Alexandersmap

    Category: Culture

    • Heaven, On Earth

      “When conditions are such that life offers no earthly hope, somewhere, somehow, men must find a refuge.” — Edith Hamilton, The Greek Way

      Everybody wants to go to heaven
      Get their wings and fly around
      Everybody want to go to heaven
      But nobody want to go now
      — Jim Collins / Marty Dodson, Everybody Wants to Go to Heaven

      Heaven is sometimes believed it to be the light at the end of the tunnel in an otherwise bleak and miserable life. It offers hope when there’s no reason to believe there ought to be any. Others describe it as a place to aspire to—an exclusive club that only the truly enlightened amongst us will ascend to. I’m not sure I’m buying that. We’re already in an exclusive club having been born at all. Do we accept the miracle of being alive each day we wake up? If we don’t celebrate this miracle, what makes us believe we’ll behave any different if we reach Heaven?

      “I don’t feel the slightest interest in the next world; I think it’s here. And I think anything good that you’re going to do, you should do for other people here and not so you can try to have a happy time in the next world.” ― Katharine Hepburn

      I fall in Hepburn’s camp on the idea of Heaven. It’s all very nice to talk of an afterlife and being happy then, but we live here and now. This is our time to fly. We’ve each hit the birth lottery, and thus far have evaded the grip of the Grim Reaper. Isn’t that cause for celebration? We might think of this lifetime as an apprenticeship for whatever comes then, should we be so bold as to believe we’ll ascend to such a place.

      Simply put, when we defer to this “someday when” we do a disservice to ourselves and the universe. Sure, we can’t always control whether our lives at the moment are heavenly or hellish, but we can control how we react to it. And most of us can do a lot more than that.

      “Take care to create your own paradise, here and now on earth” — Omar Khayyam

      Stories about heaven and hell offer guidance that historically helped keep society together. But the same stories can be used to pull people apart. We see a fair amount of that divisiveness in the world today, with people using stories of heaven and hell to justify horrific behavior and violence. If there are indeed Holy Gates I’m not sure I’d walk through the same way some of these characters believe they’ll be going. So maybe save the preaching for someday when. Nothing speaks louder than action. Give me fairness and love and living by the Golden Rule. Celebrate and honor the miracle right here.

    • To Be Joyful and Full of Love

      The longer I live, the more
      deeply I learn that love —
      whether we call it
      friendship or family or
      romance — is the work of
      mirroring and magnifying
      each other’s light.
      — James Baldwin

      We’re in the business of amplification, you and I. Our life’s work is accretive in nature. The longer we’re actively engaged in this world, the more we can contribute of ourselves to the greater good. But we must be engaged.

      Our children are a product of our presence or absence their lives, just as we are a product of our own parents engagement with us. This ripple extends to family and friends and those who become more than just friends. We’re each muting or amplifying the best and worst of each other.

      The last few years, I’ve seen some people change in profound ways. Maybe it was the pandemic, or maybe it’s their stage of life, or it’s the sum of everything the world dumps on us piling up inside. I remind them that we do have agency. We either shed ourselves of the bile or let it sink into our pores. Of course, we do the same with love. The question is, what do we mirror and magnify?

      When I find myself becoming angry and more cynical I find that person repulsive and force that tide of darkness to recede back inward. We all have reason to be angry in this maddening world, but we also have reason to be joyful and loving. Whoever we are will surely be reflected back to us. Choose wisely.

      Life is about building momentum. We see this in our careers and work, in our health and fitness, and surely, we see it in our relationships. When we are consistently present and offering love, we build deep relationships with others that carry us through the challenging times and amplify the good times. So reflect on this: we are the sum of our active engagement with others, and when we live well, that sum will resonate long after we’ve left the room. How do we live well? By choosing to be joyful and full of love.

    • The Whisper of the Window Seat

      The more I travel, the more I believe there are two types of people in this world: those who would block out all the noise and retreat into themselves, and those who are actively engaged with everything and everyone around them. This might be best observed on a plane, where the window seat becomes a portal to the universe for those actively looking out the window, or alternatively, closed the entire flight that the traveller may forget that they’re propelling tens of thousands of feet above the earth in an aluminum tube. Take those two travelers and bring them into a room or a garden and I’d bet most would behave similarly.

      I’d like to believe that I’m actively engaged in the world, but still own noise cancelling headphones and resent the person in front of me for reclining their seat. I celebrate the input I seek from the world, yet resent encroachment from that which I don’t. Does that make me complex, or practically engaged? I’m a work in progress either way; with stoicism as a lens for which to see the world.

