Alexandersmap

    Category: Culture

    • Dipping a Toe Back Into Facebook

      I dropped Facebook three months ago today, after one too many unsolicited political opinion, one too many invasively toxic comment, one too many Messenger spam attack or something like that.  Really, I don’t remember anymore, but I do know I haven’t missed it at all.  Until the last week or so, when the news of family dealing with earthquakes in California, COVID-19 in Massachusetts and a friend dealing with the loss of a parent piled up and I recognized that there’s something to be said for the connection Facebook offers.  And so today I’m reluctantly back on it again… in extreme moderation.

      In the meantime, I’ve been blogging away and today will be my 641st post.  This is where I’d rather be, and Facebook will just be a place I’ll stop by to hear about and share in what’s going on with the people I care about.  I’ll respect those people’s firm believe in the rightness of their political, religious or social views, but won’t debate them on any of it.  I’d slowly back away from someone at a party if they were preaching to me about Biden or Trump, and I’d do it virtually when they post it on Facebook.  I may strongly agree with them, or even question their sanity, but why go there in the first place?  It’s their right, and my right to mute the noise.  After three months of cold turkey I’m dipping a toe in the waters again.  I have equally strong opinions about our current political climate, but I won’t muddy up the waters more than they already are.

      No, I won’t subject family and friends to the very stuff I bolted Facebook to avoid.  I know that I missed reasons to offer condolences, congratulations and Happy Birthdays in these last three months.  Hopefully I won’t miss many more.  But the people I’m closest to I just called instead, and that seemed more genuine than some comment on a post anyway. The world has changed a lot in three months, and maybe collectively we’ll be the better for having endured the shared experience.  Facebook still annoys me, tracks me, pushes things on me I don’t want and generally is the worst behaving “tech company” of the lot. And they know they can get away with it. That doesn’t mean that we have to put up with it. I may just look around, realize it’s all still a quagmire and step back permanently. I know they won’t give a damn whether I’m there or not, but maybe a voice of support for those I care about is enough reason to try.

    • Here We Are

      Google maps is still helpfully telling me my car is parked 90 feet away. My car hasn’t moved since I went to restock the groceries Monday. But I appreciate the reminder of why someone wrote that code anyway. They were thinking of their normal – our collective normal – not this current abnormal.

      “Wherever you go there you are.” – Jon Cabot-Zin

      Here we all are. Collectively working through the latest normal like I’m working through this cup of coffee. Our lives are like a cup of coffee in the collective universe; insanely brief flashes of heat and water and a bit of flavorful energy transferring from one place to another. Is that enough? It depends on where you transfer that energy, doesn’t it?

      Mary Oliver wrote of Walt Whitman, “Clearly his idea of paradise was here—this hour and this place.” This hour, and this place, they’re all that matter. It’s the magic hour, wherever you are. What shall we do with it?

      “We are temporary visitors in this world; after we are educated, we are called to different places, and we pass away. But the general education of mankind goes on, very slowly but without interruption.” – Leo Tolstoy

      Maybe that’s the gist of it, we’re all individuals in the giant collective that marches on picking up wisdom and passing it on to the next individual. Timeless. The great conversation. Different voices in the infinite choir lending our song and trying our best to harmonize with the universe. A few bad apples singing a different tune along the way who ultimately get drowned out by the harmonies of the rest. Seems about right to me.

      Well, the coffee is finished and the mug is cooling back to room temperature. The magic hour is up. Thought I’d something more to say? The day calls once again: the next hour is at hand. We stack hours up like stepping stones, slowly climbing to wherever the time takes us. Where shall we go with the time that is left?

    • TGI… F?

      Friday’s feel a bit different when your entire week is spent working from home… And the weekend before that… And this coming weekend too. Indeed, Saturday and Sunday feel different, and so does Monday. There’s a cadence to a normal week that’s been disrupted for most everyone, but it’s all kind of lumped together now like jambalaya. Here we are in the new world.

      You could say TGI… Not On A Ventilator or TGI… Still Employed or TGI… Still Like My Family or TGI.. Still Have Toilet Paper right about now and mean it more than TGIF. So sure, the world is still upside down on this next Friday in March, but it could be worse. And someday we’ll all have a collective memory of this time that we’ll shake our head in wonder at. The world against the virus; our collective enemy.

