Alexandersmap

    Category: Habits

    • A Walk to the Edge of Ambient Light

      Autumn, delightful as it is in so many ways, is the source of one bit of frustration: the quickly receding number of daylight hours. Traveling west, the morning becomes more and more difficult to work with if you’re trying to be active outdoors. Sure, you can strap on all manner of lighting to make you more visible and to offer a tunnel of light to walk through. But you lose something in all that battery-powered brightness–a feeling of connectedness with the land around you. And isn’t that the point of going outside to walk in the first place?

      Just yesterday I was walking on a warm and humid day on Cape Cod. This morning, I found myself next to an old favorite, the Erie Canal at Bushnell’s Basin. The canal trail here is mostly stone dust, with a few paved places along the way. Familiarity is helpful when you’re walking in the dark, and so is choosing to walk in the early morning. Morning offers hope for improving conditions, something an evening walk would be short of. In a safe area like Pittsford there aren’t a lot of concerns about getting mugged, but in a sketchier area most of the thugs eventually go to sleep, leaving the morning generally safer for wannabee fitness models.

      Still, there’s something about seeing that offers comfort. Even on a walk I’ve done a dozen times or so, when you run out of ambient light you’ve got to make choices in life. Press ahead into the dark or return to the ambient light? What are the risks? Walking into a branch? A skunk? The Erie Canal? Getting run over by a random cyclist not using a headlamp? None of those sound particularly appealing to start a work day. So I turned back to the light.

      Here’s the trick, you don’t walk all the way back to the brightest parts of your walk. You walk just far enough that your eyes can still see in the dim early morning light, then turn around and see how far you can go the next time. Does walking back and forth on a 1000 meter section of cinder path sound fun? You know what? It actually was. Just me and the ducks and some vehicle traffic on the other side of the canal. Back and forth, a bit further each time, until the scales tipped at 6 AM and suddenly you could see everything clear as… well, almost clear as day.

      It might seem ridiculous, this walking in the dark business, but I managed four miles before coffee, and sort of saw the Erie Canal from a different perspective than I’m used to. There’s a lot to be said for checking a few boxes before breakfast–exercise, reading, and writing this blog. The only thing that might have made it better would have been an epic sunrise. Perhaps tomorrow, when I plan to be out there again.

    • Early Morning Walk on the Cape Cod Canal

      Quietly walking downstairs in the dark, water bottle filled, I opened the front door and slipped outside, hoping the dogs wouldn’t bark. They bark all the time… but thankfully not this time. I get in the truck and begin the drive to the Railroad Bridge (capitalized, thank you). 5:30 AM, it ought to be super quiet there, I think, just me and a couple of fishermen.

      Pulling into the parking lot, I see just how wrong I was. The entire parking lot is completely filled with pickup trucks and cars. Every contractor in Eastern Massachusetts must be along the canal, rods protruding from shore in hopes of that big catch. I felt like a single woman walking alone into a bar full of dudes, and like her, promptly turned around and got the hell out of there.

      Driving to the Bourne Bridge parking lot, I’m relieved to find it relatively empty, as if the fish don’t like the canal water a mile further. No matter, I’m not here to fish, but to walk. The aim was a bridge-to-bridge walk, but instead of the Railroad Bridge it’s the Bourne to Sagamore Bridge out and back. That net’s me roughly 6.8 miles, and that’s enough for this workout.

      Early mornings are a lovely time to walk the canal, and the best time to do it without earbuds in. It’s best to hear what’s happening around you when it’s dark out. Situational awareness is important, no matter who you are. Random cyclists and salty fishermen on old bicycles ride past at various speeds. All I can do is hold my line and keep the pace.

      Canal fishermen, and they all seem to be men at 5:30 AM, tend to fall into two categories: those who stay near the parking lots, and those who ride bicycles to their own private fishing spot. The bicycles are an odd mix of cheap mountain bikes and yard sale bikes of all shapes and sizes. Each has a basket for fishing gear and two or three PVC rod holders bolted on. I wondered quietly at the aftermarket potential for a bicycle rod holder business and decided it just wasn’t for me. These aren’t the kinds of customers who are going to go with premium pricing, and I don’t have the heart to sell commodity fishing bicycle accessories.

