Alexandersmap

    Category: Culture

    • Starting Again, Regularly

      “be ready to start again
      like the moon”
      – Kat Lehmann, Small Stones from the River

      “If I had a week left to live, would I be doing this?” – Neil Strauss, via Twitter

      Two worthy prompts to start the mind’s gears turning on this New Years Day. I’m not one for resolutions, but find reviewing what worked and didn’t work are worthwhile exercises – not just as we round the corner into a new year but at regular intervals. But what is that interval? Is the best interval the beginning of a calendar year?

      Maybe timing big questions with the phase of the moon makes sense? Since full moon fever carries more baggage the New Moon might be a better time. Or perhaps the first random Sunday of the month. But I believe the interval is as important as the questions asked.

      The Strauss question demands attention, of course. It’s a big question, and maybe its best asked annually, saving more frequent intervals for questions of systems and processes and assessment of progress against objectives. What’s working/not working? questions. Whatever your questions are, they deserve to be asked, and answered. Regularly.

    • Bold

      “So long as I am hanging on
      I want to be young and noble.
      I want to be bold.” – Mary Oliver, Desire

      There’s that word again. Bold. I chase it down, let it challenge me. Take a deep breath and get after it yet again. To rise free from care before the dawn and seek adventures, as Thoreau put it so well.

      Latin words for bold translate to audax, confidens, fortis, and they all fit. To be a bit audacious, confident and fortified are generally celebrated in this harsh world. We all aspire to a bit of boldness in our actions, don’t we?

      It’s the last day of the year that most everyone would love to see go away. And yet great things happened despite it all. I started to take stock of the exceptions to the general malaise that was this year and generally the ones I had any control over started with a bit of boldness. Deciding what to be and then going out and being it. I save the selfies for others. Ego is my enemy. Instead of celebrating those mountains climbed and the waterfalls sought out I’m quietly putting them in my memory bank with a smile. That’s what archives and search are for.

      What have we done with our time this year? What will we do today? Next year is upon us, what shall we make of it? Begin in earnest, today.

      I have places to be and I’m excited about the future. That begins with celebrating the last day of the year and finding the next micro adventure to fill the days with wonder until the world opens up again someday. It begins with a measure of boldness.

    • 11 of My Favorite Books Read in 2020

      Looking back on this maddening year, I found I read a lot of poetry that inspired and a lot of page-turner novels that distracted. It would be easy to make half this list collections of Mary Oliver poems, but I subtracted poetry from the list altogether to focus on the craft of the written novel or book. Still, I like to bend the rules, so in making my list of top ten favorite books for the year, I chose eleven. This was a nod to Charlie Mackesy, who spun a bit of magic in a year where it was essential. Illustrating the timeless nature of books (or perhaps how far behind I am in catching up), only four of the eleven were released in 2020. These eleven books are listed in no particular order, largely because there’s a bit of wonder in each of them. Each informed and delighted me.

      Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art by James Nestor
      “The more oxygen life can consume, the more electron excitability it gains, the more animated it becomes. When living matter is bristling and able to absorb and transfer electrons in a controlled way, it remains healthy. When cells lose the ability to offload and absorb electrons, they begin to break down.”

      I find myself thinking often about breathing after reading this book. Waking up with a dry mouth reminds me I need to be better at nasal breathing, when hiking I try to control my breath and focus on how I’m taking in oxygen, and when I chew almonds I crunch with satisfaction, knowing it helps release stem cells and increase bone density. This book is highly informative and strongly recommended for anyone, well, breathing.

      The 80/20 Principle: The Secret to Achieving More With Less by Richard Koch
      “Equality ends in dominance: that is one of the messages of chaos theory. The 80/20 Principle’s message is different yet complementary. It tells us that, at any one point, a majority of any phenomenon will be explained or caused by a minority of the actors participating in the phenomenon. Eighty percent of the results come from 20 percent of the causes. A few things are important; most are not.”

      This was the most highlighted book of the bunch. Honestly, there were chapters I skimmed over because they didn’t sing a tune I wanted to hear, but the theories here are sound. I wish I’d read this book at the beginning of my career, but it’s not too late to implement the core principles in many aspects of my life.

