Category: Culture

  • Norumbega

    “Not on Penobscot’s wooded bank the spires
    Of the sought City rose, nor yet beside
    The winding Charles, nor where the daily tide
    Of Naumkeag’s haven rises and retires,
    The vision tarried; but somewhere we knew 5
    The beautiful gates must open to our quest,
    Somewhere that marvellous City of the West
    Would lift its towers and palace domes in view,
    And, lo! at last its mystery is made known—
    Its only dwellers maidens fair and young, 10
    Its Princess such as England’s Laureate sung;
    And safe from capture, save by love alone,
    It lends its beauty to the lake’s green shore,
    And Norumbega is a myth no more.”
    – John Greenleaf Whittier, Norumbega Hall

    Norumbega; the mythical city of gold in the northeast corner of North America. The name most people today have never heard of. But you see hints of it to this day if you look around enough. around the Wellesley and Newton, Massachusetts area. This poem above was from the dedication of the huge building that was College Hall at Wellesley College, which say on Norumbega Hill until it burned down in 1914. There never was a city of gold in the northeast, but the legend lives on anyway.

    The name became associated with this place we now call New England, but this place could easily still be Norumbega if the French had been more successful in their first interactions with the Native American population living in New England at the time. But the French Commander Jean de Poutrincourt was afraid of the Native Americans, and they in turn deeply distrusted him. Conflict and a hasty retreat north of the Penobscot River, and an opportunity lost. Instead they left an opening for the English. In 1620 Pilgrims arrived, found the local population decimated by disease likely from interactions with other Europeans, and settled into our familiar narrative about New England.

    The name preceded the French. Norumbega appeared on maps by a couple of Dutch cartographers, who situated this lost city of gold south of New France but north of Florida. Maps weren’t especially detailed back in the 1500’s. Abraham Ortelius published his famous Typus Orbis Terrarum in 1570, which shows far greater detail in the areas Spain had conquered than in the northern half of the Americas. But there’s Norumbega, tantalizingly real on a map, ready for the taking by some enterprising conquering nation (the Native American population apparently not a strong consideration).

    Norumbega, depicted in the 1570 Ortelius Map

    Cornelielius van Wetfliet seemingly had Norumbega situated where present-day Washington, DC in his 1597 atlas that, at the time, was the most detailed map of the northeastern coast of North America. But Norumbega was generally accepted to be far north of the Potomac, perhaps the Hudson River but most say it was either the Charles River or the Penobscot River. When you don’t really know the lay of the land you mush it all together into a general blob. Such were the early maps of North America.

    So, since the mythical city of gold in the northeast never really existed, Norumbega became the general place name for New England for a time. That time ended when the English put a stake in the ground at Plymouth Colony in Massachusetts and the eventual settlement of what would be called New England. By the time my old friend Alexander’s map was published in 1624 the place was firmly established as New England, and Norumbega faded into history like the people who lived and explored this place long before the Mayflower set sail. But pull back the covers of history and there it is: mythical, elusive, fascinating. Norumbega is a myth no more

  • Towards Remarkable

    “What is the purpose of writing? For me personally, it is really to explain the mystery of life, and the mystery of life includes, of course, the personal, the political, the forces that make us what we are while there’s another force from inside battling to make us something else.” – Nadine Gordimer

    I don’t know much about Nadine Gordimer that you can’t find in her obituary or on Wikipedia. She was a South African writer who helped expose the darkness of apartheid for the world to see. She won a Nobel Prize for her writing and was on the short list of people that Nelson Mandela wanted to see first when he was released from prison. By all accounts she was a pretty remarkable woman.

    “…with an understanding of Shakespeare there comes a release from the gullibility that makes you prey to the great shopkeeper who runs the world, and would sell you cheap to illusion.”

    You know remarkable when you see it. There’s a life force exuding out of certain people that pulses. It’s not celebrity, though some celebrities, athletes and leaders have it (certainly not all). You learn to spot the authentic energy from the great shopkeepers and cons. It’s an intangible force from inside that is magnetic but genuine. People are drawn to them, because they see something in them that they haven’t quite let out of themselves.

