Alexandersmap

    Category: Culture

    • Between Two Waves

      We shall not cease from exploration
      And the end of all our exploring
      Will be to arrive where we started
      And know the place for the first time.
      Through the unknown, unremembered gate
      When the last of earth left to discover
      Is that which was the beginning;
      At the source of the longest river
      The voice of the hidden waterfall
      And the children in the apple-tree

      Not known, because not looked for
      But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
      Between two waves of the sea.
      Quick now, here, now, always–
      A condition of complete simplicity
      (Costing not less than everything)
      And all shall be well and
      All manner of thing shall be well
      When the tongues of flames are in-folded
      Into the crowned knot of fire
      And the fire and the rose are one.
      — T. S. Eliot, Little Gidding

      Writing actively, it follows that I actively think of writing more than the norm, but really, I’m just a student of life making up for lost time, before I awakened. I’m always on the lookout for a phrase or sentence that resonates with me on a deeper level. Partly this is admiration for the turn of a particular stack of words, and partly because it offers a train of thought I’d love to explore more in the future. Like an engaged conversation between two people, words prompt. Our engagement with others draws us out of ourselves and places our thoughts into the universe. The ripple that results may transcend space and time, as Eliot’s ripple surely has.

      Eliot observed in Little Gidding that “every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning, every poem an epitaph”. Being actively aware of what is being said is a talent of the truly engaged. I’m still a work in progress, as my bride would remind me (funny that I don’t always seem to hear what she swears she just told me—A sign of a wandering mind, or is it a mind slowly slipping into the abyss? Perhaps it’s simply what is heard but half-heard?).

      When I do drift off into the abyss one day, I’d like to leave behind a few cogent thoughts before I go. We ought to feel the urgency in the moment, knowing we are but billion-year-old carbon making a weekend of it in our present form. This present mix will soon reshuffle, as sure as the sun rises. There’s a resounding call for us to pay attention in such moments. Eliot, himself reshuffled, capture my jumble of words better with his own: “the communication of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living”.

      My bride would add that I ought to pay more attention to the living as well, but my occasional Walter Mitty moments aside, I’ll make a case that I pay attention to the important details. Every moment matters, but some resonate a bit more. If we focused on everything we’d focus on nothing, after all. Playing the long game, and with a lens focused on infinity, is it any wonder that every sentence both matters a great deal and sometimes gets lost in the surf?

      The trick is knowing what to pay attention to in any given moment. We’re all works in progress on our march towards excellence. Knowing that we’ll never quite reach it doesn’t mean we should quit. Our imperfections are a sign of our untapped potential. At least that’s the promise in our present condition.

    • The Greater Good

      “We are burdened with over-realization. Not that we can perceive too clearly the rights and wrongs of every human being but that we feel too deeply our own, to find in the end that what has meaning only for each one alone has no real meaning at all.” — Edith Hamilton, The Greek Way

      There’s a contradiction in the world that chafes. We’re all individuals, making our way in this world, trying to live our best life. But we’re also part of something so much bigger than ourselves, part of communities, of nations, and of a species that often forgets that we’re all in this together. Individuals landed on the moon, but what resonated when they did so were the foothold they established for humanity.

      Humans are burdened by individualism, even as individualism stretches our limits and moves us forward. All progress depends on the observation of individuals that what we have isn’t quite enough, and the decision to then do something about it. Unfortunately, all the violence, violation and hatred in history come from a similar place. The irony of the Ancient Greeks is that they saw the contribution of the individual to the greater good as paramount, and created the very idea of democracy. But at the same time, they had slaves and fought wars to ensure that they’d receive more slaves (or become slaves if they lost). They were far from perfect, but they pursued Arete, or Excellence, just the same.

      We might believe the stakes aren’t quite so high for us today. But aren’t they? We’re in a fight for democracy against the autocrats of the world, home and abroad. A few decades of relative peace has made us complacent, but the pendulum will swing towards democracy or autocracy until checked. Things are very much in play even now.

      The problems in the world generally come down to a crisis in leadership. When we have lesser people in powerful positions, we slide backwards or run off the tracks.. When we have exceptional leaders, we rise to meet the challenges of the moment and the world resets itself. Who are leaders but individuals reaching or exceeding their limitations? We are the choices we make, collectively.

      The paradox of living in the modern world is the blessing and curse of individualism. Everyone is so ensnared in themselves and the screen in front of their faces that they forget that we’re each a part of something much bigger than ourselves. When we look at the problems in the world today, they often come down to self-interest. When we look at the greatest accomplishments we’ve made in history, they’re often the result of collective contribution. With this in mind, it seems the answer to much of our problems lies in rising to meet the moment, together.

    • Santa Monica Sunset

      I learned a few things yesterday that change my worldview. Most notably, I’m not the Skee Ball player I once was. Someone’s got to finish last. I provided enough evidence to convince myself, grudgingly, that I’m not as good as my wife and daughter. So be it. More importantly, I suppose, was spending the time with each of them.