      The Splendid and the Vile: A Saga of Churchill, Family, and Defiance During the Blitz by Erik Larson
      Hitler wanted still more force applied against Britain. America seemed increasingly likely to enter the war but would do so only, he reasoned, if Britain continued to exist. On March 5 he issued another directive, No. 24, this signed by Field Marshal Wilhelm Keitel, chief of the High Command of the Armed Forces (OKW), aimed mainly at how Germany and Japan might coordinate strategy under the Tripartite Pact, which both had signed with Italy the preceding fall. The goal, the directive said, “must be to induce Japan to take action in the Far East as soon as possible. This will tie down strong English forces and will divert the main effort of the United States of America to the Pacific.” Beyond this Germany had no particular interest in the Far East. “The common aim of strategy,” the directive stated, “must be represented as the swift conquest of England in order to keep America out of the war.”

      We all grew up sort of knowing about The Blitz. This book neatly sums up just how tenuous the situation was. I fancy myself well-informed about World War II, but I learned far more from the The Splendid and the Vile than I expected to. For all our complaints about the pandemic, most of us have no idea what real sacrifice is. Larson brings us closer to understanding with this book.

      The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy
      “What do you want to be when you grow up?” asked the mole.
      “Kind,” said the boy.

      A beautiful, simple book. I picked this up for my daughter as a gift and read it quickly before wrapping it up. If 2020 kicked you in the ass, read this. Then read it again. The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse is art, meditation and a warm hug disguised as a book.

      Longitude: The True Story of a Lone Genius Who Solved The Greatest Scientific Problem of His Time by David Sobel
      The zero-degree parallel of latitude is fixed by the laws of nature, while the zero-degree meridian of longitude shifts like the sands of time. This difference makes finding latitude child’s play, and turns the determination of longitude, especially at sea, into an adult dilemma—one that stumped the wisest minds of the world for the better part of human history.

      I’ve danced around this book for years, never getting around to reading it. And then I went to Greenwich and saw the chronometers ticking away in their plexiglass cases and resolved to get right to it when I returned home. This is a story of perseverance solving what was believed to be the impossible. A delightful book.

      Mayflower: A Story of Courage, Community, and War by Nathaniel Philbrick
      No longer mindful of the debt they owed the Pokanokets, without whom their parents would never have endured their first year in America, some of the Pilgrims’ children were less willing to treat Native leaders with the tolerance and respect their parents had once afforded Massasoit.

      Living in New England, you can’t really get away from the story of the Pilgrims. But the part we seem to forget with the Pilgrims is how much they relied on luck and the strategic kindness of Massasoit to survive at all. It seems I’m a descendent of a Pilgrim (or two), so I’m told, and that lineage makes me all the more indebted to the Pokanokets who assured that those first few years here weren’t the last for the passengers on the Mayflower. As the quote above suggests, that indebtedness seemed to skip the next generation, paving the way for the tragedy of King Phillip’s War.

      Draft No. 4: On the Writing Process by John McPhee
      “That four-to-one ratio in writing time—first draft versus the other drafts combined—has for me been consistent in projects of any length, even if the first draft takes only a few days or weeks. There are psychological differences from phase to phase, and the first is the phase of the pit and the pendulum. After that, it seems as if a different person is taking over. Dread largely disappears. Problems become less threatening, more interesting. Experience is more helpful, as if an amateur is being replaced by a professional. Days go by quickly and not a few could be called pleasant, I’ll admit.“

      Reading McPhee, like reading Hemingway, it’s easy to get just a bit intimidated. The beauty of this book is that he pulls back the curtains to show you the way. Great research, editors and fact checkers smooth out the rough edges and polish the story, but the work you put into it makes the finished product shine.