    “If I dreamt this, while walking, walking in the London streets, the subconscious of each and every other life, past and present, brushing me in passing, what makes it real? Writing it down.” 

    I understand Nadine Gordimer better through her words. And in her words she shows us the way. Learn from the great observers of the past. Write it down (Rolf Potts recommends a “commonplace book” where you can record the best ideas you find – blogging certainly helps achieve this too). Keep improving over time. With patience but earnest effort.

    “Your whole life you are really writing one book, which is an attempt to grasp the consciousness of your time and place – a single book written from different stages of your ability.” 

    I’ve come to focus on remarkable recently. Having come across a few people with that extraordinary life force exuding out of every pore, you begin to think about how you might reach some level of that yourself. Gordimer hints at the journey we’re all on with this last quote. We’re all climbing at different paces, at different stages of our ability, towards our own peak. Towards remarkable.

  • A Weekend at The Trapp Family Lodge

    The cow outweighed me by more than 1200 pounds and had long horns protruding menacingly to her right and left, but I edged closer anyway. Bob, the Activities Director at The Trapp Family Lodge, insisted that it was safe to walk out amongst the Highland Cows. He gave us instructions on what to do if they approached us looking for apples (fold your hands into your body and turn slowly away to show you don’t have food). And he told us when one of the cows was annoyed with us. Otherwise, we were turned out to explore the field. Turning around, I realized I was one of the few who took him up on the offer. But risk has its rewards, and being close to the cattle was thrilling.

    Highland Cow

    I’ve been to Stowe, Vermont many times over the years. Mostly I’d drive up for Heady Topper beer, look around a bit and dream of lingering awhile. I’d even stopped to visit the Trapp Family Lodge, walking into the lobby to see what all the fuss was about. Like most Americans I’ve seen The Sound of Music a few dozen times. This wasn’t the Austrian Alps, but you can definitely see why they sank their roots here. The hills are alive in Stowe too.

    The Trapp Family Lodge is a lovely place, with fires roaring and pilsner flowing freely from taps and a quiet elegance without pretense. Pictures of the family decorate the walls throughout the lodge along with art derived from the story of the family’s escape from Nazi Austria. The mountains surround the property in all directions, and the von Trapp family owns much of the land and has donated many more acres to a land trust, ensuring this view would remain largely as it’s always been.

    We’d explored some of that land on our first day at the Lodge, walking the trails to find the Chapel at the top of the hill, and circling back to check out the Kaffeehouse for a snack. There are hiking and snowshoe trails criss-crossing the woods at the resort, and we had plenty of options for getting to know the lay of the land. Mountain bikers had their own single track trails that offered challenging terrain to explore. And wide cross-country skiing trails waited patiently for the snow to arrive. This was an outdoor enthusiast’s paradise. The outdoor hot tub and spa is a great reward for having done the work.

    After meeting the Highland Cows we walked back up the hill to the Lodge, with massive ravens flying about us speaking a sophisticated language of their own. I wondered at the banter, and wished we had more time to get to know them better. But we had other places to explore, and a long hill to walk back up. It seemed the cows were on the furthest pasture from the Lodge, and we had to earn our visit. It worked out to be about a mile each way, and a good way to work off breakfast with a different vantage point.

    We made a quick trip to downtown Stowe to explore the shops and made a stop at The Alchemist to pick up our Heady Topper beer order curbside before returning to the Bierhouse for lunch and a pint. We made a point of saving room in the cooler for some von Trapp beer as well. The Alchemist helped make Stowe the heart of New England IPA country, but the von Trapp’s make a great case for pilsners with their brews. This wasn’t some mass-produced American lager, this was beer with substance.

    Brewing at von Trapp is serious business

    As luck would have it, the woman who seated us was Kristina von Trapp, the granddaughter of Maria and a Director of the resort. She was a gracious host, with a striking presence about her borne of her family celebrity but honed on an active life outdoors and running a successful business. She wasn’t quietly sitting in the corner office looking at spreadsheets, she was hands-on and engaged with the public. And that made the von Trapp experience all the more impressive.

    We resolved to come back here again in the other seasons. Stowe is beautiful year-round, even on a cold November morning when the trees are bare and the snow is just hinting that it might return again. Staying here in all four seasons seems a worthy goal. And it will help keep the refrigerator well-stocked too.