      Mind back to the walk, the bladder begins to call. I promise myself I’m not going to stop until I get to the port-o-potty under the Sagamore Bridge, and, feeling the urgency, push my pace a bit to get there sooner. Just as I arrive another character walking from the other direction sees me and makes a beeline for the plastic throne. I silently grumble, walk beyond the bridge to 3.4 and turn around. On the return the facilities are blessedly empty and soon my bladder is too. Relieved, the walk began again in earnest.

      Out and back walks always feel shorter on the return trip, and this walk was no exception. I was a known commodity for the fishermen on my return trip, and ambivalent good morning nods became indifferent been there, done that focus on the task at hand. The fish seemed to win the day, as I only saw two catches on the entire walk, and one of those was a heron catching its breakfast. The only winner, besides the fish, seemed to be Dunkin Donuts, judging from the endless parade of Dunks iced cups passed on the walk. Good coffee stock investment tip for those paying attention.

      Finishing a long walk brings with it the satisfaction of clicking that key word “end” on the Apple Watch. Lately I’ve been competing against a couple of women who suffer from the delusion that I’m going to let up and allow them to beat me in a seven day competition. Ha! Competitive banter aside, it’s funny how adding some people to the daily fitness routine can really enhance motivation to do the work. This one in the books, I quietly drove back to the house, waiting for the heckling to begin. And knowing I’m one step ahead, at least for this day.

      Not all fishing is done with poles
      Bourne Bridge
      Fisherman’s Bike
      Canal traffic
      Turning around to return under the Sagamore Bridge

    • Go Be It

      “The most difficult thing is the decision to act. The rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life; and the procedure, the process, is its own reward.” — Amelia Earhart

      I woke up sore all over, with muscles tight and grumpy, protesting the last week of doing what they’re supposed to do but somehow forgot about in lazy compliance with the mind. The soreness is a lag measure of work applied, simply that, and eventually the lag will be replaced by acceptance of the new reality. It was certainly far easier to get out of shape than to climb back to shape. Such is the way.

      Decide what to be and go be it… simple on the face of it because it is in fact that simple. The hard part is hidden under the surface of those words: Go be it. Talk is cheap, and decisions without action are nothing but talk until we drag ourselves along for the transformation.

      It’s far easier to have a bit of wine and cheese after a long day than it is to change into workout clothes and earn the right to wear them. It’s far easier to start our work a bit later, and end it a bit earlier. And it’s far easier to doom scroll on our phones than to turn off all distraction and dance with the important but not urgent tasks that move the chains in our lives. But there’s a reason easy has a negative connotation. Deep down, we know it in the moment.

      So sure, I’m sore today, just as I’ve been sore for well over a week. It’s just the gap between where I am and where I want to be expressing itself. And what is expression but the manifestation of a feeling? Whatever discomfort we feel in the moment is part of the process of becoming, a manifestation of what we want to be. It’s that voice in our head reminding us that this time, if we stay with it, we might actually be it.

    • Irreplaceable Instants

      “Every instant of our lives is essentially irreplaceable: you must know this in order to concentrate on life.” — André Gide

      Here we go again: another week beginning. Much like last week and the week before, yet we’ve changed. We’ve layered on our moments of insight and irreplaceable instants that root us in identity and purpose, or perhaps left us anchor-less and drifting. Let’s hope for the former.

      The thing is, this week is different from those weeks gone by. It’s surely more tangible and immediate, but more, this one is in our hands. We can’t get too caught up in our previous successes and failures, we can only double down on what works for us. And maybe, try something bold and new.

      I like the idea of micro-bursts: sprints of intensity where you focus on key activities that move you towards your goals. In rowing it was a Power 10, where everyone put aside personal discomfort and focused on making the next ten strokes their very best. It started with a call from the coxswain when they felt the boat needed a boost in momentum. And it nearly always worked.

