Alexandersmap

    Category: Culture

    • Snowy Morning Bliss

      “In the woods too, a man casts off his years, as the snake his slough, and at what period soever of life, is always a child. In the woods, is perpetual youth…. In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life,—no disgrace, no calamity, (leaving me my eyes,) which nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground,—my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space,—all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God. – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature

      I admit to a bit of excitement. Adrenaline coursing through me as I anticipate the first steps outside into the freshly fallen snow. A few inches of the fluffy stuff fell from early evening and overnight and still drifts downward in lazy accumulation. Not enough to strap on the snowshoes (pity), but enough to make an adventure of the walk. What is winter for if not to be a kid again when it snows?

      My destination is the woods. The woods grow silent in the snow, and I fill with reverence. The days inside are long, for there is much to do in this forever connected march to quarterly numbers and customer engagement and cross-department collaboration. But the early mornings are mine alone. And there is magic in the air. And underfoot.

      “I am the lover of uncontained and immortal beauty.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature

      The world ought to be filled with wonder, I think. But most people slide into survival mode, leaving their inner child far in the rearview mirror to face all the horrors of the world stoically. But the stoics saw the wonder of nature as Emerson saw it, and shouldn’t we too, while we still have both nature and the capacity to marvel at it?

      I always smile when I come across people from places without snow who walk outside in awe, snapping selfies in a frozen wonderland. Living in the snow globe we sometimes forget to shake it up and embrace the swirling magic. Not us, thank you. We’ll walk and swirl in the magic too.

      Morning Snow

    • A Nation’s Character

      “Our nation will not survive as we know it without an engaged and committed population.” – Dan Rather, What Unites Us

      “Once a belief is successfully dressed up as truth… we feel justified in whatever moral judgement or decision we render. When we detect no problem in our moral machinery, we see no reason to expend energy to rebuild it.” – Dr. Jim Loehr, Leading with Character

      Americans are in a funny place right now. It’s like a family that got in a big fight right before Thanksgiving, with everyone at the table and hurt feelings all around. Except that it isn’t just America. Russia, China, France, Germany, Great Britain… etc. all going through their own version of family drama right now. COVID has something to do with it, of course, but the events unfolding in the world were a long time coming. Change chafes at some segments of the population more than others.

      The two books quoted above are adding context to what I’m seeing, and each offers lessons garnered from individual lifetimes of observation on the part of Rather and Loehr. A nation’s character is defined by its citizens and the leaders who are chosen to represent them. That list of countries facing identity crises has very different ways of choosing leaders. The world is reacting to change, fueled by previously unimaginable levels of communication. Character and truth matter more than ever before in a world where communication can serve or misdirect.

      Political leaders are just people with a higher tolerance of, or hunger for, the public spotlight. The very best of them find common ground, the worst fall in line with cliques and party expectations. Which reminds me of the not-so-ancient words of Stephen Covey to seek first to understand, and then to be understood:

      “The early Greeks had a magnificent philosophy which is embodied in three sequentially arranged words: ethos, pathos and logos. I suggest these three words contain the essence of seeking first to understand… Ethos is your personal credibility, the faith that people have in your integrity and competency. It’s the trust that you inspire, your Emotional Bank Account. Pathos is the empathic side – it’s the feeling. It means that you are in alignment with the emotional thrust of another person’s communication. Logos is the logic, the reasoning part of the presentation.
      Notice the sequence: ethos, pathos, logos – your character, and your relationships, and then the logic of your presentation. Most people… go straight to the logos, the left brain logic, of their ideas. They try to convince other people of the validity of that logic without first taking ethos and pathos into consideration.” – Stephen R. Covey, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People

      And here we are, with most people leading with their mouths (or Twitter accounts). Most people go straight to logos, without seeking first to understand their constituencies, their peers, the needs of other countries in a small, frail world. Empathy matters. Character matters. The rest is just noise that works 24/7 in sound bites and tweets to erode the foundation of truth and dignity.

