Alexandersmap

    Category: Community

    • The Joyful Stir

      “You must learn to drink the cup of life as it comes … without stirring it up from the bottom. That’s where the bitter dregs are!” — Agnes Sligh Turnbull

      Celebrating the holidays is easy when we’re around friends and family. It’s not as easy for those who are alone. Some are blessed with an abundance of people in their lives through proximity and an inclination for connection. Some go out of their way to stay away. Be yourself, but know that you always have a place at our table.

      I have two neighbors who have lived next to each other for a quarter century who won’t make eye contact with each other but go out of their way to say hello to everyone else who walks up the street. Some people are naturally closer than others. Something was said, some point of contention remains, stubborn righteousness kicks in and the years go by with scarcely a nod between them. It’s extraordinary to behold.

      Generational baggage clings to some families. Like my two neighbors, whatever it was that happened, it never fades away. Awareness reveals entire family histories. A family may be at the same Christmas party and be as far away from each other as if they were in separate countries, while laughing and bonding with the rest of us. Why? Only they know, but the holidays are no time to stir up the bitter dregs.

      We ought to learn to be alone, if only to ensure that when we inevitably are, we aren’t so lonely. To be alone in a room full of people is an inclination, as much as not being lonely when there’s nobody there but us and the ticking clock. Joyfulness is an active-participation sport, and we reap what we sow. We ought to learn to let bygones be bygones, even in these contentious, divided times, and find a way back to connection. We must keep stirring joy, for when something is bitter, a little sweetener goes a long way.

    • A Change in Inclination

      Rain and wind, and wind and rain.
      Will the Summer come again?
      Rain on houses, on the street,
      Wetting all the people’s feet,
      Though they run with might and main.
      Rain and wind, and wind and rain.

      Snow and sleet, and sleet and snow.
      Will the Winter never go?
      What do beggar children do
      With no fire to cuddle to,
      P’raps with nowhere warm to go?
      Snow and sleet, and sleet and snow.

      Hail and ice, and ice and hail,
      Water frozen in the pail.
      See the robins, brown and red,
      They are waiting to be fed.
      Poor dears, battling in the gale!
      Hail and ice, and ice and hail.
      — Katherine Mansfield, Winter Song

      With the winter solstice come and gone, I thought it timely for us to consider a winter song. For the days are short, cold and dark, but aye, they are once again inclined towards longer. To be on the other side of the shortest day may mean little when the harshest winter days are ahead of us, or perhaps it means everything. As with all things, the choice is ours. And isn’t our perspective on life mostly based on what we choose to focus on?

      Winter Song reminds us that there are people suffering in the cold and dark of winter. Consider this a call to action to help those less fortunate than we are—surely the world needs more people focused on raising the average instead of spreading the gap. We cannot solve the problems in this world by ourselves, but we can make each person we interact with either colder and darker or warmer and brighter by the way we treat them. Again, the choice is ours to make.

      We may have almost nothing in common with each other, but we have some things in common, and something is a foothold to more things. Footholds lead to connection, so long as we aren’t pushing someone away. Abundance is a mindset, just as scarcity is. As the days begin to grow longer again, perhaps that tilt of the earth may offer a change in inclination within—an inclination towards connection. ’tis the season, after all.

    • Connection

      “Ye live not for yourselves; ye cannot live for yourselves ; a thousand fibres connect you with your fellow-men, and along those fibres, as along sympathetic threads, run your actions as causes, and return to you as effects.” — Reverend Henry Melvill

      On Author’s Ridge at Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Concord, Massachusetts the legends are interred—Emerson, Hawthorne, Alcott, Thoreau and others. I’ve visited and written about Author’s Ridge many times in this blog, because it fascinates me that so many who reached such literary fame would then choose to spend eternity in such close proximity to one another. Emerson once said that “the only way to have a friend is to be one”. The legendary families of Concord lived this so deeply that they carried it over to death.

      There are only a few people who we count as true friends, but we build connection with countless people. Our connections form a network that serves us even as we serve the network. Each individual connection may be tenuous, but woven together with many others, trust is built, reputations are formed, careers are made and communities grow into something special.

      We learn that connections are dynamic. Some people that were simply connections grow into true friends, and some true friends slip back to connections. The fabric of our connections is dynamic and ever-changing, just as we ourselves change. We receive what we nurture. Connections form over time—but they also inform over time. We learn which connections will run deep and which are merely transactional in the moment.

      Some would say that it’s a little harder to have such connections as the Concord authors had now. We don’t all live in such close proximity today. Technology may make it easier to be connected, but it’s also an active agent in pulling us apart. To be connected, we must do our part to maintain that connection. Some people are just natural connectors, but it’s nothing more than checking in on someone now and then to see how they’re doing. Do it enough and a few actually check in on us too. We don’t have to consider eternity when we reach out, simply finding connection today is enough.