      Focus on living a bold, meaningful life can start in an instant. Often it begins with a feeling that you need a bit of a boost in productivity or purpose. With the right concentration and effort, like a boat gaining a burst of speed and swing, it nearly always works to reset rhythm and concentration.

      Now seems as good a time as any.

    • Every Single Day

      “If you want to write, if you want to create, you must be the most sublime fool that God ever turned out and sent rambling. You must write every single day of your life. You must read dreadful dumb books and glorious books, and let them wrestle in beautiful fights inside your head, vulgar one moment, brilliant the next. You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads. I wish you a wrestling match with your Creative Muse that will last a lifetime. I wish craziness and foolishness and madness upon you. May you live with hysteria, and out of it make fine stories — science fiction or otherwise. Which finally means, may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.”― Ray Bradbury

      I went for a long walk late in the day yesterday, dodging raindrops, a rarity this summer, to power through nine muggy miles (14.5 km). The mileage wasn’t a surprise, for it was agreed upon before the walk began. The trick in longer walks is to set your expectations and pace, and naturally, to wear good shoes. The rest is just putting one foot in front of the other and observing the world as it comes to you.

      The similarities with writing, or any other mission you decide to show up for every single day, are within reach if one should be inclined to harvest them. We establish our routines, dance with the muse one idea at a time and let it run through us to become something tangible. When it’s finished we share a sense of accomplishment and loss all at once, linger for a beat and shift our mind to what comes next.

      Life is a series of days, repeated one after the other, optimized by expectations and pace. We do with them what we will. And then? We move on to whatever comes next. Yet we always return, don’t we, to the things that matter most to us?

      It would be bold to expect another 20,000 days in my own lifetime. That would make me a very old blogger indeed. But I do have this one, and maybe tomorrow, or maybe not. So I work to make this blog post count for something, maybe stand up as that final post should it be that. Of course, every sentence can’t end in an exclamation point, we’d be seen as more insane than most think of writers as already, but we can’t put our best into everything we do in the moment… just in case.

      Hope to see you tomorrow. 😉

    • Staying Alive Between the Covers

      “A library is a good place to go when you feel unhappy, for there, in a book, you may find encouragement and comfort. A library is a good place to go when you feel bewildered or undecided, for there, in a book, you may have your question answered. Books are good company, in sad times and happy times, for books are people – people who have managed to stay alive by hiding between the covers of a book.” ― E.B. White

      Someone recently asked me why I write a blog every day. Surely there are other things I could do with the time. But other than exercise and sleep I can’t think of anything done regularly that improves you more than consistently putting yourself out there in the world. Writing forces contemplation, feeds both the stack of books and the small and large experiences consumed to be shared, and maybe in some small way make the writer alive for the reader, whether you’re reading this today or 50 years from today.

      Lately I’ve felt a sense of loss when I finish a blog post. It’s a tangible shift from my work to my past work as I click publish. It’s similar to the feeling of putting a letter in the mailbox once felt, before email and text made letter-writing feel less… self-gratifying. When you click send on an email or text the response back is close to immediate. There’s a high in surfing this wave of electronic banter that the sender experiences in real time. I suppose a blog also offers likes and views and subscribers that may feed that sensation. But getting back to the point, dropping that letter in the mail was consequential: “I’ve created this, for you, and now I’m releasing it.”

      Don’t you miss crafting such letters and dropping it in the mail with all your hopes and dreams sailing away on the wings of a postage stamp? Don’t you miss the experience of receiving a letter from a thoughtful friend, full of introspection and insight? Maybe we ought to write more letters, I don’t know, but we certainly should be writing more. Writing offers a chance to fly into the future for the author, and a time machine back to our present for the reader. It’s our moment with the infinite, even as we realize the fragility of the exchange.

