Alexandersmap

    Category: Culture

    • My Holy Trinity of Habits

      Walking 10,000 steps a day doesn’t make the scale move much, but the walking offers benefits beyond incremental movement of the scale. Writing a blog every day doesn’t move the needle much on reader count or followers, but the writing has changed me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Reading books every day seems elementary on the surface, but it’s amazing how quickly distractions conspire against you. As we near the end of the year and decade, I’m thinking about current streaks I’m on, and recommitting for as long as I can control the future.

      10,000 steps is my oldest and most current objective. I’ve been a walker since I was a kid, well before people thought about how many steps you walked in a day. Actually tracking it came late in life, right about when we got a dog. I’d tracked rowing and how many reps I did, but walking? Not until I started sitting for long periods of time for work. My current streak is only six days, but I’ve doubled down on my commitment to 10K per day. This week I’ve done that walking in three states, on rail trails, on the beach, in the neighborhood at night and, gulp, on the treadmill. Last night I walked 90 minutes while reading just to check a box. Today I hope to get there without using electricity.

      I committed to reading every day last year, and have managed to do so even when social media, long drives and work commitments made it challenging. How? By reading first thing in the morning before I do anything else. I used to exercise first, but my body needs a little time to wake up beforehand, and the reading and writing filled right in. To keep the reading streak alive I’ve got to read at least a couple of pages to “count”, but almost always ready many more. As we approach the end of the year it’s spiked even higher.

      No streak has meant more than the writing streak, which began over a year ago. I’ve written and posted on this blog every day this year and plan to keep this streak going. You might fancy yourself a writer but if you aren’t doing it then you’re a dreamer. I’m tired of telling myself stories. Blogging has brought me to places I’d never have been, as I look for interesting things to write about. Reading obviously compliments this, and so too does walking. While 10K hasn’t always been achieved I do walk every day. It’s the Holy Trinity for me, reading, writing and walking. Each reinforces the other, and I grow as a result. Other habits come and go, but these three offer a lifetime of service. So as I post this I’m 2/3 through my daily habits. I’d better getting moving on number three…

    • Friday the 13th and Ghost Stories

      Here we are again, at a point where the days and numbers on the calendar align and give us another Friday the 13th.  In general good things have come my way on a day many people associate with bad luck.  My son was born on a Friday the 13th, making it a very lucky day indeed.  More often than not you get what you expect in life, and if you’re primed to look for the negative it’ll find you.  I’ll stick with the opposite point of view, thank you.  Optimism with a healthy dose of stoicism seems to work for me.

      I’ve written before about dancing with ghosts.  For me ghosts aren’t the creepy spirits that get annoyed that you’re in their space, they’re the people who lived in the past who’s story is all around us.  Historical figures and anonymous lives alike, all lived before we were here.  The stone wall standing alone in the woods, the old foundation on Isle of Skye left from the Clearances, the soot on the ceiling of a cave from fires long ago, and the groove worn into a stair tread; These are my ghosts. I love uncovering the stories of some person from centuries ago and visiting the place they did something memorable, and maybe their grave to remind them they aren’t forgotten.  We all want to be remembered, don’t we?  At least for a few generations.  Make the ripple last as long as possible, hopefully in a positive way.

      I’ve been bumping into the other kind of ghost stories lately.  People who encounter poltergeists.  A poltergeist wants attention, making its presence known by messing with things in “our” world, crossing some border between death and life.  Frankly I never think about the poltergeist kind of ghost.  Maybe I’m closed-minded about it, or maybe they see me dancing with other ghosts and leave me alone.  But I’ve got this stack of stories people tell me about poltergeists they’ve encountered, and after a while you have to wonder what’s real and what’s imagined.  I see good things on Friday the 13th, others see bad things; who’s right?

      Yesterday I was speaking with a Town Clerk in Connecticut.  I’d stopped to pick up a death certificate for an ancestor as a favor for my mother.  We noticed on the death certificate that this relative had died from a fall down the stairs, breaking his neck.  I joked about that house being haunted and the clerk, not missing a beat, told me about Antonio, pointing to the vault and saying he died right in there and still haunts the place. I looked in the vault and asked if he preferred Antonio or Tony.  We finished our transaction and I was on my way, with one more ghost story added to the list. I don’t know if Antonio is a poltergeist haunting the vault at Town Hall, but I do know that he tragically died in the vault at some point in history.  And people are still talking about him to this day.

