My quest to simplify moves to the blog itself. It felt too heavy overall and less intuitive. This new theme brings it back to where it began—simply blog posts without all the excess. It’s a work in progress and will be refined over time, but always with the primary filter of “simplicity” dictating all choices.
Back to regular blog posts later.
“Carpe diem, quam minimum credula a postero (Seize the day, and put the least possible trust in tomorrow)” — Horace
When the leaves are finally all down and the chores are largely done for fall cleanup, there’s a moment of stillness with which to process what’s transpired this year. What went right, what went wrong, and mostly when are we going to do that thing we said we were surely going to do this year since we didn’t do it last year or the years before that. November is a great time to assess and adjust those habits to do something more with today. Put another way, November is a time to pivot to better.
Why November? Why not simply wait for the New Year? Well, we aren’t guaranteed tomorrow (See: Horace) and if we’re blessed with it, a little momentum rounding the calendar goes a long way. I can celebrate the consistent writing but recognize that it’s not enough, just as casually but consistently using the Duolingo app is helping me read French better but not to speak it or understand it when it’s being spoken to me rapid-fire, a habit (like writing) requires deeper immersion to get closer to mastery. We get what we put into it.
By November we’ve accumulated a lot of positive or negative energy from our habits. What’s working well for us? What’s fallen off? With 45 potentially transformative days in front of us, beginning with this one, what can we still do with 2024 that we thought might be possible on New Years? What one habit will transform us the most if we were to master it? What one relationship might we strengthen or even salvage simply by reaching out to someone? What life changing step should be our next? We know the answer most of the time, or at least the direction to move in to find it. By all means, we must begin it today!
“Men must live and create. Live to the point of tears.” — Albert Camus
To live and create, to the point of tears… How many of us read that and then settle back into old routines? It would be more prudent to stick with the familiar, to live a vanilla lifestyle, to do work that we’re comfortable with, and to stay in our circle of influence so we don’t upset the apple cart. There’s something to the tried and true, after all, for it brought us to this place.
In the words of Marshall Goldsmith, “What got you here won’t get you there.” We’ve only got a few blessed days to work with, let us not dare waste this one on trivial pursuits. We may choose to be bold, and rise to meet the moments that unfold. For this, friend, is all there is.
This isn’t a call for reckless living, consumerism or nihilism—just the opposite really. We must be bold, focused and purposeful with each moment, that we may optimize it. Optimization may sound very professional and career-focused, but can we not use the same standard on our days? We only have this one, why dare squander its potential? Carpe diem.
With every deliberate act, we ought to consider how to amplify it more. Be more creative in our work, be more adventurous in our recreation, be more engaged in our relationships. It doesn’t take much more than choosing and following through. Momentum matters in all things: we may be more now, that we may build on that later. Live as if tomorrow depended on our actions today. We know it does.
We could all use a bit more quiet right about now. Whichever side of the cultural or political divide we fall on, it’s been a noisy, relentless year. If everything has its season, now seems a good time for some restorative quiet. Reaching quiet places is a journey with many possible routes. Which we take is less essential than the act of taking it.
We don’t need money to find quiet, just a bit more social engineering and applied creativity. Removal from the noise is the obvious way—simply turn off the relentless media and walk away. A walk in the woods would be lovely, though orange is a must here in New Hampshire during hunting season. So maybe a walk on the beach would serve better for the next few weeks. However we find nature, it offers a whispered message that eternity doesn’t care a lick about our problems. Should we?
I find the tactile more valuable than the electronic when seeking silence. Picking up a pen and scratching on a pad of paper can draw the noise right out of us and carry us to more enlightened places. Menial tasks like washing dishes or sweeping the floor may feel like chores when we begin, but carry us to quiet places as we work our way through the task.
Ironically, sometimes the opposite of silence is just the answer. Lately I’ve returned to some music from my childhood that I’d pushed aside when a younger version of me thought it wasn’t cool enough. It’s probably still not cool enough, but neither am I, so who cares? I know all the words and that can be enough at this stage. Sometimes it’s not physical quiet at all, but internal quiet. Music drowns out the other noise around us and reminds us that some noise is joyful. That negative noise just gives up and floats away for a while.
