and a t-shirt. The tropical plants were stunned to be cut to the base and tucked in the cellar. Am I crazy putting summer away on such a warm weekend? It doesn’t matter what the thermometer says, it’s what the calendar tells me. And so my tropical paradise has receded back to memory for the next six months.

      Will I remember the yard work? Maybe. A clean shed offers evidence we can certainly refer back to. But life isn’t meant to be a series of chores before we die. If we’re smart with our time, we should fill the days with highlighter moments too. A late afternoon walk on the beach and dinner out with family are highlighter moments in and of themselves, but within each we can choose something even brighter to mark it as special. Each could have been highlighted with something uniquely out of the box. We know it when we see it. I was more tame than I might have been. Let’s call it refinement.

      All of this makes for compelling reading, no doubt. But the point is, we ought to embrace the productive work that moves the chains in a full life but save a little time and energy for something extra. Our one line a day may be completing a bunch of chores, but it might also a call to catch up with an old friend, splurging on dessert or a fancy drink we normally wouldn’t order, or getting up and out early to witness the Harvest Moon before it too fades into the past. The chores tend to line up all by themselves—we ought to be deliberate with the highlights too.

    • Low Ground, High Places.

      Autumn is when most people flock to the high ground, searching for vantage points from which to take in the foliage. It’s a lovely thing, that foliage. What is less lovely is the flock of people. Foliage gridlock is the ugly phenomenon of fall. So those of us who live amongst the foliage tend to avoid the popular places. Beauty can be found in the quiet places too. A single orange and red leaf drifting to rest just so is all I need. But oh, those vantage points are stunning too.

      My bride and I went to the sea to walk the pup in the low tide surf. That’s just about as low ground as you can get in New Hampshire, and we reached the highest of places watching the pup play in the foam, chase seagulls, and giving the horses a sideways glance. In the offseason the horses return to the beach, riders splashing into the waves as they trot the long stretch of firm sand out and back from the state park.

      We also return in the offseason, favoring the relative quiet it offers. Late in the afternoon on a warm October day, we found we had plenty of company but still nowhere near what it must have been earlier in the day. With the surf up and churning its relentless song, the sun casting brilliant warm light as it drops to the west, there is no foliage to wonder at. Walking along the surf line to witness what the low ground has to say, seeing the joy that a beach walk draws out of my two companions, I can tell you that there is magic just the same.

    • The We In Me

      “Who’s living in you? It’s pretty horrifying when you come to know that. You think you are free, but there probably isn’t a gesture, a thought, an emotion, an attitude, a belief in you that isn’t coming from someone else. Isn’t that horrible? And you don’t know it. Talk about a mechanical life that was stamped into you. You feel pretty strongly about certain things, and you think it is you who are feeling strongly about them, but are you really? It’s going to take a lot of awareness for you to understand that perhaps this thing you call “I” is simply a conglomeration of your past experiences, of your conditioning and programming.” — Anthony De Mello, Awareness

      The we in me is a collection of characters from all parts of my past, whispering their opinions, goading me on, knocking me down. We’ll never get past them until we’re aware that they’re there. These characters live in the past—part of who we were, but also part of who we are. They don’t have to have a say in who we become.

      Some days this chorus of conditioning tells me to stop writing and do something else with the time. To stop being such a drag and have a drink. To grow outraged at the state of the world and watch some video mocking the other side. To be angry and distracted and spun up. Because misery loves company, and the worst character traits within us hate to be unheard.

      Habits help quiet the chorus within. When I’m swinging a kettle bell around or trying to maintain a split on a long row I don’t have the time to linger with doubt. I’m too busy taking action and voting for the type of person I wish to become, as James Clear put it. Habits create distance between what we were then and who we are becoming right now. We want to close some gaps while increasing other gaps. We want to be the person who does what they tell themselves that they’re going to do.

      Who do we trust the most in our lives? It’s the people who follow through on the promises they make. To build what Charlie Munger called “a seamless web of deserved trust“—those people we know to be reliable and dependable. Shouldn’t we feel this about ourselves first and foremost? If we want a network of strong and trusted allies, we must be one ourselves.

      When we fill our lives with increasingly stronger voices, we find that the weaker voices from our past get lost in the background, where they belong. This naturally builds upon itself, for as we grow stronger we attract more like-minded characters of strength and determination. We are the sum of all that has happened in our lives, all those voices from our past play their part. It’s up to us whether that is a bit part of a defining role in who we become.

    • Still, Here

      Silence is the language of god,
      all else is poor translation.
      —Rumi

      It wasn’t all that long ago that it was exciting to see a satellite flying overhead. Now it feels like I can’t look up without seeing one. And it will get far busier up in the sky before too long. That’s just the way it is now, and whether we like it is beside the point. Modern progress chews up beautiful simplicity for breakfast.

      I say this knowing it’s autumn in New England. I’ll celebrate the season while dreading the coming of the leaf blowers. There will be no escaping the drone of these technological wonders as they descend on quiet cul-de-sacs en masse. Envie de t’évader?

      I’m not a purist. I use Waze and Google Maps frequently and listen to satellite radio far more than terrestrial radio. I too embrace the leaf blower like an old friend when the oak leaves blanket the lawn. I play music loudly. I delight in the energy of a crowded stadium. I am thus part of the problem, but I need stillness too. It’s simply harder to find in the familiar places.

      Maybe that’s why I’m getting up earlier than ever. On average I’m up an hour earlier than I used to get up. And I love the quiet time it offers. This blog wouldn’t exist without stillness and stubbornness. Imperfect as it is—as I am, it is my quiet offering to the universe that I’m still here, doing my thing, for at least this one more day. You want stillness? Listen to the applause after that statement.

