Alexandersmap

    Blog

    • Emergency Room Poetry

      “I don’t know if I will ever write another poem. I don’t know if I am going to live for a long time yet, or even for a while.
      But I am going to spend my life wisely. I’m going to be happy, and frivolous, and useful….
      To rise like a slow and beautiful poem. To live a long time.”
      — Mary Oliver, Fletcher Oak

      Hours waiting quietly in an emergency room, alongside the patient dozing on a bed nearby, her husband dozing in a chair next to me, and a constant stream of activity feet away as the frailty of humans is displayed in one example after another. But not just frailty—resiliency is also on display. So many people fighting for better health and another day. We have only to see the staff in an emergency room in action to know that the best of humanity lingers among us.

      It’s unspoken, but acknowledged. You assess the people around you and the suffering they’re dealing with in this particular moment in our collective history. They do the same with you. What brought us all here? Most often not how we expected this day to go. Yet here we are. Amor fati.

      The waiting rooms in hospitals usually have televisions broadcasting something uncontroversial, like cooking shows. There’s already enough tension in such places without pouring gas on the fire. But inside the locked door where treatment happens (or where you await it) there are no such distractions as cooking shows. It’s here that people learn to listen to themselves again, or glance at others, or most often, text and scroll with the outside world, far from this place.

      I chose Mary Oliver. Poetry in the quiet moments awaiting answers, awaiting treatment for those I support, those who have supported me on my own down days. Here I sat in awe of doctors and nurses doing what is routine for them. Asking questions and texting updates when there were any, feeding crackers to the patient and joking about sneaking gin and tonics in. Whatever it took to make the moment better. To be useful in a challenging moment is all we can ask of ourselves.

    • To Be Where I Have Been

      Oh, let the sun beat down upon my face
      And stars fill my dream
      I’m a traveler of both time and space
      To be where I have been
      — Led Zeppelin, Kashmir

      We walk on familiar ground most days. Even the avid travelers tend to cross their wake more often than one would expect. I’ve gone through the same security line countless times at the airport on journeys to faraway places, just as sailors note the mouth of the river as the beginning of their next passage. The destinations change, just as we do, yet that which we’ve seen before sends us off or welcomes us back.

      Each day at home is a routine of familiarity. This may be seen as reprovisioning the body and soul (and wallet) before the next voyage, or a welcome embrace back to where we feel we belong. I plot my next trip even now, yet still grow a garden. We nomads are complicated creatures.

      There are voyages to places, and voyages in our personal development. We need both to feel complete on the journey. Perhaps at our final destination we’ll finally feel satiated, but I believe we just get tired. Growth is our ongoing mission, start to finish, wherever that ends up being. We may have hopes and dreams and a clear path to take us there and still never arrive at any of it. Then again, we may just stumble upon it and realize we’ve arrived sooner than expected.

    • Proper Work

      “How important it is to walk along, not in haste but slowly, looking at everything and calling out Yes! No! … Imagination is better than a sharp instrument. To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.” — Mary Oliver, Yes! No!

      I saw some pictures of friends off on some beautiful hike over the weekend, and other friends reawakening their sailboat before setting off for adventure. My own activity this weekend was less inspiring. Instead of adventure, I found some new soreness this weekend, earned with a pressure washer and a tall stepladder navigated to high places to make the house shine a little brighter. Sometimes our proper work is doing chores that have been nagging us for awhile, that we may return our focus to the universe yet again.

      The thing is, when I walked the pup later in the afternoon when the sun was shining just so, the house smiled back at me. We become what we put into the world, and a bit of housework does the body and soul good. It may sound silly, but I can look at a sparkling clean house and say “I did that” just as proudly as if I’d hiked up Mount Washington. The memories are different, but every journey set out upon that is completed counts for something.

      Proper work is highly subjective, but in the end it’s the things that we apply focus to that moves us forward. Writing this blog—to me—is proper work. So is tending the garden and washing the dishes and calling the customer you know is angry because it’s the right thing to do to hear them out and help them move to a better place. To be present and engaged in each thing that we do matters a great deal, for it’s the stuff of life and we only have the one go at it.

