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    • A Day of Vigor

      A wise man will know what game to play to-day, and play it. We must not be governed by rigid rules, as by the almanac, but let the season rule us. The moods and thoughts of man are revolving just as steadily and incessantly as nature’s. Nothing must be postponed. Take time by the forelock. Now or never! You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Take any other course, and life will be a succession of regrets. There is no world for the penitent and regretful.” — Henry David Thoreau, The Journal of Henry David Thoreau

      As this is published, we’ve reached the sixth month of a pretty crazy year. Tempus fugit: time flies. We’ve learned that many things are out of our control. So what? What have we done with that which we do control? We know the score when we look in the mirror. But this is no time for regret or doubt about the future, for today is the start of something new. Every day is supposed to be, isn’t it? We can only do our best with this one.

      I’ve used Thoreau’s quote three times now in the blog. Each time I’ve been a different person, having accomplished something substantive or facing different challenges that made me who I was in the moment. We are all different with each passing day in our lives. As Heraclitus once observed, “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.”

      Life changes us, but we in turn may change the circumstances of our lives. We must get after our dream today or release it from our vision of the person we wish to become. Our work must begin today, and always thereafter. We aren’t meant to be feeble in our one chance. It isn’t going to get any easier, so instead we must grow tougher. Bolder. More vigorous. For doesn’t today deserve more vigor than we gave yesterday?

    • Following the Rhode Island to Bermuda Thread

      We stayed on St. David’s Island this week while we were in Bermuda. It wasn’t a conscious choice to stay there, but I’m pleased we did, for otherwise I don’t believe we would have gotten there on this particular trip. When I speak of conscious choices, I want to acknowledge that unconsciously I knew the connection between New England and Bermuda. In particular, between Rhode Island and St. David’s Island. Not simply the famous sailing race, but the historic slave trade. Bermuda was the destination for many of those “problematic” Native Americans who were being crowded out by waves of settlers changing the landscape of North America.

      One generation after the Pilgrims were saved in their first brutal winter in Plymouth, their saviors’ offspring were fighting for survival in what became known as King Philip’s War (1675-1676). King Philip was the English name for Metacomet, Chief of the Pokanoket, who’s seat was in Mount Hope, Rhode Island. The direct descendants of the Pokanoket are the Pocasset Wampanoag Tribe. When Metacomet was eventually tracked down and killed, ending the war, his wife Wootonekanuske and their son were sold into slavery in Bermuda, meeting the fate of many other Native Americans. Mother and son were separated on the island and lived out their lives as slaves. The son was said to have been on St. David’s Island.

      What seems completely separate is often connected in ways we don’t always understand. Our histories all blend together at some point, sometimes generations later. The story of humanity is tumultuous, tragic and beautiful all intertwined as a tapestry. One thread leads to the next, and we are one. We are forever learning, forgetting and relearning those connections. In a place called St. David’s Island, or in Bristol, Rhode Island, we find those threads and are reminded that our stories will forever be one and the same, even as our outcomes diverge.

      Smith Island, as seen from St. David’s Island, looks a lot like Bermuda in its earliest days might have looked. An active archeological dig is uncovering English settlement in this part of the island.
      The rugged point of St. David’s Island near Fort Hill Bay, with Nonsuch Island seen to the left

    • Unwritten

      I’m just back from another trip and found myself deep in the follow-up of a busy life put on pause while I was away. There’s follow-up that simply needs to happen, for we are forever pushing the flywheel in our lives to sustain whatever momentum we’ve created thus far. In this way, a trip simply ends with a few pictures on social media, a few stories and whatever memories we hold on to. Then on to the next.

      But I think about what remains unwritten from these trips. So many stories I’ve told myself I’d write but for a little more time and focus. They fall away like our days, drifting into what might have beens. For every yes in our lives there are so many no’s shouting in our ear. To live up to our potential we simply have to develop the skill of filtering out the no’s in favor of our compelling yes. Call me a work in progress on this front.

      Creative work isn’t the same as a career climb. It’s project-based work, not simply a series of 9 to 5 days strung out over a career. Projects don’t work normal business hours, and they don’t stop whispering in our ear when those things that don’t want to take no for an answer shout louder and louder for attention. But whispers have a way of being drowned out in the din if we’re not focused enough on them.

      To have any kind of success with our essential few, we must grow into the kind of person who sticks with a yes. We must come to terms with what we will do in our lives, and what will remain unwritten. Like a marriage, we must learn to listen more than we talk with our projects, that we may know where the muse is leading us. Surely, we ignore either at our peril. Still, do we wonder enough, is this project the right yes, or was it the one we just said no to?

