Alexandersmap

    Category: Career

    • Can’t See the Open Road

      Mellow is the man who knows what he’s been missing
      Many, many men can’t see the open road
      — Led Zeppelin, Over the Hills and Far Away

      Huddled in a group at an Irish pub, four men scheming for the future: one free of obligations and ready to roam, one surfing the peak of his career and working to cash in before it crashes, one just riding the swell and hoping this time—this time— he’d caught the right wave, and me, a would-be writer and wanderer observing the human condition. I’m surfing my own wave, of course, but don’t we all dream of coming about, hoisting the main and sailing away instead?

      “We labour at our daily work more ardently and thoughtlessly than is necessary to sustain our life because it is even more necessary not to have leisure to stop and think. Haste is universal because everyone is in flight from himself.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche, Untimely Meditations

      Nowadays we can all see what we’ve been missing in YouTube videos, Instagram and Facebook posts, or wherever you choose to live vicariously through the lens of others. My own favorite footage often involves drones flying above stunning landscapes, as if I were flying myself. And don’t we all wish to fly?

      But the question is, do we wish to fly away from something or towards something? For life is short and we can’t waste our precious time running away from ourselves. Yet so many do, in distraction and debauchery and debate. It’s easy to run away, but impossible to really get away from that nagging discontent.

      Old friend Henry David Thoreau pointed out that “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” He would also say that, “So thoroughly and sincerely are we compelled to live, reverencing our life, and denying the possibility of change. This is the only way, we say; but there are as many ways as there can be drawn radii from one centre. All change is a miracle to contemplate; but it is a miracle which is taking place every instant.”

      In other words, life is change, everything is changing around us even as we debate what we ought to do with ourselves. Which brings me back to a constant refrain: We must decide what to be and go be it. And be content with that which we leave behind.

    • Strategic, Interested Experiencing

      “When people stop believing in an afterlife, everything depends on making the most of this life. And when people start believing in progress—in the idea that history is headed toward an ever more perfect future—they feel far more acutely the pain of their own little lifespan, which condemns them to missing out on almost all of that future. And so they try to quell their anxieties by cramming their lives with experience.” — Oliver Burkeman, Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals

      Burkeman’s statement isn’t something you just fly by without contemplation. I have people in my life who would be indignant about the very idea of there being no afterlife. You might say I’m more open to the concept. But no matter what your belief about what happens next, most would agree in the concept of the infinite unknown. It was here before we were conceived and began our march through borrowed time, and it will envelope us again sooner than we’re comfortable with thinking about. Really, it’s all around us, we’re just stubbornly alive beings bumping up against infinity every day until we rejoin it. Giddy-Up.

      We get busy in life, marching through our days and obligations. I was just thinking to myself that I’m a bit short on micro-adventures lately. Blame it on my day job running parallel to this blog. I have a few friends that question my sanity for trading so many of my four thousand weeks for a career. But life is more than chasing waterfalls and sunsets. You’ve got to make something of your time, don’t you? Or do you need to do something in your time? Can you do both? Can we really have it all?

      Burkeman recommends “strategic underachievement”, which is simply “nominating in advance whole areas of life in which you won’t expect excellence of yourself” to mitigate the underlying stress of living for both commitments and experience. Focus on what you want to excel in, and gently put the rest aside on the priority list—placing the not-so-important stuff into tomorrow is a gentle way of punting what doesn’t really matter in this brash act of living life on our own terms.

      “Tomorrow is for the lazy mind, the sluggish mind, the mind that is not interested” — Jiddu Krishnamurti

      The answer, I believe, is to focus on the things that make you feel most alive, things that put you right in the mix of a fulfilling, satisfying life. That might be a sunset in the tropics or washing the dishes with your favorite song playing louder than it should. Embracing the mundane and the remarkable as it comes, but prioritizing that which places you squarely where you might maximize these experiences. We ought to decide what we want to savor most, and what to let fall away.

      Let’s face it, passively waiting for life experiences to come your way leads to a whole lot of waiting. Strategic underachievement in one area of your life means you’ve got to proactively work to strategically overachieve in other areas. Be interested in this business of living! Get up off your passive expectations about living and go out and meet the things you most want to achieve, be and do in this short life. Not so much “cramming experience”, but rather, strategic, and interested, experiencing. Wherever we might be.

