Alexandersmap

    Category: Habits

    • Unfailing and Habitual Consistency

      “Remember we wrote in Good to Great that big things happen by pushing on a giant, heavy flywheel. You start pushing in an intelligent and consistent direction, and after a lot of work you get one giant, slow, creaky turn, but you don’t stop. You keep pushing and you eventually get two turns and four and sixteen and thirty-two and sixty-four and one hundred and one thousand; pushing; cumulative, consistent momentum; and at one point it’s one hundred thousand and then a million turns in that flywheel. Big things happen because you do a bunch of little things supremely well that compound over time. This is what we learned. We see tremendous consistency in any truly great enterprise. The signature of mediocrity is not an unwillingness to change—although, and we’ll get to this, if you don’t change, you become irrelevant—but the true signature of mediocrity is chronic inconsistency.” — Jim Collins

      If the signature of mediocrity is chronic inconsistency, then the signature of personal excellence (Areté) is unfailing and habitual consistency. It’s staying to task, every day until something more essential to our being becomes our task. Blogging every day is pushing the flywheel. So is exercise and changing the engine oil and washing the dishes and doing the most tedious-but-essential things in our chosen path. We do these things not because they’re always joyful, but because they are part of our identity today and ensure that we continue from here to our future identity. The opposite of order is chaos.

      There were several times writing this blog that I thought it would be my last post. There’s so many things to do, and beginning each morning with writing delays some other essential habits from forming. But the writing has taken me to places I hadn’t anticipated when I began, and the path forward looks promising. That’s not a reason not to question the flywheel I happen to be pushing (who wants to run around in circles for nothing?), but to embrace the process of becoming what’s next that the writing offers. The trick is to stack other positive habits into this routine to ensure success. The writing isn’t pushing me away, it’s those other habits that need attention that are pulling.

      Systems and routines are our salvation or an albatross. We are what we do. We must therefore keep pushing.

    • The Quest for Better

      “Let me start with issuing you a challenge: Be better than you are. Set a goal that seems unattainable, and when you reach that goal, set another one even higher.” — Herb Brooks

      Wishes are nice. When my daughter asks me what my wish is on any given occasion for such things, my answer is always “world peace” because it’s as good a wish as any, and better than most. The short answer is, I don’t wish for things, I plan (too often over-plan) and I take steps towards them. Planning and deliberate action are better than wishes.

      Resolutions are nice. I don’t make them, because I would always break them. Instead I see the person I want to be, identify what that person would be doing every day to reach further than that point and I start adding those routines to my own calendar. As a streak hitter, I know streaks are made to be broken eventually. I try to string together as many days as possible on any desired trait and track it in a journal. Writing has surpassed five years every day and counting. Some other habits aren’t holding up as well. Each informs and I restart every day with the best intentions fueled by a desire for better than I currently am. How about you? What gets you beyond the resolution rut?

      Experiences are the currency now. Doing things I wouldn’t have done a few years ago. Even thinking to do things is a step beyond the more insular world I once inhabited. Each stage of life brings with it a new set of priorities. Prepare better meals. Speak a second or third language better than yesterday. Experience something entirely new each week. Pretty soon that calendar is full of interesting leaps forward. Pretty soon we’ve become that person we thought unattainable. And the quest for better begins anew.

    • On Time

      “Days are expensive. When you spend a day you have one less day to spend. So make sure you spend each one wisely.” — Jim Rohn

      We have an extra day added to the calendar this year. Leap Year and all that. What will we do with one more? Each day in the books is one less, if you look at it a certain way, or one more, if you look at it another way. Do we look at the scarcity of time left or the abundance of experiences we’ve accumulated along the way?

      Perhaps the answer is to be aware of the time going by and to be deliberate in our use of it. Wasting less time by utilizing it better. That’s a good reason to make goals and focus on productivity, but the root of each ought to be a resounding answer to the question, “how do I want to use my time?”

    • Counting Wins

      “Give yourself fully to your endeavors. Decide to construct your character through excellent actions and determine to pay the price of a worthy goal. The trials you encounter will introduce you to your strengths.” — Epictetus

      And so we begin again. If a human life is marked by the sum of our days, then this day is our opportunity to launch into something greater than we were in our previous days. A new year is just the same as a new day: it’s all the same on our march forward. What counts is the march to better. What matters is following through one step at a time to the end of our days.

      The trick is to focus on the strengths we wish to develop in ourselves. The weaknesses are what we tend to resolve to change. This leads to frustration and failure. Where’s the fun in that? We all know deep down which resolutions are doomed to fail. They’re the ones without a compelling why and the simplicity of routine. What is more routine than doing the little things every day?