We aren’t monks or hermits, most of us anyway, and sequestering ourselves in quiet solitude isn’t a forever act, but a cyclical act of renewal. Just as the trees have shed their leaves and gone dormant, we need to give our minds the time to go dormant too. The noise level will inevitably rise again, but quiet has its place. Perhaps more than ever.
“A fire broke out backstage in a theatre. The clown came out to warn the public; they thought it was a joke and applauded. He repeated it; the acclaim was even greater. I think that’s just how the world will come to an end: to general applause from wits who believe it’s a joke.”
― Soren Kierkegaard, Either/Or, Part I
Those who pay attention know the score. Those who don’t are happy with the distractions the world flashes in front of them one after the other. They don’t want to know the score, they want to be entertained in the moment. Let the world crash down later as long as we all have a good laugh now. And here we are.
To pay attention is to watch a story where you know the ending but you just hope maybe there will be one of those Hollywood twists that make everything all right. Whoops, the scientists forgot to carry over the extra value! Climate change is magically fixed! Only a clown would believe that, and here we are.
The only answer is to build a resilient life for ourselves. Live in places that put us in the best position possible for the best or worst case scenario. Invest well financially, but also in our knowledge, our network and in our physical and mental health. Resilience is a way of life, not a lock on the door. It’s seeing how high the flood waters might rise and building ever higher than that. Yes, here we are, but maybe we need to move up and over there.
The stoics went through their version of all this themselves. That they wrote about it offers us a light in the darkness with which to navigate. We too may be writers and thinkers and live boldly individual lives apart from the whims of a distracted society. We’ll be fine or we won’t, all we can control in the universe is how we react. Amor fati (love of fate). And here we are.
“I merely took the energy it takes to pout and wrote some blues.” — Duke Ellington
I found myself playing catch-up yesterday. Dropped in a room full of hustlers and hard chargers, you either step up or fall back. I was inspired by what was possible but apprehensive about the leap. And that’s exactly why I was there. Who wants to walk into a room and know they’re the smartest one in it? We are the average of the people we associate with, so make it a stretch towards excellence instead of a settle into the abyss.
We all have the same amount of time to work with. We ought to ask ourselves more often, what are we doing with it? Finding people who challenge us to raise our own standard is the path to personal excellence (Arete) in whatever it is we choose to do is the most effective way I know of to get out of our own head and get moving. Whatever brought us to today set us up with a certain amount of skill, knowledge and discipline. We can either wallow in what we haven’t got yet or start writing the script for who we’re going to be. Decide what to be and go be it already.
We have a short time horizon in front of us with which to do something, so why not create something exceptional? But even a short time horizon seems like plenty of time if we don’t pay attention. There’s no time for pouting about what might have been in our lives, or for any unproductive emotion at all really. Today is our day. We must utilize all of our available energy to make our leap now.
“Everything you love will probably be lost, but in the end, love will return in another way.” — Franz Kafka
Nothing is forever, it’s easy to see that in the transactions of life, but some things return back to us in another form. I will always believe the world reflects back what we project into it, and when we project love, we find we receive just enough back. We can’t very well hoard such things as love, for the act of hoarding isn’t love at all, and results in a reflection back that isn’t love. There are plenty of examples of people whoring themselves out thinking they’ll get love in return, when all they really get are a bunch of whores hanging around them. That ain’t love.
I started a new gig yesterday, mostly because it felt like the right fit but also because I don’t like to sit still very much. Between the old and the new gig, I’d done all the yard chores, participated in a window replacement project and painted rooms. All just to get things done. Each of these things may feel like chores, but they’re all opportunities to return love to those who have loved us.
Each act in a lifetime is a message to those around us about the type of person we’re going to be. When all feels lost we may be a beacon to help someone find their way. This is how to live in a world that often feels cold and dark. There is always another way, and it begins with love.
I’m not going to lie to you, the last month has been a whirlwind of change, travel and starting all over again. We collectively face massive cultural changes in this new world that we’re all sorting sorting out in our own way. I’ve got plenty on my mind already, so the national election will have to be stacked in the corner to percolate for awhile.