      I’ve heard similar stories from separate friends about encounters at hotels in Boston and Nashville, and some good friends that insist there’s a ghost in a family home on Cape Cod.  What do I know?  I’m not in the poltergeist business.  I have no desire to stay in Lizzy Borden’s house for a night trying to bait unseen ghosts to come out and play.  No, I’m trying to bring their stories alive without all the mischief.  But now and then I do hear a whisper in the wind, feel a spirit in the air, and I give a nod to acknowledge.  Walking alone in the woods at Holy Hill in Harvard, Massachusetts in Autumn once had me thinking of Shaker ghosts.  Visiting King Philip’s Seat in Bristol, Rhode Island and spooking a hawk into flight had me hearing whispers of Metacom and the lost Pokanoket tribe as I explored the woods.  And visiting the Winter Street graveyard in Exeter, New Hampshire looking for the grave of Major General Nathaniel Folsom felt like I was being directed around to look at every other Revolutionary War hero’s grave before finding his.  I felt it that day too.

      So here we are on another Friday the 13th.  We generally get what we look for in life, and I hope today brings you good fortune.  If you happen to run into any ghosts, I hope they aren’t poltergeists – those buggers are nothing but mischief.

    • Four Songs for Late Night Walks and Long Drives

      “Lay your blouse across the chair
      Let fall the flowers
      From your hair
      And kiss me
      With that country mouth
      So plain
      Outside the rain is tapping
      On the leaves
      To me it sounds like
      They’re applauding us
      The quiet love
      We’ve made
      Will I always feel this way
      So empty
      So estranged?” – Ray Lamontagne, Empty

      Some songs stay with you forever.  Empty is one of those songs.  I’ve had it playing in my head off and on for 13 or 14 years now. But it’s on the list of songs I usually save for myself, not on playlists at parties or around the fire. Empty is a song that catches you in the throat so thoroughly that you’re reluctant to share it.

      Some songs are for late night walks and long drives, and some are for the masses.  Here are a few more songs I mostly keep for myself on those lonely stretches of highway… until now anyway:

      “When there’s nowhere else to run
      Is there room for one more son
      One more son
      If you can hold on
      If you can hold on, hold on” – The Killers, All These Things That I Have Done

      I first heard this song on a borrowed CD from a friend.  I kept that CD way longer than I should have, and think about that person when I hear this album.  And it’s a complete album worthy of listening to from beginning to end many times over, but this song remains the one that stays with me years later.  Good dose of pep talk with some soaring music, and who doesn’t need some of that?

      I’ve wanted this for so long
      Now the deed has been done
      We shall rise with the sun
      And spend our time as one – One Eskimo, Amazing

      I had it all planned out to play this song in a quiet moment at the wedding of some friends.  It’s the perfect song, really, for a moment like that at a wedding.  It sneaks up on you as your sort of listening, and I tactfully placed it at a moment when I just knew it would make an impact.  But the computer didn’t recognize the song and played Aerosmith’s song Amazing instead.  Not quite the same – and the moment was gone.  That still bugs me.  But the song remains great, and it was the thought that counted….  right?

      At the moment of surrender
      I’m falling to my knees
      I did not notice the passers by
      And they did not notice me – U2, Moment of Surrender

      I’ve been a huge U2 fan since I was a teenager, but No Line On The Horizon took a bit longer to grab me than others did.  Longer as in maybe ten listens instead of three.  But this album holds on longer than some of the other albums in their catalog.  Moment of Surrender was recorded in one take as I understand it, and it’s stunning.  Sure, I play the incredible and vibrant songs like Breathe and Magnificent and Stand Up Comedy at parties all the time, but this one I keep for myself.  Breathe remains my favorite song on this album, but Moment of Surrender is a close second.

    • Cracking the Egg

      I still remember the moment I watched the woman crack the eggs on the countertop and quickly move them into the hot pan to cook.  Swift, efficient and thoughtless.  This woman had cracked thousands of eggs for hundreds of guests, and I was just one more in the line.  She didn’t respond to my pleasantries, just cooked the eggs, slid them onto a plate and mumbled something about having a good morning before turning her attention to the next guest.  She was done with me, but ten years later I’m not done with her.  Or more specifically, the way that she cracked those eggs on the countertop.  Years of awkwardly tapping eggs on the rim of a bowl or frying pan hoping you wouldn’t make a mess of it had been eliminated in one encounter with a surly omelette chef in Niagara Falls, Ontario.