      I once had a roommate who would tune in to British Parliament just to watch the room fill with shouts of support or dissent. It all seemed chaotic to me, madness really, with no statesmanship, no decorum on display. I know there’s nuance and behind-the-scenes maneuvering that brings meaning to it all, but it all seemed the opposite of polite discourse towards consensus and progress. Plenty of television programming has adopted this format, for apparently a segment of the population loves shouting and escalation. But what get’s accomplished in the end? Lately it seems largely a stalemate or one party’s slight majority driving policy until the next party takes over and undoes the other’s work. Madness.

      The world is changing, as it always has been. We’re all witnesses to massive change, while also actors in that change. The actions of the individual matter more than ever before, and we must find a way to amplify the truth, to rebuild our moral machinery, and to unite despite our differences. The efforts of the individual, without individualism. Without nationalism. For that is the only way forward. The rest is chaos and conflict. Escalating. Ad infinitum.

      The thing is, I’m an optimist. I think of the slogan that The Washington Post adopted a few years ago; “Democracy dies in darkness”. There’s truth in those words, and the more engaged and committed the population is in finding the truth and progress towards a common good, the better we’ll all be. The pendulum swung sharply towards ugliness and nationalism for a while there, and it will take the collective will of the majority to pull it back to center.

      It’s in our hands. A nation’s character is defined by us. You and me… and them too.

    • Sharing Meaningful

      “Sometimes the best writing gets no recognition in its time or gets censored. This is the price of art.” – Neil Strauss

      I’ve written a few blog posts over the years that keep popping back up. Someone will like a post I’d written a year or two ago about some place I went or thing I did, click the like button and remind me of that moment when I see the notification. It feels like those moments when you’re having a conversation with an old friend who brings up some shared experience or character from your past and instantly you’re flooded with warm memories of it.

      You never know what will resonate with others. That would be a horrible way to write anyway; trying to write something just for the clicks and follows. Writing then becomes a rather cynical job, doesn’t it? I’ve been playing the WordPress game long enough to know immediately what someone is trying to accomplish with their own blogs. Generally I’ll follow people who are trying to capture something meaningful – for themselves first, and shared with the world second.

      This entire experience of writing a blog has been about paying the price of art. Some people paint pictures and stack them up in their garage to gather dust, gradually marking the progress of an artist as the pile grows. Writing a daily blog is taking that stack and displaying it for the neighbors. Some art garners attention, some grows dusty and brittle by neglect. But all of it marks the journey, like breadcrumbs on the forest path or footprints on the beach. And like each, art is fragile in nature. Here but for a moment. Mine currently resides in some data center somewhere in the world.

      Whatever direction this blog goes in, it always starts with sharing something meaningful, if only to me. Whether that’s grilling a pizza or visiting a battle site from 350 years ago or just a pile of words that resonated with me in a particular way, it’s all just sharing meaningful, and locking it in my own mind for another day. Released by a random like at the most unexpected moments.

      Thanks for the like.

    • Achieving Something Beyond

      “The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple. And yet, everybody rushes around in a great panic as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond them.” – Alan Watts

      Enjoying being alive is surely a worthy pursuit, but even Watts, in pointing this out, was achieving something beyond himself. For otherwise, what are we contributing beyond a few laughs over drinks? Unsaid, I believe, is contributing joyful pursuits that create those ripples that live on beyond your lifetime.

      I’ve visited the graves of many notable names in history, and generally it’s a chunk of silent stone in a lonely plot. The best graves betray the personality of the person who resides there. A clever line about how they lived, or what they believed. Or maybe it’s the stone itself that signals the character of the person. Ralph Waldo Emerson lies below a chunk of rose quartz, which stands out amongst the weathered gray stones of his family and peers on Author’s Ridge. Whether you ever knew much about Emerson, you’d surely note the personality emanating from his gravestone.

      Of course, Emerson left a big ripple well beyond a rock on a hill through his contribution to the world. Did he enjoy writing and speaking? Certainly. Emerson wasn’t running around in a panic trying to achieve something beyond himself. He just did the work. And so did Watts. And so must we.