      The work week, like perceived scarcity, can bring out the worst in some people. It’s not always easy living in a dog-eat-dog world, so it’s understandable when people celebrate the end of that crazy week and the chance to let loose a bit. But the bars are closed, the restaurants are doing take-out, every sport is shuttered and theaters sit dark and empty. So where do you let loose anyway, if you’re so inclined?

      Such is the state of the pandemic world. Society pauses to flatten the curve, the economy needs its own ventilator and Friday seems like Tuesday. But what of it? TGIF is a state of mind anyway, just like the Monday Blues is. Celebrate waking up to another day and don’t worry about the calendar. TGI… Alive And Healthy. Memento Mori and Carpe Diem.

    • Bigger Than the Current Small

      “You have treasures hidden within you—extraordinary treasures—and so do I, and so does everyone around us. And bringing those treasures to light takes work and faith and focus and courage and hours of devotion, and the clock is ticking, and the world is spinning, and we simply do not have time anymore to think so small.” – Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic

      I’m cranking away at my work, building as much momentum as I can to carry this ship as far as possible across the chasm of our current reality. The harder I work, the less I worry about pandemics and the economy and things out of my control. All we control is what we do today, how we react to the larger world swirling madly around us, and who and how we interact with others.  On the whole things are going okay at the moment.  We’ll see how the next moment goes when we get there.

      Still, there’s this underlying restlessness to get going already.  More to write than I’m writing.  I can’t travel far to see the world in its present state, but surely I can write more.  We can all create something bigger of ourselves, can’t we?  I believe it starts with thinking bigger than the current small, pushing beyond the borders around our day.  Holding yourself to a higher standard.  And so that’s where I’m focused.  I’m producing thousands of words every week in this blog, but I can do much more than this.  We all have these treasures that need to be brought to light, as Gilbert writes in her call to action.  I’m not at all unconvinced that there’s more there, my challenge is getting myself to bring it to light.

      “I wish I could show you,
      When you are lonely or in darkness,
      The Astonishing Light
      Of your own Being!”
      – Hafiz, My Brilliant Image

      I’ve been aware of the time going by, as Jackson Browne put it. And I’ve been too patient with my use of that time, certainly more than I should be.  There’s only now, so why are you waiting to use this time for anything else?  Well, because the home renovations need to get completed, and your customers need support, and your family needs your focus, and the cat just threw up on the carpet and it needs to be cleaned up, and on and on.  It’s not easy to bring your astonishing light out when you’re cleaning up cat puke.  But still, it’s there, bursting at the seams, frustrated and slowly dimming as you passed it over yesterday and maybe today and tomorrow too.  Light doesn’t need your excuses, it needs to get out and shine on the rest of the world.

      To be fair, that light in us comes out in the interactions with others, in our careers and parenting and even in those home renovations. Light has a way of shining through when you open yourself up to the world. I’m not diminishing that particular light, but you and I both know when we leave something on the table. There’s work left undone and it’s light fades with every moment. So I’m doubling down on the writing, the writing not yet seen by the world or in this blog, working to get it out. Shouldn’t we all make the most of our time?

      “In the long run men hit only what they aim at. Therefore, though they should fail immediately, they had better aim at something high.” – Henry David Thoreau, Walden

       

    • Crazy for Lovin’ You

      In August of 1961, a couple of months after being thrown through a windshield after a car accident with her brother, Patsy Cline recorded a song that would become the most played song on juke boxes around the country for years to come.  And that’s where I fell in love with this song years ago, 25 years after it was recorded, hearing it over and over on a juke box in The Old Worthen in Lowell, Massachusetts.  With senses refined by pitchers of cheap beer, the pack of us would conspire to plug quarters into the juke box to play “My Way” and “Mercedes Benz” and “Tainted Love” and especially this Patsy Cline hit, the sultry and mournful “Crazy“.  This song has been playing on constant rotation in my brain ever since.