  • Life As You See It

    Develop interest in life as you see it; in people, things, literature, music—the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself.” – Henry Miller

    The quality of life is in proportion, always, to the capacity for delight. The capacity for delight is the gift of paying attention.” – Julia Cameron

    Paying attention is a gift, and writing about it sharpens the focus. I believe that blogging has done more to wake me up to the wonders of my immediate world than anything save the birth of my children. Having children developed my habit of capturing moments in pictures, but the years my kids were growing up were also years the writing quietly lay dormant, biding time. You don’t have much quiet time when the mad dash from diapers to packing school lunches to soccer and dance recitals to driving to away games to picking colleges is happening. And yet I wish I’d written it all down anyway.

    Now, after the mad dash, the writing stirred awake from its slumber. I look around at all there is to see in this world. All there is to learn about the world. All there is to read and taste and see and most importantly, to do. Faraway places will have to wait once again, but there’s so much to see right outside.

    Read a Mary Oliver poem and you see that you’ve been blind the entire time. Chastened yet challenged, you look more deeply at the world in front of you and deeper into the soul. And you write.

  • Misguided Angels

    I said “Mama, he’s crazy and he scares me
    But I want him by my side
    Though he’s wild and he’s bad
    And sometimes just plain mad
    I need him to keep me satisfied”
    – Cowboy Junkies, Misguided Angel

    I saw a Facebook post the other day that broke my heart. A longtime friend who I view as a kid sister posted a picture mocking Joe Biden in a creepy caricature. With this one simple post I realized that she was another misguided angel and mourned losing her as we’ve lost so many others. It wasn’t so much that she clearly voted one way and I voted another. It was the ugliness of blindly following the masses down the rage and accusation path that saddened me.

    This Cowboy Junkies song is sadly beautiful. It’s the daughter who falls for the bad character and will go with him even as her parents and siblings beg her to see what they see. This guy just isn’t good for you. He’s leading you to heartbreak and disappointment on false promises. And of course I feel that way about the guy the American electorate just broke up with but for some reason can’t let go of.

    There’s something in human nature that draws us to the con artists. They say things to make us feel emboldened or powerful, and we fall in line. You see it in some evangelical leaders, in some politicians, business leaders, and yes, in relationships. I’ve learned that I can’t save everyone, but like the family of the misguided angel in the song, I want to try with those I care about.

    In many ways, I guess that makes me a misguided angel myself.

    “Misguided angel hangin’ over me
    Heart like a Gabriel, pure and white as ivory
    Soul like a Lucifer
    Black and cold like a piece of lead
    Misguided angel, love you ’til I’m dead”

    – Cowboy Junkies, Misguided Angel

  • The Lifting Fog

    “Opinions are like nails: the stronger you hit them, the deeper inside they go.” – Decimus Junius Juvenalis

    Or maybe in 2020 it’s “the more you express them the more your friends mute you on Facebook”. Or look at you funny when you see them in public. The lesson, I suppose, is to stop hammering all the time. And, as we all know, you can’t change other people, only yourself. So focus your energy in the right place.

    We begin another work week with deep fog outside. The heat of yesterday gave way to a cold, clammy fog that descended into the woods and surrounds the house this morning. It inspires me even as it drives nails into the ankle I thought was healed. The fog offers lessons: This day marks a new beginning, as every day does. Enough hammering opinions and defending positions.

    If you’re wondering, Decimus Junius Juvenalis, AKA Juvenus, has a wealth of wisdom/great quotes you’re familiar with in The Sixteen Satires (like “who watches the watchmen?”). Worth a search if you geek out on such things (as I clearly do). There are days when I wish I could just read all day just to catch up on things that I skimmed through in school because I wasn’t mentally developed enough to fully grasp what they were saying at the time. But that’s what lifetimes are for.

    “You can never step into the same book twice, because you are different each time you read it.” – John Barton

    And so we change, day-to-day. The fog slowly lifts, and a new understanding develops. I’m clearing out the fog of politics and rancor from the last several months and looking ahead with clarity and purpose. To grow in the new light emerging from the fog. To begin again.