    • Unbroken Links

      “That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.” ― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

      I meant to call a few people in my life this week, to wish them a Happy Thanksgiving, to check in on them, to get their perspective on the world and our place in it. I’m someone who calls other people. Not text people or drop them an email or write them a letter—worthy as those may be—but call. The written word may last forever (our version of forever anyway), but to actually speak with someone is a gift of presence.

      How will we be remembered? I suspect I’ll be remembered for being proactively present. Or reliably present. Or perhaps annoyingly so. Maybe there will be relief one day when the calls stop coming in, just for the peace and quiet. Who knows? The only thing I’m certain of is that links corrode and break for lack of attention. Looking back, we tend to have far more people with whom we lose touch with than those we continue to reach out to or hear from. Conversation is a two-way street, or we’d call it a lecture.

      What binds us together? When did this long chain of connection begin? How does it continue, even after all this time? Forming a link is immediate, but maintaining it requires consistent action. Now seems as good a time to touch base as any, whatever the method. We may be a beacon in the darkness, heard from at just the right time.

    • Not for Ourselves Alone

      “Non nobis solum nati sumus ortusque nostri partem patria vindicat, partem amici,”
      (Not for us alone are we born; our country, our friends, have a share in us.) — Marcus Tullius Cicero

      We are alone, and yet a part of something far beyond ourselves. To strive to be an individual is to reach for our potential. But what is all that potential for if not for the greater good? We can thus focus on the self and not be selfish or self-centered. The more we grow, the more we can offer. And this in turn offers us more opportunity still.

      The world is full of selfless people, and has far too many selfish people too. We learn as we get burned. But let’s face it; we have our moments of selfishness too. We must learn to look after ourselves if we are to survive in this world, but our nature is to look after others too. We learn whom to trust deeply, whom to steer clear of, and those who are somewhere in between with whom to form strategic alliances for mutual benefit. Every transaction is a lesson in human tendencies. Trust, but verify.

      The world lately is more complicated by the fractious nature of social media and the erosion of trusted sources of information and leadership. We can acknowledge this and still live by a higher standard of personal excellence. To keep growing into the person we aspire to be, that we may be an anchor for those who might founder in the turbulent, selfish sea that this place and time represents for some.

      Remember that it has always been this way, only the method and scale of communication changes. Community is an investment in the future viability of all that we believe to be sacred and true. Seek out connection and engagement with those with whom we may learn and grow. Not for us alone are we born.

    • All Politics Are Local

      It occurred to me while walking just last night that the neighborhood had snuck back up on me again. For a few years there it felt isolated and suspicious, and angry at the state of the world. Or maybe that was always me, reacting to the trend in national politics, the trend towards oligarchs, the trend toward meanness and selfishness and isolationism.

      The world is a complicated mess—surely it is, but our world, the one that we live in every day, need not be. Community is the people who surround us. The people who knew us ten or twenty years ago and still choose to ask how we’re doing now. It occurred to me that the neighborhood is full of people who are just trying to make a go at this one precious life just like I am.

      It took a lot of walks with the pup to lift the fog of perception away. A dog is an invitation to shatter the cone of silence that hovers over people in this strange new world we live in. Polite nods become long conversations, which in turn flip the script from divisiveness to connectedness. And soon it feels like the place we were meant to be at this time in our lives.

      They say all politics are local. We all just want to be heard. We all just want to be accepted for who we are. Well, that requires a reciprocal investment in hearing others out, and accepting them for who they are too. The pendulum swings abruptly one direction to the next and back again over time. And all the while, we still have to live with one another. We might as well enjoy each other’s company.

    • Practicing Significance

      “No matter the self-conceited importance of our labors we are all compost for worlds we cannot yet imagine.” ― David Whyte

      To be progressing in one part of our lives is meaningful, but incomplete if we aren’t also making strides in the rest of our lives. Balance, as they say, is the key. Progress in fitness and nutrition bodes well, but we can’t ignore our intellectual development while we hone our body into shape. We cannot be a champion of personal excellence if we aren’t reaching beyond ourselves to help others reach theirs, for we are all in this together, even when we sometimes wish to simply go it alone. Some aspire to make a dent in the universe, some aspire to write their own verse. Each is a way to make our brief time dancing with life more meaningful and lasting (in the form of a legacy of contribution).

      There’s no denying that a career is a large and meaningful part of life. If I’ve had any success in business it was built on listening to the needs of others and finding answers. People want to feel they’re being listened to. The world is simply looking for someone to get back to them. We reach out to others, expect an answer or at the very least a timely response, and hope for resolution to whatever started the transaction. Those who follow through are quietly powerful agents of trust and belief. We learn who can be relied upon and follow them throughout their careers. That network of trusted alliances is the foundation, not just of a strong career but a life of significance.