    • Quo Fata Ferunt: How Fate Created Bermuda

      The normal way to cross the Atlantic east to west is to go south to the Canary Islands and catch the trade winds over to the Caribbean. But what should one do when the two end points are controlled by hostile forces? The answer for the British in 1609 was to sail the route north of the accepted route to avoid the Spanish altogether. And this led them to fate.

      The Sea Venture was the lead ship in a small flotilla resupplying Jamestown, Virginia. They ran into a major storm and the ships got separated. One ship sank with all souls lost, and the Sea Venture was foundering, taking on dangerous levels of seawater after the chalking between the ship’s timbers failed. And then by some miracle (that northern route), they spotted land. Admiral Sir George Saunders attempted to navigate the reefs to land and the ship wedged into it, saving all hands. They landed, built two ships and continued on to Jamestown. But having discovered it, the British would soon return to found Bermuda and establish another foothold in the New World.

      Quo fata ferunt (“Whither the fates carry us”) is thus an appropriate motto for Bermuda, and maybe for the rest of us too. We cannot control where fate might bring us, but we can accept it (amor fati) and make the most of the moment. Like Bermuda, we may be adapt and become resilient to whatever circumstances arise, and sometimes even thrive for having risen to the occasion.

      Coat of Arms of Bermuda (image: wikipedia)

    • Where We Choose to Linger

      Bermuda is a great place to visit but an expensive place to live. Everyone wants a piece of paradise, and an island only has so much paradise to divide up. Still, not every place can simply be an escape for the uber rich. Who keeps things going if everyone is wealthy and secluded? Teachers and firefighters and nurses need to call the place home too, if you’re going to have anything but gated mansions anyway. Bermuda seems to have that under control, but the locals say it’s getting harder by the day. Time will tell.

      Even nomads want to root themselves in a place now and then. That place ought to be in close proximity to ample supplies of the essential things: food and water, shelter, healthcare and a community one can immerse themselves into now and then. Some might add in a few other essentials like the opportunity to make a viable income and a thriving cultural scene. Maybe throw in a decent book store with a great cafe. Simple, right?

      The thing about Bermuda that jumps out at me isn’t the history or beautiful vistas or fish sandwiches, it’s the warmth and generous spirit of the people who live there. They’re all just so friendly. Coming from a place where that isn’t always the case, it feels pretty welcoming. And who wouldn’t want to linger in a place like that?

      Fixer-upper

    • The Unfinished Church

      In St. George’s, Bermuda there is an old church that whispers of its roots. Never finished, never consecrated, it stands as a testament to what might have been. But those whispers from the past are exactly why it’s so very appealing now. We hear the whispers, visit and feel our spirits lifted. Left to the elements, its roof ripped away by a hurricane, the structure became a beautiful revelation. Never finished? This church is exactly what it was meant to be.

    • One Days

      “The loftier the building, the deeper the foundation must be laid.” — Thomas À Kempis

      At what point do we stop building the foundation and start building upward? Unlike a building, we are forever digging deeper, even as we seek to rise. The trick is to remember to build up, and not simply continue preparing for one day. One days have a way of becoming none days. We can’t let that be us. One day is now.

      “As each day arises, welcome it as the very best day of all, and make it your own possession. We must seize what flees.” — Seneca

      As we rise, we become aware of where our foundation is weakest. We grow to the level we develop ourselves, and then in turn by the mastery of our chosen pursuit. We are only as good as our foundation supports, and we can only grow if we get to it with urgency. In this way, awareness with action build a productive and purposeful life.

    • A World No One Else Has Seen

      “Coming home from very lonely places, all of us go a little mad: whether from great personal success, or just an all-night drive, we are the sole survivors of a world no one else has ever seen.”
      ― John Le Carre, “The Chancellor Who Agreed To Play Spy”, The New York Times, May 8, 1974

      We’ve all heard that we are unique. That fact is hammered home by helpful people throughout our lives. And what is unique but the differences between us anyway? More to the point, we are each going through a life solely our own—experiencing things that no one else in the history of humanity has or will ever experience. That last sentence ought to have an exclamation point (!).

      We owe it to ourselves to document this unique path we’re on in some way, if only to remember who we once were. A journal or log book will do the trick, and so too will a blog. Pictures naturally capture the essence of a moment in time, or at least our perspective of that moment in time. And the collection of stuff we’ve collected along the way gathering dust on our shelves hints at who we once were and what created the current model on display.

      I celebrate the daffodils I planted twenty years ago as much for the time machine they represent to a younger version of me as for the bold announcement that they made it through another winter just as I did. Each project we do represents some measure of the person we were at the time, each brush stroke, each nail hammered home, each brick laid down on a path we’ve walked upon ever since. We are the sum of our days.

      But we know that the bulk of who we are will live and die with us, never revealed to the world. To the world we are anonymous at worst, and a passing fancy at best. That doesn’t make our lives meaningless—rather a blank slate from which we may begin to influence the lives of others in meaningful ways. We are matter, and we may choose to matter, when we apply ourselves to the task. We may thus make a ripple that echoes as identity, even as the puzzle of our life story will forever be ours alone to ever truly know.