    • Catching Up & Bridging Gaps

      The idea of catching up is tantalizing. I use this phrase often in two contexts; catching up with someone I haven’t spoken with in some time, and catching up on work that’s piled up in my work or personal ambition buckets. This week I did a fair amount of catching up in both contexts. But we never really catch up, do we? We mostly just shrink the gap between people, workload or expectations before we inevitably see the gap widen again. We’re all just so… busy.

      The act of getting reacquainted, of meeting to see how someone’s been, what’s up with the family, how so-and-so’s doing, is a lovely form of catching up. There’s so much loneliness and division in the world today, fueled by the pandemic and political inclination, and the general categorization of people into one camp or another. It should be so easy to just put it all aside and listen to each other. Many people just don’t want to deal with conflict or focus on differences of opinion, and so we just don’t communicate at all.

      But there’s joy in bridging the gap. Finding common ground and dancing in the light of understanding and acceptance. When we close that gap we draw closer together, and feel the humanity of another. When we ghost each other, block people on social media, and gossip about what the other is doing the gap widens. I’ve shrunk from a few people over the last several years, finding their opinions repulsive. Yet I know there’s still common ground should we ever sit down to catch up. We go on with our lives without those people in it, but feel the void where the relationship calved. Stack up enough of these and it’s death by a thousand cuts. No wonder people are lonely and stressed out.

      At least there’s work to take our minds off the world, right? But even here the gap between what needs to be done and what we can possibly accomplish feels impossibly large. We catch up on one thing and see the gap widen in another. Supply chain issues, labor shortages, trust issues… it’s enough to make you throw your hands up in the air and buy a boat or camper to get out of Dodge. We work until the wheels come off and then teeter trying to balance on what’s left.

      The reality is we’ll never quite catch up, and that’s okay. We decide where to close gaps and where to let things stay adrift. When the time is right–if the time is ever right–we’ll come back to that which we’ve neglected and, well, catch up once again.

    • Serious, True Work… Foreseen

      The stamina of an old, long-noble race
      in the eyebrows’ heavy arches. In the mild
      blue eyes, the solemn anguish of a child
      and, here and there, humility—not a fool’s,
      but feminine: the look of one who serves.
      The mouth quite ordinary, large and straight,
      composed, yet not unwilling to speak out
      when necessary. The forehead still naive,
      most comfortable in shadows, looking down.

      This, as a whole, just hazily foreseen—
      never, in any joy or suffering,
      collected for a firm accomplishment;
      and yet, as though, from far off, with scattered
      Things,
      a serious, true work were being planned.
      – Rainer Maria Rilke, Self-Portrait, 1906

      Rilke wrote this after three decades on the planet, with an assessment of himself that doesn’t leap out for its enthusiasm, nor with overt criticism. Here was a man who was planning great things for himself but knew he had a long climb ahead. He apprenticed with Auguste Rodin around the time he wrote this, and got a sense of what the singular pursuit of mastery looks like. And he’d apply it to himself.

      Rilke’s future was hazy, but he could sense his own potential. He sought an apprenticeship to learn how to cross the chasm from average to master himself. The last line betrays his belief in bigger things. I don’t speak German, and thus rely on the translation. Here is his original:

      Das, als Zusammenhang, erst nur geahnt;
      noch nie im Leiden oder im Gelingen
      zusammgefaßt zu dauerndem Durchdringen,
      doch so, als wäre mit zerstreuten Dingen
      von fern ein Ernstes, Wirkliches geplant.

      So here we are, collectively emerging from the shadow of a couple of dark years and looking squarely in the face of a new year. New possibilities. What do we make of it? What do we sacrifice or say no to in pursuit of our plans? For in looking inward for the answer we must wrestle with the question of what we might leave behind. The comfort of the familiar pulls us backwards. The only choice is moving ahead. Should we dare act on what we’ve foreseen.

