Alexandersmap

    Category: Habits

    • Leaning Into Constraints

      “When everything is possible, nothing is possible. But when we lean into external and internal constraints by choice, the possibilities, ironically, open up to us.” — Chase Jarvis, Never Play It Safe

      “The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts.” — Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

      I have a trip coming up in the near future. There’s no winging it when it comes to which airport I’m driving to, which airline I’m boarding, when the doors close or which seat I’ve been assigned. Likewise, I’m pretty sure I’m on the same page with the pilot about which city we’re flying to. When I arrive I know I’ll have a room waiting for me, a few reservations already made and so on. Constraints can be helpful guardrails for an otherwise unconstrained weekend. Too many constraints can feel confining, too few chaotic. We feel when we’ve arrived at our comfortable medium.

      We function within constraints all the time, often without thinking about it. We are constrained by laws, time, borders, finances… and on and on. But the most persistent constraints are internal. We have an identity that is boxing us into who we are and what we do. We reinforce this with the friends we accumulate around us. Skate your lane, friend, and I’ll skate mine. Together we’ll skate to some distant point in our frozen future.

      Constraints can be limiting. When we get too comfortable we miss out on everything possible that resides outside our current comfort zone. On that upcoming trip I’ve left far more open space in between than scheduled time. There’s a lot to be said for those skip the line tours at the Vatican, for example, but you realize immediately that most of them just put you in a different line, and within a different box than you might have been in otherwise. The lesson is to buy the tickets, but leave room for chance too.

      The thing is, constraints can be highly effective at focusing our attention. There’s nothing like a deadline to keep us on track with a project. When we build the right kind of restraints into our lives, we focus on productive use of our limited time on earth (the ultimate constraint). Being rigid with some things allows us to create the identity we aspire to. Decide what to be and go be it. I write and publish every day, no matter where I am in the world (or within my own head). This blog is surely meaningless in eternity, but it means something to me in the moment.

      What color are we dying our soul? Our habits and routines, our very beliefs in who we are and why we’re here today, will determine the next step on our journey (up, down or sideways). Some useful constraints put us in our place, but they can also move us to a new place. A better place, full of possibility.

    • Urgency Applies

      “The reason to finish is to start something new.” — Rick Rubin

      To finish what we started ought to be the goal for every project, but we know the truth isn’t so pretty. We bounce between projects, finishing some, but too often drag others along forever for want of attention. It’s all prioritization and focus, lest the forces conspiring against us wash over our lives and that project we were once so excited about gets flushed away like so many schemes and dreams. As with life itself, urgency applies to projects. Do it now.

      Starting something new is exciting. We dance with possibilities: discovering and enhancing and dancing with the light that shines through our eyes and lights up our work. Like a cold mountain stream, it’s invigorating and full of momentum. It’s only downstream, where things slow down and sometimes stagnate, where that project grows tedious. Momentum is everything, and we maintain it through focused attention. Deep channels flow relentlessly fast, shallow deltas slow and sometimes flow backwards with the whim of the tide.

      That new project ought to be a reward for having finished the previous project, not yet another distraction from it. Surely urgency applies to the things we wish to accomplish in this lifetime. We must finish what we’ve started, that we may begin again with the fresh perspective and skills developed from the last brought to the next.

    • Action is Identity

      “Creators create. Action is identity. You become what you do. You don’t need permission from anybody to call yourself a writer, entrepreneur, or musician. You just need to write, build a business, or make music. You’ve got to do the verb to be the noun.” ― Chase Jarvis, Creative Calling: Establish a Daily Practice, Infuse Your World with Meaning, and Succeed in Work + Life

      If action is identity, so too is inaction. What we say yes to and what we say no to are each a part of who we are. It’s inherently obvious, yet so easy to forget in the day-to-day demand for our time played to the soundtrack of the well-meaning who only want the best for us (thanks a bunch for that). We must pause a beat and get our bearings, then get back to the climb to our potential.

      If I could offer a bit of unsolicited advice to myself, to my children and anyone else paying attention, it’s to simply follow the call for as long as we can get away with it until we meet that person we envisioned. The only way forward is to do that thing. To write, to build, to make: action is our identity. It’s that vote for the person we wish to become that James Clear reminded us of.

      And so a bias towards action is the not-so-secret way to reach the promised land. Hitting the lottery is a fool’s game, hitting our stride by doing the things we know we need to do is how we live fully. We’ve been gifted with being born at a time and place where possibility flows. The people telling us that this is a time of scarcity are getting wealthy with words. There’s an audience for everything, even that thing that we’re telling ourselves to go be. Decide what to be and go be it, as the song goes.

      We ought to give ourselves a gift these last few months of the year. Do the creative work and put it out there for the world to see. Make a bold statement in who we will be today, and build on it in our following days should we blessed with enough of them. Tempus fugit: time flies. Do it now before it all slips away. If action is identity, just what will we think of ourselves if we don’t act now?

