Alexandersmap

    Category: Habits

    • The Future is Implied

      “It takes time for an acorn to turn into an oak, but the oak is already implied in the acorn.” – Alan Watts

      January is a funny month. Plans for the year generally completed, we look at the climb ahead and take our first steps into the unknown. Where will it take us? What will we accomplish? How will the world change these grand plans we’ve wrestled with in our minds and on spreadsheets? How exactly are things going to play out?

      The future is implied by our actions today. We turn plans into action one step at a time, one toe in the water, one conversation after another, one moment to the next. And in each step, we discover the truth about the world.

      I look back a year and laugh at the plans dashed against the rocks in the COVID storm. We all had to bushwhack when the path washed away last year. Extreme, to be sure, but it demonstrated the nature of plans. They do change.

      Words we used too much in 2020 included adapt and pivot and new normal. What words will we use in 2021? 2022? What is implied by the trends we see in the world? What is implied by our daily habits? We might not see everything in the future but we can surely see the path we’ve set ourselves upon.

      I wonder sometimes at the future, but it isn’t mine to ponder. Plans are made and revised, such that they can be. Focus on the first step, small as it might seem in the moment. And go.

    • Here, in This Place

      In the place that is my own place, whose earth
      I am shaped in and must bear, there is an old tree growing,
      a great sycamore that is a wondrous healer of itself.
      Fences have been tied to it, nails driven into it,
      hacks and whittles cut in it, the lightning has burned it.
      There is no year it has flourished in
      that has not harmed it. There is a hollow in it
      that is its death, though its living brims whitely
      at the lip of the darkness and flows outward.
      Over all its scars has come the seamless white
      of the bark. It bears the gnarls of its history
      healed over. It has risen to a strange perfection
      in the warp and bending of its long growth.
      It has gathered all accidents into its purpose.
      It has become the intention and radiance of its dark fate.
      It is a fact, sublime, mystical and unassailable.
      In all the country there is no other like it.
      I recognize in it a principle, an indwelling
      the same as itself, and greater, that I would be ruled by.
      I see that it stands in its place, and feeds upon it,
      and is fed upon, and is native, and maker.
      – Wendell Berry, The Sycamore

      I’ve both loved and resented the roots I’ve grown. A wandering spirit, I’ve chafed at being caught in place for too long. Yet I’ve been deeply nourished by the community I’ve planted myself in. I reach towards the sky, trying to fly. While rooting deeper and wider still. Such is the way.

      Roots are built on routines and responsibilities, done with love and established over time. You don’t have to feed the birds where you live, but when you do they reward you with movement and song. They bring life in return for your investment in time, money and persistence. And so it is with a community. When you help nourish the community you’re rewarded in ways you might not have anticipated when you first set roots there.

      Old growth trees come in many shapes and sizes. Some grow impossibly high. With others, thick trunks support wide canopies. And those in the highest mountains remain low to the ground, clustered tightly together and shrinking in on themselves, constantly buffeted by the harshest of winds.

      The pandemic abruptly stepped into our lives about a year ago and still informs. I’ve learned to appreciate the firm ground I’m rooted to all the more when the storms blow. For here in this place I’ve grown more than I might have otherwise. Here in this place the worst of the winds blow over. Here in this place we’ve built lives for ourselves. Bonded to this place and each other, roots interwoven together.

    • A Realm of Sunset and Moonlight and Silence

      “My house stands in low land, with limited outlook, and on the skirt of the village. But I go with my friend to the shore of our little river, and with one stroke of the paddle I leave the village politics and personalities, yes, and the world of villages and personalities behind, and pass into a delicate realm of sunset and moonlight, too bright almost for spotted man to enter without novitiate and probation. We penetrate bodily this incredible beauty; we dip our hands in this painted element; our eyes are bathed in these lights and forms.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature

      I’m returning Emerson once again, partly to counter the din of political tweets and headlines that dominated over the last week, and partly because I’d like to read or re-read all of his work in 2021. Which brings me back to his essay Nature, for (I believe) a third reading. And I couldn’t help but linger on the sentence above, which resonates in this time, and for this place I myself reside, in a house in low land, with limited outlook, on the skirt of the village. Emerson had the Concord River to paddle to truth. I have the New Hampshire woods and the wildlife it sustains to show me the way.

      Days like these, a quiet bit of immersion in the forest seems in order. We live in strange times, distracting times, and I’ve seen the impact on my writing lately. Thankfully, I know where to find the remedy: in nature, in tapping into the Great Conversation, and in solitude.

      “Accept what comes from silence.
      Make the best you can of it.
      Of the little words that come
      out of the silence, like prayers
      prayed back to the one who prays,
      make a poem that does not disturb
      the silence from which it came”
      – Wendell Berry, How To Be a Poet (to remind myself)

      A special thanks to Maria Popova and Brain Pickings for pointing out this particular poem in a recent tweet. This poem immediately served as a catalyst on two fronts: to search for more Wendell Berry and seek the silent contemplation I’ve stolen from myself absorbing the madness of the world. Silence, as they say, is golden.

