Alexandersmap

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    • The Side of Good

      When we fight with our failings, we ignore
      the entrance to the shrine itself and wrestle
      with the guardian, fierce figure on the side of good.
      — David Whyte, The Faces of Braga

      I have work to do. I’ve promised myself I’d row every day this month to counter the accumulating calories of the holidays. It’s the 23rd day of December and that promise mocks me like all the broken promises I’ve made before. When you break a promise to yourself the dark mind piles on, bringing up other promises unkept. We are our own worst critic, as the saying goes. We tell others that nobody is perfect while beating ourselves up every time we fall short.

      Still, we are good despite our failings, and better at some things than we were yesterday. We are each on our climb to personal excellence. Nobody said this would be easy, friend. Like the trail to a mountain summit, we must remind ourselves that the path is never straight, often descends and turns away from the goal, but will always carry us to our destination if we just put one foot in front of the other and stick with the path that brings us there.

      Our aim isn’t that evasive perfection but a good life, full of meaning and contribution and direction. Washboard abs might bring some of us happiness, but chances are if our habits aren’t supporting those abs it isn’t a summit we really want to climb. The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time, as James Taylor put it. Being fit is certainly going to make our passage easier to navigate, but we mustn’t forget that the secret is the enjoying part. Sure, the rowing hasn’t been there, but the walking has, and presence with people who matter a great deal. We all have our collection of daily wins and shortcomings. Which way the scale tips is often a matter of perspective.

    • Becoming Better at Seeing

      I was talking to one of my in-law’s neighbors while walking the pup on their street. The neighbor has reached a place where you might call her elderly and frail, but was out shoveling her driveway because her grandson hadn’t shown up to do it. We’re all so busy this time of year… the grandson surely wouldn’t have let his grandmother shovel her driveway alone on a frigid day, but he wasn’t there to witness it and step in. My daughter and I were, and finished her driveway, cleared off her car and asked her if she wanted to come over to join us at the holiday party we were having. She politely declined and thanked us for the invitation.

      We become comfortable in our routines, even when those routines don’t make sense for us anymore. In a perfect world the tribe would revere and support the tribal elders. We live in a world where we’re tapped out and stretched thin, and sometimes we don’t get around to making the call or stopping by to see how those tribal elders are doing. Often they’re holding on by a thread, doing the best they can. A burst of snow quickly freezing into concrete has the potential to put someone over the edge without a lifeline.

      When we slow down a beat and stop rushing on to the next thing with our blinders on, our peripheral vision improves greatly. There are people moving through this world who easily see gaps and fill them with their full attention. I aspire to be more like them, while knowing I’m one of those people who are often too busy to have that situational awareness. We all want to help, don’t we? We just don’t always see. As we move down our path towards personal excellence, becoming better at seeing and solving is something to aspire to. We’re all in this tribe together, aren’t we?

    • Stepping Into Change

      So let this winter
      of listening
      be enough
      for the new life
      I must call my own.
      — David Whyte, The Winter of Listening

      I met a friend for a pint yesterday. It turned into a small pub crawl between two breweries as the crisp air filled with swirling snow. We talked of the familiar and the forever changing as the snow accumulated and the town roads clogged with drivers uncertain about what to do when the world turns white again. With a nod to the familiar we needed to return to, we cut our reunion short and joined the other drivers while our heads were still clear enough to join the fray.

      Snowflakes melt on the back of my neck as I moved the brush around the truck, feeling my footing on snowy concrete with the anticipation of slippery roads. Like any skill that’s been dormant for some time, walking and driving on icy roads is muscle memory. It all comes back quickly, we just need to take it slowly while the rust clears. We’ve been together before, the winter whispers reassuringly, and sure enough one tentative step brings us to the next and soon we’re safely home again.