      “Men live in their fancy, like drunkards whose hands are too soft and tremulous for successful labor. It is a tempest of fancies, and the only ballast I know is a respect to the present hour.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature

      There’s a distinction between being alive and achieving something in your life, but they don’t have to be mutually exclusive. And usually the things that make us feel most alive offer more than just a momentary dopamine rush. They’re part of building something beyond ourselves. Family, meaningful work, friendships that transcend convenience, and community. These things aren’t achieved, they’re earned one moment at a time.

    • Here, in This Place

      In the place that is my own place, whose earth
      I am shaped in and must bear, there is an old tree growing,
      a great sycamore that is a wondrous healer of itself.
      Fences have been tied to it, nails driven into it,
      hacks and whittles cut in it, the lightning has burned it.
      There is no year it has flourished in
      that has not harmed it. There is a hollow in it
      that is its death, though its living brims whitely
      at the lip of the darkness and flows outward.
      Over all its scars has come the seamless white
      of the bark. It bears the gnarls of its history
      healed over. It has risen to a strange perfection
      in the warp and bending of its long growth.
      It has gathered all accidents into its purpose.
      It has become the intention and radiance of its dark fate.
      It is a fact, sublime, mystical and unassailable.
      In all the country there is no other like it.
      I recognize in it a principle, an indwelling
      the same as itself, and greater, that I would be ruled by.
      I see that it stands in its place, and feeds upon it,
      and is fed upon, and is native, and maker.
      – Wendell Berry, The Sycamore

      I’ve both loved and resented the roots I’ve grown. A wandering spirit, I’ve chafed at being caught in place for too long. Yet I’ve been deeply nourished by the community I’ve planted myself in. I reach towards the sky, trying to fly. While rooting deeper and wider still. Such is the way.

      Roots are built on routines and responsibilities, done with love and established over time. You don’t have to feed the birds where you live, but when you do they reward you with movement and song. They bring life in return for your investment in time, money and persistence. And so it is with a community. When you help nourish the community you’re rewarded in ways you might not have anticipated when you first set roots there.

      Old growth trees come in many shapes and sizes. Some grow impossibly high. With others, thick trunks support wide canopies. And those in the highest mountains remain low to the ground, clustered tightly together and shrinking in on themselves, constantly buffeted by the harshest of winds.

      The pandemic abruptly stepped into our lives about a year ago and still informs. I’ve learned to appreciate the firm ground I’m rooted to all the more when the storms blow. For here in this place I’ve grown more than I might have otherwise. Here in this place the worst of the winds blow over. Here in this place we’ve built lives for ourselves. Bonded to this place and each other, roots interwoven together.

    • To the Best of My Ability

      “However much I may be impressed by the difference between a star and the dark space around it, I must not forget that I can see the two only in relation to each other, and that this relation is inseparable.” – Alan Watts

      In the United States, we have this peaceful transfer of power every four to eight years, depending on whether someone was re-elected or not. It seemed a rather ordinary thing until some folks spun up some other folks to attempt a violent overthrow. Most Americans recoiled when they saw that, knowing it isn’t who we are. A few celebrated it for the anarchy and division it created. Such are our differences.

      Amplifying our differences became a nagging pursuit over the last five years of Trump. Biden is built differently. Built on empathy and unity and a healthy dose of humility. Strong leaders draw people of strong character to their circle. Weak leaders do the opposite. When you pull back the covers there’s really not much of substance there.

      Four years ago I’d hoped the guy I didn’t vote for would rise to the job. I hope for the same for the guy I voted for this time around. It turned out to be a particularly bad time to have a weak, divisive President in this country. But now we move on, with a guy that hopefully doesn’t pose in front of the heads on Mount Rushmore, but instead works to emulate their best attributes.

      We all have the best and worst attributes encoded within us, don’t we? With some only the venom reaches the surface. But some are better at drawing out the very best in themselves and others. And that’s where I hope we are now and for many years to come. We’ve seen the relation between our brightest tendencies and our darkest, and it was jolting. Now that we’ve finally all seen how fragile Democracy is, what will we do next?