      So outside of paddling off on my own or building a small cabin in the woods, how to bring together the natural world and the silence necessary for contemplation? The answer, for me, lies in early mornings. The conspirator against a quiet mind is the whirl of madness in the world and a desire to keep up and understand it. In these times, finding a way to paddle or walk away from it all, if only for a little while, seems imperative.

      If only to find your own voice again.

    • From This Moment

      “How quietly I
      begin again

      from this moment
      looking at the
      clock, I start over

      So much time has
      passed, and is equaled
      by whatever
      split-second is present

      from this
      moment this moment
      is the first”
      – Wendell Berry, Be Still In Haste

      Two weeks into the New Year. About as distracting a beginning to a New Year as I can ever recall. We know where we’ve been, where we’ve come from. But what comes next? We change from moment to moment with the ticking of the clock, but what do we do with that change?

      Start over. Again.

      “Time does not exist. There is only a small and infinite present, and it is only in this present that our life occurs. Therefore, a person should concentrate all his spiritual force only on this present.” – Leo Tolstoy

      Sometimes it feels like we’re marching on a treadmill, especially during a lockdown, but you look back and see progress despite the illusion. A pile of actions that didn’t work. A few, sifted through the remains, that did. What do we make of it? All that has passed, has passed. This moment is the one that counts. This moment is the first.

      Keep trying. Again. And again.


    • Poised, and Wise, and Our Own, Today

      “In times when we thought ourselves indolent, we have afterwards discovered that much was accomplished, and much was begun in us.“– Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays: Second Series, “Experience“ (and all subsequent quotes in this post)

      I got lost in the headlines for a bit before writing today. Getting spun up in politics and pandemics and the bad behavior of others. It’s important to be aware, to have an informed opinion to fight the good fight. I suppose… but indignation doesn’t spark the creativity I aspire to. And so a return to Emerson was in order.

      These are dark, wasted days if you choose to believe it. Alternatively, they’re the best, most productive days of our lifetimes. What do you prefer?

      “Every ship is a romantic object, except that we sail in. Embark, and the romance quits our vessel and hangs on every other sail in the horizon. Our life looks trivial, and we shun to record it.”

      Comparison is a bear. How we’ve spent the last year compared to someone else does us little good. I think of wasted opportunities and stop myself, for there’s no use going down that path. For all the madness of the last eleven months much was accomplished. Much is being accomplished. We might not see it just yet.

      “Life itself is a mixture of power and form, and will not bear the least excess of either. To finish the moment, to find the journey’s end in every step of the road, to live the greatest number of good hours, is wisdom. It is not the part of men, but of fanatics, or of mathematicians if you will, to say that the shortness of life considered, it is not worth caring whether for so short a duration we were sprawling in want or sitting high. Since our office is with moments, let us husband them. Five minutes of today are worth as much to me as five minutes in the next millennium. Let us be poised, and wise, and our own, today.”

      I’ve used the quote above before in this blog. It’s a favorite and I’ll likely use it again. Emerson whispers persistently, for all who might listen. I return to it now and then to remind myself of the worth of this day. Of this hour. Of these next five minutes. What shall we do with them, that we might record as remarkable in these times?

      “Men live in their fancy, like drunkards whose hands are too soft and tremulous for successful labor. It is a tempest of fancies, and the only ballast I know is a respect to the present hour.”

      I began the day with headlines… a tempest of fancies designed to distract and provoke and draw us out of our own heads. But we all have our own ships to sail. There’s urgency in the moment, generational urgency, and we should support those who rise up to meet it. But focus on moving down your own path too. Respect the present hour. Emerson insists.

    • Doing More

      “The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking.” – Albert Einstein

      Change happens slowly, one habit reinforced at a time. Some reach 10,000 views in one post, but most of us chip away for a few years of daily writing to get that first 10,000. Tolstoy filled War and Peace with 587,287 words. By that standard I’ve got a ways to go. I’ve only published 401K.

      Diet, for all intents and purposes, is one morsel shoved in your mouth to the next. You want to eat better? Don’t make an exception for that tasty treat you’re eying. Want to get fit? Move more, and more consistently. Simple, right?

      We all have reasons for the habits and beliefs we linger in. Life is a grind, after all. Sometimes the best you can do is walk to the refrigerator to see what inspires you that day. The world, as we’ve created it, can eat you up.

      Yesterday was a great day to be outside in New Hampshire, and I took full advantage of that with a hike up Mount Jackson. A hike like that, with friends and on a beautiful winter day, leaves a mark inside. It reinforces who you are in some ways, but alters your thinking as well. Standing on the summit of Jackson and looking up at Mount Washington, I thought it well within reach. I’ve climbed Washington before, but not lately. Looking up at Washington yesterday, cold breeze chilling my sweaty clothes, I thought it possible to do more.

    • The Vital Few

      “A few things are always much more important than most things” – Richard Koch, The 80/20 Principle

      It’s that time of the year again, when strategic planning takes over, habits are re-evaluated, and revenue clicks back to zero for any business that has their fiscal year aligned with the calendar. I’ve always thrived on building the future on paper. The trick is in the execution to realize it in real life. And proper execution starts with focus. We’ve arrived back at zero and the climb begins once again. It’s a great time to re-assess the vital few.

