Alexandersmap

    Category: Culture

    • The General Union

      “The happiest fate is that of the author who, as an old man, is able to say that all there was in him of life-inspiring, strengthening, exalting, enlightening thoughts and feelings still lives on in his writings, and that he himself now only represents the gray ashes, whilst the fire has been kept alive and spread out. And if we consider that every human action, not only a book, is in some way or other the cause of other actions, decisions, and thoughts; that everything that happens is inseparably connected with everything that is going to happen, we recognize the real immortality, that of movement – that which has once moved is enclosed and immortalized in the general union of all existence, like an insect within a piece of amber.” – Friedrich Nietzsche

      I stood out in a three inch deep puddle at the end of the driveway, chipping away at an ice dam that was keeping the water from flowing into the catch basin and back on its journey to the infinity of the Atlantic Ocean. It’s funny to think about the icy water I stood in as part of the infinity, but then again so are we. All part of an endless loop of the water cycle. We humans trap a bit of that water for ourselves to mix with some carbon and energy for a time before releasing it back on its way. And our own time soon comes to an end, leaving memories and examples and maybe an insight or two.

      The thrill of writing is still with me, as much as ever really. The streak of writing every day almost ended over the weekend when I struggled to stay awake to finish a post written piecemeal over the course of a busy day of hiking and socializing. Would it really matter if I missed a day? The world surely wouldn’t stop, but I’d know. I’m not ready to break the streak just yet thank you. Every day we wake up is a continuation of the streak, and there’s a thrill in getting up and out there to greet the world when you know you’ve got things to contribute to it. If only a few words that relatively few will read.

      Being active and adding to the conversation is the root of the thrill for me. Being in the mix and doing things. Will anyone care that I wrote this post? Perhaps not many, but the act itself is enough for me. A few thoughts and actions that ripple while using up my three billion heartbeats during this life, to be enclosed and immortalized in the general union of all existence. Like a puddle reaching for the ocean, and welcomed back warmly by the whole.

    • Muscle Memory

      I grab the newel post with my left hand in the dark, pivot slightly and feel the stair rail with my right. Twenty-two years of early morning flights and workouts and pouring thoughts into piles of words adds up to the kind of muscle memory that allows you to navigate a house in the dark. So much has changed in that time in the concentric rings of relationships that circle closer and closer to the brain between these ears. But this act, grab left and pivot to right, hasn’t changed at all.

      When you’re in a new relationship everything is discovery and revelation. Hopes and dreams. The small endearing habits, the smell of shampoo, the imperceptible twitch of an eyebrow or shift of a glance that betrays a belief you’ll learn over time.

      Relationships with place are similar, but the friction is different. You get to know the creaks and tendencies in a house, the way it breathes when the furnace turning on, how it reacts to frigid cold and gusty wind, the appliance working to survive another cycle, and the sleep cycles of fellow inhabitants. What sounds right and what seems off.

      A house wears like a pair of jeans, faded and stretched in some places. Lived in. Pets come and go. Children bridge the time between new house and familiar abode. A crayon mark or that chip in the tile from the oldest banging a fireplace poker that you don’t even see anymore. Memories of earlier days flood in; bringing the youngest home for the first time, birthday parties, celebrations and holidays.

      Twenty-two years. For all the talk of travel and downsizing and the encroaching habits of the neighbors, there’s something to be said for the familiar. For muscle memory in dark times.

    • Leaning Towards High Agency

      “When you’re told that something is impossible, is that the end of the conversation, or does that start a second dialogue in your mind, how to get around whoever it is that’s just told you that you can’t do something? So, how am I going to get past this bouncer who told me that I can’t come into this nightclub? How am I going to start a business when my credit is terrible and I have no experience? You’re constantly looking for what is possible in a kind of MacGyverish sort of way. And that’s your approach to the world.” – Eric Weinstein on The Tim Ferriss Show

      I was brought up to follow the rules. Thinking that adults knew something in this world, I would follow rules of behavior and take no as the answer. Fall in line, do your part, don’t question things… passive, low agency characteristics.

