Alexandersmap

    Category: Family

    • How We Interact

      I was looking through some old pictures for images of an uncle who passed away over the weekend, images that would be part of a collage of images of interactions he’s made in his lifetime. It occurred to me that he’s never joined Facebook or Instagram. If you wanted to interact with him you needed to do it the old-fashioned ways with a call, a letter, or best of all, face-to-face. Technology is handy, but it will never substitute for a conversation with an engaged, interested human being.

      Writing this, I sit at a desk looking to my right to a Mac screen. Looking left, I might interact with a PC screen. I’m technology-agnostic in this way, as most of us must be. Work to the left, personal to the right. Throw in work and personal iPhones loaded with apps, a Kindle, iPad, and both an Apple and a Garmin watch and it seems I can interact with the world in all manner of ways. But I still prefer talking to humans face-to-face. Call me an old soul if you will.

      Technology makes us scalable and efficient. I can click publish on this blog post and it’s possible for the entire world to read it in an instant. We both know that’s not going to happen, because the entire world is pushing out their own content too, making it a very noisy tech world indeed. To rise above the din you must be louder and more committed to connection, not just more interesting or introspective. I’ve come to realize that accumulating followers is just not me. I celebrate organic growth, but dwelling on it is counterproductive and artificial. I’ll just keep doing my thing, quietly interacting with you and the occasional five hundred-ish other folks, from now until it ends.

      One of these days I’ll fix the blog, to make it easier for people to interact with me. Or maybe not, but just know it’s not because I’m not interested in the humans on the other side. Just not so much the technology that connects us. There’s irony in that statement, but it’s not meant to be clever. It just means I’m more like my uncle than I thought I was.

    • The Beautiful Changes

      One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides
      The Queen Anne’s Lace lying like lilies
      On water; it glides
      So from the walker, it turns
      Dry grass to a lake, as the slightest shade of you
      Valleys my mind in fabulous blue Lucernes.

      The beautiful changes as a forest is changed
      By a chameleon’s tuning his skin to it;
      As a mantis, arranged
      On a green leaf, grows
      Into it, makes the leaf leafier, and proves
      Any greenness is deeper than anyone knows.

      Your hands hold roses always in a way that says
      They are not only yours; the beautiful changes
      In such kind ways,
      Wishing ever to sunder
      Things and things’ selves for a second finding, to lose
      For a moment all that it touches back to wonder.
      — Richard Wilbur, The Beautiful Changes

      Emotionally, logically even, I’ve come back to my home recently. I never left, really, but it feels more like home as we’ve spruced up the place during the pandemic. We strayed in our minds a few times, seeking more adventurous living, yet we always return to this place. That blanket of familiar is comforting, even as it acts as a foundation for more adventurous acts. Blankets might feel suffocating at times, if we feel that our whole life is encumbered beneath. But isn’t that blanket simply our identity? We are what we surround ourselves with. That in turn and time either feels right or it doesn’t. The choice was ours all along. And so it will be.

      We each enter into long relationships that evolve over time. Live with someone for a few decades and you join the club of understanding. The same can be said for the very place we live as well. The landscape changes as the community changes. The very homes we live in change too, as things and people and pets come and go from our lives, and as we ourselves grow older. Life is change. Change can be untenable or wonderful, sometimes at the very same time.

      We each write our stories, choosing what to add or edit out of that hero’s journey. Characters come and go, the scenes change, so too does the author. Everything changes over time, and we live with these changes or reject them. To think we can control anything but our reaction to change is folly. But we can wrap ourselves in our identity, and let this be our guide as we face whatever comes next. Sometimes that next is beautiful.

    • Raising Wonderful

      “Seems to me it ain’t the world that’s so bad but what we’re doing to it, and all I’m saying is: see what a wonderful world it would be if only we’d give it a chance. Love, baby – love. That’s the secret.” — Louis Armstrong

      I hear babies cry
      I watch them grow
      They’ll learn much more
      Than I’ll ever know
      And I think to myself
      What a wonderful world
      — Louis Armstrong, What a Wonderful World (Lyrics: Bob Thiele, George Douglas, George Weiss)

      This morning I dropped my daughter off at the airport. She’s back to California to build her dream out there. My son headed back even sooner, working the day after Thanksgiving and doing what must be done to make the most of his career. That’s what you do with dreams: you reach for them wherever they are and with all you have.

      And what of those who watch them go? We know the drill. This is what you do when you’re a parent. We raise them, love them and teach them about the world, and then let ’em fly on their own. Now and then they fly back for a few days and you see how much they’ve grown. With both of my children, I see young adults with the acumen do so much more with their chosen paths than I have with mine, and that pleases me.

      I have one ace up my sleeve, of course. I was half of the team that raised two great kids. That may not seem like a lot in this complicated world, but when we reach the end of the line and we consider the best things we’ve done in our lives, shouldn’t we lead with love? The question we ought to ask ourselves daily is, am I raising hell or raising wonderful? Raising hell may sound like fun, but it leaves a big mess that someone has to clean up. Raising wonderful pays love forward. If there’s one thing this world could use more of, it’s love, don’t you think?