      Cape Cod by Henry David Thoreau
      “The ocean there is commonly but a tantalizing prospect in hot weather, for with all that water before you, there is, as we were afterward told, no bathing on the Atlantic side, on account of the undertow and the rumor of sharks. At the lighthouse both in Eastham and Truro, the only houses quite on the shore, they declared, the next year, that they would not bathe there “for any sum,” for they sometimes saw the sharks tossed up and quiver for a moment on the sand. Others laughed at these stories, but perhaps they could afford to because they never bathed anywhere. One old wrecker told us that he killed a regular man-eating shark fourteen feet long, and hauled him out with his oxen, where we had bathed; and another, that his father caught a smaller one of the same kind that was stranded there, by standing him up on his snout so that the waves could not take him. They will tell you tough stories of sharks all over the Cape, which I do not presume to doubt utterly,—how they will sometimes upset a boat, or tear it in pieces, to get at the man in it. I can easily believe in the undertow, but I have no doubt that one shark in a dozen years is enough to keep up the reputation of a beach a hundred miles long.“

      This book, like Philbrick’s Mayflower, informs the native New Englander about the places that once were the places that now are. I have a stack of quotes from this book that I’m saving for other blog posts, but the one above reminds us that the question of sharks has been around a lot longer than we might believe. Like Thoreau I’m much more concerned about undertow when swimming in the surf, but hey, you never know…

      Siddhartha: A Novel by Hermann Hesse
      “Were not all sufferings then time, and were not all self-torments and personal fears time? Weren’t all the difficult and hostile things in the world gone and overcome as soon as one had overcome time, and as soon as time could be thrust out of the mind?“

      I’ve heard enough people recommend this book that eventually I had to read it, and I finished it in 2020. Amazingly, it feels like I read this a decade ago, for all that’s happened this year. Like The Alchemist, it’s a story that teaches you a bit about yourself as you wade through it.

      Thinking in Bets: Making Smarter Decisions When You Don’t Have All The Facts by Annie Duke
      What makes a decision great is not that it has a great outcome. A great decision is the result of a good process, and that process must include an attempt to accurately represent our own state of knowledge. That state of knowledge, in turn, is some variation of “I’m not sure.”

      How do you make decisions? How can you make better, more informed decisions when you don’t have all the facts? And what is a game of strategy versus a game of chance? This book uncovers some of these answers. As with anything, there’s book smart and there’s street smart, and reading about it and understanding it in real life are different things. Duke sprinkles in some street smarts hard won on the poker tables.

      Sailing True North: Ten Admirals and the Voyage of Character by James G. Stavridis
      “The contemporary malaise is the unwillingness to take chances. Everyone is playing it safe. We’ve lost our guts. It’s much more fun to stick your neck out and take chances. The whole attitude is to protect yourself against everything, don’t take chances. But we’ve built this country on taking chances” (Quoting Rear Admiral Grace Hopper)

      A quick, enjoyable read that offers lessons learned from some of the great “Admirals” in history. This is examination of character in ten short biographies, but also an unflinching look at racism and sexism in the Navy and how that battle continues to be fought to this day. And there’s no mistaking the Admiral’s feelings about character in certain political leaders we currently suffer through. A timely message for all of us.

    • Understanding How to Think

      “Learning how to think really means learning how to exercise some control over how and what you think. It means being conscious and aware enough to choose what you pay attention to and to choose how you construct meaning from experience. Because if you cannot exercise this kind of choice in adult life, you will be totally hosed.” – David Foster Wallace, This is Water

      Watching the Pixar movie Soul yesterday, there was a reference to fish in water not knowing what water is. An hour later I was reading Admiral James Stidiris’s book Sailing True North and he also dropped in a reference to the speech, mentioning he reads it at least once a year. So, not one to ignore two disparate neon arrows pointing towards one specific source, I put the book down and re-read Wallace’s commencement speech. And just to be sure of his inflection I then listened to it again this morning (link above). Stidiris is right to read it every year. It should be required reading/listening for every person as part of their education, for if you look around at the highly-polarized America of 2020 it’s striking how on the mark Wallace was.

      I tend to absorb things through repetition and diversity, and maybe you do too. So watching the speech was one method of understanding, but reading the transcript at my own pace is where I fully absorbed what Wallace was trying to say. And in re-reading it at the end of 2020, when so much of what he said in 2005 reverberates differently, was striking. Wallace covers the peril of blind certainty, the contrasting importance of critical awareness and the “basic self-centredness” embedded in all of our operating systems. Critical awareness leads to freedom:

      “This, I submit, is the freedom of a real education, of learning how to be well-adjusted. You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn’t. You get to decide what to worship.”