      But I also grew up bending the rules ever so slightly in my favor, or breaking them outright. At four taking my three year old sister for a walk to visit my grandparents a mile or so away across a busy road? Let’s do it. At eleven or twelve taking my dad’s Playboy magazines and trading them with the neighbor’s dad for his Penthouse magazines and charge money for the other kids to read the articles? Seemed okay to me.

      But somewhere along the way you slip into the workforce and pick up obligations. Maybe you enter middle management and start following the HR playbook. And slowly, over time, you become passive and decidedly low agency. You become… sheepish. But somewhere inside you that inner maverick chafes at the wool coat. And then you listen to a guy like Eric Weinstein talk about high agency, you hear the example of the main character on The Martian finding a way. And you understand.

      “It’s important to be willing to make mistakes. The worst thing that can happen is you become memorable.” – Sarah Blakely, Spanx

      We generally accept things the way they are. But what if we questioned things a bit more? What if we tried a different way to do the thing that didn’t work the first or second time? What if we developed higher agency within ourselves to set our lives in the direction we want it to go? To be more Arnold Schwarzenegger or Sara Blakely or Elon Musk or Steve Jobs in our own careers? In our own lives?

      “Persistence is very important. You should not give up unless you are forced to give up.” – Elon Musk

      I think it starts with where we are right now in our lives. Living through a pandemic in our own way with Zoom or Teams, a laptop and a mobile phone at the ready. We’re all dealing with restrictions on travel and social distancing, some with a much harder hand to play than others, but as the stoics would tell us, we must play the cards we’re dealt anyway. And what do we do next?

      “What we face may look insurmountable. But I learned something from all those years of training and competing. I learned something from all those sets and reps when I didn’t think I could lift another ounce of weight. What I learned is that we are always stronger than we know.” – Arnold Schwarzenegger

      While we were complaining about shortages of toilet paper there were thousands of people figuring out a vaccine to make this problem go away. Right now, there are people building companies, writing the next great novel, inventing things or doing critical research that will outlive us all. The next big thing, created in the same time of COVID that you and I are living through. So what are we doing with our time? How are we going to work through whatever it is that isn’t working and finding a way through? A way to finally get it right?

      “There is an awful lot of fails before you get it right.” – Elizabeth Isabella, Scripted Fragrance, an Etsy business featured on CBS Sunday Morning

      I heard the Eric Weinstein interview on Tim Ferriss a few years ago now. I had the High Agency dogma reinforced in a George Mack Twitter thread a while back now too. In general I’ve leaned into higher agency in my own life. But still have a lot of fails before I get it right. Don’t we all? Keep trying.

      “Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition.” – Steve Jobs

      We might not ever get to a point where we’re mentioned in the same list as Schwarzenegger or Jobs or Blakely or Musk, but then again, maybe we will. But only if we pivot more, find a way forward or through, and shake off the passive. Time marches on. Will we?

    • Encountering Darshan

      “‘There’s a Sanskrit word, darshan,’ Jon said as we gazed up at Konka. ‘It suggests a face-to-face encounter with the sacred on earth; with a physical manifestation of the holy.’ I hadn’t known the word, but I was glad to have learnt it. Darshan seemed a good alternative to the wow! that I usually emitted on seeing a striking mountain.” – Robert Macfarlane, The Old Ways

      Waterfalls and sunrises and mountains and ancient trees are a physical manifestation of the holy. And so is the ripple across a calmly rolling ocean betraying a puff of wind. And the Milky Way on an especially dark and clear night. The catch in my throat when I see these things is spiritual, more than any church I’ve ever walked into, and I go out of my way to seek them out. Admittedly, I haven’t been to the Sistine Chapel yet, but I’m not convinced you can’t find the same thing walking deep into the woods.