      December often hints at changes to come in our lives. Mine is no exception; change has whispered in my ear for months. When the world starts swirling with the forever changing, we may carry the reassurance of having been here before. The landscape may change in disorienting ways, but we’ve developed the skills to navigate this new world safely on our journey of becoming. Keep a clear head and listen for what whispers. Stepping into change is nothing new for us.

    • Time Is Our Treasure

      If I could make days last forever
      If words could make wishes come true
      I’d save every day like a treasure and then
      Again, I would spend them with you
      — Jim Croce, Time in a Bottle

      When I was younger, I felt that time flew by. Now my kids talk about how quickly time flies. One day maybe I’ll have grandchildren making the observation. Humans have been making this observation since our brains developed to discern such things as time and our place in it. Tempus fugit.

      We’re told to treasure each day, for each is the most valuable thing we can spend. Time is our treasure. Some spend frivolously, some frugally. We ourselves work to maximize our days, but still see too much of our time slip away. We aren’t meant to have it all, maybe just enough. All we can do is the best we can with it.

      Awareness seems to be the magic ingredient for savoring. We develop a taste for living when we view it all as buried treasure in the sands of time. What lies hidden from us is revealed day-by-day, captured in photographs and memories. Our treasure is as substantial as we make it.

    • The Heart of Wisdom

      “Anticipation is the heart of wisdom. If you are going to cross a desert, you anticipate that you will be thirsty, and you take water.” ― Mark Helprin, A Soldier of the Great War

      I’m anticipating a busy day, filled with traffic and a desire to get there already. Knowing what’s in front of me, I’ve already filled the gas tank, arranged the dog sitter, agreed on a meeting place and worked through contingency plans. And all of this is just for a Thursday night in the city. Anticipation can make us nervous and edgy, or it can set the table for success. It’s all in how we dance with it.

      All that preparation is wisdom in disguise. We learn from past mistakes and, having survived it, prepare better for the next time. Challenges arise as they always do, we’re simply more ready for them than we might have been before we accumulated that wisdom.

      Taking care of the basics first is essential. The act of taking water with us anywhere we go is rarely going to work against us (TSA checkpoints excepted), along with a snack and another layer to make us comfortable when the weather inevitably changes. Maybe mom was right all along.

      And this hints at the secret to wisdom. Perhaps the wisest thing we can do is to borrow wisdom from those who have suffered similar challenges before us. History offers lessons for those who pay attention. We may be making great leaps forward in technology and available knowledge, but none of it means a thing if we go back to reinventing the wheel at the start of each journey.

    • Our Vehicle to the Future

      “Small habits don’t add up, they compound.” — James Clear

      What happens when the routine becomes, well, routine? We must change our habits in order to course correct towards something more desirable. We’ve got to disrupt what was once our normal and create a new normal. And yet we know from looking around at the world that just because a normal is new doesn’t make it desirable. Habits that once worked for us seem to conflict with the person we’d like to become. Life can feel complicated in this way.

      The leap into the unknown will happen in January for millions of people with those ambitious resolutions. We know how that will work out for most. It’s not that the goal is wrong, it’s that the desired outcome hasn’t been designed properly into our lives. Lasting change is realized through a daily reckoning with habits. James Clear would point out these habits are rather small, but compound as they become a part of our identity. Writing this blog is one of mine, and it’s survived a lot of challenging days thus far simply because not doing it on any one day would break a streak I don’t want to see broken. And here we are.

      If the pup could write she’d point out that our evening walk is another habit that must not be broken. We aim for a mile, sometimes overachieve and sometimes do half as much, but it’s our routine. And at this point in our time together, she wouldn’t have it any other way. When I travel I know I’m breaking my part of the deal and try to make it up to her with a longer walk next time.

      Habits are like contracts. Just as an athlete signs a contract and puts on the uniform of that team, we assume the identity of our collection of habits. Our interests, compounded, are who we become. But when we become interested in changing, we must turn against the current of habits that brought us to who we are now. No wonder it seems so difficult to change. Just like any of our investments, we ought to be very deliberate about where we want to be when we arrive and create a system that compounds over time. Small habits aren’t just our behavioral pattern, they’re our vehicle to the future.