      What we say yes and no to in our days becomes our identity. When this day is complete, what will it say about us? We ought to slow down just enough to see the path we’re on, that we may know where we’ve been, and perhaps, where we’re going next. And so if you’ll excuse me the blog is now complete for the day, and it seems I have even more work to do.

    • The Yes Behind the No

      I recently looked at a boat, thinking it would be a very nice time to shift back to boat life. I’ve since backed away from that particular boat, for now, that I might make the most of the ripening moments at hand. The boat and I have an understanding that we may meet again someday. If it’s meant to be.

      We say yes to some things knowing that we’re saying no to other things. That’s the lesson every child must learn to become an adult. We can’t have it all, no matter how much money or power we attain in our lives. There’s always a no hiding behind a yes.

      We all know some people who should be adults who refuse to take no for an answer. Give them enough power and they’re capable of making life miserable for the rest of us. Wars are started because people can’t stand a no. But no’s will always be there, mocking us as we grab every yes, creating yet another no.

      Like a heartbeat, drives you mad
      In the stillness of remembering what you had
      And what you lost
      And what you had
      And what you lost
      — Fleetwood Mac, Dreams

      The very best humans are those who love the yes they’re living, with a gentle nod to the no they’re leaving to whither on the vine. That’s not a call to settle for less than we’re capable of, merely a nod to knowing when you reach your dreams and loving them for what they are. The yes will always be there, awaiting the right time. If it never arrives perhaps it wasn’t meant to. The most essential thing, I think, is to be fully aware of the yes we’ve let into our lives.

    • Foundations

      “Mistakes are, after all, the foundations of truth, and if a man does not know what a thing is, it is at least an increase in knowledge if he knows what it is not.” ― Carl Jung

      Navigating years as they unfold may make us more intelligent, or less so, depending on the lessons learned along the way. I’m shocked at the distinct lack of intelligence displayed in some people my age or well past it. I’m impressed with the brilliance and maturity of some people much younger than me. I’m sure I shock them at times too by what I don’t know at my own age. Such is the journey through time for each individual.

      We all ought to make more mistakes along the way if only to figure out that we should take another path to becoming. Fear of mistakes is what keeps us from going anywhere at all. There are times in our life when we debate whether to take a hard left instead of staying on a familiar course. Both are deeply impactful, but which elevates our experience the most? Life is full of such forks, and most follow the path well-travelled. And that makes a difference too.

      We don’t learn and grow by staying the same. We must challenge ourselves in new ways, that we may build a stronger foundation from which to see the world differently. Our lifetime of learning and experience, reflected and acted upon, carries us to a greater and more profound identity. It’s right here in front of us, where we might ask once again, what next?

    • Insert the Grateful

      Gratitude
      Sometimes all you need is
      Gratitude
      Just try and hold on to
      The city lights
      Sunrise, long drives
      Late nights, shady groves
      The love we know
      Isn’t that what matters most?
      These things aren’t a given
      They’re the heartbeats of time
      A songbird in the wind
      The wind in the pines
      — Drew Holcomb & The Neighbors, Gratitude

      We humans are particularly good at focusing on what we don’t have, often at the expense of the abundance we have all around us. The beautiful thing about living fully aware in the moment is that you notice those things that might have been missed in rushing off to the next. We ought to know better, but looking ahead anticipating something better is part of our identity.

      I’m not particularly good at doing those gratitude journals. Usually at the end of the day I’m just trying to insert one last positive habit that moves me forward like Duolingo, flossing or reading before I doze off. Maybe the answer isn’t to assess what we’re grateful for at the end of the day, but to insert the gratitude into small moments as they unfold around us. It helps to remind ourselves to stick around awhile in this moment. After all, savoring is only done in the present. And here it is!

      Look around at all that is beautiful in our lives, not just the things we’re antagonized by. It’s only a beat longer to pause and acknowledge to ourselves that this particular moment of beauty and light is a blessing before we move on. Here lies happiness.

    • For Such a Time As This

      “And who knoweth whether thou art not therefore come to the kingdom, that thou mightest be ready in such a time as this?” — Esther 4:14

      Is your glass half full or half empty? Mine tends to be half full. That doesn’t mean I go through life with blinders on, just that I find the silver lining in the rain cloud. So what if we get a little wet? That’s how we grow.