      Epictetus had it right. We must decide which kind of character we want to construct first. Who do we want to be? What is the price that closes the gap between that person and the person contemplating change? There will be days for leaping, but we ought to begin with what we’ll call a win when everything is upside down and failure is in the air. What counts as a win each day?

      I’m a streak hitter. I publish every day to keep this streak alive, just like every other positive habit. There are days when it’s the bare minimum, there are days when it’s a lot more, but it’s always something. That’s one example of paying the price every day, and a small win that keeps the momentum going. It’s become a strength simply in the doing.

      That gap isn’t closed with a leap. It’s closed by filling in the gap. One small win at a time.

    • Intentions vs. Routines

      “You don’t make art out of good intentions.” ― Gustave Flaubert

      Our routines and systems determine what we produce. I write every day to see what will come of it. Sometimes I use a writing prompt, other times I write of experiences I’ve had, and still other times I start typing until something tangible ends up on the page (deleting the nonsense that led me to it). Nothing great comes to us until we meet it at least halfway. Sometimes a lot more than halfway. And sure; we don’t always reach great…. But we do reach.

      Some days we are able to stick rigidly to our routine, some days we stray or are pulled from it. The trick is to get back on track as soon as the opportunity presents itself. This applies equally well to exercise, flossing, daily chores and yes, blogging. Do the things that must be done in the time you create for it. If we don’t create the time, then it isn’t the priority we say it is.

      Life is more complicated than that, of course. It’s not always about the stray—sometimes it’s the pull as other things take priority. But one day we’ll be pulled from it all like every artist, writer and poet who’s come before us. Knowing this, we ought to keep at it while we can. Stick with the routine and do the work that matters most now.

    • The Better For It

      “Love what you do. Get good at it. Competence is a rare commodity in this day and age. And let the chips fall where they may.” — Jon Stewart

      “The artist uses the talent he has, wishing he had more talent. The talent uses the artist it has, wishing it had more artist.” ― Robert Brault

      Over time we become proficient at some things at the expense of other things we might have done instead. We simply can’t do everything in this world, and when we try we dilute our potential to master anything. Focus matters a great deal in becoming competent at anything, let alone to master that thing.

      Lately when I click publish there’s a wave of purposelessness that washes over me for just a moment. The dialog goes something like this: “I’ve completed the blog for the day, the one nagging thing that drives me out of bed that must be done is done… so what now?” And that’s usually when the noise of the world fills the void and my purpose becomes clear once again. Do the things that must be done that have been ignored that you might do this other thing. The fog lifts and I get to it.

      Sometimes the noise of the world keeps me from writing the blog until later in the day. Those are days of great discontent, as if I’m being held back from something essential. Now don’t get me wrong—what is essential to me is mostly noise to the rest of the world, if heard at all, but it’s another rung on the ladder towards better that I must climb. The talent uses the artist it has, and I hate disappointing it with lackluster effort.

      When we love what we do, we keep doing it with an earnest focus on something beyond competence. We owe it to ourselves to reach for excellence in whatever we’re doing in this moment. We can always be better, until one day we can’t be. The race for mastery has an expiration date that we’re charging towards faster than we might believe. Shouldn’t we love the work enough to put our best out there right now? If we’re blessed with tomorrow we’ll be the better for it.

    • Designing the Sweet Life (La Dolce Vita)

      “A man must find his occasions in himself, it is true. The natural day is very calm, and will hardly reprove his indolence.” ― Henry David Thoreau, Walden

      In a full confession that will surprise no one in my circle of friends and family, I struggle with the act of idleness. I rarely sit still, even on vacation, choosing to explore whatever place I find myself in, and too often stack too many activities into those “idle” days. There’s no lying on the beach for hours for me. The default is activity over idleness. I marvel at the pets for their ability to simply nap away hours of a day. If I nap at all I set the alarm for 15 minutes and get right back to moving about as soon as possible. And the idea of sleeping in? There is no snooze alarm in my world.

      But that doesn’t translate to being productive all of the time. We can putter about without really getting anything done. The world is full of people quietly quitting the work they have in front of them. There are plenty of people opting out of frenetic lifestyles. There are whole cultures built around the sweetness of doing nothing (dolce far niante: I’m looking at you Italy). So how do we restless souls learn to chill out a bit and live the sweet life (la dolce vita) ourselves?

      “Doing less meaningless work, so that you can focus on things of greater personal importance, is NOT laziness. This is hard for most to accept, because our culture tends to reward personal sacrifice instead of personal productivity.” ― Timothy Ferriss, The 4-Hour Workweek

      The thing is, Thoreau and Ferriss, both known for promoting more strategic idleness in our days, have also produced some significant work that resonates beyond the moment they created it. For all their perceived idleness, there’s an underlying productivity hidden in plain sight. That’s what people miss in the idea of la dolce vita—it’s living the sweet life while still keeping the lights on with productive work. It seems we can have it all, if we create a lifestyle that is both pleasurable and productive.