    • An Active Event

      “We think of inertia as the state of being inert or motionless—one of our purer displays of passivity and disengagement. It’s not. Inertia is an active event in which we are persisting in the state we’re already in rather than switching to something else… The most reliable predictor of what you’ll be doing five minutes from now is what you’re doing now… The most reliable predictor of who you’ll be five years from now is who you are now.”
      — Marshall Goldsmith, The Earned Life

      Yes, you might detect a pattern in the writing recently. I keep returning to the Tom Peters statement that excellence is the next five minutes. Habits are hard to break, routine is either a prison or a path to a brighter future. And inertia now can predict who we are in five years if we don’t take that next step to change right now.

      Does that sound unnecessarily urgent? Perhaps, but aren’t the stakes just that high? We are what we repeatedly do, and more often than not we repeat the same damned thing this five minutes as we did last. So we ought to take this next five minutes and demand something more of ourselves than the previous five. We ought to make it an active event that transcends our previous place.

      The easiest way to determine the truth in that is to look at what we did last week and compare it to what we did last year. Sure, there are highlight moments of trips and events that break up the sameness, and a pandemic mixed in to skew the data, but on the whole things are roughly the same. If our habit loop is positive this can be a very good thing, but if we keep repeating bad habits we might be living in a rut that runs straight to the grave.

      “Every action you take is a vote for the type of person you wish to become. No single instance will transform your beliefs, but as the votes build up, so does the evidence of your new identity. This is one reason why meaningful change does not require radical change. Small habits can make a meaningful difference by providing evidence of a new identity. And if a change is meaningful, it is actually big. That’s the paradox of making small improvements.” ― James Clear, Atomic Habits

      It’s easy to spot inertia when we look at intentions. If we intend to write the book or run the marathon or summit the mountain but find ourselves dancing with the same excuses we had yesterday and five years ago, well, let me introduce you to our friends inertia and low agency. On the flip side, if you’ll allow me to use a few of my own examples, inertia is publishing this blog every day for the last four years, reading early every morning and most nights and maintaining a streak on Duolingo that’s approaching 1000 days. Maybe each is small in the big scheme of things, but each is a +1 on the path to becoming.

      @jackbutcher

      Moment-to-moment we make decisions that pull us forward or set us back. We default to the familiar, which both reinforces our identity now and reinforces it in our future. That past moment isn’t this moment unless we choose the same thing. Will it be a plus or a minus? Our vote ought to be for an active event, our action should be a plus.

    • Action and Contemplation

      “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who are alive.” — Howard Thurman

      Most people remain too busy to worry about such things as coming alive. They’re too busy getting things done. Bills to pay, a calendar full of meetings, chores to do, calls to make… it’s all too much, really, to be thinking about things like doing something more than this.

      I wonder, who is more alive, a monk living in seclusion and contemplating the big questions or a business tycoon living their answer to a different set of questions? Are humans built for thinking or for action? Most people would point to the latter, for the modern world and our very resilience was built on action: overcoming enemies and disease and solving the riddles of science and technology to arrive right here at this extraordinary moment in time (!).

      But who do we seek out for answers? It’s the poets and philosophers and deep thinkers who seclude themselves from the madness and settle down with the questions everyone else is too busy to answer. The wisdom of the ages was derived from contemplation. So can’t we make a solid case for the monk?

      The world needs both, of course. Action and contemplation are each essential elements for the progress of humanity. Yet each can be a form of procrastination and avoidance. It’s fair to ask ourselves which path is right for us, but we can’t get so caught up in the question that we don’t go anywhere. The world is already full of people who never come alive. Ultimately, we must stop wrestling with questions and seek our own answer.

      So is it ready, aim, fire or ready, fire, aim? The order isn’t always as important as the balance between the two. Running around in circles is just as pointless as sitting there thinking about what you’re going to do without ever actually taking a step. Action and contemplation lead us to vibrancy together. We can’t know what makes us alive without each.

      As Thurman says, ask, but then do.