      Each day is an opportunity for connection. Checking in with people just to see how they’re doing, working to solve problems that arise, lending an ear when it’s all that someone needed in that moment—these are how we maintain lifetime bonds with our fellow time travelers. Achievement looks nice on a resume but is shallow on its own. Significance has deeper roots, and allows for growth beyond the individual.

      What do we practice in our daily lives? Looking beyond ourselves is the path to significance and purpose. This may seem out of touch with the current vibe in the world, but what will we remember in the end of our time on earth? How will we be remembered by those who survive us?

    • Where We Choose to Linger

      Bermuda is a great place to visit but an expensive place to live. Everyone wants a piece of paradise, and an island only has so much paradise to divide up. Still, not every place can simply be an escape for the uber rich. Who keeps things going if everyone is wealthy and secluded? Teachers and firefighters and nurses need to call the place home too, if you’re going to have anything but gated mansions anyway. Bermuda seems to have that under control, but the locals say it’s getting harder by the day. Time will tell.

      Even nomads want to root themselves in a place now and then. That place ought to be in close proximity to ample supplies of the essential things: food and water, shelter, healthcare and a community one can immerse themselves into now and then. Some might add in a few other essentials like the opportunity to make a viable income and a thriving cultural scene. Maybe throw in a decent book store with a great cafe. Simple, right?

      The thing about Bermuda that jumps out at me isn’t the history or beautiful vistas or fish sandwiches, it’s the warmth and generous spirit of the people who live there. They’re all just so friendly. Coming from a place where that isn’t always the case, it feels pretty welcoming. And who wouldn’t want to linger in a place like that?

      Fixer-upper

    • Illusions of Permanence

      Each of us has a reckoning with illusions of permanence. Things come and go from our lives with regularity. This is most obvious when we live in a place that faces a building boom. The field down the street or the woods that line the road are leveled for a development. The old farmhouse and barn are torn down and a building pops up in its place. The quiet country road is now lined with cars commuting through, and soon the road is widened and strung with traffic lights. And we mourn what was lost.

      It’s similar when a friend we’ve bonded with becomes radically different from us politically. What we believed to be forever turned out to be nothing but an illusion of permanence. The person I thought you were is not who you turned out to be, and you think the same of me. Yet, like that field and stand of trees on that quiet country road, we each have memories of what one was. We each miss the person we thought the other was.

      A plot of land might be viewed as an investment in the future of the community, but some folks feel that investment is conservation land and some think it’s a new hospital, grocery store and housing development. Both have value for a community to thrive, and both ought to be fought for. But we ought to consider carefully what will be forever lost when completing the transaction to make the change.

      Some relationships are better as transactional. We can put aside our differences and work side-by-side with a teammate or a coworker, focused on the common goal. And we can nurture a deep bond built on common beliefs and a feeling that each person in the relationship is integral to the other. Consider the circle of trust and who we might want within it, and who should remain outside. Often it comes down to who will grow with us and who will erode the essence of who we are for want of some company. We should beware the company we keep, but when the right company is found invest deeply in keeping it.

      The thing is, nothing is permanent, but some things have staying power. Everything will disappear one day, but we have agency in keeping that stand of trees or that person we care about in our lives. Or we can use that agency to drift away to do other things that feel important to us, expecting that what we remembered will still be there for us when we return. When we see the fragility of everything on our journey, we begin to prioritize the things that have staying power simply because we take the time to make them so. Ultimately, our legacy is built on what we took the time to care for beyond ourselves.

    • Place

      Lately place matters a great deal. To achieve a sense of place we must feel like we are present in it—engaged, aware, interactive. Place is memory carried into the present. Like an old favorite pair of jeans that fit comfortably when we wear them.

      Lately I feel out of place. The cynicism, the ambivalence towards others, it’s all on the surface now. Perhaps it was always there and I didn’t see it in my blind optimism for people getting it right in the end. The ugly truth is there for all to see now. What’s hiding in plain sight is the recoil. The pendulum will swing again in time. Perhaps we’ll be here to see it.

      We may say goodbye to old beliefs about who we are, we may quietly move away from people who embrace what we don’t embrace, and we may find a place uniquely ours. Or we can sit in place wishing things were different. Active participation building the place we want to live our days is our only way forward.

      Place isn’t passive, it’s dynamic and action-oriented. To reach place we must go there and grab hold of it. We must carve something out of it as our own. Especially when things feel out of place, we must pull it together and keep going. Place is dynamic, after all, and so are we.