      Given the choice, would you choose an aisle seat over a window seat? Would you take one for the team and sit in the middle seat? These are choices that say a lot about us. The aisle offers flexibility—you can stand up any old time you want to so long as that fasten seatbelt sign isn’t illuminated. Yet you’re constantly encroached upon by (seemingly) every person bumping into you as they pass by. There’s joy but also despair in the aisle seat, presented to you in a jolt just as you doze off.

      That middle seat must be suffered. You know exactly what you’re in for, and usually, that vision is realized. There’s something very stoic about traveling in the middle seat. Amor fati—love of fate. We accept the universe as it comes to us. All we can do is cross our arms and take the air miles. If you’re lucky, the person in the window seat is a kindred spirit and has the shutter open for you to catch a partial view of what might have been.

      The more I travel, the more I want the window seat. Sure, you’ve got to manage your bladder trips wisely, but otherwise you’re in a place of least possible encroachment under the circumstances with the most opportunity for wonder just an open shutter away. We’ve all got such a short trip in the big scheme of things, why not be open to experience as much as possible? Everything but that reclining seat, anyway.

    • A Visit to Brimstone Hill Fortress, St. Kitts

      On a steep and imposing chunk of rock with the mountains at her back, Brimstone Hill Fortress continues to watch over the Caribbean long after the strategic reasons for having a fort here at all have faded into history. Today St. Kitts and Nevis, and the other island nations nearby, are destinations for fun in the tropics, but three centuries ago these islands were strategically valuable producers of tobacco, cotton and especially sugar and its byproducts, molasses and rum. The conflicts between England and France were played out in the North American colonies and in small islands like St. Kitts. While most soldiers considered being stationed in the tropics a death sentence due to the high mortality rate (from disease, alcoholism, etc), it was nothing compared to that suffered by the original inhabitants and the slaves that built the fortress. Each were decimated as the history of this place evolved. Visiting the castle after playing tourist for a few days, the contrast between the joyful destination of today and its dark history was sobering.

      They say that history is written by the victors. This is largely true, but with enough time and clues, you find enough evidence to piece together a more complete story. The English and French united to massacre thousands of Caribs (kalinagos) in 1626 at a place aptly called bloody point, not far from Brimstone Hill. Once they’d eliminated the native population, the English and French divided St. Kitts between them, with the English taking the middle of the island and the French the rest. This tenuous peace between colonists would last until 1713 (the end of Queen Anne’s War).

      Brimstone Hill Fortress was built by slaves between 1690 and the 1790’s. The slaves were brought from Africa in a continuous loop that began the slave trade of tobacco, cotton and sugar for captured and enslaved people. This highly lucrative trade created generations of wealth and tragedy. The fortress is an early example of the polygonal system, which created fields of fire to ensure that all sides were covered from assault. The sheer height of the fort ensured it would be very difficult to attack from the ground, while offering the prominence of the high ground to fire canon balls up to a mile away. This was state-of-the-art technology for the time. The volcanic stone was mined and cut into a formidable fortress, using lime quarried from lower in the mountain.

      During the American Revolutionary War, the French (allied with the American colonists) invaded St. Kitts and laid siege on the fortress from January and February of 1782. A siege is the kryptonite of a fortress, as the inhabitants face a dwindling supply of water, food and ammunition while the attackers wait them out. Eventually even the strongest fortresses capitulate, and the English surrendered and marched out with full honors. A year later the English were back again when the Treaty of Paris restored the islands to them.

      Today the Brimstone Hill Fortress is a Unesco historic site and remarkably well preserved. Many of the original canon line the fort, awaiting an assault that will never come. Today’s assault is from tourists seeking out the spectacular views from the fortress, stirred with a sobering history lesson. It’s absolutely worth the trip up the narrow, winding road on a clear day. A walk out to the outer walls confirms exactly why they built the fortress here—you can see forever in all directions. Including the past.

    • To Be a Good Ancestor

      It’s understood that our ancestors lived in a time of darkness and brutality mixed with enlightenment and progress. History is a process of confronting and accepting the evidence we stumble across as we explore the path of humanity. We aren’t a perfect species, but we can make incremental progress towards a better world. We cannot judge ourselves today based on the actions of our ancestors, but we can learn and apply that knowledge towards a better future. This of course applies to the individual as much as the collective species. In either case, progress is active work.

      Our ancestors were the best and worst of us. We are the sum of that history: the survivors, antagonists and witnesses rolled into an underlying identity we either celebrate or work to change. We are the latest revision of our species, and the trick, as Kevin Kelly puts it, is to be good ancestors for futures generations. Just as a scale and the mirror inform us of our progress towards fitness, our work and what we invest our time and energy into determine tangible progress for our collective future.

      History suggests steady progress, even as the news suggests a spiral downward. The only thing certain is that we have our verse to be written. What we do with the opportunity is up to us.