      “The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriad petty, unsexy ways every day… That is real freedom. That is being educated, and understanding how to think. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the rat race, the constant gnawing sense of having had, and lost, some infinite thing.”

      And there it is: the real, and really important, freedom of learning how to think for yourself. Of listening to the vile poison coming out of a politician’s mouth or written in upper case Twitter ramblings and taking a step back from it and saying “no, that’s bullshit”. And, importantly, listening to a counter argument by another talking head and seeing the bias in their words too.

      Perhaps this is the elitism that the zealots describe independent thinkers as having. I once had a conversation over lunch with a customer in Rochester, New York who was incredulous that I might have a different point of view about Donald Trump. I quickly steered to common ground, pointing out that it would be better if he didn’t tweet quite so much (never debate politics, or anything really, with your customers). I saw right away that there was no helping him understand the underlying issues with Trump. Debating him would have positioned me as a smug liberal (I’m a centrist, thank you).

      The thing is, I’m not sure I’m right about Trump, but the body of evidence and his consistent tendency to do just the opposite of what I would have done in just about everything he’s done surely suggests my assessment is correct for me. And that freedom to consider what is known, assess and reach my own conclusion about a matter, independent of what others say and with full awareness of my own biases, well, that I think is what Wallace was trying to get at with this speech about the value of a Liberal Arts education.

      Wallace committed suicide three years after delivering this Commencement speech at Kenyan College. He was born in Ithaca, New York and got his undergraduate degree from Amherst College. These are two places I’ve immersed myself in during my tenure on this planet, so I feel a small connection to him. Infinite Jest is the book that got the world to take notice of him. But his Commencement speech might just be his most enduring work.

    • The Nature of Robust

      I tripped over a delightful word while reading a John McPhee book, turned it around in my head to assess it, and diligently highlighted it for the definition to be sure I had it right. The word? Pallesthesia. I write it and even WordPress underlines it in red dots of confusion. Pallesthesia is a “vibratory sensation”. A more complete definition may be found here if you choose. Anyway, the word seems appropriate for the topic at hand this morning: coffee.

      This week I’ve had the opportunity to assess four distinct coffee blends with my trusty AeroPress coffee maker. Two Peet’s (Berkeley, CA) Major Dickinson blends, one pre-ground and one whole bean. A Stumptown (Portland, OR) Hair Bender pre-ground blend and finally, a Blue Harbor (Hampton, NH) Sumatra whole bean blend. This gave me a unique testing lab to compare the differences, with the AeroPress and the water consistent for each cup.

      It may go without saying that there’s a distinct difference between whole bean and pre-ground coffee, but sometimes you just need the convenience of pre-ground. Given the time it takes to grind a tablespoon of whole coffee beans, it isn’t even convenience, really, but lack of motivation to get the grinder out and do the necessary work. Since I’m waiting for water to boil anyway, why not grind a few beans?

      The difference between pre-ground and freshly ground whole bean was most pronounced between the two bags of Peet’s Major Dickinson beans. The whole beans offer undeniable richness and flavor profiles that you don’t get with the pre-ground. I’m not one to ever turn down a cup of Peet’s, but given the choice the whole bean is the way to go.

      Stumptown is a famous name in coffee, and it’s a good cup, but it suffered in comparison to the whole bean Peet’s. I think it’s partially the Hair Bender roast being blended for mass appeal versus the richer blends I tend to favor. That said, I’m sipping a cup of it now while writing this blog, and it will do the pallesthesia trick when you just want to get moving in the morning.

      And that brings me to Blue Harbor’s whole bean Sumatra. This turned out to be my favorite of the lot. I think it comes down to it being the freshest roast of them all (being a local roaster that doesn’t mass produce bags of coffee at the scale of a Peet’s or Stumptown) and Sumatra is a go-to blend for me anyway. Peet’s guarantees that their coffee is no older than 90 days when you buy it at your local market, but that Blue Harbor is likely no more than 9 days old. Both are great, but you really taste the difference in a freshly roasted, just-ground coffee. So a nod to the local New Hampshire roaster for this round of the coffee wars: best in class this week.

      One thing is clear from all of this sipping and contemplation: great coffee matters. And whole bean great coffee roasted recently is profoundly more interesting than a whole bean brewed a while back. Another example of buying local making a big difference in the quality of your life.

