Alexandersmap

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    • Being Helpful

      “We are all here on earth to help others; what on earth the others are here for, I don’t know’” — John Foster Hall

      There are people in this world less inclined to help others. We tend to identify them rather quickly by their presence in our lives. Presence is a blessing or a curse, depending on the willingness of the helper to let the helped learn to fly on their own. We’ve all seen helicopter parents who stunt the development of a child in their eagerness to help make everything perfect in the lives of their children. We’ve all had micromanagers as bosses, who won’t let a single detail slip in their quest to control the situation. Presence isn’t always welcome, but in the right dosage it becomes the gift of a lifetime.

      Most of us want to be helpful in some capacity. What’s really helpful is awareness. When we are truly aware of the world around us, we form situational awareness. Situational awareness is seeing the big picture and the critical details all at once. First responders must develop acute situational awareness to truly understand what they’re charging into. Teachers must develop situational awareness to truly understand the struggles their students are having, that they may address the hurdles that impede a student from rising to meet the lesson.

      Helpfulness is a skill developed through living. When we learn how to cook or clean up and bandage a cut we’re developing helpful skills. When we learn to listen to understand we develop the skill of getting the the root of the problem, that it may be addressed head-on. We find purpose in our lives when we discover where we may be most helpful in this world.

      The best teams, and the best partnerships, are made up of people who bring different skills to the table. Great teams, partnerships and marriages last because each party is present and aware of the needs of others, and steps in to fill gaps each individual is best equipped to fill. Whole societies are built on the shoulders of people willing to set aside their differences and work to a common good. When we choose to be helpful the world is a far better place.

      Knowing that helpfulness is a skill, and knowing that the world is full of people in need of help, we may find a path to purpose. There’s no doubt the world needs more people willing to roll up their sleeves to lend a hand. Being helpful is the glue that holds this whole thing together. There’s joy in helping others. Why else would we be here anyway?

    • Processing Time

      “Wash the dishes relaxingly, as though each bowl is an object of contemplation. Consider each bowl as sacred. Follow your breath to prevent your mind from straying. Do not try to hurry to get the job over with. Consider washing the dishes the most important thing in life. Washing the dishes is meditation. If you cannot wash the dishes in mindfulness, neither can you meditate while sitting in silence.” — Thich Nhat Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness: A Manual on Meditation

      The writing of the blog post started late this morning, with fresh snow to clear from the driveway a priority, and a relatively subdued morning to follow. The words will come, as they always do, and they’re often better for having changed up the routine. I know I was the better for having done a small bit of exercise in the cold air with a pink and orange kaleidoscope of dancing clouds greeting me through the bare trees.

      The driveway and I have an understanding. If the snow is heavy and wet and more than two inches, I use the snowblower. If light and fluffy and less than four inches, I alway shovel. All other conditions fall somewhere in between, but I default to the shovel when it’s a reasonable ask of myself. I do this because so little in our lives is analog or manual anymore. We’ve got engines and batteries and computers for everything nowadays. These things do the work for us, but rob us of time to process anything in our minds. How many drive to the gym to walk on a treadmill, watching the screen in front of them take them to another place? How does that stir the imagination? I have a friend who walks through the woods to work every day and consider him the luckiest commuter I know.

      We must design a lifestyle that allows us to contemplate things, and to dream and discover things about the world and ourselves. There must be time in our daily lives for us to reflect on the world and our place in it, or we will remain nothing but distracted souls like all the rest. That’s not us, friend. Carve out and protect that processing time. As a bonus, we’ll be greeted with a job well done and a wee bit more clarity.

    • Countdown Days

      I dabble in spreadsheets. It began (and continues) as a necessary skill in my career, but really I love the story that numbers tell you. Not too long ago I mapped out the next five years on a spreadsheet, just to see what I was working with. Using a specific date of relevance as a target date for zero, I created a countdown to that date. It turned out to be a nice round number: 1900. That became my five year plan number, and so a countdown began.

      A countdown to what? Why, the person I want to be at that number. What I want to be doing and where I want to be doing it. All sorts of things come into play then: fitness level, financial goals, career accomplishments, places to be visited, books to be read or written, and yes: daily blog posts (who’s up for 1900 more?!).

      You can fit a lot into 1900 lines on a spreadsheet if you try hard enough. I have many goals in my life, and I started plugging in events and trips and milestones onto that spreadsheet. It turns out there’s a lot to do in 1900 days, and one can’t very well waste them. But 1900 is a big number, best broken down into bite-sized bits. 90 days is something many of us can relate to. It’s a quarter of a year, three months, one trimester. 90 days is a number we can grasp and work with. Divide 1900 by 90 and you get 21 and change. It turns out 1900 wasn’t optimal after all, but it’s the number and loose change be damned. That loose change is full of days of ripe experience, or at least they ought to be, and who’s going to complain about a few extra days as a buffer against the curveballs of life?