    • Nietzsche, Vonnegut and Doris Day Met in a Blog

      “My formula for greatness in a human being is amor fati: that one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity. Not merely bear what is necessary, still less conceal it… but love it.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche

      Where I live, this month is trending as unseasonably cool and wet. Great for ducks, I suppose. The rest of us could use some warm, sunny days. But so it goes.

      That phrase, “So it goes”, is rather sticky. It’s a Kurt Vonnegut nugget that stays with you if you’ve ever read Slaughterhouse-Five because it’s repeated so often throughout the book that it hammers home in the memory bank. I’ve read it at three distinct phases of my life just to see what changes as I’ve changed. From the abundant horror of Dresden comes a fatalism born of experiencing it. One may ask, why? Just don’t expect an answer.

      “Have you ever seen bugs trapped in amber?” “Yes.” Billy, in fact, had a paperweight in his office which was a blob of polished amber with three lady-bugs embedded in it. “Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim, trapped in the amber of this moment. There is no why.” ― Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

      To write a book that someone would be inclined to read a few times over, instead of simply reaching for the next book on the pile? That’s notable. To write a book well enough that people are drawing quotes from it generations after it was written? That’s timeless. Surely something to aspire to in our own writing.

      But I digress. So it goes, in the context of the book, is a fatalistic acceptance of death. That’s not exactly how I used it in the opening paragraph of this scattered blog post, but it applies in one key way: Amor fati (love of fate). Or if you prefer a playful tune with a somber message, Que Sera, Sera (whatever will be, will be, with a nod to Doris Day). Whatever method we choose to understand the message, we ought to learn to embrace it in our own lives. Sure, we have agency, but within the context of everything out of our control that life throws at us.

      We will all have our rainy days. If we are blessed, we will also have our share of sunny days full of warmth and comfort. We must build a life that mitigates the impact of our worst days while maximizing the potential derived from our best. Whatever will be, will be, but we may apply leverage as appropriate. There’s just no telling which plot line in our story leads to greatness.

      So Nietzsche, Vonnegut and Doris Day all met in a blog post… proving once again that anything is possible if we just let our creative selves run free now and then. We ought to have more agency in our lives, even as we accept that some things are out of our control. So long as we don’t sell ourselves short on what we can in fact control. Some paths are dead ends, some lead to the highest summit. And so it goes.

    • To Love the Expanse Between Us

      “The point of marriage is not to create a quick commonality by tearing down all boundaries; on the contrary, a good marriage is one in which each partner appoints the other to be the guardian of his solitude, and thus they show each other the greatest possible trust. A merging of two people is an impossibility, and where it seems to exist, it is a hemming-in, a mutual consent that robs one party or both parties of their fullest freedom and development. But once the realization is accepted that even between the closest people infinite distances exist, a marvelous living side-by-side can grow up for them, if they succeed in loving the expanse between them, which gives them the possibility of always seeing each other as a whole and before an immense sky.”
      ― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

      My bride likes things I shake my head at. Things like programs about serial killers and home remodeling. Those things may not sound similar but in my mind they’re essentially the same thing—innocent people lured into tragic consequences, played out for all to see. She also gushes about shark week all year. It’s can’t-miss programming for her. All programming aspires to be shark week when they grow up. Nothing but bites and blood and thin plot lines with cliffhangers just before the next commercial break. Stop me if you think you’ve seen this one before.

      Me? I’m in the other room reading a book. Or watching a sailing video, or researching the next trip where I’ll force(!) my bride out of her comfort zone doing daring things that involve heights she wants nothing to do with, or daring cross-country escapades that require sleeping in a different bed every night and a willingness to try new foods. No lying on a quiet beach for this vagabond. Not when the maps are full of blank-to-me spaces.

      In short, we’re very different in many ways, yet similar in other ways. Do we focus on the gaps between us, or the things that draw us together? The answer to that determines a happy marriage or a miserable eternal slog praying for the end of time, as Meatloaf used to sing, rest his soul, back when paradise was nothing but a fling illuminated by the dashboard lights. Good luck keeping a marriage going on that illusion. That car better be tuned up, topped off and fitted with new tires, for the journey is long. But isn’t anything worthwhile?

      We reach a point where living side-by-side grows comfortable. We can go an entire drive without saying a word but simply appreciate the time together. We learn to listen for clues hidden in small spaces, and ask questions that get right to the point. Marriage is a journey through time, but also across distance. We’ll never fully close the gap, but why would we ever want to? Be as you are, and give me the space to do the same. That’s where a lifetime together is nurtured. Life isn’t infinite, but it can be marvelous.