      In Nashville a couple of weeks ago, (which seems like a million years ago now) my daughter and I made our way upstairs from the Johnny Cash Museum to the Patsy Cline Museum for a visit with the timeless Patsy Cline.  We’re coming up on 59 years since she recorded this Willy Nelson song in Nashville, scarred and still on crutches from her car accident.  The magic in this song comes from Owen Bradley’s arrangement, bringing in a mix of musicians who gave it that special sound and propel the careers of many of those involved with the recording.  A-Team session players were brought in to bring the song it’s richness and soul.  Floyd Cramer’s “lonesome cowboy” piano style dominates, with Bob Moore’s acoustic bass driving the song.  Harold Bradley’s six-string guitar punches through and the rich harmonies of the Jordanaires lay the foundation for Patsy Cline to soar over the sonic landscape.   The song was recorded on 3-track, rare at the time, with Patsy nailing down her vocals after the rest of the musicians completed their work.

      As you work your way around the Patsy Cline Museum, you can hear Crazy playing on repeat from a juke box, which seems about right to me given my own beginnings with this classic.  Behind the song was a very driven, very talented young lady who would push aside her injuries from that car accident and create many of the songs that were staples of her catalog.  She would die way too young in a plane crash on March 3, 1963, less than two years after recording Crazy, at the age of 30.  People talk about the day the music died being when Buddy Holly died in a plane crash in 1959, the crash that killed Patsy Cline was just as devastating for Nashville.  Her music lives on, timeless in many ways.  Personally, I can’t hear Crazy and not think about it playing on a juke box in an old bar many years ago.  I suppose that’s just how it’s supposed to feel.

       

      Juke box at the Patsy Cline Museum. Guess which song was playing?

      Set list at the Patsy Cline Museum

    • Carrying The Weight of a Black Swan

      It seems I don’t meet the criteria for high risk with COVID-19.  That’s a blessing isn’t it?  Or is it a curse?  Depends on how you feel I suppose.  Personally I feel fine, outside of some lung irritation that’s either allergies flaring up or the virus that dominates our lives.  Who knows?  Maybe if our country had taken the opportunity to stockpile tests I’d know.  Finger-pointing won’t help anything right now, but I’ll remember with my vote in November as those previously elected either step up or stumble through this.

      That said, beyond the tragedies that are unfolding around the world, I believe that in ways we won’t recognize for a long time this pandemic is going to strengthen us as a society. Collectively we become more resilient through adversity.  And boy, we’re wading deep into it now.  We collectively have an opportunity for growth.

      When the world feels a bit more challenging than usual, revisiting some old books seems appropriate. One book I’d recommend is The Obstacle Is The Way, by Ryan Holiday. I’ve re-read this a couple of times, and credit Holiday along with Tim Ferriss for pointing me towards the stoic philosophers. Stoicism, history and poetry have been the core of my reading for some time now, pushing fiction and business books further to the side. And this quote jumped out at me as I scanned previously highlighted insights from his book:

      “It’s almost a cliché at this point, but the observation that the way to strengthen an arch is to put weight on it—because it binds the stones together, and only with tension does it hold weight—is a great metaphor. The path of least resistance is a terrible teacher. We can’t afford to shy away from the things that intimidate us. We don’t need to take our weaknesses for granted.” – Ryan Holiday, The Obstacles Is The Way

       As a society we’ve had a massive viral weight dumped on us. This is the very definition of a black swan event. How shall we remember this time? With the vast majority of people rising to the occasion or for the toilet paper hoarders and people stocking up on ammunition should things reach a level of madness none of us are imagining now. I’m in the “rise to the occasion” camp, and I hope you are too. We get to choose how we react to the events around us. History will remember the hero’s, fanatics and fools. I know which group I aspire to be in.

    • Let Setbacks Deepen Your Resolve

      “When aiming for the top, your path requires an engaged, searching mind. You have to make obstacles spur you to creative new angles in the learning process. Let setbacks deepen your resolve. You should always come off an injury or a loss better than when you went down. Another angle on this is the unfortunate correlation for some between consistency and monotony. It is all too easy to get caught up in the routines of our lives and to lose creativity in the learning process.” – Josh Waitzkin, The Art Of Learning

      I have two college kids who are looking at the next few weeks of online learning, cancelled events at school and the real possibility that the semester will be spent remotely. That’s a tough hand to be dealt to a college Junior, and even tougher for a college Senior. But that’s the world we live in at the moment. There’s nothing routine about a pandemic. Perhaps that jolt to our collective routine will spur unparalleled creativity and advancement. Perhaps we’ll collectively all watch Netflix. I hope for the former.