    • Gratitude and Love

      “Cultivate the habit of being grateful for every good thing that comes to you, and to give thanks continuously. And because all things have contributed to your advancement, you should include all things in your gratitude.“ — Ralph Waldo Emerson

      We often forget how blessed we are. Counting blessings ought to be a daily activity. I suppose it is for some of us, while the rest of us are too busy juggling to linger with gratitude. Experts on such things as happiness suggest writing down what you’re grateful for at the end of each day. I’n not so bold as to call myself an expert on living happily, I just try to do it. It does seem logical that if we are what we focus on, focusing our attention on gratitude and the blessings in our lives surely seems more delightful than focusing on what’s missing. Acknowledge both; dwell in joy.

      Americans have this holiday of holidays: Thanksgiving. Some people aren’t really focused on thanks and gratitude on Thanksgiving, they’re just trying to pull of the logistics of the day. But this is the very best holiday of them all for many of us—not because of the day drinking and heaping plates of everything, but because we come together with the people we love the most. What’s lost on some Americans as we celebrate this coming together as family business is that much of the world does this gratitude and love thing every day of the year.

      Gratitude and love fill a void otherwise open to darker forces. Happy doesn’t need Thanksgiving, but giving thanks seems to lead towards happy. It’s a funny twist on words, I suppose, but also a more fulfilling way of living in this complicated and tragic world. A recipe for happiness, if you will. So whether you celebrate this particular holiday or not, we’re sending a nice helping of love, from our table to yours.

    • Home, and Away

      “Now more than ever do I realize that I will never be content with a sedentary life, that I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.” – Isabelle Eberhardt

      Well past dark, I completed the relocation process for thousands of fallen red oak leaves that had blanketed the front lawn with the muted satisfaction that comes with not seeing your finished project and knowing it will likely be covered again soon enough. This is fall, but it’s also folly to believe you’re ever done with yard work. The trees giveth in abundance, and on their own timetable.

      The thing is, I like the chores of home ownership even as I contemplate my next move on the bucket list. Restless spirits are always moving, whether at home or in travel. I’ve never sat still very well. Meditation for me requires movement, and there is already an abundance of travel booked or in the works. Schemes and dreams of places near and far haunt me, it isn’t something that can be flushed out of your system like too much drink. Travel perpetuates, as reading does. It’s a positive addiction, trading mundane routine for more worldly experience. Many of us have nomadic tendencies running through our blood.

      And yet we can’t imagine nomads raking the leaves and putting away patio furniture. Having a home base isn’t such a bad thing when it doesn’t dominate the conversation. One can happily manage home chores and segue immediately into the next adventure if one structures a life properly. We can have our cake and eat it too. As with all things, balance is the key.

      Go
      And beat your crazy head against the sky
      Try
      And see beyond the houses and your eyes
      It’s okay to shoot the moon
      — John Sebastian, Darling Be Home Soon

      Like sharks, I suppose, restless spirits must move to live. Being fully alive isn’t passive: energy doesn’t rest. So we too should rest less. But fear not, for we’ll be home soon.

    • Hugs

      October has been a month of hugs in my circle, and I’ve made the most of every one of them. Seeing old friends and family, celebrating moments together, absorbing loss together. Hugs come in all shapes and sizes, just like people do. But there are a few that stand out:

      Hello hugs are the best, for they signal reacquaintance after time away. Sometimes that time is as brief as a walk to the other room, and sometimes it’s a return after years apart. Hello hugs are warm and welcoming and signal “We’re back together again! Let’s get on with the party, already!”. Hello hugs are always tinged with joy for the moment at hand.

      Celebration hugs are savored when our favorite team wins the big game, or when our child successfully navigates a milestone moment like graduation or completing a recital. Weddings and anniversaries are milestones too, and we huggers go a little bit crazy at them. Celebration hugs draw in even the non-hugging crowd if you catch them at just the right moment. High fives are fleeting, hugs capture forever.

      Comforting hugs are rolled out at moments of grief, shock and despair. When we lose someone, when we fail the test, when we don’t get the job or get into the school or our team loses the game it calls for consolation and comfort. Hugs do the trick. It’s a signal that we aren’t alone—we’re in this together. Nobody wants to have to give or receive these hugs, but whether we like them or not, they’re as much a part of our lives as celebration hugs.

      Perhaps the biggest hugs are goodbye hugs. The squeeze is tighter, the embrace is longer, and they radiate warmer than any other hug. On the face of it, goodbye hugs signal “Until we meet again,” but whisper, “There’s so much we’ve left unsaid”. Goodbye hugs are always bittersweet.

      There’s another hug, the reciprocal hug, used often in some circles and never in others. It’s the “You bet I’m still here for you” hug, applied liberally with family and close friends in quiet moments. These hugs are seized out of the thin air of life; captured moments of affection and commitment at any old time. Walking by at just this moment? Have a hug. Doing the dishes? Have a wet hug. Taking the dog for a walk? Let’s hug the dog together. Sadly, not everyone has access to them, but everyone should. My best advice is to seek out people who think nothing of generous, reciprocal hugs.