      The trick is being far more strategic in our productivity, thus giving breathing room for idleness. We ought to know what we’re really setting out to do in this lifetime, and break that down into milestones. Milestones in turn are achieved through work strategically designed into our days. If that sounds like the antithesis of dolce far niante, well, I understand. But it really is the essence of living Thoreau’s “natural day”: filled with enough idle time to feel we’re not cogs in a machine while still producing something memorable.

      Productivity (and idleness) requires focus. Doing the work that matters most in the moment and then get on with living that sweet life. We’re all students of maximizing the potential of our lifetime. We ought to know what makes life sweet, and also meaningful. Designing a pace of life that balances the two is the essence of a sweet life.

      Ultimately, designing a lifestyle that maximizes our potential should be our focus. But potential for what? Wealth? Fame? Isn’t it really time spent doing the things that makes a life sweet? Time with people who matter a great deal to us. Time doing the things that make life a pleasure. Time structured in a way that it doesn’t feel like we’re biding our time but living it.

      So the question when designing a lifestyle is, “what will maximize the number of beautiful moments we may stack together in this finite lifespan?” Nothing brings focus to our days like remembering we only have so many of them. Memento mori. Stop wasting time thinking about it and go live it, today and every day we’re blessed with. The Italians are on to something, don’t you think?

    • Worthy of Becoming

      “What makes a man beautiful? Isn’t it being an excellent man? And so, if you wish to be beautiful, young man, work at this, the acquisition of human excellence. But what is this? Observe who you praise, when you praise many people without partiality: do you praise the fair or the unfair? ‘The fair.’ Do you praise the moderate or the immoderate? ‘The moderate.’ And the temperate or the intemperate? ‘The temperate.’ Therefore, you know if you make yourself a person like those who you praise, you will know that you will make yourself beautiful: but so long as you neglect these things, you must be ugly, even though you arrange all you can to appear beautiful.” — Epictetus, The Discourses

      We all aspire to something. Beauty. Power. Wealth. Fame. What we might become prods us along, becoming our why. This blog was born out of a desire to be a better writer, to express through a keyboard all the things I’d deferred in favor of other aspirations. That I stick with it is telling, for it betrays who I wish to become with every post.

      There’s been a steady improvement in the writer (perhaps also the writing) as change is documented, great works are read, routines are attempted. That he remains imperfect speaks to how far he had to go. He rarely speaks in the third person so this must be a very serious point. Or tongue-in-cheek. One never knows with this writer… and by that I mean one always knows.

      The thing is, the progress is there when we go look for it, when we have an aspiration worthy of pursuit. When we pass that magical ten thousand hour milestone, we believe we might just be mastering something but have learned just enough to realize we’ve got so very far to go. We never master anything, we only pursue excellence from a higher plane. But isn’t the view that much better? Just look at how far we’ve climbed!

      Any hiker will tell us this is a false summit. It feels like we’ve arrived but soon realize that it isn’t the summit at all, simply a small rise before we descend again to begin the next ascent. This can be crushing for the undisciplined, or simply a part of the climb for those who are more resilient. The trick is to stop looking around and start climbing again. Just good enough isn’t what we aspired to when we began this journey.

      Since we can’t possibly climb every summit in a lifetime, we must choose what we’ll aspire to master and what we’ll choose to be average or poor at. We ought to choose to fail at the things that won’t matter in the end that we may put all of our energy into developing within ourselves that which is truly beautiful. Arete—personal excellence, is our true summit, and thus worthy of the climb.

    • A Serious and Omnivorous Reader

      “I think most serious and omnivorous readers are alike- intense in their dedication to the word, quiet-minded, but relieved and eagerly talkative when they meet other readers and kindred spirits.” ― Paul Theroux, Ghost Train to the Eastern Star: On the Tracks of the Great Railway Bazaar

      I’m determined to read 5-6 more books before the calendar year ends. This necessitates lifestyle choices, of course, but that’s par for the course with a reader. We who read often absorb the judgement of both those who choose to watch, and those who choose to do. As if reading as an alternative to watching a movie or a game or going out on the town is such a poor choice. The only poor choice is lethargy and sloth. There’s nothing lethargic or slothful about an active brain engaged in reading.

      The thing is, there are only so many books we can read in a lifetime. There are only so many movies one can watch, only so many walks we can take or bars we can close out, only so many dogs you can bring into your life, only so many stamps we’ll ever have in our passport, and so on. Whatever the lifestyle choice we make for ourselves, we must recognize that it’s inherently limited, because we are.