      When Waitzkin points out the unfortunate correlation for some between consistency and monotony, he includes the important qualifier for some. He rose to be one of the best in the world in a couple of very different pursuits (chess and martial arts) because he embraced monotonous routine instead of becoming bored and moving on to some other pursuit. Don’t we owe it to ourselves to find the magic in our own routine? How else do you achieve mastery?

      Today is the first day of working from home for a lot of people. I’ve worked from home for years, but always sprinkled with travel and meetings. I love activity, and now I need to focus on a different kind of activity. But so does everyone else. Included in that are a couple of twenty-somethings who get to experience a completely different college experience. We’re all on a new learning routine, every one of us, with new obstacles highlighting the frailties of our old routines. Time to step up – ready?

    • RCA Studio B

      Elvis used to book his studio time from 6 PM until 7 AM Monday morning at RCA’s Studio B in Nashville and just crank out the songs. After one of these sessions he walked outside to a waiting Army Jeep to report for draft service. You walk into that studio today and it looks a lot like it did then. Same floor and walls, same light fixtures that Elvis requested (“mood lighting”), and same piano Elvis played. The room reverberates Elvis, and it’s fair to say he was the biggest of a long list of performers who have recorded in this studio for the last 6 decades since Roy Acuff built the studio in 1956. . When you walk in there’s a “Wall of Elvis” hits recorded in this studio. Young Elvis was prolific, working hard and building the legend. That wall shows some of his work.

      There’s a certain sound in this room that carries across everyone who’s recorded here. Its an echoing richness to the songs that is very distinctive in songs recorded in Studio B. That sound became known as the “Nashville Sound”. Listen to Jim Reeves (“Welcome To My World“), Dolly Patton’s “I Will Always Love You“, Floyd Cramer’s “Last Date“, The Everly Brothers’ “All I Have To Do Is Dream” and Roy Orbison’s “Only The Lonely (Know The Way I Feel)” are all examples of that sound, all recorded right there in that room.

      The best story I heard about the room was Elvis’ recording of “Are You Lonesome Tonight“. As with all recordings then, it was a single track – you either got it right or you didn’t. The song was recorded in the dark, with all the musicians playing and harmonizing by the glow of a single red light. Towards the very end of the recording Elvis bumped his head on the microphone stand. If you listen to the song you’ll hear the click right at the end of the song. They left it in then and it remains to this day.

      As a music lover it was a bit surreal to be in that room as they played a few of the songs recorded right in the very place. You feel like you’re in a time warp in a way, the walls embrace the sounds and you and in a way you are timeless with that song. Some of the instruments haven’t left that room since they were used in the recordings. I felt a bit like I did when I stood in The Cavern in Liverpool; this was where it all happened. I often write about the ghosts of history whispering in your ear when you visit a place of significance. RCA Studio B is surely a place of significance, but the whispers here are heard around the globe in that Nashville Sound, deep and rich with a little hiss from the recording tape. Magic.

      Elvis’s piano, still in Studio B and still being used today

    • A Mirror of Roughness and Honesty

      “The water of a pond is a mirror of roughness and honesty—it gives back not only my own gaze, but the nimbus of the world trailing into the picture on all sides…

      All things are meltable, and replaceable. Not at this moment, but soon enough, we are lambs and we are leaves, and we are stars, and the shining, mysterious pond water itself.” – Mary Oliver, Upstream

      We’re all connected, and that’s never been more apparent. If that pond is indeed a mirror of roughness and honesty it surely tells us a lot about ourselves right now. Political divisiveness, nationalism and now a pandemic all collectively dance around us, joining our “normal” complexities in life, and all a reflective nimbus as we stare at ourselves in that pond. What’s new to us isn’t new to humanity. It’s all been here before and returns once again to show we still have a ways to go.