      We all have techniques, life hacks and learned skills that make our day-to-day more efficient, effective and safer.  Most of these we pick up as we march through life from a parent, friend or co-worker.  Some are aha! moments where someone shows you a keyboard shortcut or a way to crack an egg more efficiently, and some are less aha! and more ohhh, now I get it.  Walking on ice is best learned through example instead of trial and error.  When you see someone walk on ice you observe the technique and with practice become adept at navigating your way across a pond or down a driveway.  That doesn’t always keep you from slipping, but it greatly enhances your odds for success.  Learned skills are like spoken word history or fables; lessons passed from person-to-person for centuries.

      I learned how to drive a standard transmission car by learning how to drive a Ford tractor and soon after I took that skill to cars.  Once someone shows you the basics and you practice it a bit the skill stays with you forever, as I learned in Scotland driving a standard on the opposite side of the car with the stick on my left hand instead of my right.  Am I going to win the Grand Prix with this skill?  Nope, but I can comfortably get in a car and drive myself anywhere.  And I can tie a bowline knot, or spin a log to the right spot to split firewood, or know where to step when I’m descending a steep hiking trail, or to blunt the tip of a nail so I don’t split the wood when I drive it.  We all do a million small techniques and skills that we hardly ever think about.  Sometimes I catch myself and think about where I learned that life hack in the first place, and the person who taught me the lesson.  Ripples across time, connecting me to someone long ago when we were both different people.  These ripples I’ll continue to use, and pay forward for others in turn.  Another form of time travel for all of us, connecting the past to the future, disguised as a cracked egg.

    • Sun, Sand and Time Travel

      Friday morning, one last meeting in Buffalo, New York before I turn East and head home to New Hampshire. As I look at the calculated time necessary to get to my appointment I consider two quotes I’ve read this week on our perception of time. It’s a human creation, and as the saying goes, its relative. What is hard and fast is our small blip of “time” on the planet, so best to get to those priorities now. I love this reminder from De Mello of the trick time and the speed of light play on us when we look up at the sun:

      “When you see the sun, you’re seeing it where it was eight and a half minutes ago, not where it is now. Because it takes a ray of the sun eight and a half minutes to get to us. So you’re not seeing it where it is; it’s now somewhere else.” – Anthony De Mello

      “As you get older, and the patterns become more obvious, time speeds up. Especially once you find your groove in the working world. The layout of your days becomes predictable, a routine, and once your brain reliably knows what’s next, it reclines and closes its eyes. Time pours through your hands like sand.” – Jedidian Jenkins, To Shake The Sleeping Self

      I’m thankful for travel, for it keeps me on my toes. And I’m thankful for reading so many new perspectives this year that force me to reconsider my perceptions. Time does indeed seem to accelerate as you get older, and this pair of quotes points out that it’s never really what we think it is anyway. So make the most of the moment, for time – whatever it is – is slipping by. All this inspires me to visit a tropical beach again as soon as possible. Where you spend your time counts too.

    • Bumped Up to the Safari Room

      The woman at the front desk looked at me and smiled as I checked in Tuesday, thanking me for being a Hilton Diamond member and informing me that my room was upgraded to a suite.  I thanked her, still shaking off the miles of driving, accepted my cookie and water and rolled my bag to my upgraded room.  Hilton Diamond is just another way of identifying yourself as someone who travels a lot for work.  Less a status symbol, more a way of life.  But there are perks beyond the free water, wi-fi and shorter check-in line, namely I get points I can use for even more travel.

      My room was on the third floor, and as I rolled my bag around the corner I saw the room almost immediately.  I tapped my prox card on the reader, the light turned green and beeped a greeting and I opened the door to another world.  This wasn’t just a suite, this was an adventure in thematic decorating.  They bumped me up to the Safari Room, and the only thing missing was the soundtrack of wild animals screaming in the night and the pounding of drums as the natives hunted me down.

      Flipping on the light, the first thing I saw was a curved bar with animal busts mounted conveniently at knee height (as I would find out later).  A lion’s head sconce with flickering electric candles watched over the copper sink in the wet bar, gazelles and monkeys and wildebeests were integrated into the furniture.  Bamboo and matted grass-like wallpaper completed the look.  And the room went on forever (I counted 55 steps to circle the L -shaped room).  A glass table with four themed chairs met me around the corner, and far down the other end was the king-sized bed with bamboo headboard.  A massive walk-in closet was off to the side, with room for hundreds of outfits, and hangers for five.  And capping it all off was the bathroom.  This was a suite in itself, larger than many hotel rooms I’ve stayed in, with a hot tub set in the middle, a large walk-in shower to the side, toilet and avocado sink…. that’s right, an avocado sink. Surveying the entire bathroom suite were two jungle masks on either side of the sink that kept staring at me and a large hippo bench that looked like it would roll over and have me rub its belly.  Wow, where do you begin?

