Alexandersmap

    Category: Culture

    • A Different Perspective on Liberty

      When you see the Statue of Liberty from the New Jersey side, it feels a bit surreal. We’re all used to that image in our head of the face of Lady Liberty, but how often do we ever think of the back? Yet that’s what New Jersey sees. I recall a joke about Lady Liberty forever turning her back on New Jersey, but let’s flip that script around for what’s really been happening since 1886: New Jersey’s always had her back.

      Liberty Park offers a striking view of Manhattan and Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi’s bold vision of American liberty. He called his work “Liberty Enlightening the World”. Liberty represents the hopes and dreams of millions, standing exposed to the elements for 13+ decades. 1886 was within the lifetimes of Civil War veterans, think about what that statue meant to them. What it still means, when we look at the world with new perspective.

      Liberty connects generations, and she stoically stands, not just American’s, but for the world. The work was literally a gift from the Old World to the New. We ought to remember the message in the gift. Forget the people trying to co-opt her message for political gain, Liberty represents all of us. When you look at America’s Liberty from New Jersey, you aren’t just looking at it, you’re a part of it. And from that perspective, shouldn’t we all have her back?

    • 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.

    • Learning a Language With Apps, Habits and a Deadline

      With a bit of travel coming up and a keen desire to be able to hold up my end of the bargain in a conversation, I’ve doubled down on my use of language learning apps recently. My primary method of learning to this point was Duolingo, which aims to make learning a language fun with a game-like structure, characters who you either learn to love or do your best to ignore, and a methodology that “align[s] with the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages (CEFR), which describes what learners can do with the language at different proficiency levels.” Nice.

      Duolingo advertises themselves as a free app, and you can definitely use the app free so long as you don’t mind putting up with the advertising. It didn’t take long for me to find the ads frustrating and just pay for the add-free version (mission accomplished). If you’re going to spend any amount of time on the app it’s worth the $60 USD per year for the Duolingo Plus Individual Plan. If you use it every day it works out to $.16 cents per day. Manageable.

      I’ve managed a streak of 767 days sprinkled with the help of a few “streak freeze”protections along the way when I’ve been traveling or simply didn’t get to it. I’m a big believer in maintaining streaks for habit formation, and have tried to check the language learning box every day for a couple of years now. What I’ve found is that as learning has become more habitualized in my routine using the app just takes care of itself.

      I feel that Duolingo does well in teaching reading comprehension, but I’ve found myself lost in rapid-fire conversations with native French, German and Portuguese speakers (the three languages I’ve focused on with this app). I felt like something was missing with Duolingo, and began looking around at other apps to supplement my daily learning. And that’s when I came across Pimsleur. If Duolingo falls short in one area, it’s in keeping up in conversation with native speakers. Pimsleur uses a couple of tricks to help with this. First, they structure learning modules around a specific conversation, using four tricks to help you understand a conversation that might have overwhelmed you when you first heard it:

      “Graduated Interval Recall — a scientifically-sequenced and proven schedule which moves the items you learn from short-term to long-term memory.
      Anticipation — by “anticipating” the answer to each question, your brain is actively learning and developing new neural connections.
      Core Vocabulary — The Pimsleur Method teaches the most common words and grammatical structures so you can start speaking immediately … in a meaningful way.
      Organic Learning — you learn grammar, vocabulary, and pronunciation in context using conversational exchanges — just as you learned your first language, but with the added benefit of a method scientifically-proven to accelerate learning in the adult brain.”

      I’m still using the unpaid version of Pimsleur, focusing specifically on German with it, and I find it beneficial. The graduated interval recall and anticipation jump out at me as being really helpful. I found myself inserting the right word or phrase more often than not, and the way they break down the phrase for you makes it easier to leap forward conversationally. But it is a conversation, so you can’t just quietly sit in a room with others while using the app if you want to learn to speak, you’ve got to talk. This is powerful, but it also requires that you carve out a time and place for it (I don’t anticipate using Pimsleur on my next flight, but I’ll surely use it while driving).

      When combining Pimsleur with Duolingo, you can effectively “immerse” yourself in a language if you put enough time into it. Sure, nothing beats true immersion for learning anything, but let’s face it: most of us have day jobs. Combining the two competing apps seems to be the right formula for me.

      The essential ingredient in any learning tool is focus and commitment—actually using the tools to learn. That’s where habit streaks and deadlines help you become focused. I’m happy just to keep the streak going every day, but I really feel more urgency to learn German knowing I have a trip to Austria and Germany locked in. And French doesn’t get a pass now—I’m sticking with the routine of learning both French and German (sorry Portuguese), and plan to book some time in either France or Quebec soon to dial up the urgency with French too.