    • That Which Brings You Alive

      Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
      confinement of your aloneness
      to learn
      anything or anyone
      that does not bring you alive
      is too small for you.
      — David Whyte, Sweet Darkness

      I’ve been on the receiving end of a few calls in the last week. People who I’ve worked with, befriended and sometimes mentored. I tend to listen well when all someone wants is for someone to listen. We all need that now and then, don’t we? The world is full of people who call out in the darkness. I believe that it can always use more people who answer that call.

      We’re closing in on the darkest day of the year in the northern hemisphere. I don’t mind darkness so much. I wear it like an old flannel shirt that becomes a part of us over time. I view the seasons for what they are and the changes they bring, and work to be present in it. Still, the days are very short this time of year. And for a lot of people, all that time in the dark makes the absences feel more apparent. What is missing is as much a part of who we are as what we have.

      We make the most of our situations, hopeful that things will somehow change, looking for a spark in the darkness from which we may find our way. Sometimes we overstay our time in the dark, simply because we get used to living in it. We forget sometimes that this is our one go at things. If something or someone isn’t making us feel alive, surely it’s slowly killing us. That lesson is apparent when we escape the darkness, but hard to see when we’re in it.

      Just as a match requires friction to create a spark, choosing joyful connection over isolation is a path to the light. Like attracts like, the law of attraction insists, and we find that we aren’t so alone after all. That which brings us alive is our lifeline to enlightenment and fulfillment. We shouldn’t waste a second holding on to anything else.

    • The Noble Road

      “There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.” — Ernest Hemingway

      I was out for a walk on the local rail trail, looking at the ice formations developing on the ledge, when I noticed someone had tagged some of the rock face. My opinion of tagging isn’t positive. It’s someone spray-painting inane symbols of self importance on something that in many cases was more beautiful before the affront. And yet I’m a fan of street art. It’s the same paint, but in my opinion the intent is different. I value order over chaos, and tagging nature is chaos in my mind. Collectively, we must choose a better path.

      I’m a better technical writer than I once was if only because I think more about the semicolon in Hemingway’s quote and the em dash I used to credit him for the quote than I did when I began blogging. But being a technical writer was never the aspiration (no doubt my writing still makes an editor shudder). Being a person who has something interesting to write about is the true goal. Some days are full of growth in this regard, some days leave something to be desired. The road to better continues upward.

      Better in and of itself is useless unless we leverage it for growth and enlightenment. The noble road is a path of goodwill towards others, of mutual support for common goals and uncommon dreams. It’s Kaizen (constant and never-ending improvement of the self) with the aim of arete (that forever evasive personal excellence). We may never reach excellence, but the climb towards it has a nicer view.

      We know that art is highly subjective, and one person’s junk is another’s art. I may not understand or appreciate some art for all that it represents, but I generally find connection in the intent of the work. When an artist aspires towards excellence, it shines through in both their art and in how they move through the world. We can see when someone is on the noble road just as easily as we can see when they’re on the road to ruin. The trick is to rise above the distractions of life and see which road we ourselves are on.

    • The Experience-Collecting Years

      “We all have at least the potential to make more money in the future, we can never go back and recapture time that is now gone. So it makes no sense to let opportunities pass us by for fear of squandering our money. Squandering our lives should be a much greater worry.” ― Bill Perkins, Die with Zero

      I saw an old friend at the local hardware store and caught up with him while juggling my handful of fasteners and domestic life enhancers. ’tis the season for stumbling upon old friends, as every errand seems to offer a harvest of good conversations with acquaintances from different parts of my life. When people get out of their homes more often serendipity offers opportunities we don’t get when holed up behind locked doors. Life is best experienced together, don’t you think?