      The thing about getting a room like this is it reminds you that you’re traveling alone. It amplifies the solo in solo travel. I’d almost rather have the standard room where I don’t think about what I left behind to be in this crazy room. But you make the most of it and move on to the real world. I had a drink at the bar while running a report, but otherwise it was just another hotel room for me. People make the place, not jungle themed furniture. This room would be wildly fun with friends. Nope, just me. Alone. In the jungle. But it sure was unique.

    • Getting There

      “What got you here won’t get you there.” – Marshall Goldsmith

      Indeed.  But knowing where there is is an essential part of making the shift in the what.  December is a great time to think about then and there stuff, but really every morning you should reflect a bit on where you’ve been and where you’re going.  What went well, what went badly, what can change, what must change…  and how do we begin right now, today?

      Personally, I function better with Bullet Journal type lists.  Check things off, move things forward that you didn’t do, etc.  Lists of tasks are easy.  Lists of life goals are a little harder.  The Warren Buffett/Mike Flint 25/5 exercise is harder still, but time marches on and if you don’t reflect on where you’re going you’re going to end up somewhere else with the things you wanted to do undone.  I did this 25/5 exercise a year ago, and I’m going to do it again this week.  Essentially, you write down 25 things you want to accomplish – start a business, write a book, run a marathon…. whatever.  You then circle the 5 most important goals and avoid the other 20 at all costs until you’ve accomplished the circled 5.  It forces you to focus on what your real priorities are, and what the real distractions are to getting there.  It’s challenging because we all want to be good at everything, but in being generalists we fail to achieve our biggest goals.  Hell yes or no.  Essentialism…  The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People story of putting the big rocks in the jar before filling the rest with pebbles, then sand and then water…  Whatever you want to call it it’s the act of saying no to many things to enable you to achieve the few big things.  And the few big things are the “there“.

       

       

    • Let it Snow

      The snow arrived late in the day Sunday, and is staying for awhile. It wasn’t a surprise; this storm has lumbered across the country painting the landscape white, and now it’s New Hampshire’s turn. I welcome it with the reluctance of a road warrior. This guest came at a bad time, but snow is here and all I can do is make the most of it. Let it snow.

      If the world craves attention a major snowstorm demands it. It changes everything about daily life, to-do lists and appointments and travel time and what you wear when you walk out the door. For a Monday when I anticipated driving 325 miles to Rochester, New York, it’s surely changed my plans. So be it. Let it snow.

      Yesterday the last leaves were cleaned up, gas cans filled, snow blowers and generators fired up, batteries charged, pantries filled and firewood chopped. This morning snow changes the world and all is still but for the scrape of the plow, the strain of a single snowblower who’s master simply must get to work, no excuses. Birds chirp away at the feeder, busily flittering for position. The rest of the world sleeps. Let it snow.

      It’s Monday and I have things to do; calls to make, meetings to reschedule, bases to touch and reports to file. The driveway calls but I’m not it’s servant this morning. Snow changes more than the landscape, and I feel the change in me. Let it snow.

    • The Stages of the Moon

      I spent time in the passenger seat of the car last night contemplating the waxing crescent moon.  The stages of the moon are something I contemplate more than I should, but it’s a good exercise in awareness of the world around you, and a connection to people around the world now and people for as long as there’s been people.  Everyone who can or could look up at the sky and recognize the moon for what it is has experienced the same pattern recognition.  You may not know the names, but you know the shapes and thus the stages of the moon.

      A new moon is a blank slate.  The moon is completely obscured, though you might make it out in the sky.  Most people don’t think about a new moon because they aren’t seeing it in the sky.  But the moon doesn’t go on vacation to Mars for a stage, it’s still there with the shades pulled down.

      The next stage is the waxing crescent, when you get that fingernail sliver of moon shining.  But how do you know a waxing from a waning?  By which side the sliver is on.  That shade pulls from right to left, so when you see part of the moon illuminated on the right side that’s a waxing moon, and when it’s illuminated on the left side that’s a waning moon.  When I was younger I had it backwards because I thought of the shade pulling left to right, the way we read English.  Nope, it’s right to left, like reading Hebrew or Arabic.

      “Slipping softly through the sky
      Little horned, happy moon,
      Can you hear me up so high?
      Will you come down soon?” – Amy Lowell, The Crescent Moon

      After the waxing crescent the shade pulls further to the left illuminating more of the moon.  When it looks like an American football or bigger it’s called a gibbous moon.  And again, when the moon is illuminated on the right side it’s a waxing moon, so now we have the waxing gibbous moon.  Welcome to the party!  The waxing gibbous and it’s cousin the waning gibbous are the wallflowers of the sky party.  Everyone carries on about the full moon because it’s so full of itself, and the crescent moon twins are a bit flirty, liking the attention that comes with being so seductive.  Not so the gibbous cousins.  They don’t dance as well, step on a few toes along the way and that makes them a bit shy. But let’s have some love for these gibbous!  What would our sky be without them?