      Ultimately, in the United States we give the new President a shot at leading to the best of their ability. And hope that they might reach beyond expectations. Every four years, usually on January 20th (unless a Sunday), they take the oath, not to lead, but to serve:

      “I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.” – Presidential Oath of Office, in accordance with Article II, Section I of the U.S. Constitution

      Many will note there’s nothing in that oath about being an ethical, decent human being. But it’s implied one ought to rise up to the responsibilities granted in the role. Some are satisfied with reaching the title and not doing the work necessary to unite and lead the country. But the thing is, something fills the void when character isn’t present. When you look at the stars, take a look at the dark space around them. And note the relationship between the two.

    • The What and How of Boldly Leaping

      “I have learned, as a rule of thumb, never to ask whether you can do something. Say, instead, that you are doing it. Then fasten your seat belt. The most remarkable things follow.” – Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way

      The hard part about writing every day wasn’t starting, it was mentioning to people that I was writing every day. Writing has always been part of my identity, it was just expressed in other ways for a couple of decades while I busied myself with other things. People tend to assume those other things are who you are. But we know better don’t we? The quiet conspiracy of expressing your identity stays with you always. One day I just started writing again, and remarkable things have followed. And really, I’ve only just dipped a toe in the waters. There’s so much farther yet to go.

      “I have seldom conceived a delicious plan without being given the means to accomplish it. Understand that the what must come before the how. First choose what you would do. The how usually falls into place of itself.” – Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way

      We all have bold plans. Some are fully realized, some fall aside in the grind of commitments and pandemics and other things. The world is fascinated with the characters who follow through on their boldness. Elon Musk, Richard Branson, Steve Jobs and Oprah Winfrey followed through on the schemes and dreams and truly audacious whimsies that most of us would gently set aside. First they chose what they would do, and the how fell into place.

      I’m watching the kids I watched grow up wade deeper into adulthood. Their own identities are emerging, different from what we might have assumed; thinking them a basketball or soccer player, or perhaps the noisy kids giggling in the basement over a Disney movie they’ve watched a hundred times. If I’ve learned anything on my own wading into the waters, it would be to offer encouragement and support the audacious without being an overprotective “adult”. Maybe offer some ideas about the “how“. Or who they might talk to about the “how“. And then get out of the way.

      So the question is, do we do that with ourselves? Do we fully support our own boldness or brush it aside as just so much nonsense? Do we focus on the “how” or the “why we shouldn’t“?

      Say, instead, that you are doing it. Then fasten your seat belt... The how usually falls into place of itself.

      Don’t just dip a toe or gently wade in the shallow waters. Figure out the hows: how deep is the water? How well can I swim in this? What do I need to know to stay afloat? (all of these questions limit your downside) And then quickly leap. And see how big a splash you can make.

      Ready?

    • A Realm of Sunset and Moonlight and Silence

      “My house stands in low land, with limited outlook, and on the skirt of the village. But I go with my friend to the shore of our little river, and with one stroke of the paddle I leave the village politics and personalities, yes, and the world of villages and personalities behind, and pass into a delicate realm of sunset and moonlight, too bright almost for spotted man to enter without novitiate and probation. We penetrate bodily this incredible beauty; we dip our hands in this painted element; our eyes are bathed in these lights and forms.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature

      I’m returning Emerson once again, partly to counter the din of political tweets and headlines that dominated over the last week, and partly because I’d like to read or re-read all of his work in 2021. Which brings me back to his essay Nature, for (I believe) a third reading. And I couldn’t help but linger on the sentence above, which resonates in this time, and for this place I myself reside, in a house in low land, with limited outlook, on the skirt of the village. Emerson had the Concord River to paddle to truth. I have the New Hampshire woods and the wildlife it sustains to show me the way.

      Days like these, a quiet bit of immersion in the forest seems in order. We live in strange times, distracting times, and I’ve seen the impact on my writing lately. Thankfully, I know where to find the remedy: in nature, in tapping into the Great Conversation, and in solitude.