    • Crossing the Stream to Deeper

      “If you want to win the war for attention, don’t try to say ‘no’ to the trivial distractions you find on the information smorgasbord; try to say ‘yes’ to the subject that arouses a terrifying longing, and let the terrifying longing crowd out everything else….

      The way to discover a terrifying longing is to liberate yourself from the self-censoring labels you began to tell yourself over the course of your mis-education… Focus on the external objects of fascination, not on who you think you are. Find people with overlapping obsessions.

      The information universe tempts you with mildly pleasant but ultimately numbing diversions. The only way to stay fully alive is to dive down to your obsessions six fathoms deep. Down there it’s possible to make progress toward fulfilling your terrifying longing, which is the experience that produces the joy.”
      — David Brooks, “The Art of Focus”, The New York Times

      The tricky thing about discovering “primary source” material is that you’ll uncover that what you believed to be primary source references other primary sources, which infers they aren’t the primary source at all. Such is the Great Conversation, spinning through life one book, interview or article at a time. We leap from one to the other, like stones across a stream, until we reach our destination with delight (and a new stack of reading material).

      Something recently pointed me towards Cal Newport’s Deep Work, which is a how-to book on pushing the shallow work aside to get to the deep work, where we differentiate ourselves and find true meaning in our careers and lives. Newport, in turn, pointed me towards several articles and books that I hadn’t previously been aware of, and a couple that I hadn’t fully absorbed on the first go-around. I’ve pursued them all recently, all in an effort to get meaningful work done. For we all must go deeper if there’s any hope for us to contribute something meaningful. And that requires breaking the spell of distraction:

      “Efforts to deepen your focus will struggle if you don’t simultaneously wean your mind from a dependence on distraction. Much in the same way that athletes must take care of their bodies outside of their training sessions, you’ll struggle to achieve the deepest levels of concentration if you spend the rest of your time fleeing the slightest hint of boredom.” — Cal Newport, Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World

      Here’s the thing: In diving into all this material around deep work, I’ve questioned whether this blog is itself deep or shallow (It aims for deep, but sometimes skims a bit shallower than I’d like). But what is the purpose of the blog but to establish a daily habit of writing and finding things out—things that gradually pull me deeper? Put another way, those stones I’m hopping across in life are documented, one at a time, for anyone that wishes to follow along. But even here, we all choose our own path across that stream of life, we just happen to land on the same spot now and then.

      That terrifying longing? It’s on the other side, and the only way to reach it is to stop watching the debris float by in the stream of distraction and focus on the next landing spot, and the one after that. Our time is short, and we have so far to go. So go deeper.

    • Stop… Look Around

      “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it.” – Ferris Bueller

      We charge through life honoring commitments and chasing dreams. Yet nothing is more urgent than the need to pause now and then to look around at what the world presents to you. The generations whose collective imaginations were captured by Ferris Bueller living in the moment often forget to do the same now and then, if only for a moment.

      Yesterday I managed to shoehorn in a visit to a waterfall between business travel and six meetings and conference calls. What makes the day worth living is subjective, but few argue that a little balance in our mad dash through our careers is essential to our well-being. So stop now and then to see what you’ve been missing. The work will still be there when you turn back to it. But you might look at it differently.

    • Reaching Your Creative State

      “Do you want to do intellectual work? Begin by creating within you a zone of silence, a habit of recollection, a will to renunciation and detachment which puts you entirely at the disposal of the work; acquire that state of soul unburdened by desire and self-will which is the state of grace of the intellectual worker. Without that you will do nothing, at least nothing worth while.”
      – A.G. Sertillanges, O.P. The Intellectual Life

      Every day is a reinvention, a chance to be reborn into whatever you wish to become in this life. For me, this becoming is the whole point of living. But it begs the question—becoming what? Not an easy question, one most people immerse themselves in distraction to avoid answering (present company accepted). Blogging is a public sorting of this becoming bit. The messier work happens behind the scenes.

      When you have a general idea where your compass is pointing, you must put yourself in a state where you might execute on that vision for yourself. And this is where it gets tricky. All those skills you’ve learned to distract yourself from figuring out what you want to be when you grow up work equally well at keeping you from getting things done.