  • Walking to Calm

    It’s easy to feel distressed in a tight election, especially when the current President goes mad and declares fraud well before the count is done. Emotions are high. But the noise doesn’t matter so long as there is order. Bluster doesn’t matter so long as calmness prevails. I tune out bluster and madness, not because they aren’t factors to consider, but because they don’t help me navigate life. Who can think with all that noise?

    It’s a great day for a slow walk in the woods, or on a quiet beach, or just to turn off the noise and breathe slowly. Stay off social media, which only amplifies the madness. We always knew this one would be tight, even if we wanted an easy election. Democracy is hard work – never more than now.

    I turned down a hike today because, well, I work for a living. Honestly the hike would have been perfect today, but a brief walk in the woods at lunchtime should do the trick. Instead of coffee perhaps a quick row this morning before things pick up again. Exercise offers another form of resetting the mind.

    Some will celebrate the chaos. I’ll celebrate the quiet. Turn off all media and take a long, quiet walk outdoors today. Walking meditation. Calm. The election will still be there when you get back. The pandemic isn’t going anywhere either. Walk. Breathe. Reset. And move forward with the things you can control in life.

    Simple, right?

  • Going to Zero

    “You’re alive. You have one very short life. When your life ends, it goes to zero. To you its indistinguishable, from your perspective your death is indistinguishable from the end of the world. As far as you’re concerned the world has disappeared. Because when you came into existence the world appeared. When you go out of existence the world disappears. And that is so consequential that it makes the rest of your life inconsequential. And that is a form of freedom. And so you should enjoy yourself. You should not suffer in this life.” – Naval Ravikant, on The Tim Ferriss Show Episode #473

    There’s something very stoic about this Naval statement, in the recognition of Memento Mori. The stoics might have challenged him on the enjoy yourself/you should not suffer bit though. They would say that you should accept fate for whatever it brings you. Then again, they didn’t live in a democracy where all are created equal, but in an age of conquest and slavery and the unfair distribution of enjoying yourself and suffering in life (maybe we haven’t come as far as I initially thought). But ultimately I think he’s on point. Life is short, we all know that. So get on with enjoying it while you have it.

    “Think of the life you have lived until now as over and, as a dead man, see what’s left as a bonus and live it according to Nature. Love the hand that fate deals you and play it as your own, for what could be more fitting?”- Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

    On my own path to zero, I’m doing my best to live the Thoreau mantra to rise free from care before the dawn and seek adventure. And isn’t that the same thing, really? The question is, what do you subtract to add such adventure or freedom to your life? Relentless pursuit of status? What is status but the recognition of others for your accomplishments? There’s nothing wrong with accomplishments. There is something off about craving status for status’ sake. To be quietly satisfied with reaching your goal seems the most pure form of accomplishment. Accolades blow in the wind.

    Naval talks of reaching freedom through making enough money to not have to worry about anything. And there’s certainly freedom in that. But what is the cost of a walk in the woods watching the leaves rain down around you? What is the price of tracking the progress of Mars across the evening sky? The trick, I think, is to get to enough. For some that means being independently wealthy, for others, it means having enough to put food on the table with the time to burn those calories climbing personal mountains.

    “Watch the stars in their courses and imagine yourself running alongside them. Think constantly on the changes of the elements into each other, for such thoughts wash away the dust of earthly life.” – Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

    There’s a reason that boats, recreational vehicles, bicycles and hiking gear are selling out this year. People are seeking that freedom and enjoyment. Trying to book a campsite in Acadia, hiking jammed trails in the White Mountains and navigating the bike-clogged rail trail are glaring reminders of just how many people are looking for their freedom to enjoy life in a year when climbing the corporate ladder seems suddenly less relevant than holding on to things that are more essential.

    Since we’re all marching to zero, finding that which is essential and then making the most of our time seems the only logical goal. Not living in a chaotic frenzied orgy of mad pleasure-seeking, but in the pursuit of that which is worthy and towards purpose. To use Ryan Holiday’s words from The Daily Stoic; “too many successful people are prisoners in jails of their own making”. So freedom to fully realize your life is attainable for all if we would only unlock our own cages.