    • Chopping the Frozen Sea

      “I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the book we’re reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for? So that it will make us happy, as you write? Good Lord, we would be happy precisely if we had no books, and the kind of books that make us happy are the kind we could write ourselves if we had to. But we need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is my belief.” ― Franz Kafka

      I’ve been investing in a lifetime of learning that began in earnest right about when I started writing this blog. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t learning before that, but it was learning filled with distraction and ulterior motivation: simply put, I was too busy raising children and building a career to dive deeply into the things I wanted to learn about, and so I deferred much of it until the kids were off to college and the career was somewhat established. This second stage of life is ideal for reinventing ourselves, and so the quest commenced.

      A string of habits occurred all at once. I finally started writing every day instead of telling myself to do it one day. Similar habits began around learning a second language, finding something uniquely interesting about whatever place I happened to be in when traveling and of course reading in earnest. The reading in particular has evolved from heavy fiction with a layering of history to heavier works of philosophy, history, science, etc. We become what we consume, after all. And driving it all is an underlying feeling of having fallen behind that has me striving to accelerate my pursuit of learning to catch up. This hasn’t abated over time.

      That driver shouldn’t be underestimated. To seek knowledge is to acknowledge an emptiness within us that we must fill. Each layer of learning is growth that brings us to a more complete version of our potential, yet also offers a vantage point from which to see all that we’ve missed on our singular pursuit, and so another quest begins, and so on. As the frozen sea is released, we find we may inch closer to a desired place, but the chopping never ends until we do.

      This all comes back to that version of excellence reserved only for the gods—Arete. I’ve known the word since I was an underclassman in college, but that didn’t inspire me to reach for it at the time. I simply wasn’t intellectually or emotionally developed enough to pursue excellence at a level beyond being a big fish in the small pond I swam in then. That pond flowed into a stream that became a river that brought me to the vast ocean, where I looked around and realized I’d better get to work growing.

      The thing is, I don’t aspire to be the biggest fish in the ocean anymore, I simply want to grow closer to my potential. Shouldn’t we all aspire to arete, even knowing we’ll never quite reach it? We must keep chopping away at the things that have locked us in place for far too long. What we learn is that the frozen sea isn’t something external, it’s within us, holding back the universe. Like Michelangelo chipping away at the marble to reveal the sculpture hidden within, we too must chip away to find what was hidden within all along.

    • Developing a Voice

      “The voice which a poet forms is not any more something that a poet creates than it is something, over the years, that creates the poet. Throughout my life, unquestionably, I have made decisions one way or the other based on the influence of this inner voice—this authority with which I most intensely and willingly live.” —Mary Oliver, The Poet’s Voice

      Writing a blog is not the same as writing a novel, but it’s writing just the same. And as such, it ought to get one’s best effort. For otherwise, why do it at all? Isn’t life already too full of half-hearted pursuits? We can’t quiet-quit on our personal pursuits too and hope to have any reason to carry on in this world. We must do our best with the time and talent we have in the moment and allow it to carry us to the divine.

      Whatever the world thinks about blogging doesn’t matter a lick to me. I write to develop my voice, and once developed, refine it over and over again until it flows out of me like a Boston accent in unguarded moments. When I ask myself why I begin each day this way instead of simply taking a walk with the dog like a normal person, it often comes down to knowing I have something to say and finding a way to express it consistently, if not always eloquently.

      But what do we then do with a voice, once developed? Write more blog posts? Make the shift to long form essays and Substack? Or something <gasp> more? We can’t very well stuff our voice into the back row of the choir with the mimers, can we? We must sing our verse with passion and the skill honed through those ten thousand hours of chipping away at the marble. What emerges may just be magical. But magic doesn’t just appear out of thin air, it only seems that way to the casual observer.

      An acquaintance of mine wrote a few novels and published them as e-books just to give his children an example of doing what he said he was going to do. He’s also an active and talented podcaster with a silky smooth voice and the insightful questions that betray active intelligence. His voice may have been there all along but the full package took time and effort to develop. Whatever his motive for writing the novels and doing the podcast, the point is that he’s doing it. And so are we, at least if we have the inclination to see what emerges from that once quiet voice whispering to us in the back row.

    • Breakthroughs and Routines

      “Do not let the world form you. Do not conform to it. Instead, transform yourself through a renewing of your mind.” ― Neil King Jr., American Ramble: A Walk of Memory and Renewal

      We are being transformed as much by time as by deliberate act. We cannot control time, such that it is, but we may control our own transformation through the choices we make, the people we associate with and the course we set for ourselves. We said goodbye to some friends over the weekend, knowing that they and we will be changed by the things we encounter between now and the time we may reconnect in the future. We are all forever being transformed, catching up one day to see the changes.

      The universe won’t remember much of us in a thousand years. Hell, I don’t remember much about myself in any given year of my own lifetime but for the highlights and those few unforgettable moments forever imprinted in my mind. We replay stepping stone moments and stumbles ranging from our youth to just this morning, each retained as memorable for what they taught us about ourselves and the place we were in our development to that moment, each still shaping who we are every time we rewind and play the conversation again in our minds.