      I stumbled on the quote above from Macfarlane and immediately identified with darshan in this context. I read this book almost eight years ago and keep returning, skimming over magical phrases and bucket list places. But in the end the book is about standing up and walking out to find yourself in the world. To come face-to-face with the divine requires inspired effort. Sweat equity in your spiritual education. Getting out there and in it.

      And yet… One of the most beautiful waterfalls I’ve ever seen is She-Qua-Ga Falls in Montour Falls, NY. It felt like cheating when I arrived, because you essentially drive right up to them. The falls are framed by houses and a concrete lined basin below and an arched bridge above. Like Niagara Falls humanity encroaches on the beautiful, threatening to edge it out in the process. But truthfully I don’t see those things at all; I look at the timeless waterfall captured there, like a rose under glass. And I see darshan.

      There’s a tendency for people to see something beautiful and immediately try to put a stake in the ground there. The Eagles wrote about this in The Last Resort. Houses lined up on the edge of the beach grabbing a share of sunset and water views. Homes mounted atop mountains to maximize the view while killing it for those looking up at the mountain they’ve scarred with a box. I visit a house with a great sunset view as often as I can, and would be a hypocrite if I were to condemn those who build for the view. For all the beauty we see from that house by the bay, I know that the view from the water or from the other side of the street is a row of houses. So I take no issue with the people who built Montour Falls for edging up to the falls and wanting to linger there, but wish the land around the falls had been preserved in its original state. Then again, the falls are beautifully accessible for those who can’t hike deep into the woods. Darshan on display for everyone. And maybe that’s enough.

      The network of trails and rhumb lines that weave across the Earth like a tartan reveal the whispers of those who came before us. There’s very little that hasn’t been seen by someone before us except in the most remote corners of the planet. But who said encounters with darshan must be exclusive anyway? Each human making their way in this world looks for something greater than themselves. Encounters with darshan are uniquely ours alone, even when shared with others we internalize it differently. But what is darshan if not seen through the lens of our mortal human perspective? We seek it out, discover something in ourselves, and try to capture the divine with a few inadequate words and pictures. And honor it as best we can before leaving it for others to discover in their own time.

    • Getting Our It Together

      “Do not think that what is hard for you to master is humanly impossible; and if it is humanly possible, consider it to be within your reach.” – Marcus Aurelius

      Some days, when generally tapped out and the mind empty of original thought, I return to stoicism for a reset. I’m generally amazed at how quickly a few pages with Marcus Aurelius or Seneca can make all the difference in a day. Like old friends who know you better than you know yourself.

      I’ve been pondering the heavy lift that this year represents. There’s a lot to do, for me certainly, but for the country and the world. Clearing the COVID hurdle without losing too many more souls to it. Cleaning up the mess left behind by 2020: Mask refusers and conspiracy theorists and venom drinkers and climate deniers and the hoarders of Wall Street profits and Main Street toilet paper. By God, we have work to do.

      I read a quote like the one above and I think that maybe, maybe we’ll get it right. Maybe I’ll get my own “it” together. For if enough of us think it possible, it just might be within our reach. But it all begins with you and me.

      Now do the necessary work.

    • In the Grace of the World

      “When despair for the world grows in me
      and I wake in the night at the least sound
      in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
      I go and lie down where the wood drake
      rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
      I come into the peace of wild things
      who do not tax their lives with forethought
      of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
      And I feel above me the day-blind stars
      waiting with their light. For a time
      I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.”
      – Wendell Berry, The Peace of Wild Things

      The iPhone is a blessing and a curse, for all that it brings. Sometimes you want to be away from the made up frenzy of short traders and politicians and debates about which quarterback is best (long since answered).  Great for a picture and for safety in a pinch, but best left stowed away the rest of the time. I used to post pictures while I was still on the summit of a mountain, for that we’re here! moment. But the act of posting takes you out of the moment, and so I leave it be until later in the day locked in as a memory of what was. #saveitforlater

      Walks outside in quiet places serve the body, but mostly the mind. Free from the frenzy we create for ourselves. One notification at a time, relentlessly poking a hole in your soul. What have we done to ourselves with all of these pings and vibrations? Pavlov couldn’t have dreamed up a more diabolical experiment in self-torture.