  • November and the Ninth Wave

    “November retained its name (from the Latin novem meaning “nine”) when January and February were added to the Roman calendar.” – Wikipedia

    And there it is: November. I’ve wondered about October before. I mean, “octo” is eight yet October was the tenth month. I hadn’t thought much about the origin of November until I stared at the November 1 on my calendar a beat longer than normal. And so here we are, with “novem” forever associated with nine for me. (novem ≠ 11, novem = 9, but November is the 11th month so deal with it. Don’t even get me started on December). We learn through association. Those Romans forever shaped the minutia of our world…

    November has always had a special place in my heart, for in the Northern Hemisphere its the month of quiet walks on crunchy fallen leaves, when the world opens up to reveal all that was hidden previously by foliage. In the United States November is associated with Thanksgiving, the very best of holidays (at least in my family) because it’s only about giving thanks together with family and friends. There are November birthdays of note in the family, and personally, one very notable anniversary coming up in a few days to punctuate the importance of the month in this household.

    And then there’s the election. Every four years in the United States we have the national election to choose our President. The “first Tuesday after the first Monday” of November was chosen and made into law in 1845 “to establish a uniform time for holding elections for electors of President and Vice President in all the States of the Union.” So Election Day can never be held on November 1, since it must follow the first Monday (unless the law is changed of course).

    This year has been relentlessly charging along, both rapid in the spinning of days and painfully slow in getting it all over with. Nobody who loves life wishes away time, but we all wish away the current situation we find ourselves in. November marks the moment when we vote and either validate the current administration or reject it wholeheartedly and install new leadership. I know where my vote goes. Choose wisely with your own vote, fellow citizens.

    In sailing the ninth wave in succession is the largest. It’s the one that might sink the ship and drown the crew. I reflect back on the stunning masterpiece Ninth Wave by Ivan Aivazovsky that I was blessed to see once in my lifetime. The Ninth Wave offers a glimmer of hope for those clinging to the mast in a raging sea. The sun is rising through the storm, marking a turning point of sorts. Danger remains all around and there’s no guarantee of survival, but again, there’s hope. And that’s what I think about on this first day of November. November (novem), marks the turning of the seasons towards winter. Change is coming. We all know it, and now we all face it. With hope.

  • You Do You

    “We see people and things not as they are, but as we are. That is why when two people look at something or someone, you get two different reactions.” – Anthony De Mello, Awareness

    I’ve been off of Facebook for 23 days, promising myself I wouldn’t go back on until after the election in the United States. For the most part I haven’t missed anything but birthday wishes for friends. Instead I text or call them with wishes. Seems old school to actually speak to someone on their birthday, but I like living on the edge a bit.

    So the Facebook fast has gone well, but I did cheat a couple of times and log on to see what I was missing. Two or three minutes of quick scanning to see if people are healthy and doing well. No likes or comments, in and out quickly. But then I read a post a friend made. He was wondering where all the coverage of the Hunter Biden story was and why everyone was burying “the truth”. That was almost the breaking point for me, I wanted to break my fast and reply educating him on what matters in this country and what may be merely crap that they’re slinging to see if it sticks. I took a breath, logged off and cleared the history of my browsing just to ensure I would have to physically log in again to get back on Facebook.

    I get a similar reaction when I see someone I know with a Trump sign on their car or in their yard. My perception of that person changes, even if they remain the same otherwise. And I realize that the issue isn’t them at all, but my reaction that matters. I wonder sometimes at the world, but recognize that I can’t change the world at all, only myself and the impact I have through my own actions.

    So I’ve begun using the phrase “you do you” in my head when I see or read something that annoys me. You do you, and I’ll do me. And maybe we’ll meet in the middle on a few things. Or maybe not. But offloading the stress of what other people think is liberating. My vote cancels out his vote, and I’ll rely on other cooler heads to prevail.

    Focusing on changing others by nature means we aren’t focused on changing ourselves. We have plenty of blank canvas left to paint in our own lives, and a few mistakes we’ve all made along the way that could use some painting over as well. The more we focus on our own path the further down that path we may go. There’s plenty to work on right here.