In medias res (“into the midst of things”) is the phrase that exemplifies the state I’m in. I’m jumping right into the next after a busy and productive month. For all that I’ve accomplished over the last month, I ought to pause and reflect, but there’s no time for it. I see the swirling current in front of me and I’m focused on staying afloat.
And that’s the key word when we’re in the midst of things: focus. Focus on the essential next thing that will keep us from drowning in the current of change. Put one foot in front of the other, and keep moving across that floor. To get swept away in any emotion doesn’t serve us well, it pulls us under. The next essential thing is the only thing that matters right now. So let’s get to it.
“Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.” – Maya Angelou
Every trip reminds me that we’re mostly all the same. Would that everyone travel more, that they too might learn this lesson. True, the popular tourist destinations are already crowded enough, but the lessons aren’t learned on a tour bus or cruise ship anyway. To know people we must meet them on their terms, where they live, without the sticker telling everyone which group we’re in.
I am a diplomat without the pension plan. Wherever I go, I work to meet people halfway. That may be Rome or London now and then, but mostly it’s the person next to me on a train or a restaurant. I don’t know who they voted for most of the time (unless they’re wearing the uniform), but it honestly doesn’t matter anyway. The job of the diplomat is to build bridges, not to tear them down.
Each day I work my craft. It’s not manipulation I practice, but the craft of reaching understanding and finding something in common with that human I’m interacting with. Most people reflect back that which we project onto them (the rest are narcissists or psychopaths—it helps to realize when you encounter them too). The diplomats are the ones who keep this fabric of humanity woven together. Someone’s got to do it.
A place like Dublin deserves a good pub crawl to really say that you’ve been there. Whether you drink or not isn’t the point, it’s the opportunity to immerse yourself into Irish culture and celebrate life all at once that makes a pub crawl a great experience. Of course, if you partake a few drinks can help one in that immersion business.
The name “pub” is short for “public house”, which itself was used to differentiate them from private houses and thus able to serve alcohol. You’ll still see many a pub calling themselves a public house, and it brings us full circle back to the roots. Whatever you call them, they’ve become central community gathering places for generations, making them integral to our cultural history. I’ll drink to that!
There are a few things one ought to seek out in a pub when choosing which of the hundreds in a place like Dublin to visit. For me, a bit of history counts for a lot. If I never get to Dublin again in my lifetime (and that would be a pity), then I’d want to get to a place with some history. No pub has more of that than Ireland’s oldest pub, The Brazen Head, a place that “has been a hostelry… since 1198. The present building was built in 1754 as a coaching inn.” The food was excellent and the Guinness was a perfect compliment. Walking around it, you feel you’re living your moment in its long history.
Darkey Kelly’s isn’t quite as old as The Brazen Head, but it has its own rich history. “Darkey” Kelly was a brothel-keeper who was burned at the stake in Dublin in 1761 for witchcraft. She almost certainly wasn’t a witch, but there was evidence that she was a serial killer. Rough way to go for anyone, of course, and why did it always seem to be the women being burned at the stake? Anyway, the pub itself was lively and filled with music and conversation, everything you’d want in a pub. The Irish whiskey collection was the largest I’ve seen. And as a bonus the Ireland-New Zealand rugby match was on, capturing the enthusiastic attention of the locals. It was my favorite of the bunch.
As a nightcap for the evening, The Old Storehouse, brought more live music with a young and active drinking crowd. In fact, noticeably younger. The later it gets, the younger the crowd gets. And that young crowd surprised me as they belted out the hits of the 70’s and 80’s as if they grew up with them )which of course they have, they were merely reminding me). The duo played to the crowd with far more rock and disco hits than traditional Irish music, but with a talented fiddle player sprinkling beautiful Celtic all over them.
No trip to Dublin would be complete without at least a pass by The Temple Bar. It’s surely lovely to look at, but more than any other pub it’s geared towards the tourists, prices and all. Still, worthy of a quick visit, if only for the obligatory photo with it. After all, what’s a pub crawl without seeing and being seen with the most famous of them all?