      My friend in the hardware store asked me where I was traveling to next, thinking of me as a world traveller. In fact, most every friend I see asks me this question. Perhaps I overshare on social media, or perhaps they don’t travel much themselves. Who knows? I feel I don’t travel nearly enough, and that’s a driving force for more travel still. I view myself as a collector of experiences more than passport stamps, but the two tend to go hand-in-hand, mostly because if you want to experience something like climbing the Tower of Pisa or to navigate the labyrinth of the four quarters of the Old City in Jerusalem, you’ve got to travel to them.

      According to the Pew Research Center, only 11% of Americans have traveled to ten or more countries. I’m fortunate to be well past ten, and have a bucket list of countries I’d like to add to the list in my healthy, experience-collecting years. Once we’ve acquired just enough money and time to collect experiences (and it’s often a matter of prioritization), the only other currency to consider is our health. And friend, we aren’t getting any younger. With many experiences, it’s now or never. A Canadian friend, who travels far more than me, has a strategy to go to the farthest, most challenging places now, because when he’s older he won’t be able to do it. That seems pretty logical to me.

      We all have some idea of what a full life means for us. I admire people who are happy staying within the community they were born in, living a full and meaningful life within those borders, but for some of us that’s not quite enough. For we are nomads and adventurers, ambassadors and explorers. The experiences we seek aren’t meant to be for bragging rights at cocktail parties and local hardware stores, the experiences fill some void we feel within us, making us more whole.

      Our handful of experiences offers a return on investment in memories and perspective that is invaluable as we navigate the rest of our lives. In ten years what will the world look like? Will we even be able to cross certain borders? If we defer, will we be able to walk on ancient cobblestone roads or hike up icy trails in that evasive “someday, when”? There’s an opportunity cost to saying no to travel, just as there’s a financial cost to saying yes. I’m not advocating being irresponsible with financial currency, just don’t be too frugal with those health and time currencies. The best experience-collecting time is usually now.

    • Survival Skills

      “That which we persist in doing becomes easier, not that the nature of the task has changed, but our ability to do has increased.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

      “A ship in a harbor is safe but that is not what ships are built for” — John A. Shedd

      I met with several old work friends for lunch yesterday. We haven’t worked together in years, because I left their industry to try something completely different and never looked back. As with old friends we picked up right where we left off, caught each other up on other people, and stepped back into our present lives as we separated. I remember the uncertainty of leaving the industry I was in with those folks, and the climb that lay ahead of me in the industry I stepped into from there. Life offers us plenty of opportunities for growth, we just have to be bold enough to step into the unknown.

      As it turned out, later that evening I went to a holiday party with my current coworkers (I’ve been there a month now). One veteran asked me how it was going and was confused when I said I was still drinking from the firehose. It never occurred to him that my move to this new company would be full of massive change for me, because he’d been comfortably doing the same thing for years. He’s reached a level of expertise in a company that he wants to be in until he retires, and kudos to him for reaching it. I’m inclined to leap back into the unknown now and then. Call me a risk taker or reckless, but for me life is best experienced just out of my comfort zone. As soon as I get comfortable I get bored.

      That doesn’t mean that leaps should be haphazard or foolhardy. We must acquire and then leverage the survival skills we’ve developed in our lives or we’ll sink into the abyss after our leap. Organizations don’t hire people without the skills they need to fill a gap, but they take a chance on people who may have a gap in their experience but otherwise have the skills. Too often it’s us who lack the imagination to see that a gap isn’t a chasm. We may grow into the next version of ourselves simply by leaning into it. The people who stumble are usually looking backwards too much.

      Our lives up to this point have been an accumulation of survival skills that allow us to function and thrive in the complex environment we choose to live in. Where can we sail our ship next? Writing and travel are my personal call of the wild, and the small steps I’ve taken with each are merely an accumulation of skills. You might have a different call of the wild and other skills begging to be tested. The thing is, we’ve heard the call, and we’re often we’re more ready to answer it than we give ourselves credit for. Is that safe harbor really enough? Asking the question usually reveals the answer that was awaiting our attention.