      The world will keep getting louder and more complex. This requires a more deliberate layering of quiet from which we may hear ourselves think. I’m not convinced the world wants us thinking, but isn’t that a great reason to try? Let us quietly find our way to a more enlightened place.

    • May This Day

      After so many changes made and joys repeated,
      Our first bewildered, transcending recognition
      Is pure acceptance. We can’t tell our life
      From our wish. Really I began the day
      Not with a man’s wish: “May this day be different,”
      But with the birds’ wish: “May this day
      Be the same day, the day of my life.”
      — Randall Jarrell, A Man Meets a Woman in the Street

      The walks are colder now. Brisk. As in, I wish I’d put on a pair of gloves kind of brisk. But I welcome the change, even as I mourn for the things that will be missed as the earth tilts away from the sun yet again. Life is change, after all. Don’t blink: it will all change again soon enough.

      We each settle into a routine that becomes our life. We normalize the commute, the chores, the favorite game show we watch when we return home. What is all of this but the same day, repeated, to the end of our days? And so we look for different, while there’s still time, maybe with a little magic mixed in, just to feel like we found some wonder in our day.

      What do we wish for? It usually comes down to something different from the routine. But what is different quickly becomes the same too, when repeated. And so we chase different again and again. And there are times when different is the right answer. But not always. Sometimes the answer lies in gratitude for the rhythm of a beautiful life, built on the foundation of a routine that fits us like our favorite sweater. Just what would you wish for? May this day be savored for all that it brings.

    • The Precious Hour

      “To fill the hour—that is happiness; to fill the hour, and leave no crevice for a repentance or an approval.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

      To win the hour is to advance. To waste it is the proverbial two steps back. We grow forward or we recede backwards into a lesser version of ourselves. Stack enough wins together and we have the makings of a great day—and a great life.

      As time goes, nothing is worth more to me than the first hour of the day. If I don’t use it properly, the rest of the morning feels rushed or incomplete. What is proper? Using the mind before the day steals my attention. Writing and reading something worthy of the precious hour.

      My bride is still asleep when that first precious hour ends. Her productive time is later, when my energy begins to wain. And she’s still going strong well after I’m ready to call it a night. We all have our time when we feel most effective. We all know our limitations, even if we won’t always admit them to ourselves.

      We’ve heard it many times: we each have the same 24 hours to work with. Making good life choices for each may create an amazing day. Making really bad choices can certainly ruin it. We are the sum of our decisions and the discipline we bring to each hour. It will all fly past us if we aren’t more deliberate with how we use the time. Tempus fugit. Carpe diem.

      For me the 13th hour is when I begin to stumble into the questionable. I may eat nutritious food, exercise, do focused and meaningful work and be a good companion to my fellow travelers on this ship of fools we call the present. But then I get mentally lazy, snack on junk food, maybe wash it down with a drink, scroll social media and allow that to stir feelings of anger or envy. All of it wastes that hour, and may leave a lasting impression on the other 23.

      The trick is not just to make the most of our best hour, but to raise the standard for our worst. One good hour won’t make or break a lifetime, but it can certainly put us on the right path. There are 8,760 hours in a year (leaving those leap years aside). That’s way too many to focus on, but we don’t get to skip ahead anyway. It’s fair to ask more of ourselves in each hour to come if we wish to reach a higher level of personal excellence than we reached previously. Raising our average begins with expecting more of ourselves in our best and worst hours. And of course, that begins with this one. Make it precious.

    • A Strange Vocation

      Poetry, my starstruck patrimony.
      It was necessary
      to go on discovering, hungry, with no one to guide me,
      your earthy endowment,
      light of the moon and the secret wheat.

      Between solitude and crowds, the key
      kept getting lost in streets and in the woods,
      under stones, in trains.

      The first sign is a state of darkness
      deep rapture in a glass of water,
      body stuffed without having eaten,
      heart of beggar in its pride.

      Many things more that books don’t mention,
      stuffed as they are with joyless splendor:
      to go on chipping at a weary stone,
      to go on dissolving the iron in the soul
      until you become the person who is reading,
      until the water finds a voice through your mouth.

      And that is easier than tomorrow being Thursday
      and yet more difficult than to go on being born—
      a strange vocation that seeks you out,
      and which goes into hiding when we seek it out,
      a shadow with a broken roof
      and stars shining through its holes.
      — Pablo Neruda, Bread-Poetry

      I’ve gone and shared the entire poem. I’d meant to be more precise with a line or two about the stars shining through or rapture in a glass, but neither tells the story. Perhaps the english translation doesn’t tell the entire story either, but here we are. The point is, in the sharing there is a story. And naturally, we are the stories we decide to tell the world.

      Do you wonder when to begin a new chapter? Or are you too busy finding rhymes for this poem to worry about something that may never be? I think that’s the thing for most of us, isn’t it? We’re too busy living to focus on what’s next. If now is all that matters, why dwell on the tomorrows? Because it’s coming for us, ready or not? The grasshopper learned too late that the ant had it right, but in the end it was the grasshopper who made music. The real lesson is to find time to build a life and to thoroughly live it too.

      How much is enough to share? Each word published is released, never to be mine again. Perhaps that’s for the best; these words were only looking to fly free from me that they may dance in the light. I’ll click publish and go about my day, looking for as much meaning in the grind as I found in a few moments of creative output. Which work will live beyond me? It isn’t for us to decide, but to offer the best of ourselves in whatever we give our lives to.