    • The Wait

      Christmas morning for early risers is all about the wait. The scene is set, the stockings are strung by the chimney with care and stuffed full of candy and knickknacks and gift cards. The coffee is made, sipped down, and sometimes made again. The waiting game has begun.

      Back when the kids were in the magic age when Santa Claus and Rudolph dominated the conversation on Christmas Eve, sleep deprivation was the name of the game. You’d stay up half the night assembling the shock and awe gift of that particular season. And then they’d wake you up in a flurry of excited activity as one or the other would stir, realize what the moment was, whisper loudly to the other to wake up! and then they’d rush in to finish the job of getting you out of bed too. At the height of this mad dash we’d often be done with the early shift unwrapping by 7 o’clock.

      Not so when they reach adulthood. Now it’s all about the waiting game. The residents of the house get up in stages like it’s a Saturday morning with no place to go. We’ll get this celebration rolling around 9 o’clock I’d guess, but then again, who really knows? But they’re worth the wait.

      We won’t see everyone we’d like to see this Christmas, but we’ll add Zoom to our day and make the most of it. It’s a different vibe, but the same love. No assembly required. But maybe some tech support and reading glasses.

      Merry Christmas. And Happy Holidays. For all this year brought I hope this morning brings you Peace.

    • The Cold Water Initiation

      “Though it be the hottest day in July on land, and the voyage is to last but four hours, take your thickest clothes with you, for you are about to float over melted icebergs.” – Henry David Thoreau, Cape Cod

      The stretch of water between Cape Sable Island in Nova Scotia and Cape Cod in Massachusetts is known as the Gulf of Maine. A lot of history has floated between these two points, from Native Americans and later the Basque fishing and whaling these rich and vibrant waters to explorers like Giovanni da Verrazzano and Samuel de Champlain mapping the coast and looking for places for settlements. The Gulf of Maine remains the one constant that each would recognize, though they might wonder where all the fish went until they glance back at the developed shoreline.

      In 1604 Champlain ventured south from Port Royal to explore the coast of Maine. It was on this trip that he discovered Acadia, and further south, the “baye longue” between two capes and a long stretch of sand beaches on the present coast of New Hampshire.” (David Hackett Fischer, Champlain’s Dream. It’s on these beaches that generations of New Englanders and vacationing Canadians have discovered the truth in Thoreau’s words: this water is as cold as melted icebergs!

      Cold water gets in your blood, and you don’t celebrate it so much as accept it for what it is: a shocking reminder of how insignificant we really are. The Atlantic Ocean is divided into the Northern Atlantic and the Southern Atlantic, but really, there are divisions within divisions. A swim in Miami is not the same as a swim in Virginia, and a swim in the Hamptons on Long Island is definitely not the same as a swim at Hampton Beach in New Hampshire.

      You aren’t really a New Englander until you’ve taken the plunge into the Gulf of Maine on a hot day. It’s an initiation of sorts into the extremes. There isn’t a person who swam in early July at Hampton Beach who couldn’t relate to the bobbing passengers at the end of Titanic. The cold water hardens you, tests your mettle, and reminds you of your mortality. And that’s why I’ve grown to love a bracingly cold swim now and then. That stinging skin is a shocking reminder that you’re still very much alive… if a bit numb.

    • En Passant, Knowing Your Place and Breaking Rules

      I once got in a debate with my grandfather about the rules of chess. Specifically, he would execute En Passant when I would attempt to move past his advancing pawn. At the time I thought I knew the rules of chess, but it seems I’d never fully grasped the rules the pawn plays by. It wasn’t until I took the time to learn chess at a deeper level that I realized he was right all along. And I can see him winking at me in my mind.

      For those who don’t play the game, a pawn may advance one square forward, can’t move past a piece that blocks its forward advance until that piece moves and may capture another piece diagonally forward only. Simple. And then they added another rule to help speed up the game a bit, allowing you to move every pawn two squares forward on its initial move only. Well, this created a problem as well, for if an opponent’s pawn had advanced to a point where your move two squares forward eliminated their ability to capture your pawn in it’s forward diagonal move, you were essentially stealing the already limited power from the opponent’s pawn.