      “To go out of your mind at least once a day is tremendously important. By going out of your mind, you come to your senses.” – Alan Watts

      The wind shakes the house and reminds me to bundle up. January days are short in New Hampshire, so you’ve got to get creative with your time in the grace of the world. The edges of the day work, and sometimes, dog-less as I am at the moment, late night star-gazing walks with a flashlight or headlamp to fill in the blanks and keep stray cars at bay.

      I’ve learned to pause longer. To fill the void with more silence. To quiet the mind and seek out small pockets of stillness. Time flies by anyway, but it feels like yours once again. Isn’t it, in the end? Step outside. Find the stillness. It’s out there waiting for you.

    • Encounters with the Unfamiliar

      Coming up on a year of taking French lessons using Duolingo, and I recognize I’ve got a long, long way to go. Nothing impresses that on a person like listening to someone sing softly and rapidly in French, as Lous and the Yakuza did in a remarkable Tiny Desk Concert on NPR. It really wasn’t until Marie-Pierra Kakoma started speaking in French that I picked up on some of what she was saying. The rest of the time I was hopelessly grasping for familiar words while enjoying the cool vibe of the music. Sometimes you just need to concede defeat and make the most of the situation.

      To be fair, a second or third language is much easier to understand in a conversation than it is in rapid-fire lyrics in a pop song. Walking around in Montreal most people are just happy that you’re trying to meet them halfway with their own language and help bridge the conversation. Body language and intonation not only help bridge the language barrier, they often serve as the primary way of communicating. People are people anywhere you go. Most want to help others.

      For all my talk of learning French, I know it would take immersion to really make it sink in. At the moment I’m at the dog paddle level of swimming in the French Olympic pool. And that’s okay for now (after all I’m locked away in a pandemic), but at some point I’ll face another test and it ought to push me to get better.

      Take that hopelessly lost feeling of listening to Marie-Pierra Kakoma singing and flip it around. At one point she spoke English, struggled with it, and returned to her native French. That was the moment when two people speaking different languages would have bridged those gaps for each other. But it was just her and a microphone with her band silent behind her. That struggle is one we all feel with a foreign (to us) language. The encounter with the unfamiliar. The unknown.

      Think of the great explorers of history, Giovanni da Verrazzano, Jacques Cartier, Henry Hudson, Samuel de Champlain. The best of them encountered the unfamiliar all the time. Unknown lands, hidden shoals, native people encountering strangers for perhaps the first time, and always, language barriers. Being able to get that encounter with the unfamiliar right the first time was often the difference between life and death for them. Who are we to struggle with a few words and throw our hands up in frustration?

      Encountering the unknown informs. We learn what we don’t know and, if we let it, teaches us to be better. Do you throw your hands up and walk away or press on and figure it out? That teaching moment is casually informative for me, but might be urgent for an immigrant lost in a new city with a sick child. Encounters with the unknown offer a lesson in empathy for those paying attention. Figuring out where the restroom is might just be the most urgent thing we ever struggle with. For some it means a whole lot more to figure things out. Read the bio for Marie-Pierra Kakoma and you see that she was a refugee herself. She gets a pass with her struggles speaking English to an unseen audience.

      I may never master French, but I’m very slowly picking it up. Should the pandemic end and travel restrictions lift, perhaps a trip to Montreal or Paris is in order to celebrate. We’ll all be ready to encounter something unfamiliar by then. In the meantime, should I encounter someone struggling to be understood in my own language, maybe a bit of empathy and generosity would help in the moment.

    • 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.