      “Creative people organize their lives according to repetitive, disciplined routines. They think like artists but work like accountants.” – David Brooks, “The Good Order” The New York Times

      And there lies the secret sauce to doing anything worthwhile: Repetitive, disciplined routines applied daily from now until… ad infinitum. Sertillanges calls this productive place your state of soul. A place where we can actualize the spirit of our deepest work and bring it to the world. What a gift. When you’re in this state, why would you ever want it to end?

      The trick to reaching this state of soul is hidden in plain sight: Establish routines and have the discipline to stick with them. Repeat. None of this is revelatory, what’s required is consistency of effort. So get to it. The world awaits your best work.

    • Right Where You Are

      The sun set in the sea; the same odd sun
      rose from the sea,
      and there was one of it and one of me.
      – Elizabeth Bishop, Crusoe in England

      An old work acquaintance moved to the city, and walks to an embarrassment of great restaurants just down the street. I asked her about the noise and such things, being a country mouse like me. But all she talked of was the thrill of being in the heart of it. She was right where she wanted to be. And isn’t that a thrill?

      I walked the short beach twice yesterday, to see what I was missing working with my back turned to it. I feel gratitude for the beach, but mostly for the bay that opens up the sky and the universe beyond. You don’t get quite so spun up about projects when you look at salt water. And I wondered again why I don’t live in such a place as this. Do you get tired of the infinite? I should think not. But our time with the infinite will come soon enough. Now we wrestle with deadlines and commitments and trivial pursuits.

      It’s different for each of us, this right where you ought to be feeling. The question might not be where you are at all, but what you’re doing that ought to be confronted. If you feel you’re right where you want to be in your work, in your life, then the world you walk out to meet will feel right no matter where you are. And when it’s not, well, even the divine feels a bit off.

      We are where we are, there’s no getting around that. We only have this one go around before the universe moves on to those who come after us. It’s not the place so much as how you fill it that matters. Otherwise it’s just a void, isn’t it?

    • Where Are You Parking Yourself?

      “The road to success is dotted with many tempting parking spaces.” – Will Rogers

      “Even if you’re on the right track, you’ll get run over if you just sit there.” – Will Rogers

      A great humorist will kick you in the ass while they make you laugh. You could fill a blog with Will Rogers quotes, and really, I just might someday. But not today. Today I’m thinking about these two quotes of his that pair well together. For who doesn’t contemplate their path to success, and ponder whether they might have stopped a few steps short of a higher peak?

      Last year, wanting to see the starry dome and catch the first glimpse of sunrise from the east coast of the United States, my daughter and I drove to the summit of Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park in Maine. It was 3 AM, and there were already people up there watching the celestial show above, but there was plenty of elbow room and more than enough time to find a spot to park ourselves for the big event. We chose a spot next to a large boulder about 200 feet down from the summit parking lot. Over the next two hours a couple of hundred people walked past us to spots further away. When the sun finally rose, I could see that they’d chosen a place more spectacular than the one we’d chosen. And we regretted not going further when we could have.

      No matter where we are currently parked, it’s just a pause along the way unless we choose to make it our grave. As we dance with the extraordinary that inspires greatness within us, we’ll be tempted along the way to live with good enough. Shake it off and push on. There’s so much more to experience in life just beyond where we currently find ourselves.

    • The Hidden Giant

      “A fox looked at his shadow at sunrise and said, “I will have a camel for lunch today.” And all morning he went about looking for camels. But at noon he saw his shadow again—and he said, “A mouse will do.” – Kahlil Gibran, The Fox

      Walking on a beach at sunset earlier this week, shadow revealing the giant hidden within me, reminded me of this fable by Gibran. The beginning of the day is an opportunity to dream big dreams, with the freshness of the morning suggesting we might just be capable of anything. The long day might temper this enthusiasm, full as it is with ebbs and flows, accomplishments and setbacks, but the end of the day offers a chance once again to look at ourselves differently. To see what we’ve achieved and what we might yet do.

      There’s something about seeing yourself from a new perspective that reminds you that you’re not done just yet. You’ve still got that potential for bigger and better things; for greatness. The world is bigger than this day, and that long shadow is a reminder that you can be too.