    • Brand Awareness

      “To me marketing is about values. This is a very complicated world. It’s a very noisy world. And we’re not going to get a chance to get people to remember much about us—no company is. And so we have to be really clear on what we want them to know about us… But even a great brand needs investments and caring if it’s going to retain its relevance and vitality, and the Apple brand has clearly suffered from neglect in this area in the last few years. And we need to bring it back. The way to do that is not to talk about speeds and feeds. It’s not to talk about bits and megahertz. It’s not to talk about how we’re better than Windows…
      The question we asked was, ‘Our customers want to know, who is Apple and what is it that we stand for? Where do we fit in this world?’ What we’re about isn’t making boxes for people to get their jobs done—although we do that well. We do that better than almost anybody, in some cases. But Apple is about something more than that. Apple, at the core, its core value, is that we believe people with passion can change the world for the better. That’s what we believe. And we have the opportunity to work with people like that. We’ve had the opportunity to work with people like you. With software developers, with customers who have done it in some big and in some small ways. And we believe that, in this world, people can change it for the better. And that those people who are crazy enough to believe that they can change the world for the better are the ones that actually do.” — Steve Jobs, speech at the release of the ‘Think Differently’ advertisement

      The speech is in low resolution. The transcript is inaccurate in some places (I’ve tried to correct it here). But Steve Jobs words shine through this grainy time machine like a beacon. When he plays the ad, viewed from the lens of time, you see that he was and would always be one of the crazy ones, one of the misfits, rebels and troublemakers. And we celebrate Jobs today for what he created, even as we recognize he was never perfect. But who is?

      Even a great brand need investments and caring if it’s going to retain its relevance and vitality… this is true whether we’re looking at our company, our country, and certainly, ourselves. Jobs points the way with the question, “where do we fit in this world?”. It’s a question we ought to wrestle with in our own lives, in quiet places when the day is ripe with possibility. For in the quiet moments we’re best prepared to answer such questions.

      And we ought to answer boldly. Our brand—our identity—isn’t something to trivialize. It ought to give us goosebumps just to think of it. And it must be more than words. For we are what we work consistently towards. We are the sum of our lifetime contribution. But really, we are the next five minutes.

      We’re not going to get a chance to get people to remember much about us…. no person is. Our brand ought to be remarkable and memorable for all the right reasons. We can’t control who pays attention, but we can control just how compelling our story is when the world stumbles upon us. Compelling begins with how we view our own contribution. Our identity—our brand—is ours to shape and mold, honed by life but envisioned and realized by the intangible force deep inside of us. We ought to craft something remarkable and memorable.

      For this moment is our own time machine, isn’t it? What will we remember of ourselves in this five minutes of boldness or timidity? We aren’t what we think we are, we are what we do! Just what is our brand?

    • Choices and Changes

      “Every breath I take is a new me.” — Gautama Buddha

      “Life happens between an inhale and an exhale.” – from a random Dove chocolate wrapper

      Each of us changes. We aren’t who we were yesterday, nor will we be the same person tomorrow that will surely react and adapt to the influences of today. We must own our actions, but we must also recognize that the person who did the things we once did isn’t who we are now. Simple, right?

      Not when those around you treat you as the character you once were. How many co-workers put you in a bucket based on the role you had when you walked in the door the first time? How many reunions turn into stories of things you did way back when, with scant focus on who you are now? How many family events center on old nicknames and stories of the past?

      Here’s the twist: What if we too are treating people based on the characters they used to be instead of who they are now? Doesn’t it seem more appropriate to learn who they are in this moment? The trick to engagement with any other soul is seeking first to understand, and then to be understood (Covey). Every moment counts, and progress requires our immediate attention!

      We aren’t who we once were, but who we once were helped form our current identity. Personally, I’m grateful I’m not who I was at 18 or 30. Sure, there were some redeeming qualities in that character, but I prefer the new me, even if I don’t showcase the abs I had at 22 (too much chocolate?). The moment-to-moment choices we made between then and now brought us here. The moment-to-moment choices we make from now into our unknown future will surely determine who we’ll be then. So make good choices in this breath and the next.

      Like the chocolate wrapper reminds, life is happening one way or the other now. Just look at how much we’ve changed already. Imagine where the next breath might take us should we use it wisely.