      The vital few can be customers who prove to be most profitable over time, or your closest of close friends and mentors who bring the most joy into your life, or the key activities that bring the highest return on effort invested. We know most of the time what these are, but we chase more anyway. And this chasing of more is where things break down. Relationships become diluted and less meaningful, less time is spent with key customers, critical metrics are missed chasing after dead ends, and we become too busy to get to “it”.

      The red flag of “trivial many” is answering “How are you doing?” with “Busy”. It signals clearly that something is amiss. Usually that’s doing the 80 percent of things that aren’t going to amount to much in the end. I’m a big fan of simplifying things. Focusing on the vital few, and letting some of the trivial many whither on the vine of neglect. Really, it seems the only way to get anything meaningful done.

      “If we did realize the difference between the vital few and the trivial many in all aspects of our lives and if we did something about it, we could multiply anything that we valued.” – Richard Koch, The 80/20 Principle

      One of the vital few for me is getting enough sleep. I’m an early rise, so for me getting enough sleep means going to sleep earlier than the rest of the family. I probably missed out on some key family moments in doing so, but what happens between 9:30 and midnight that can’t happen before then? I’m more aligned with my sleep patterns and are more effective as a result. Over time this sleep habit has greatly enhanced my cognitive ability and become a force multiplier for other activities, like writing this blog. One vital habit with exponential results.

      So today I’m carefully reviewing lists of people, activities and production that make up the vital few. This is where I’ll focus heavily in 2021. Translating the dreams on paper to reality in life. And acting accordingly.

    • Don’t Forget About the Magic

      “And above all watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.” – Roald Dahl

      Here we are: The first Monday after the New Year. Where the rubber meets the road. Where all those dreams and goals and habits we mentally put in place see if they measure up to the reality of 9 to 5. How’s it going so far?

      Yesterday I wrote of ten year plans. Today I focus on winning the day. Score the day based on what I can control that keeps me on the path. Stack a few good habits on top of the ones I have momentum with, shave more time off social media and on to productive uses. Try something different to see how it goes. Cook a new recipe with a vegetable you tend to quickly walk past in the market. Work out in a different way than the usual. Add on something meaningful in your daily routine. Try above all things to make it stick. Because streaks matter.

      We get so spun up about productivity and measurable success towards our objectives that we seem to forget about magic. And that might be the most important thing you’ll come across today. It dances around us, looking for a glimmer of recognition in our stern eyes. We either dance with it or it flitters away to find another conspirator (Magic is never persistent, it’s shy that way).

      So in my to-do lists and habit loops and tasks to complete before things get too far along I try to remember to keep watching with glittering eyes. Magic is welcome here. And when it wanders off somewhere else I go out and try to find it. For life is more than just checking the next box.

    • Confirmed in a Habit, Firmly Established

      I’ve been toying with the word inveterate in my mind for a couple of weeks. It would make a good New Year’s Day post, I figured. I mean, just look at the definition in the dictionary, practically screaming for a post:

      Inveterate
      in·vet·er·ate | \ in-ˈve-t(ə-)rət\
      Definition of inveterate
      1: confirmed in a habit : HABITUAL
           an inveterate liar
      2: firmly established by long persistence
           the inveterate tendency to overlook the obvious
      – Merriam-Webster

      I let New Year’s Day come and go but haven’t let go of the word. The opposite of inveterate would be intermittent or inconsistent behavior. Yet, Merriam-Webster casts a negative connotation on the definition. I like spinning it more positively. Call me a dreamer if you will.

      Last year I was an inveterate blogger, but not an inveterate rower or walker or eater of broccoli. This year, rather than setting goals or signing up for the gym I’m simply going to chase down more inveterate behavior. Lending positive intonations to the word, and swapping the word out in other sentences. From Inveterate eater of cheeseburgers to intermittent eater of cheeseburgers offers possibility. And so does transforming inconsistent effort in the mundane tasks that make you successful in your [fill in the blank] to something more, well, inveterate.

    • Starting Again, Regularly

      “be ready to start again
      like the moon”
      – Kat Lehmann, Small Stones from the River

      “If I had a week left to live, would I be doing this?” – Neil Strauss, via Twitter

      Two worthy prompts to start the mind’s gears turning on this New Years Day. I’m not one for resolutions, but find reviewing what worked and didn’t work are worthwhile exercises – not just as we round the corner into a new year but at regular intervals. But what is that interval? Is the best interval the beginning of a calendar year?

      Maybe timing big questions with the phase of the moon makes sense? Since full moon fever carries more baggage the New Moon might be a better time. Or perhaps the first random Sunday of the month. But I believe the interval is as important as the questions asked.

      The Strauss question demands attention, of course. It’s a big question, and maybe its best asked annually, saving more frequent intervals for questions of systems and processes and assessment of progress against objectives. What’s working/not working? questions. Whatever your questions are, they deserve to be asked, and answered. Regularly.