      The Holy Trinity of habits, the right tools and the urgency of a deadline bring focus to the task. For nothing focuses the mind like the possibility of being hopelessly lost in conversation. We ought to hold up our end of it instead of expecting the world to just switch to English. Êtes-vous d’accord? (Ja, ich stimme zu)

    • What Do We Make Of This Texture?

      “What do I make of all this texture? What does it mean about the kind of world in which I have been set down? The texture of the world, its filigree and scrollwork, means that there is the possibility for beauty here, a beauty inexhaustible in its complexity, which opens to my knock, which answers in me a call I do not remember calling, and which trains me to the wild and extravagant nature of the spirit I seek… The texture of space is a condition of time. Time is the warp and matter the weft of the woven texture of beauty in space, and death is the hurtling shuttle.”
      — Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

      “Every religion that does not affirm that God is hidden,” said Pascal flatly, “is not true.” What is man, that thou art mindful of him? This is where the great modern religions are so unthinkably radical: the love of God! For we can see that we are as many as the leaves of trees. But it could be that our faithlessness is a cowering cowardice born of our very smallness, a massive failure of imagination. Certainly nature seems to exult in abounding radicality, extremism, anarchy. If we were to judge nature by its common sense or likelihood, we wouldn’t believe the world existed. In nature, improbabilites are the one stock in trade. The whole creation is one lunatic fringe. If creation had been left up to me, I’m sure I wouldn’t have had the imagination or courage to do more than shape a single, reasonably sized atom, smooth as a snowball, and let it go at that. No claims of any and all revelations could be so far-fetched as a single giraffe. The question from agnosticism is, Who turned on the lights? The question from faith is, Whatever for?” — Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

      At some point a month or two ago I gently put aside Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. It was right around when things got very busy, when bad news began to stack up around me like junk mail, when processing the deeper concepts behind Annie Dillard’s words became a bit more than I wanted to tackle at the moment. Everything has its time.

      Yet the questions remained.

      What do we make of all this texture? Every ridge line traversed, every waterfall’s mist tickling our skin, every deep conversation with another, every swim in a salty bay, and every sunrise glimpsed are but texture to our lives. But then again, so is every mosquito bite. It’s all so damned far-fetched, and yet here we are.

      I have a sister who is firmly in the God camp. I’m more skeptical of the Hallmark version of a loving God moving the world around like so many chess pieces. We both know life isn’t fair and throws you a curveball now and then to keep you on your toes. We just happen to disagree about “who” is winding up to throw it. And yet we peacefully coexist in both the universe and family dinners—we just don’t question each other’s beliefs.

      It’s easy to be outraged by the other side of the coin. They’re tossing around beliefs that just don’t jibe with our world views. Yet we’re the same coin. It’s fair to ask both “Who turned on the lights?” and “Whatever for?” We’re all asking our version of What’s It All About Alfie? Who said that we are ever meant to know the answers?

      Thankfully, we aren’t alone in pondering the imponderables; as with Dillard and Bacharach framing the questions in this post, we may draw on the wisdom of the ages at any time. Philosophy doesn’t answer the questions for you, but it does help you structure those questions better. We only have our short time to dance with the mysteries of the universe, and will never have all the answers.

      And yet… we get so caught up in the “who, what and why” questions that we forget to ask: How do we make the most of our present condition? For the universe only asks us to live in our time. You come to appreciate the tapestry of life a lot more when you learn to weave yourself into it and let the questions fall away.

    • 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.

    • Good People

      “They’ll never be any shortage of good people in the world. All you got to do is seek them out and get as many of them as possible into your life. Keep the rest the hell out.” — Charlie Munger

      “You’re the average of the five people you spend the most time with.” — Jim Rohn

      I’ve tried to live this “no assholes” philosophy in every aspect of my life. We are who we continually surround ourselves with. It’s one reason you’ll never find me on the extreme edges of politics, fighting for every dollar in certain business cultures, or spending any significant amount of time on Facebook. I enjoy living a happy, trusting life surrounded by wonderful people. Call me crazy.

      We’ve seen what a toxic culture can do. The world of assholes has an awful stink. Find the good people where the air is clear. Where the building of bridges happens. Where there’s hope for the future and an earnestness to contribute to it.

      When you find a company that is filled with good people, trying earnestly to make a positive difference, you want to try a little harder to measure up. When you join a company filled with people trying to step on you to climb a notch ahead, you either kick them back or immediately find another company. Seems an easy choice to me.

      Where did all the good people go,
      I’ve been changing channels I don’t see them
      On the TV shows
      Where did all the good people go,
      We got heaps and heaps of what we sow
      — Jack Johnson, Good People

      Sometimes I surprise people when I tell them I don’t watch a lot of television, and definitely don’t watch a lot of news. Talking heads on a program, no matter how earnest they might seem, aren’t there to serve you and me. They’re there to amplify and draw you in. There are surely good people swimming in the red ocean of news programming, but why risk getting eaten alive trying to find them? Swim in the tranquil sea instead. The water’s great, come on in.