      The Santa Monica Pier is a classic California beach pier, jammed with people watching the waves roll underneath while the sun drops towards the horizon. The arcade and amusement park rides were active, despite a chilly breeze off the Pacific Ocean. Dining choices were strictly fattening and a bit greasy, and nobody seemed particularly concerned about the lack of kale and spinach smoothies on the menu. There’s plenty of that elsewhere in California, this place is for fun.

      Route 66 terminates at Santa Monica Pier. You could drive your car from Chicago to Santa Monica, park on the pier and watch the sunset with some fried dough if you want to. I settled for the sunset, which seemed a great way to wrap up a brief few days out west.

      There’s no doubt this place is touristy, but the beach and rolling waves back it up with substance. Sometimes we just need to forget the world’s problems and have some fun. This place has offered up fun for generations.

    • Desert Decisions

      Caffeine and alcohol hit you a bit differently in the desert. The desert sucks you dry. Here, you’re always skating the line between chaos and disorder with dehydration already. Pour in some stimulants or depressants and see how it goes. Looking around Las Vegas, it seems it often goes badly.

      Las Vegas can be invigorating and off-putting all at once. Jaw dropping moments occur regularly, from the extraordinary talent of the performers here, the sheer decadence on display, the choices some people make balancing their wardrobes with other decisions they’ve made in their lives, or the gritty, desperate living death of those cast aside all around you. You see things you want to see in Vegas, but good god you see things you you never wanted to see too.

      The desert dryness is catching up with me, but so too is immersion in this place. I’ve spent a lot of my ration of days in a place I’m completely ambivalent about. Life is very much encapsulated in Las Vegas. We can live boldly or slide sideways off track. For all the incredible, wonderful people making something for themselves here, there are others who descend into the abyss. If this city teaches you anything, it’s that we become what we focus on, one decision built on the next.

    • Trust, but Verify

      “Most people, in fact, will not take the trouble in finding out the truth, but are much more inclined to accept the first story they hear.” — Thucydides

      We live in a world where sound bites and headlines are the primary news source for far too many people. Monetization of blue checks on Twitter seem to be the topic du jour, calling into question exactly who is telling you what. Artificial Intelligence (AI) is accelerating exponentially into our new [un]reality. What we see doesn’t always measure up to what we hear. In these moments, trusting the information we consume without verifying its validity places us in peril.

      There have always been scammers and charlatans, the only thing new is the tools of their trade. It’s possible to release a lie into the universe that can be believed to be true by millions. It happens every moment already. Diligence and trust are harder work than simply believing what we’re told, but don’t we owe it to ourselves and our future to try a bit harder to see beyond the face of what we’re told?

      Our lives are the stories we tell ourselves. This works equally well for the individual as it does for mankind. So just what kind of story do we want to believe? Trust, but verify.

    • By the Handful

      ‘You only go around once in life, and I’m going to grab a handful of it.’ — Steve McQueen

      The world is not back to “normal” post-pandemic, for there’s an increased state of madness and fragility buzzing around us all, but it’s clear that people are living larger lives. Who’s to blame them? Shouldn’t we be grabbing our handful of bold and earnest living in the face of it all? This is our time. Carpe diem.

      Las Vegas offers hope and distraction and a chance to step out of ourselves, just a little bit, and try new things. Sometimes those things are big and bold. Sometimes it’s a $10 dollar mechanical bull ride. Watching a line of buzzed glory riders ride the mechanical bull at Gilly’s late into the evening, I was struck by the parallel to McQueen’s statement. Each character climbed aboard, tucked one hand firmly onto the grip, the other high in the air and went for their crazy ride. Each held on for their time and no more. The bull always wins in the end. Still, the riders declared that we can each make something glorious before we’re thrown.

    • What Doesn’t Happen in Las Vegas

      Las Vegas keeps growing, and growing more crowded. If your desire is to immerse yourself in thick waves of people looking for their moment that stays in Vegas, it may be just what you’re looking for. To be fair to the city, the Strip has never looked so spectacularly lavish. Every time I visit they’ve thrown up another massive structure. Casinos and arenas grow bigger and more elaborate. The classic older casinos remain the familiar smoky maze that brings comfort to a certain crowd. The new casinos draw in the hip, young, and beautiful with their seemingly unlimited bank accounts. To walk through one and then the other is to see almost the entire history of this place. One can become almost invisible to the throngs staring in wonder at the visual display around them.

      Finishing a dinner at the Paris Casino, a business associate and I chose to walk back to the casino we were staying at. Our other associates chose to take a taxi back. We beat them by twenty minutes. That doesn’t speak to the briskness of our walk, but the crush of traffic from one to the other. The sidewalks might be crowded too, but at least you can keep moving along. I shudder at the gallons of fossil fuel burning wastefully as the long line of cars awaits the next light. But that’s part of Las Vegas too. Building a city in the desert necessitates an embrace of wastefulness. Water, electricity, gasoline and lives drift away in unison.