      I have a lot to write about after this week’s trip to Nashville, but like London and Scotland last fall I’m stepping away for now with stories unwritten. The stories are still fresh but the mind is restless. Stories have their time: This isn’t the time for those I’d planned to write. The weight of the pandemic can weigh you down. Worry about what you can control, not what you can’t. Don’t get roped into the news cycle, but do educate yourself on what to do to get by. I’ve managed to be around way more people than I would have liked this month, but took what precautions I could save scrapping everything and living in isolation.

      “I remember once when I was walking with my teacher Ajahn Chah he pointed to a boulder in a field and asked, “Is that heavy?” I replied, “Yes, of course.” Ajahn Chah smiled and said “Not if you don’t pick it up.” – Jack Kornfield

      There were plenty of people being cavalier about this pandemic in Nashville and in memes on social media. It’s gallows humor on the one hand, but there’s also a bit of active denial going on. I saw many people not “picking it up” over the last few days. Hell, I could be accused of that myself given the travel. Don’t carry the weight of the world, but own your own behavior. All things are meltable and replaceable, and it appears that we’re entering a reckoning.

      So what to do now? Travel is done, hope you didn’t pick up COVID-19. Now continue good hygiene and increase level of social isolation in earnest until you’re sure A) you didn’t pick up the virus already and spread it to others and B) help flatten the curve. Carefully analyze every cough and sneeze. And dive right into the work that needs to be done at home, or find a way to move the chains forward while working from home. But just to keep a sense of optimism, I’m going to plant some basil tomorrow. Gardening brings normalcy back to life, even in rough times. Maybe take a long walk. Far from people of course. Two nice ways to shed some of the weight of the world.

    • The Honky-Tonk Line Between Order and Chaos

      If you like live music, Nashville is your place. If you believe right now mitigation and social distancing are in order, well, it’s not optimal. Every honky-tonk bar you walk by has the back of a drummer facing you and music playing. It must be a madhouse during a normal SEC tournament (cancelled this year), or a normal Spring Break (extended for most out of an abundance of caution), or a normal year for that matter. As everyone knows now, 2020 hasn’t been a normal year. But people here are determined to dance the news away. Broadway in New York has shut down. Walking down Broadway in Nashville the music and neon pulls you in, the sounds of celebration are still there. It turns out there are still people jamming into clubs despite the news. It’s just… tempered a bit. There aren’t as many people but the music is throbbing and people are jamming together dancing and flirting and drinking. There’s a spirit of celebration in this city that’s great to see and be a part of. Just not this particular week.

      I’m not oblivious to the threat, and wash my hands often. Hand sanitizer stations are everywhere and I’m using them. I’m practicing what can be considered social distancing in downtown Nashville, but know the risks are very high here in the clubs. We sat outside in a rooftop bar, but you still wade through humanity when you use the bathrooms or get a drink. Again, not optimal. I brought alcohol swabs to wipe down phones and such but I’m not naive, we’re swimming in the Petri dish being out. There are no surgical mask-wearing dancers bobbing on that dance floor. When I get home I’m self-quarantining myself just to be sure I’m not spreading anything I might have gotten to others.

      This trip was scheduled before the acceleration into madness but we knew what was about to happen. Two days earlier and we’d have thought less about it. Two days later and we would have cancelled. You dance along that line between order and chaos, hoping you don’t lose your balance. Americans love to debate, ignore the future for the present too much, and are resistant to change, but we rally when you punch us in the mouth. That punch hasn’t fully landed on the jaw but the gut punch that preceded it this week has taken the collective breath out of people. Out of an abundance of caution is a familiar phrase to everyone now, even if they aren’t showing it in the honky-tonks just yet.

      Tomorrow seems a long time away with the accelerating news of COVID-19. I left fully prepared for the shortages created as people snap up supplies and the supply chain that fills those shelves is impacted. Perhaps we should have shown an abundance of caution with more abundance, but time will be the jury on that now. We’ve lived deliberately, and tomorrow morning we’ll circle the wagons back at home for an extended and hopefully heathy stay. Today? Today we’ll celebrate life with as much social distancing as travel allows. Pass the soap?