    • Thoughts From An Early Morning Starbucks Line

      Standing in line at a grocery store or a restaurant, or waiting for the time to eat, we don’t need to waste our time. We don’t need to “wait” for one second. Instead, we can enjoy breathing in and out for our nourishment and healing. We can use that time to notice that we will soon be able to have food, and we can be happy and grateful during that time. Instead of waiting, we can generate joy.” — Thich Nhat Hanh

      We’re all working to process something in our lives—big and small things alike. This morning I was processing the benefits and drawbacks to skipping sleep for an early morning flight. It’s not my first rodeo when it comes to such things, and nothing that happens today will shake my belief that starting your day before the world wakes up offers a necessary head start.

      I contemplated this in the Starbucks line, chock full of groggy caffeine junkies looking for enlightenment, or maybe just a lifeline to the day. I didn’t need a lifeline, merely validation of a long-held habit of coffee equalling go. Standing in line, I recalled the gist of Thich Nhat Hanh’s quote, if not verbatim, and settled into a quiet celebration of life. The coffee surely stimulated the conversation between the ears later, but why wait? Life is now, caffeinated or not.

      Some minor travel-related inconveniences like a slow moving line are no reason to grumble. It wasn’t long ago when we missed the close proximity of a crowd. Traveling again is a reason for joy, and so too is reviewing an early start to the day while awaiting the miracle of coffee.

    • The Joy of Throwing Axes

      When you think about the combined activities of drinking alcoholic beverages and throwing axes around in a room, one might fairly ask the question, “what’s the worst that could happen?” and come up with some cringe-worthy images. Yet humans have been throwing sharp objects while drinking for as long as there have been humans and sharp objects to throw. We’ve just moved the throwing of said objects into a controlled environment.

      The act of throwing an axe is surprisingly easy and intuitive. If you closed your eyes for a moment and imagined throwing an axe you’d likely have a proper go of it on your first attempt. And so it is in when you’ve lubed your brain with a beverage or two. Rest assured there’s always an adult hovering around to make sure the basics are covered. Basics like proper respect for a deadly object.

      Axe throwing is done in a cage. The host accepts your money, has you sign away any liability and sprays the cork wall with water to moisten it, so that the axes sink in more often than bounce off the target (I’m guessing it also extends the life of the cork). After a few minutes of basic instruction, you go about throwing axes.

      The axes themselves are light stainless steel in a couple of sizes, so you don’t have to be Conan to throw the axe. The target itself is projected onto the cork, giving you a clear idea of what you’re throwing at. As with darts, you can receive progressively more points the closer to the center you get, but as with Skee Ball there are a couple of enticing small targets where you can score higher if you hit them or much lower if you miss. The rules of the arcade and life apply: It’s all about risk and reward. If you’ve played either darts or Skee Ball you’ll know where to throw. And that’s a good thing, because after all, people are drinking.

      The act of throwing an axe and sticking it into the wall is profoundly satisfying and exhilerating. Our ancestors would be proud of us, sort of, for keeping the family trade alive. Or maybe they’d look around and wonder why they bothered to keep the gene pool going with all that fighting and impaling back in the day. Still, I bet they’d be a ringer in a game of axe throwing.

      This may seem a trivial pursuit, and perhaps a trivial blog post too. Then again, life is about plucking joyful moments out of thin air. With all the stress and darkness in the world, it’s fun to do something completely primordial and delightfully analog. Go throw an axe—I dare you not to smile from ear-to-ear.

    • RIP, Gordon Lightfoot

      The legends of music are falling like autumn leaves now. Each one a gut punch of nostalgia and loss. I’d hoped to see Gordon Lightfoot this year, but he cancelled his tour just a few weeks before passing away last night. It felt like the end was near for him, and here we are. It’s a lesson to each of us—never postpone for tomorrow what you might do now. I passed on many opportunities to see Lightfoot in concert, I just put it off for another day that will never come. So it is.

      Lightfoot got me through a few dark days in my 20’s, back when a relationship was falling apart and I was figuring out what to do with myself next. He could make you feel like he’d written the song with you in mind, with a silky smooth voice to sooth the most restless spirit. Here are just four of Gordon Lightfoot’s songs that have meant a lot to me in my life:

      If You Could Read My Mind
      If you could read my mind, love
      What a tale my thoughts could tell
      Just like an old time movie
      ‘Bout a ghost from a wishing well
      In a castle dark or a fortress strong
      With chains upon my feet
      But stories always end
      And if you read between the lines
      You’ll know that I’m just trying to understand
      The feelings that you lack

      The breakup song to end all breakup songs. The anthem of the jilted. And one of the most beautiful songs ever written. This is the song that everyone will reference when they talk of the loss of Gordon Lightfoot. It’s the song that made his career, and it will always be the entry point for so many into his catalog of songs.

