Alexandersmap

    Category: Community

    • Living Life Between Two Melvill(e)s

      “As for me, I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts.” — Herman Melville, Moby-Dick

      “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.” — Henry Melvill, from “Partaking in Other Men’s Sins”

      (As an aside: Henry lived between 1798–1871, Herman between 1819 – 1891, meaning they were tenants on the planets at the same time for 52 years. I doubt they ever met, but they’re forever linked by the latter quote, often associated with Herman Melville because of the similarities in their names and because people simply grab quotes online and use them without doing basic research beforehand.)

      We each live our lives somewhere between responsibility and adventure, don’t we? It’s like our moralist angel is named Henry, while our adventurous devil is named Herman. But life isn’t lived at the extremes? Most of us find ourselves somewhere in between. Our souls want to dance with a calling all its own, and we ought to find the tune that suits us best.

      Yet a thousand fibres connect us. Think about the hundreds of thousands of souls called to war just this year in Ukraine and Russia, simply because of the decision of one man. I imagine most of them would say their best life would be living the normal life they had before the world turned upside down. We choose to be who we are within the social and political fabric we exist in, and ought to celebrate the relative freedom to choose.

      You might think of Henry as a wet blanket, tossing out themes of cause and effect with such authority, but the reason it resonates is because the truth is woven into his sermon. But so too are the words of Herman. We all hear the tormented call to the coasts of our imagination, those places we’d be but for this other thing we must do first. For some it’s a tropical beach, for some it’s filled with icebergs and polar bears, but it calls just the same. Barbarous is in the eye of the beholder.

      Most of us don’t have to live a life mutually exclusive of adventure or responsible productivity. We get to decide what to be and do our best to be it. We’ll each hear calls from the other side, beckoning us to be more adventurous or more responsible. That’s the sound of freedom of choice in a world that doesn’t always offer it in equal shares. We’re privileged to have such options in our brief dance with life. Ultimately, we choose what we lean into to find our balance, and what we let drift away. We ought to be at peace with that.

    • Weaving a More Effective Life

      “Habit is a rope. We weave a thread every day, and eventually we can’t break it.” — Thomas Mann

      “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.” — Aristotle

      This business of repeatedly doing is leading somewhere, with our destination highly dependent on what we repeatedly do. Such is the way. Mann’s observation rings true as well, for habits become nearly impossible to break once established. Each small choice is another thread—another resounding, audacious statement about who we want to be.

      Our natural inclination is to be a part of something. To build an identity around community or family. This can reinforce positive behavior, or amplify the worst in us. The choice isn’t always ours to decide which pond to swim in, but we may choose whether to keep treading above the surface or drift down into the muck on the bottom.

      When our identity is wrapped up in a community that is slowly drifting away, as people get older or recede from view towards other communities, we also choose how to react to that. People come and go. Our health and work and feelings about the world we live in change moment-to-moment. To be highly effective in life we ought to weave a thread of consistent activity that remains independent of the whims of fate. When the world unravels around us, and eventually it will feel that way for all of us, just how resilient are we?

      “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”— Viktor Frankl

      Life is constantly testing our mettle. We control so very little in the big scheme of things. Frankl’s famous observation reminds us that we do get to choose how we react. We have a say in what we might become in our brief dance with the universe in all its harsh indifference. We still might decide what to be and go be it.

    • Seeking vs. Seeing

      “Believe those who are seeking the truth. Doubt those who find it.” — André Gide

      There are a lot of earnest, hardworking people in the world, seeking a better future for themselves and others. And there are a smaller, though seemingly just as many, buzzing cluster of charlatans and false prophets telling all who will hear that they’ve seen the way and all should follow them. Why does it seem that these two groups are equal in numbers? Partly because the earnest and hardworking seekers are too busy getting things done to shout “Look at me!” every waking moment of the day. And partly because seekers are inclined to hear out those who say they’ve seen.

      This week I found myself as the senior sage teaching others the way. It’s easy in that position to posture and play the part of all-knowing master. That, of course, would be disingenuous and misleading. We all learn something new every day, at least we do if we’re earnest in our journey to becoming. When you find yourself with apprentices following you, the true leader shows what must be done on the journey to mastery, while also demonstrating the humble quest for improvement lies in each moment. The fact is, none of us ever really master our craft. It’s okay to admit that, for the path to mastery begins with breaking down our own ego.