      “Accept what comes from silence.
      Make the best you can of it.
      Of the little words that come
      out of the silence, like prayers
      prayed back to the one who prays,
      make a poem that does not disturb
      the silence from which it came”
      – Wendell Berry, How To Be a Poet (to remind myself)

      A special thanks to Maria Popova and Brain Pickings for pointing out this particular poem in a recent tweet. This poem immediately served as a catalyst on two fronts: to search for more Wendell Berry and seek the silent contemplation I’ve stolen from myself absorbing the madness of the world. Silence, as they say, is golden.

      So outside of paddling off on my own or building a small cabin in the woods, how to bring together the natural world and the silence necessary for contemplation? The answer, for me, lies in early mornings. The conspirator against a quiet mind is the whirl of madness in the world and a desire to keep up and understand it. In these times, finding a way to paddle or walk away from it all, if only for a little while, seems imperative.

      If only to find your own voice again.

    • From This Moment

      “How quietly I
      begin again

      from this moment
      looking at the
      clock, I start over

      So much time has
      passed, and is equaled
      by whatever
      split-second is present

      from this
      moment this moment
      is the first”
      – Wendell Berry, Be Still In Haste

      Two weeks into the New Year. About as distracting a beginning to a New Year as I can ever recall. We know where we’ve been, where we’ve come from. But what comes next? We change from moment to moment with the ticking of the clock, but what do we do with that change?

      Start over. Again.

      “Time does not exist. There is only a small and infinite present, and it is only in this present that our life occurs. Therefore, a person should concentrate all his spiritual force only on this present.” – Leo Tolstoy

      Sometimes it feels like we’re marching on a treadmill, especially during a lockdown, but you look back and see progress despite the illusion. A pile of actions that didn’t work. A few, sifted through the remains, that did. What do we make of it? All that has passed, has passed. This moment is the one that counts. This moment is the first.

      Keep trying. Again. And again.


    • Poised, and Wise, and Our Own, Today

      “In times when we thought ourselves indolent, we have afterwards discovered that much was accomplished, and much was begun in us.“– Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays: Second Series, “Experience“ (and all subsequent quotes in this post)

      I got lost in the headlines for a bit before writing today. Getting spun up in politics and pandemics and the bad behavior of others. It’s important to be aware, to have an informed opinion to fight the good fight. I suppose… but indignation doesn’t spark the creativity I aspire to. And so a return to Emerson was in order.

      These are dark, wasted days if you choose to believe it. Alternatively, they’re the best, most productive days of our lifetimes. What do you prefer?

      “Every ship is a romantic object, except that we sail in. Embark, and the romance quits our vessel and hangs on every other sail in the horizon. Our life looks trivial, and we shun to record it.”

      Comparison is a bear. How we’ve spent the last year compared to someone else does us little good. I think of wasted opportunities and stop myself, for there’s no use going down that path. For all the madness of the last eleven months much was accomplished. Much is being accomplished. We might not see it just yet.

      “Life itself is a mixture of power and form, and will not bear the least excess of either. To finish the moment, to find the journey’s end in every step of the road, to live the greatest number of good hours, is wisdom. It is not the part of men, but of fanatics, or of mathematicians if you will, to say that the shortness of life considered, it is not worth caring whether for so short a duration we were sprawling in want or sitting high. Since our office is with moments, let us husband them. Five minutes of today are worth as much to me as five minutes in the next millennium. Let us be poised, and wise, and our own, today.”

      I’ve used the quote above before in this blog. It’s a favorite and I’ll likely use it again. Emerson whispers persistently, for all who might listen. I return to it now and then to remind myself of the worth of this day. Of this hour. Of these next five minutes. What shall we do with them, that we might record as remarkable in these times?

      “Men live in their fancy, like drunkards whose hands are too soft and tremulous for successful labor. It is a tempest of fancies, and the only ballast I know is a respect to the present hour.”

      I began the day with headlines… a tempest of fancies designed to distract and provoke and draw us out of our own heads. But we all have our own ships to sail. There’s urgency in the moment, generational urgency, and we should support those who rise up to meet it. But focus on moving down your own path too. Respect the present hour. Emerson insists.