      Wherefore And Why
      Then all at once it came to me
      I saw the wherefore
      And you can see it if you try
      It’s in the sun above
      It’s in the one you love
      You’ll never know the reason why

      Deeper into Gord’s catalog, we find this amazing song of hope, resilience and purpose. Sometimes the answer isn’t out there on the road, it’s right at home. I think of this song sometimes as the sun rises and I greet the new day.

      Song For A Winter’s Night
      If I could only have you near
      To breathe a sigh or two
      I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
      On this winter night with you

      When those we love are absent from our lives, what are we to do with ourselves? This is a song of longing framed within beautiful lyrics and melody. We’ve all felt this way, alone and missing someone. Wishing it weren’t so.

      The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald
      Does any one know where the love of God goes
      When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
      The searchers all say they’d have made Whitefish Bay
      If they’d put fifteen more miles behind her
      They might have split up or they might have capsized
      They may have broke deep and took water
      And all that remains is the faces and the names
      Of the wives and the sons and the daughters

      A song that memorialized the lives of a crew caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, like so many sailors before and since. It’s timeless and epic and a bigger sound than anything else in Lightfoot’s catalog. You turn this one up loud and sing along, and appreciate that it wasn’t you on that ship as everything went wrong.

    • Going Further

      “All people, no matter who they are, all wish they’d appreciated life more. It’s what you do in life that’s important, not how much time you have or what you wished you’d done.” — David Bowie

      “If you feel safe in the area you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area. Always go a little further into the water than you feel you’re capable of being in. Go a little bit out of your depth. And when you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting.” — David Bowie

      How did you spend your time in the last 24 hours? Did you find yourself out of your depth? Someplace exciting? I hope so. My own time was spent digging a ditch for a drainage pipe, and then filling it in again. And I tried a new way to cook bone-in pork chops and corn on the cob. On the surface, none of this is particularly exciting, but it was all unique experience compared to the norm. Life is about trying new things to see what we’re capable of, after all. Sometimes those new things seem pretty mundane.

      The point is to do more things out of our comfort zone. I’ll never be a rock star, but I’ll keep trying new things in this lifetime. I can confirm that 26 meters of ditch digging teaches you a few things about yourself. There was always going to be sweat equity paid this weekend, whether a hike or a long walk on the beach. Both of those sound a lot better than digging that ditch, but I’ve done each many times in my life. The ditch informed. And now that it’s done, I will take that labor with me to the next decision I make down the road.

      Choosing adventure and experience over the routine is a path towards a larger life. But so too is choosing the small challenges that everyday living presents to us. We won’t always be up on a stage with the spotlights on us, but we can all appreciate life a bit more. Doing more is the way.

      David Bowie might have been a rock & roll star, but he was also an avid reader, who would look around at all the books in his library mournfully, knowing he couldn’t possibly read them all in his lifetime. We all feel that way about something in this brief lifetime. All we can do is live with urgency and celebrate what we manage to get to in our days.

    • Putting It All Out There

      “If today’s social media has taught us anything about ourselves as a species, it is that the human impulse to share overwhelms the human impulse for privacy.” ― Kevin Kelly, The Inevitable: Understanding the 12 Technological Forces That Will Shape Our Future

      But all the promises we make
      From the cradle to the grave
      When all I want is you
      — U2, All I Want Is You

      They say that sharing is caring, but the twist is that the share is what we care about at all. Life is change, how we process that within ourselves is ours alone… until we share it. So much of what we think and feel becomes part of the collective with a click. What happens after the click is out of our control, but something is released from us anyway. We’ve put ourselves out there in a declaration of the moment and try to move on to the next.

      The reader is in a time machine, picking up where we left off and processing our unique stack of words into thought. Sometimes a comment coming back to me after something I’ve published throws me for a loop, and I need to re-read what I wrote to see who I was at the time. We’re each on our path to becoming, and who I’ve become after clicking publish is somewhat different than the person I was before.

      That timestamp of the moment isn’t trivial, for it’s a brief glimpse into our fragile lifetime. As the years go by, so do the moments. Is sharing a grasp for the elusive amber? We can’t be forever locked in any moment but through the media that carries on after us. Still, there’s a big difference between a journal and a blog post, isn’t there? Should there be?

      What compels us to share anything of ourselves at all? Do we need to clear space for our new identity? Are we leaving breadcrumbs for others who might be inclined to follow? Perhaps the very act of sharing of ourselves is integral to becoming whatever it is we’re moving towards. Each of us have our reasons—our why— for sharing that run beyond ourselves. This why is the puzzle in everything shared, to be discovered by others.