      When the year ends, I’ll have read about 25 books. That includes some pretty heavy lifts, but a few page-turners as well. This is down from a year ago, when I cleared 30 books leaning more heavily into fast fiction reads. Reading is also heavily dependent on how we travel, how we engage with the rest of the world, and whether we choose to write a blog every day during prime reading hours. With a full house this summer, I read much less than I might have with an empty nest. The trade-off was naturally worth it, but the unread books mock me nonetheless. And then there’s Goodreads, which only tracks the new books we’ve read, not the total including old favorites that we return to again and again. Shouldn’t it count when you re-read Walden or Awareness or Meditations for the umpteenth time? Of course it matters a great deal, but why are we counting anyway?

      Somewhere over the last year I’ve stopped worrying so much about the count and began focusing on what I absorb in my reading. I linger with a quirky set of authors who bring all manner of perspective to the universe. Why do we rush off to read the next big thing instead of revisiting that thing that’s whispering in the back of our mind? That person who read Slaughterhouse Five in high school is nowhere near the person who re-read it this summer. What have you re-read with an entirely different perspective?

      There’s a popular conversation starter that begins with the question, which albums would you bring to a deserted island with you—which ten albums would you listen to over everything else that’s out there, should you be destined to spend the rest of your life listening to no other music? It’s an impossible ask, really, but reveals a lot about the people around the table, should they be truthful. Music is always a deeply personal choice, influenced by our environment. So it is with books. So taking that question from music to literature, what books would you bring with you? If you were told to leave the planet on a trip to Mars, never to return and not having the Internet to constantly refresh your feed what would you want to read again and again to the end of days? A serious and omnivorous reader could tackle that list readily, with the natural regret of the large stack of books left behind.

      My own list would include the Thoreau, de Mello and Marcus Aurelius books listed above, along with some history, some poetry, and some fiction. None of the books I’ve read thus far this year—even the books I’ve rated as five stars—would make the list. Does that make this year a failure in not elevating my library, or a validation of that which I’ve already danced with? The answer lies within us, doesn’t it?

      Returning to the inherent limitation of how many books we can read in a lifetime, shouldn’t we be very deliberate in what we choose? I believe we should read as much and as widely as we can, that we may gain perspectives otherwise untapped. Particularly in a world that wants more than ever to control the conversation, we owe it to ourselves to go well beyond the populist fare to find voices that otherwise get drowned out in all that shouting and posturing. In the end, it’s the well-read who bring perspective and stability to an otherwise reactionary world.

    • A Splash and Ripple

      One day you finally knew
      what you had to do, and began,
      though the voices around you
      kept shouting
      their bad advice —
      though the whole house
      began to tremble
      and you felt the old tug
      at your ankles.
      “Mend my life!”
      each voice cried.
      But you didn’t stop.
      You knew what you had to do,
      though the wind pried
      with its stiff fingers
      at the very foundations,
      though their melancholy
      was terrible.
      It was already late
      enough, and a wild night,
      and the road full of fallen
      branches and stones.
      But little by little,
      as you left their voice behind,
      the stars began to burn
      through the sheets of clouds,
      and there was a new voice
      which you slowly
      recognized as your own,
      that kept you company
      as you strode deeper and deeper
      into the world,
      determined to do
      the only thing you could do —
      determined to save
      the only life that you could save.
      — Mary Oliver, The Journey

      We become what we focus on and apply ourselves to. People and pets in our lives demand and deserve the best of us in the moment. There is a stack of unread books demanding attention just to my right, and work equally insistent on my attention just to my left. Directly in between is the Mac I write on. What we do with our time determines so much of who we become. Yet there’s only so much time. Even as I write this I can hear the last of the oak leaves (there never is a true end to oak leaves) falling onto the lawn. The time it takes to clean up those leaves is an investment in nominal physical fitness, but also a mental cleansing. It turns out I need the leaves to pay penance for this plot of land I center my life around. It’s a bullseye of my identity in an indifferent universe.

      The scale whispers something else entirely: What have you done? What are you going to do about it now to fix this? It turns out that clearing leaves isn’t quite enough to balance out the chocolate and wine and that extra serving of stuffing. We are all slaves to our habits, and become what our master demands. We must break free of the worst habits while there’s still a chance to escape the default of less for the potential of more.

      Lately the world seems to occupy ever more and more space of mind. Do you feel its pull? To do anything in our time, we must eventually shake off the noise of our world and move to our own calling. We ought to have the audacity to believe we have a place in whatever the world will be. Something will come of all this, for simply by going to it we are transformed. Now and then, that transformation reaches the attention of others. A ripple begins with a splash. And a splash begins with a leap into the unknown.

      Becoming requires motion: a vivid expression of what we believe might be, realized. We must move away from what we once were to what we envision our future self to be. What have you done? What are you going to do about it now to fix this? Filling the gap between the two end points is our lifetime mission. The more we make of our lives the bigger the subsequent splash and ripple.