      En Passant, French for “in passing“, is a rule that allows the opponent to say “not so fast!” (Well, really they would say “en passant“) and execute the move of putting their pawn onto your square where your recently deceased pawn had once been. It’s a way of telling you not to get too far ahead of yourself or you’ll pay the consequences.

      And there lies the dark side to En Passant: It’s reminding the pawns of the world to know their place, to not get ahead of themselves or they’ll suffer the consequences. En Passant was invented long before democracy, and pawns generally knew their place and skated their lanes. The bold were snuffed out if they went a step too far.

      In democratic societies we chafe at being pawns, and the bold among us do leap forward. The rules of law can still remind you you’re a pawn if you grow reckless, but mostly it’s other pawns telling you not to stick your neck out. And worse, En Passant largely resides in our own minds: Imposter syndrome, timidity, and fear of the unknown keep us skating in our own lane, one square at a time, while the big players in the world spin around us.

      A pawn that plays by the rules may advance forward diligently and become a queen or any player it wants should it reach the end. There’s a subtle message there too, and you look around and most people play that game. Skate your lane, reach the end and retire… Fine, I suppose, but a little less sparkle for your time on the board, don’t you think?

      No, there’s a place for boldness in this world. We are each in passing here for a very brief time. En Passant only applies to pawns, after all. And who said you had to be a pawn anyway?

    • Planets Dancing

      “in other breaking news
      a silver moon
      sailed
      above the world
      and the only ones
      who knew it
      were the ones who looked up”
      – Kat Lehmann, Small Stones From The River

      The skies cleared in New England after a day of heavy snow, allowing the few who ventured outside to see the waxing crescent moon looking like a giant in the western sky. A bit further along in their dip towards the western horizon was the equally stunning dance of Jupiter and Saturn. They’re slowly moving towards each other for the “Great Conjunction” on December 21st. Last night the moon was at 10% illumination, giving Jupiter and Saturn the spotlight. The three together made for a magical picture.

      I witnessed this dance across a field that cows graze on during the day, on days when it isn’t coated in snow. Last night the cows were huddled in their barn and the field sloped down towards the west, giving a wonderful view of the dance. I wonder if the cows took turns sneaking a peak through the barn door at this once in a lifetime event? Probably not. Most humans pay no attention, who can expect a cow to grasp the significance?

      Monday, December 21st seems to be trending towards rain and cloud cover. That’s par for the 2020 course, as we seem to have cloud cover for most of the celestial events this year. So maybe having the opportunity to witness something that hasn’t occurred at night since the year 1220 will be next to impossible here in New Hampshire. But we can hope for clear skies, for we’ll never see it again in our lifetimes.

      I wonder why more people aren’t lining the roads in wonder at the universe. But every day is a once in a lifetime event for each of us. Maybe we’re used to squandering moments? And maybe the world is too complex and broken for such things as great conjunctions. But I’d like to think that, maybe, they just haven’t looked up yet.

    • Which Comes First?

      Enter first applicant.

      “You understand that this is a simple test we are giving you before we offer you the job you have applied for?”
      “Yes.”
      “Well, what is two plus two?”
      “Four.”

      Enter second applicant.

      “Are you ready for the test?”
      “Yes.”
      “Well, what is two plus two?”
      “Whatever the boss says it is.”

      The second applicant got the job.

      Which comes first, orthodoxy or the truth?
      – Anthony De Mello, The Job, from The Song Of The Bird

      Hard to read this story and not immediately see similarities in the world of politics lately. You either kiss the ring and accept (and parrot) doctrine or you look for the truth outside the door. You see it with people who dare speak of the facts in the face of an overwhelming win in the US Presidential Election, and you see it with people who call you a snowflake if you believe Climate Change is an existential threat or wearing a mask in a pandemic might make a little sense. Call me what you want; give me science, thank you.

      There’s nothing new in this, of course – refer to Galileo or Darwin for examples of the dangers of proposing that the way people see the world might not be entirely accurate. This is especially true when you mess with people’s ideas about religion, politics, and nationalism. Americans generally come together when it counts most, and perhaps we’ll see that once the man who fancies himself the boss for life has less of a hold on power and his spin on orthodoxy.

      The question is, are some things worth the fight for truth, or is everything?