    • When There Is Impulse and Time

      What gentle echoes,
      half heard sounds
      there are around here.
      .
      You place yourself in
      such relation you hear
      everything that’s said.

      Take it or leave it.
      Return it to a particular
      condition.

      Think
      slowly. See
      the things around you,

      taking place.
      .
      I began wanting a sense
      of melody, e.g., following
      the tune, became somehow
      an image, then several,
      and I was watching those things
      becoming in front of me.
      .
      The you imagine locates
      the response. Like turning
      a tv dial. The message,
      as one says, is information,
      a form of energy. The wisdom
      of the ages is “electrical” impulse.
      .
      Lap of water
      to the hand, lifting
      up, slaps
      the side of the dock –

      Darkening air, heavy
      feeling in the air.

      A Plan
      On some summer day
      when we are far away
      and there is impulse and time,
      we will talk about this.
      — Robert Creeley, Massachusetts

      Why do we wait for someday, when today will do? We dream of places far away, when we have far less on our to-do lists, when we might finally slow down enough to catch up with each other. When we might catch up with ourselves. Life moves quickly—too quickly for such things as pondering and poetry. So they say.

      The beauty of poetry is in how the reader interprets a jumble of words just so, transforming them into something powerful or mundane, emotive or passionless, joyful or melancholy. Robert Creeley set these words free and, like life itself, we make of his poetry what we will.

      Maybe, it serves as a reminder to think slowly. To see the things around us taking place. To use this time more impulsively. To be present for those who are here, now.

    • Our Present Sphere

      “All around us lies what we neither understand nor use. Our capacities, our instincts for this our present sphere are but half developed. Let us confine ourselves to that till the lesson be learned; let us be completely natural; before we trouble ourselves with the supernatural. I never see any of these things but I long to get away and lie under a green tree and let the wind blow on me. There is marvel and charm enough in that for me.” — Margaret Fuller

      Today we bury a part of the family, completing his journey back to the earth. Back to the eternal. Our time together was relatively short, as lifetimes go, but memorable. We all live on in memories, they say. My experience with such things makes me believe it to be so.

      Memories are borne out of moments. Moments in turn from living with full awareness of our present sphere. Will we ever master the moment? Probably not, but as a sommelier trains their taste buds to discern the nuances of a wine, we might train our minds for nuance too. And in doing so, savor life more each day.

      The thing we generally say when someone passes is, “rest in peace”. But their passing is a message to us too: Memento mori — remember, we all must die. So pay your respects, hug one another and go out and live while there’s still time.

    • What Energy Remains?

      “Everything is collage, even genetics. There is the hidden presence of others in us, even those we have known briefly. We contain them for the rest of our lives, at every border that we cross.” — Michael Ondaatje, Divisadero

      I read this on the two year anniversary of the passing of my favorite Navy pilot. That this particular quote should pop up on September 12th is easily explainable, of course, being the birthday of the author Ondaatje. Yet it was this particular quote, dropped into my circle of awareness at precisely the moment when I needed to read it, that reverberated for me. And I wondered, what border am I crossing this week?

      We ought to rise up to meet our moment. We ought to raise our voice and lend our hand, for these are the things that demonstrate that we care just enough about something other than ourselves. The question is in the meeting—just what might we offer to another in our brief time with them? The answer to that question lies inside, but generally it ought to be all that we can give.

      Every interaction is an opportunity to lift. We create ripples of positive or negative energy simply by the friction generated in our words and actions. We dance with each, making our mark on the moment, and move on. But have we met a higher standard or did we let the opportunity slip away? What energy remains?

      Our hidden presence lingers even after we move on. You may think back on the energy rippling from the soul of another you interacted with this morning or a decade ago. What is it, exactly, that reverberates from that moment that stays with you even now? How do we process that and return it to the world?

      When I think back on each interaction with my favorite Navy pilot, the ripples tell me to seek more: More joie de vivre, more humor, more effort to measure up in the moment, and more focus on each personal engagement with another as I continue my march through time. These are his ripples passing through me to the world. His energy, continuing to reverberate, even as I remember what was lost.

    • Where Deep Roots Grow

      From the bottom of my heart
      Off the coast of Carolina
      After one or two false starts
      I believe we found our stride
      And the walls that won’t come down
      We can decorate or climb or find some way to get around
      Cause I’m still on your side
      From the bottom of my heart
      — Jimmy Buffett, Coast of Carolina

      Long-term relationships are about finding the space to grow together. We’ve all seen examples of couples who find a way to make things work because they want to make it work. We’ve seen the opposite too. The thing about walls is they’re always there—we either find a way around them or we let them close us off from the people who are most important for us.

      Relationships work when we break down barriers. They fall apart when we let the barriers define the relationship. None of us has to think too long about a friendship or romantic relationship that suffered from one or both parties seeing the differences of opinion but not the way around it. Nothing grows very well in a tight box.

      We live in a world that amplifies our differences. What might grow if we knocked down a few walls instead of throwing up more? The very question prompts a new level of thinking, doesn’t it? Thinking in possibilities instead of limitations opens us up for deeper relationships, wider experiences, and stronger bonds.

      It brings us to a place where deep roots grow.