      Living a great life is indeed an art, but like all artists we can learn and grow into our work. These are our days, such as they are. We can treat it as winning the lottery or a tough break in the timing. I’ll choose the former, thank you. There’s nothing to be gained from cursing our own existence in the time and place we landed. Double down on dancing and dare them to think us crazy.

      If we are to believe we hit the birth lottery by being born at all, then we ought to make the most of it. We’re all playing with house money living here and now. We can be frivolous with our time or frugal, but it will slip away from our grasp just the same. Purpose is the answer, I should think. When we contribute to something bigger than ourselves we find a bit of immortality, for that ripple continues on beyond our small splash. Knowing this, perhaps we may let that embolden us to reach higher and wider.

    • No Time for Fog

      “Be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high. Then life seems almost enchanted after all.”
      ― Vincent Van Gogh

      Some days the enchantment of living boils down to how well you slept the night before. I’m blessed with more restful nights than restless, which I suppose leads to more awareness and, it follows, enchantment with the universe. For those other days? There’s always coffee or a plunge into cold water. If we are otherwise healthy, we must approach our days with urgency and the belief that we have no time to waste wandering around in a fog.

      I’m quite aware that I’m falling behind on the journey to personal excellence (arete). That’s not an indictment on the generally good person I try to be, more an acknowledgement that we humans have a long hill to climb and I started paying attention late in the game. We ought to be born feeling the urgency, but most of us figure it out after enough trips around the sun.

      The thing is, we can’t walk around all day with our head in the clouds. There’s no time for fog when we wish to visit the stars in our brief dance. So when we encounter it we ought to strive to rise above it. That requires a steady climb to a higher plane with the dogged attitude that we must do something in our time. Arete is reserved for the gods, of course, not us humans. All we can do is strive to meet our potential and find enchantment on the climb.

    • Productive Motion

      Some of us abhor stasis. I can’t imagine sitting in one place for long without some measure of productivity involved. To lie on a beach towel? Only possible with a great book or conversation happening, otherwise I’m out of there. Give me motion please.

      But often motion is just its own distraction. To “fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way”, as David Gilmore put it, can be thought of as scandalous and wasteful, whether we’re moving or sitting around doing nothing much at all. But that’s being human, isn’t it? We all waste some amount of our time in the course of living a full life. But we ought to lean into things that move us forward.

      We know what’s essential for us, why do we fill our bucket with fluff? Because it kills time? Our habits and routines will carry us to greater places or drag us sideways down the abyss. We may have a say in our fate.

      So it is that I’ve begun weeding the routine to foster growth in the productive and important at the expense of the frivolous habitual. A bit more productive exercise, a bit less watching YouTube videos. A bit more reading, a bit less scrolling. It’s amazing where we find the time when we add a bit of selective bias to our habits.

    • To Do, Beautifully

      “My time here is short; what can I do most beautifully?” — As quoted by James Patterson

      This is stoicism in a nutshell. Acknowledgement that our time is limited (memento mori), with the follow on question; what will I do about it (carpe diem) that will resonate most for me and possibly others? That the most successful author in book sales frequently drops that quote serves both the author and those who will hear the call. It’s akin to old friend Mary Oliver’s challenge at the end of her most cherished poem, The Summer Day:

      Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
      Tell me, what is it you plan to do
      with your one wild and precious life?
      —Mary Oliver

      The question of questions for each of us is what to do with our precious time. The answer is usually to waste it in distractions and deferment. Why set course today when we can keep doing what we’ve always done, assuming a tomorrow? We know the folly of this even as we master the art of procrastination. We must feel the urgency in the question and take the steps that lead to our answer. We aren’t here simply to enjoy the ride, but to love our verse.

      That you are here—that life exists and identity,
      That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
      — Walt Whitman, O Me! O Life!

      So begins another day. We can’t control everything, but we can control this next thing. To step into beautiful, and bring light to the dark. In doing so, we may pass the torch to those who would follow. There is only now to make our mark.