      90 days offer countdowns within countdowns. We can break it down to 30 days and weeks and single days, and do what we can with them in their time. Life is a countdown, and we all know the score. The end game isn’t the zero we reach on our expiration but the blank spaces we fill up along the way. Putting things in black and white offers a clear imperative. Do something with today lest it slip away. Tempus fugit.

      Upcoming events become countdowns within a countdown too. Some trips I’m looking forward to are counting down as I write this, and I calculate the things that must happen between now and then, adding to-do items to a growing list and get to it. There’s growing excitement in a countdown, and I feel the stir of faraway places and future goals and tasks accomplished in each entry on the spreadsheet.

      The key to a blank spreadsheet is filling in what we’re measuring. We aren’t just counting down to nothing after all: we’re creating a lifetime of memories, filled with all the things that make up our days. A countdown merely brings focus to an otherwise ambiguous stack. Like any great salesperson, we must sell the vision. In this case, we’re selling ourselves on the vision, that we might take the necessary steps to get from here to there. When we finish, we can see all the things we did to get there, and celebrate the journey all the more.

      But why five years and change? Haven’t we got so much more left in the tank than that? We must set a fixed date in our future that we might strive for more in that timeframe. Sure, we all anticipate many more days. If we’re lucky enough we can add a few more countdowns after this one is done. But that’s a much longer spreadsheet, isn’t it? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

    • Maps

      “A map is not the territory it represents, but, if correct, it has a similar structure to the territory, which accounts for its usefulness.” — Alfred Korzybski, Science and Sanity

      “A map is the greatest of all epic poems. Its lines and colors show the realization of great dreams.” – Gilbert Grosvenor

      I was having a conversation with a friend the other day. I’d asked him when was the last time someone had pulled up asking for directions? It just doesn’t happen now—there’s a phone app for that. That same app takes us to parties and work appointments and the Grand Canyon. Maps are relegated to the wall or the imagination. GPS rules the road now.

      Grosvenor, the founder of National Geographic, had it right when he compared a map to poetry. It stirs the imagination similarly. When you look at a great map of a place, how can you not be stirred to explore that place? Maps whisper to me like Sean O’Connell beckoned to Walter Mitty: Go!

      The name of this blog is Alexander’s map for a reason, it’s based on William Alexander’s pamphlet Encouragement to Colonies and my own wanderings around the northeast corner of North America. I saw a replica of the map Alexander commissioned in a conference room in Newfoundland and it sparked my imagination, which is exactly why he had it commissioned in the first place. I just came into the picture a bit later than he’d planned. That one map completely changed the person who viewed it that day.

      If maps are no longer needed for everyday use, they still have a place in our lives. Maps give us the big picture, while a GPS just tells you where to go. We must always reference the big picture when determining where we want to go in our lives, while remembering always that the map is not the territory. The world is more complicated than that.

      What sparks our imagination? Where do we want to go in our lives, and what tools are we using to get there? The answers to these questions are more important than we might believe.

    • Shared Experience

      Calling California or new to New York
      It don’t matter where you wanna roam
      It don’t matter high or low or the clothes you wanna wear
      We’re making good time with your hand fitting into mine
      Every mile you’re where my story goes
      It don’t matter fast or slow we’re gettin’ there
      — Graham Colton, Gettin’ There

      It’s still very much winter in New England (snow is flying even as I write this), but spring fever is beginning to creep up within me. The desire to get out in the world and meet it is always present, balanced by an underlying sense of place appreciating right where I am already. Life is full of choices, and with choice comes opportunity cost. We can’t do it all, but we can build a life that allows us to optimize some experiences we value more than others.

      I write this knowing I’m traveling a lot in the coming months. Travel doesn’t feel real until you’re doing it, and the paradox of travel is it doesn’t always feel real when you’re actually doing it either. That is unless you travel frequently and become conditioned to living out of a bag. Having lived both sides of this lifestyle, I know the opportunity cost of both.

      The best travel is done with people you want to share experiences with. In the end, our experiences together are the most rewarding. When we think about our favorite memories, most of them involve being around others. My solo hikes and visits to incredible places around the world were wonderful, but would have been that much better as a shared experience. If I ever seem to be in a hurry to get to any next phase of my life, it’s mostly so that I might share more experiences with the people who mean the most to me.

      We can’t rush through life. Experience means nothing if we aren’t immersed in it. Yes, there is a cost, but also an underlying opportunity in being “here, now” that we can’t miss out on. The trick is to be aware and present for all of it, even as we structure our lives to maximize that time together. We’re writing a story of a lifetime, after all, and every great story is better shared with others.