      The trick to growth is learning to navigate our way through those charlatans and false prophets and find the willing mentor who brings us closer to the truth. And our collective future begins when, after we’ve climbed a few steps closer ourselves, we turn and show others the way. We might just discover that that was our truth all along.

    • Widening Circles


      I live my life in widening circles
      that reach out across the world.
      I may not complete this last one
      but I will give myself to it.

      I circle around God, around the primordial tower.
      I’ve been circling for thousands of years
      and I still don’t know: am I a falcon,
      a storm, or a great song?
      — Rainer Maria Rilke

      This act of giving ourselves to it—to experiencing life and being an active part in the dance, is what living is all about. You want meaning in your life? Give yourself to it. Don’t recede into the corner, for we aren’t meant to be wallflowers. Get out and mingle. Find those kindred spirits looking for a spark.

      Readers know I embrace solitude wholeheartedly for the conversation I might have with myself. I celebrate the offseason as much as anyone! Yet those closest to me observe that I actively engage with everyone around me. And why not? Aren’t we all fellow passengers on this cruise through the briefest of time? We ought to give ourselves to the mission and be fully alive in our moment together.

      Today is the beginning of another circle, reaching wider than the last, and carrying us to places previously unencountered. Give yourself to it! The world opens up for us through deliberate intent. Reach out and thrill in where it takes us.

    • Love and Limes

      In the empire of the senses
      You’re the queen of all you survey
      All the cities all the nation
      Everything that falls your way
      There is a deeper world than this
      That you don’t understand
      There is a deeper world that this
      Tugging at your hand
      Every ripple on the ocean
      Every leaf on every tree
      Every sand dune in the desert
      Every power we never see
      There is a deeper wave than this
      Swelling in the world
      — Sting, Love Is the Seventh Wave

      We’re aware of the hate-mongers pitching their mantra of fear and scarcity and race theory. We’re aware of wars and desperation and greed even as we wake in relative peace, paying for the sins of the world with higher supply chain prices and a distinct and distressing shortage of limes due to climate change and drug cartels playing games. What are we to do in this scenario? Hoard? Buy more ammunition and higher fences?

      Maybe the answer is to be better ambassadors of truth and understanding. To embrace our community, warts and all, and make something of it. To go out into the world and embrace cultures distinctly different from our own and show them that we’re not as bad as what they’ve heard about us either. Maybe we ought to double down on love and respect.

      The carefully curated news washes over us, wave after unrelenting wave. We either accept their view of the world or we make one of our own. They say that the seventh wave is the largest of all, the one that surfers seek out and sailors watch out for. We might think of it as the wave that will wipe us all out or the wave that will wash away all the madness in the world. I guess the answer lies in which wave has the most mass and momentum as it heads for the beach.

      Creative optimism and a healthy dose of love ought to trump hate and madness. When life gives you lemons make lemonade. When it gives you limes make margaritas. But let’s stop all this bickering and enjoy a drink together. For we have work to do.

    • Time for a Friendly Visit

      When a friend calls to me from the road
      And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
      I don’t stand still and look around
      On all the hills I haven’t hoed,
      And shout from where I am, What is it?
      No, not as there is a time to talk.
      I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
      Blade-end up and five feet tall,
      And plod: I go up to the stone wall
      For a friendly visit.
      — Robert Frost, A Time to Talk

      Imagine the audacity of pressing deadlines and the urgency of the moment pulling us away from what is most important. And we willingly do it, thinking there will be another time when we’re less busy and feeling less obliged to do what clearly must get done. Where do we best spend our time, if not for furthering relationships with our fellow time-travelers?

      We hear about rampant depression and a longing for something tangible. There’s nothing tangible in the comments section of those popular social media platforms. We must meet each other face-to-face and sort out the world together, or together we’ll spiral deeper into chaos. To do this requires nothing more than meeting halfway. Doesn’t that idea feel as antiquated as the horse in Frost’s poem? Yet it remains the obvious answer to the problems of the world: diplomacy, compromise, mutual respect and understanding. These aren’t signs of weakness, in fact just the opposite: they betray inner character and a measure of emotional development.

      We are the diplomats, you and me. We walk across the minefield of distrust and find common ground. Seeking first to understand, and then to be understood. There’s nothing easy about this in a world that rewards mic drops and jaw-dropping tweets, but the world has always been divided between those who make all the noise and those who quietly keep things from falling apart.

      Imagine if we all simply stopped shouting and began to listen instead?