      Las Vegas has built itself up to be whatever you want it to be for yourself, so long as you’ve got the money to fund your life choices. Gambling, fine dining, shows, sex, drugs and alcohol are all here awaiting those who choose to embrace it. Some of these choices will be lifetime memories, some will be things you’d like to forget. Always choose wisely. No matter what the slogan says, some things don’t just stay in Vegas. Being a prudent practitioner of what doesn’t happen in Vegas is a sound way of having just enough fun to make it out unscathed.

      This may read like an indictment of Las Vegas. It’s not meant to be. Simply put, it’s hard not to have fun in this city, and I always find it enjoyable, just in more moderation than the majority of people around me. This has always been my way. Give me quiet places in abundance, and the madness of this adult playground to remind me of why I choose those quiet places far from here.

    • Art With a Spritz of Lime

      “Art is art and life is life, but to live life artistically; that is the art of life.”— Peter Altenberg

      A close friend has a flare for living well. He’ll spritz lime on a potato dish and make something extraordinary of what was moments before thought to be disparate produce. He’s always looking for the exceptional in an otherwise average day. And he drives many people mad as a result. Like that burst of citrus in a starchy dish, I find his perspective punctuates life perfectly.

      This business of living artistically is something to aspire to. Capturing moments with a bit of magic and moving through the ordinary with je ne sais quoi, these are the things that matter very much in a world that wants you to fall in line and fit right in. Certainly, we must do our job and do it well, but why always settle for vanilla?

      We each live on both sides of ordinary. It’s a gift to be human at a time and place when you can express yourself freely. We ought to use that gift and add more flavor to our days. Like every gift, we must choose to use it. Art is a deliberate act, expressed uniquely. What might we bring to the table if we have the gumption to try something new?

      We all know the expression: when the world throws you lemons, make lemonade. There’s another clever expression I once found on a kitchen magnet that adds a twist: when the world throws you limes, make margaritas. To this I’ll add, don’t forget to save some lime for the potatoes.

    • The Book Stack

      “A precondition for reading good books is not reading bad ones: for life is short.” — Arthur Schopenhauer

      “The buying of more books than one can read is nothing less than the soul reaching toward infinity…” — A. Edward Newton

      I wrestle with books. I love reading, and stack more books than I ought to into my life. Settling down with a great book is one of my favorite activities, so why do I pile on more than I can possibly get to? The stack of books taunt me. Even as I write this I can see them in the periphery, mocking my use of time when it doesn’t involve them.

      We live in a time where we’re blessed with abundance in everything around us, and cursed with the same scarcity of time. We must be prudent in what we add to the pile, and what we edit out. Reading is just another experience in a brief life that contributes to its richness and meaning. The rules of good nutrition apply. Beyond the required reading of a formal education, we get to choose our information diet. But we also then live with the consequences. When we use our reading time wisely we enhance living substantially.

      Imagine my delight when my Twitter feed offered up the two quotes above within a few days of one another to perfectly summarize my… situation. We live an impossibly short life for the sheer number of books available for us to read, and then pile on the distractions of life (like Twitter), and how are we ever to get to everything we want to read? The very act of writing this blog is stealing time from reading, even as writing fuels my hunger to read more. Which experience is more valuable in the moment? Isn’t life a quest to find balance between what we do and what we consume?

      And therein lies the answer; reading is just another form of collecting experiences that build a life. As with other experiences, we are what we prioritize. We can’t do everything, but we can certainly do the most important things. So it is with reading. It’s not just a stack of books and an infinite jumble of words, it’s the building blocks carrying us higher and higher towards a richer perspective and broader potential. It’s ours to realize, or to leave on the shelf.

    • Everywhere

      “I haven’t been everywhere, but it’s on my list.” ― Susan Sontag

      What’s next? Where to? These are things the earnest world traveller considers in between days. Just back from one country, scheming the next, what meets the strict budget of time and money? The world is calling, and life is so very short. Yet we simply can’t be everywhere.

      What of here? Don’t we give place short shrift when we look to the world with wanderlust? Life is presence. Life is right here, wherever we find ourselves, not everywhere all at once. We are what we pay attention to.

      The thing is, we each reconcile the possible with the probable. We see the time flying by, see people around us passing away or saddled with restrictive illness, and we wonder why we aren’t out there meeting the universe while there’s time. What are we to do?

      Distraction is merely comparison run amuck. It’s what the Buddhists call the monkey mind. We live in a noisy world, full of distraction and the temptation of what might be next. We fixate on what we don’t have instead of celebrating what we are blessed with. Our lives are right here, right now. It’s the universe offering us the moment. We dishonor the gift when we reject it for the next one.

      Celebrate here and now. Plan for there and then. Everywhere may arrive in time, in its time. Here is where it’s at, for now.