    • Past and Present

      “It is a mistake to think that the past is dead. Nothing that has ever happened is quite without influence at this moment. The present is merely the past rolled up and concentrated in this second of time. You, too, are your past; often your face is your autobiography; you are what you are because of what you have been; because of your heredity stretching back into forgotten generations; because of every element of environment that has affected you, every man or woman that has met you, every book that you have read, every experience that you have had; all these are accumulated in your memory, your body, your character, your soul. And so it is with a city, a country, a race; it is its past, and cannot be understood without it. It is the present, not the past, that dies; this present moment, to which we give so much attention, is forever flitting from our eyes and fingers into that pedestal and matrix of our lives which we call the past. It is only the past that lives.” — Will Durant, Fallen Leaves

      Super Bowl Sunday was a fun day for many, a crushing day for a few, and a collective memory for all who paid it any attention. Life marches on, no matter which team won or which celebrity did what at the game. It’s all a game in the end. The fact that I woke feeling pretty good overall is far more important to me than who won the game (particularly since “my team” hadn’t even made the playoffs).

      We are each a collection of our past living on within us. We do what we must with the present trying to make it great and to set up a better version of us tomorrow, but our identity is always built on what we’ve done in the past that brought us here. We are all writing our life’s story, our greatest hits, and our obituary. We ought to make it shine.

      A few years ago I started logging what I did every day in a line per day journal. It’s a great way to focus on making something memorable of every day, but it’s also a great way to look back at the breadcrumbs of a life that brought us from there to here. The blank pages to come are full of optimism, but the pages that have been filled are who we really are.

      My recent past has involved looking at several paths forward, weighing each, dismissing some and leaning in to others. Humans must look to the future, even as we live a present built on our past. Our question is always, “What’s next?” and we spend our lives trying to find the answer. Our present, on the other hand, forever answers a different question: “How have you been?” We ought to like the answer. Yesterday is gone, but it lives on within us.

    • Stars and Snowflakes and Would-Be Poets

      Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
      That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
      But on earth indifference is the least
      We have to dread from man or beast.

      How should we like it were stars to burn
      With a passion for us we could not return?
      If equal affection cannot be,
      Let the more loving one be me.

      Admirer as I think I am
      Of stars that do not give a damn,
      I cannot, now I see them, say
      I missed one terribly all day.

      Were all stars to disappear or die,
      I should learn to look at an empty sky
      And feel its total dark sublime,
      Though this might take me a little time.
      — W. H. Auden, The More Loving One

      The indifference of the universe to our lives offers lessons. It’s seen characters like us before and will again. Sure, like snowflakes there may never be another just like us in all of time, but how many snowflakes stand out? I cast them aside by the shovelful. Yet every now and then one shows up that delights. The first and last of a season, surely, but also that rare character who sticks to a cold windshield at just the right moment to make a lasting impression. Blogging isn’t so very much different than the life of that one snowflake, is it? So it goes.

      I don’t write all that much poetry, but I aspire to write like a poet. My writing isn’t so different from Thoreau’s, in that I ramble on for a spell before getting to the point. With Thoreau we can forgive the technique as he casts insights about like grass seed in his best work. My own technique is to keep my blog posts to a few paragraphs lest I lose you forever.

      The last two nights I’ve been up late, crossing the midnight hour with a walk outside to give the pup some relief before bedtime. The ritual is always the same: flip on the spotlight, look for skunks or other critters that would ruin a perfectly good bedtime ritual, then walk out into the starry dome to let the pup do her business. My own business at such a time is simply to wonder at the stars as Auden did in his day.

      What will come of all this? There’s no doubt that the would-be poet is the more loving one in their time, aware of so very much in an indifferent universe. To be more than a snowflake on the windshield of time is too bold an aspiration. Isn’t it simply enough to be aware and celebrate the miracle of reaching one more night? Words may live on or simply melt away, but they’ve been released to dance with the universe nonetheless.

    • Opportunity Cost

      “There is an opportunity cost for everything we do. This is why we must have the awareness to ensure that what we are pursuing is really what we value, because the pursuit leaves countless lost opportunities in its wake. We choose one experience at the sacrifice of all other experiences.” — Chris Matakas, The Tao of Jiu Jitsu

      As we grow up we begin to encounter the reality of opportunity cost. Simply put, when we do one thing, we naturally can’t be doing another thing. Compound that fact over time and we grow into a completely different person than the person we’d have been doing that other thing. Now multiply those two options by a lifetime of options and we see the challenge of choice in a person’s life.

      For every hike not taken, there’s an opportunity cost of not having been there. On the other hand, hiking has its own opportunity cost in experiences not shared with friends and family. Writing this blog every day costs me time I could be working out more, or walking the dog, or getting a head start on the day. I spent many years of my life not writing every day, and there was surely a cost to that too. Life is full of tradeoffs. The only guarantee is we’re running out of time every day we live.