      We’ve finally arrived at the full moon, and it’s so full of itself that it starts having nicknames.  You can’t just call it the full moon, this character wants you to call it the Harvest Moon or the Milk Moon or the Beaver Moon.  Okay, we’ll humor you full moon, on your next debut we’ll call you the Cold Moon.  You good with that? Full Moon Fever is a real thing, everyone goes a bit crazy when this character comes around. Tides get bigger and minds get zanier; thanks full moon.

      Now the shade starts closing, again right to left, so where we had illumination before we start seeing shade.  Does the full moon notice the Earth casting shade at it?  Does it care?  At first it’s a small sliver of shade and you barely notice the change, but give it a day or two and and our wall flower has stolen the show from old Beaver Moon and we have that familiar football shape illuminated on the left side of the moon; yup, our old friend waning gibbous has come to town, doing it’s clydesdale dance across the sky.  I can relate to you waning gibbous, it’s not easy having two left feet, but keep dancing anyway, just mind the toes.

      Finally we reach the last call of the stages of the moon and the light is just a sliver on the left side of the moon.  It’s that flirty younger twin the waning crescent, here to dazzle you with her dance moves and seductive lighting.  The crescent twins are fuel for the poets and dreamers.  Who doesn’t love to see that sliver of moon rising out of the east, dressed in a bit of pink and yellow before slipping into something white?  The waning crescent offers a lovely frame for the celestial dance beyond, a star in its own right even if only a moon.  Don’t tell her that, this is her time!

      But waning infers things are wrapping up soon, and so it is with the moon. But one last hurrah for our friend.  The next stage is the old moon, where just a tiny sliver of light appears on left edge of the moon.  We’re all moving towards that stage, and it’s one more reminder to make the most of the day at hand.  Dance with the sky, make the most of your arc across the heavens, and try not to step on any toes out there.

       

    • Taking Flight… Again

      Yesterday I had the pleasure of sitting in the back seat of a Cessna as my father flew again. Getting back in the left seat of a plane was a bucket list item for our favorite Navy pilot. For me it was a chance to see him in action flying and see the world from a different perspective.

      Commercial flying offers stunning views from a 12″ oval window. I’ve sat in awe at views from 30,000 feet over New Brunswick and the landing over Boston Harbor at Logan Airport. I always try for a window seat on a red eye just so I can catch the sunrise. Flying in a Cessna is different. First, you feel much more connected to the mechanics of flying, even in the back seat. Everything is right there in front of you with instruments, controls and communication with the towers all part of your experience. And that experience! The views are close to 360 degrees, you’re flying over terrain you’ve known from the ground up, seeing it literally from a bird’s eye view at 2000-3500 feet max, and going a lot slower so can savor the view more.

      We flew out of Lawrence Airport, followed the Merrimack River to the sea, turned northward following the beaches up to Portsmouth and then circled in for a touch and go at Pease International Airport before heading back to Lawrence, with a quick circle around the neighborhood in New Hampshire. Clear skies with some wind gusts making it interesting at lower altitudes. Listening to impressive banter between a flight instructor and a Navy pilot all the while. I kept my own chatter to a minimum; I was along for the ride, it was his experience… one I was happy to share.

      This wasn’t my first flight in a Cessna. I’d flown a similar route with the father of a girlfriend in college once. He did all the work, while I sat in the right seat and my girlfriend sat in the back. I’d told myself I’d like to get my pilots license then, and here we are years later with the goal shelved. Money and time and other priorities killed that goal. We can’t do everything, can we? Perhaps not. Watching the Navy fly again reminded me that even the professionals get busy with other things. There’s a shortage of pilots it seems, and work for those who wish to pursue it. I don’t believe I’ll pursue it myself, but the hourly fees to fly with a pro aren’t outrageous. Why wait when the opportunity is so readily available? That’s what brought us here, and the day was a highlight reel of memories and a reminder to not put things off. For me it was a nice change of perspective, and I think my smile was as big as the pilot’s.

      Merrimack River in Haverhill at Groveland Bridge
      Salisbury Beach, surf’s up
      Isle of Shoals
      New Hampshire coast, looking north to Maine
      Pierce Point, Portsmouth Country Club
      Merrimack River