      If all this seems rather utopian, well, it’s not a determined ignorance of the dark side of humanity. No head in the sand here, thank you. Rather, it’s an informed decision to associate with the best people you can find, people who will lend a hand. People who make you want to be a better person yourself.

      That kind of good vibe builds on itself. That’s how communities are formed. It’s how families stay together. How marriages last a lifetime. Find the good people and earn a place at the table. You might even discover happiness was right there, waiting for you to stop paying attention to the not very good people.

    • The Rhizome Remains

      “We do not know how life is going to turn out. Therefore the story has no beginning, and the end can only be vaguely hinted at. The life of man is a dubious experiment. It is a tremendous phenomenon only in numerical terms. Individually, it is so fleeting, so insufficient, that it is literally a miracle that anything can exist and develop at all. I was impressed by that fact long ago, as a young medical student, and it seemed to me miraculous that I should not have been prematurely annihilated. Life has always seemed to me like a plant that lives on its rhizome. Its true life is invisible, hidden in the rhizome. The part that appears above ground lasts only a single summer. Then it withers away — an ephemeral apparition.
      When we think of the unending growth and decay of life and civilizations, we cannot escape the impression of absolute nullity. Yet I have never lost a sense of something that lives and endures beneath the eternal flux. What we see is blossom, which passes. The rhizome remains. In the end the only events in my life worth telling are those when the imperishable world erupted into this transitory one. That is why I speak chiefly of inner experiences, amongst which I include my dreams and visions. These form the prima materia of my scientific work.”
      — Carl Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections

      Our lifespan is but the bloom that eventually withers away, yet the rhizome remains in our spirit and the work we leave behind for others. Think of the traits we see carry from generation to generation. Think of the art and music that resonates long after the composer has withered away. We have people that stay with us for the rest of our days; we can see the twinkle in their eye, we can hear their laughter. Life is Jung’s ephemeral apparition, but as we feel of those who have transcended this world, the physical manifestation of our being isn’t all there is of us.

      Our season is very short, but rooted below the surface we’re anchored to eternity. And this, when you think about it, offers a bit of hope in this ridiculous game of living. For we come and go in our season, but our rhizome remains. There’s a sense of permanence in that, as we make the most of our impermanent time in bloom. We shine in our time and offer what we might to those who carry on.

      The present season, anchored to eternity

    • Bravado and Bluffs (How Wars Begin)

      “We have to remind ourselves that, at that moment, Blitzkrieg was nothing. It was just a bunch of stalled Panzers. Just a monstrous traffic jam on the Austrian highways, some furious men, a word that was coined later, like a gamble. What’s astounding about this war is the remarkable triumph of bravado, from which we can infer one lesson: everyone is susceptible to a bluff. Even the strictest, most serious, most old-world souls: they might not give in to the demands of justice, they might not yield to an insurgent populace, but they’ll always fold before a bluff.”
      — Eric Vuillard, The Order of the Day

      It’s hard not to read this quote about the earliest days of World War II and not see current events in the world. We’re seeing bravado and bluster all around us, and the voices of those who stand up against it shouted down in social media and in mob rallies. This isn’t far off from what was happening in 1930’s Europe. We’ve always seen it, really, for humans live to react and take time to think about the consequences when it’s too late.

      History is full of thugs and gangsters rising to power on a bluff and a healthy dose of intimidation. To think it’s not happening now is to live with blinders on. But we wonder, who are we to raise a voice in protest? Why rock the boat when you see what happens to others who do? We all have our filters on, biting our tongue when the oddball rambles about something a bit too extreme for our tastes. Why give them any momentum at all?

      I was at a trade show in Las Vegas, listening to some people I know parroting some mob rally talking points. I wasn’t surprised at their point of view, but taken aback that they’d voice it in the midst of industry peers. And what are you to do in that moment? Argue the contrary? Who wants to argue with someone you’re trying to do business with? And that’s exactly how a fringe idea vocalized becomes accepted by some who lean in that particular direction.

      I write this with a sense of optimism. It feels like the world has recoiled, finally, in the face of Putin’s aggression. In the face of Trump’s sedition. Yet the mob rallies continue. The lights are on and the cockroaches scatter, but they’re still there, waiting for their opportunity to come back out. Don’t give it to them.

      Bravado and bluster attracts some even as it repulses others. We either rise up and face it or we enable it. Strong leadership requires a play for the middle. The middle must recoil and throw them out before they gain momentum. Call their bluff—before it’s too late. As we’ve seen, it can happen here too.