      We ought to consider opportunity cost in our decisions, but weighed against the return on our investment. When the return is high enough, it becomes worthy of our time. Time is life after all, and those grains of sand aren’t being refilled in the hourglass. Spend wisely, but don’t regret what was left undone while chasing something with a high rate of personal return. Regrets are a waste of time better spent on the next opportunity.

    • Earning Deserving

      “To get what you want, you have to deserve what you want. The world is not yet a crazy enough place to reward a whole bunch of undeserving people.” ― Charles Munger

      “Success is not to be pursued; it is to be attracted by the person you become.” — Jim Rohn

      We are all trying to reach someplace better than we began. Some of us began in a pretty decent position, some are well behind the 8 ball. It would be irresponsible to not acknowledge that starting position isn’t important in our lives. Head-starts do matter, but we ought to remember that where we start doesn’t guarantee where we finish. Most people in a free society have agency over their lives. Many simply choose to relinquish it.

      We all know examples of people who waste their potential. The mirror is particularly handy when we think of those what-might-have-beens. There’s an old saying about mirrors being much smaller than windshields for a reason: we must look forward not back to get where we want to go. Put another way, if we aren’t moving forward we’re in danger of being dragged backwards by the past.

      But forward is daunting. It’s changing the very things that make us who we are, and becoming someone else. The same is comfortable, while change seems like a lot of work. Crossing that chasm seems impossible at times. This is where that small mirror can help offer perspective. Think of the things that we once thought were impossibilities in our lives that are now core parts of our identity. The future doesn’t look so daunting when viewed from the lens of possibility.

      Sure, excellence is a habit. Who doesn’t want to reach their level of personal excellence? It turns out plenty of people would rather be comfortable than try to leap across chasms. More often than not, I’d rather be comfortable than working out or hiking up a mountain or doing the work that leads to uncommon results in my career. The struggle is real, and the only way forward is to take those incremental steps necessary to move onward and upward. When we keep checking boxes we close gaps between who we were and who we want to become. Deep down, we know that deserving is earned one step at a time. It turns out that all that really matters is what we do next.

    • Words That Will Last

      Now I’m a reader of the night sky
      And a singer of inordinate tunes
      That’s how I float across time, living way past my prime
      Like a long lost baby’s balloon
      So I hang on to the string, work that whole gravity thing
      But when my space ship goes pop, back to the earth I will drop
      Into the sea, or the limbs of a tree
      Or the wings of my love
      And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do
      Maybe invent me a story or two
      I’ve got coastal confessions to make
      How ’bout you, how ’bout you?
      They say that time is like a river
      And stories are the key to the past
      But now I’m stuck in-between here at my typing machine
      Trying to come up with some words that will last
      It’s so easy to see that we live history
      And if I just find the beat, I know I’ll land on my feet
      I always do, hadn’t got a clue
      Does it come from above?
      — Jimmy Buffett, Coastal Confessions

      On those occasions where I debate the merit of Jimmy Buffett to the catalog of great lyricists, I generally point to Coastal Confessions or A Pirate Looks at 40 as examples of a writer tapping into magic. As a person trying to tap into magic now and then myself, I appreciate a great poem disguised as song. We’re all trying to find words that will last a beat longer than the average sound bite, aren’t we?

      Lately I’m caught up in refining my habits and routines, that I might be more efficient and such. This betrays a desire to do work that matters with the urgency of a quarterback who’s seen that this game is all about clock management. We can be the most brilliant player on the field and it won’t matter a lick if we run out of time before we complete the drive. The thing is, even when we do everything perfectly, sometimes the kick goes wide right. The universe has its own say in how things play out. Memento mori, Carpe diem. Amor fati.

      This blog remains a line of breadcrumbs between where I started and where I am today. The path ahead is only hinted at. Breadcrumbs have a way of being swallowed up in time. I’m not naive enough to believe any of these words will last as they are published. In the end, it’s the ripple, not the splash that lingers. A splash is immediate, the ripple may touch people who were never aware there was a splash at all. The thing is, the world is full of people trying to make a bigger splash than everyone else. That leads to a confused sea state, with ripples coming from all directions. Best to set our own course and invite others along for the ride. I’ve set my own course for the coast of somewhere beautiful.

      Speaking of confused sea states, I’ve just lumped a few analogies into one short blog post. What else is new? Some of these themes have repeated over and over again. That’s inevitable with a couple of thousand blog posts, but it’s mostly just me reminding myself to keep going with it. The story is still being written, after all. We can’t control the result but we can manage the clock a bit, and discover that we love the game.