    • One Drop

      Does a drop stay still in the ocean?
      Move with the entirety
      and with the tiniest particular.
      Be the moisture in an oyster
      that helps to form one pearl.
      — Rumi

      We are all drops in the infinite ocean, part of the whole yet trying to make a splash. Why do we focus so much on the splash and so little on being part of the whole? How do we reconcile our smallness in the vast infinity?

      One drop at a time. Life is a series of connections that unite and pull us apart across time. This collection of jumbled words, dropped into infinity, won’t change the ocean. But in an instant of molecular attraction, it drew Rumi, you and me together.

      Isn’t that something?

    • Culling the Information Feed

      Information and entertainment sources like Twitter, Instagram, Facebook have their place. I’ve found each highly enjoyable at points in my life, and each infuriatingly addictive for all the wrong reasons at other times. I look back on time wasted, time I could have spent immersed in something better, and feel disappointed in myself. And like many people I grow to hate the very thing that had me so fixated for chunks of my life. At these times I cull the information feed.

      I hear the voices of those who tell me they simply scroll past posts that are annoying or designed to get a reaction. That’s sweet. I mute, unfollow, unfriend. This is early-stage app culling, but it does wonders for your sanity in the moment.

      If you use Twitter for a news feed and start following an endless stream of personalities, you soon find yourself overwhelmed with information from them, or worse, information from people they’re informed by. This is designed to draw you in, prompt you to follow that person too, and pretty soon you’re full-on addicted to an app. Next stage culling involves clicking on every one of those unsolicited posts and teaching the algorithm that you’re not interested in this Tweet, or to mute or block the source so you’ll never see it again (you won’t, but you’ll still be subjected to the reaction to the source in your feed).

      The next stage is to delete the app itself. Say goodbye to it for awhile, post about leaving the party (It’s not you, it’s me) or simply disappear from other people’s feed for a time. I used to believe the world cared whether or not my updates and clever posts would continue in their lives. The world is completely shell-shocked by information and doesn’t particularly care whether we posted that day or not. If anything, our absence gives them a microsecond of breathing room during their scroll. Addition by subtraction, if you will.

      The thing is, it’s okay to cull your information feed. Delete the app, it’ll still be there if you want to get reacquainted someday. But what you find is that you’ve both changed in the time you’ve been absent from each other’s lives. And in the process of reconciling that, you’ll find that you just not into each other anymore.

    • Breaking Through the Anonymous Line of Orders

      There’s a common practice in fast food and coffee chains where you place your order on an app and then either pick it up at the counter or have some random stranger deliver it to you. It seems super convenient and eliminates waiting for someone to prepare your order. In a way it probably feels like cutting in line in that you’re the hot shot who ordered ahead and simply need to pick up your order on the fly, or have that random stranger drop it right at the door. No human contact required. No small talk. No uncomfortable wait amongst the crowd. Grab and go!

      When I see that counter full of anonymous cups and bags lined up neatly I view it for what it is: the lost opportunity for two humans to interact in a world increasingly ruled by convenience and disengagement. No wonder it’s so easy to demonize people with different world views–if we don’t ever talk to them they can’t possibly be otherwise just like us. Is it any shock that the only way young people can meet others now is through an app?

      Not for me. Even if I’m the only sucker who stands there to place an order, I’ll take the eye contact and interaction. I’ll take the clarifying questions, the banter, the brief spark of life between two humans before we both move on with our busy lives. Call me the lone hold-out if you’d like, but I prefer to think of it as being a bridge between the isolated and the engaged. Bringing people together, one order at a time.

    • Centered

      The knight and the castle move jaggedly across the chessboard,
      but they are actually centered on the king. They circle.

      If love is your center, a ring gets put on your finger.
      Something inside the moth is made of fire.
      — Rumi, A Mystic and a Drunk

      We wrap our lives around certain customs and communities, we pursue certain career paths and devote ourselves to certain people. But what is it that centers us there? Are we attracted to comfort and familiarity, or is it something more? When we get a sense of place, from where inside of us do we hear the siren?

      If we are the average of the people we spend the most time with, what in turn draws them to us? What energy are we bringing to the universe aside from a refrigerator full of beer? When friends grow old and drift away, when family is busy and distracted by life and the days grow silent, how do you fill the void? What is your fire that warms you in the dark?

      Our center is not the frenzied world we surround ourselves with. The problem with finding purpose and identity in a world full of noise is that we don’t hear our own voice. For all the talk of finding a burning purpose and following your heart, most people keep looking the wrong way. Instead of throwing more wood on the fire sometimes you’ve got to let things burn down to their essence. Our answers lie deep in the embers.