      But remembering isn’t the thing, for we can’t carry everything with us and still function freely in the now, transformation happens with those few things that get into the bloodstream and forevermore become a part of our identity. It’s like the pesto breakthrough to me: Back as a teenager I encountered a dish of pesto put out as an hors d’oeuvre. For my entire young life up to the moment I savored that dish for the first time I thought of the world in a certain way. When I tasted pesto for the first time I immediately recognized how incomplete my life had been previously and integrated it into my identity forevermore. Life has since been far more delicious.

      We note such watershed moments in our lives that change everything, but we forget the incremental changes we make influenced by the gravitational pull of habit or environment. Writing this blog every day has changed me more than that first pesto experience, perhaps by prompting me to seek more breakthrough moments, but also by noting the existence of gravity in my everyday affairs. If we don’t acknowledge gravity we will never develop the transformational habits to one day reach escape velocity.

      Life is this combination of breakthroughs and routine, transforming us over time into whomever we are and will become. Breakthroughs are rapid change, while routines are the long, slow climb. The muscles we develop determine how well we can resist conformity and go our own way. To be deliberate in our learning and the experiences we seek out are thus our path to transformation on our own terms.

    • Crossing the Sea

      “You can’t cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water.” — Rabindranath Tagore

      I was thinking about some friends I won’t see this week, as they’re at a conference that I’m not at. They’re almost certainly going about their days with productivity in mind. I may choose how I feel about the matter. We may choose misery or acceptance when we aren’t a part of something. I’m approaching it like I’m looking at my hotel points that haven’t accumulated this year at the rate they normally would: I have far more important ways to spend my time. The trick is to invest our time savings into something with a great return on investment.

      This ought to be our marching order as we stare across the water wondering how we’re going to get to the other side: Be productive with the right things. Whatever those things are. Everything else is stalling. We have no time to waste on trivialities and busywork. We must do the things that must be done at the expense of all the rest. Nothing clarifies our lives like seeing where we want to go and knowing the steps that will get us there. The rest is simply having the courage to begin.

    • Bundles of Rain

      Are the clouds glad to unburden their bundles of rain?
      Most of the world says no, no, it’s not possible. I refuse to think to such a conclusion.
      Too terrible it would be, to be wrong.
      — Mary Oliver, Do Stones Feel?

      After a month of no rain, it’s rained at the most inconvenient time, at least for the outdoor projects I’ve had planned for the last few days. But so what? Rain is to be celebrated just as much as sunshine. At least in moderation. This hasn’t been moderation, but I loved it nonetheless.

      People who wish for sunny days all the time ought to live in the desert. The rest of us quietly yearn for change. We’d be ungrateful if we complained about it when it arrived. And so it is that we ought to dress for the occasion and worked with the gift the universe presents to us.

      I’ve learn that I’m not lazy when it rains. Instead of sitting quietly with a book and a steaming mug of tea, I do bundles of projects that have been postponed too long. Indoor projects, surely, but also outdoor projects that want for a bit of watering anyway. The garden is as grateful for the rain as I am in such moments.

      Rainy day projects are beneficial, but sometimes the best answer to a soggy day is to immerse ourselves in the solitude it offers. Soon the productivity will concede to completion. To celebrate the rain for all it brings to the day is just as essential as any project might be. And those books, and that solitude, call to me, reminding me that I must return to them soon.

    • Digging Holes to Yesterday

      “Don’t let yesterday use up too much of today.” — Will Rogers

      The pup is obsessed with yesterday. She saw a chipmunk go into a small hole and proceeded to make it a big hole (just when we thought she was past the digging stage of life). This morning she was right back out there, chasing chipmunks because they were right there for the catching yesterday. Of course, the chipmunk has moved on to safer places, it’s just the memory that remains. Still, our pup remains a prisoner of what once was.

      What of us? What holes are we digging to yesterday, instead of being in today’s moment? I can think of a few of my own holes that ought to be filled in and left behind. It’s hard to climb when we’re deep in a hole.

    • Cradled in Custom

      They have cradled you in custom,
      they have primed you with their preaching,
      They have soaked you in convention through and through;
      They have put you in a showcase; you’re a credit to their teaching —
      But can’t you hear the Wild? — it’s calling you.
      Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide us;
      Let us journey to a lonely land I know.
      There’s a whisper on the night-wind,
      there’s a star agleam to guide us,
      And the Wild is calling, calling. . .let us go.
      — Robert Service, The Call of the Wild

      We all know the stories we’ve been told all our lives: Do well in school, go to a great college, get a great job and work hard to climb the corporate ladder, meet a mate who aligns with the story, have children and teach them to believe the same story and retire to do all the things we’ve skipped following our assigned script. Most people who struggle in this world are following someone else’s script instead of their own, or feeling the crush of expectations from those who want the best for us, believing the best for us is the story. But all along, and often unheard in the chorus of good intentions, is that the best stories are the ones we write ourselves.

      We each have our call of the wild, but do we heed it? There’s a time and a place for everything, we often remind ourselves, deferring to tomorrow what calls to us today. Perhaps today is a day to step off the chosen path and chase what calls to us. Perhaps this is the time to see what luck betide us. The only certainty is that the call will fade away with our vitality if deferred too long. Heed the call while there is still time to rewrite the story.