Category: Habits

  • 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.

  • 11 of My Favorite Books Read in 2020

    Looking back on this maddening year, I found I read a lot of poetry that inspired and a lot of page-turner novels that distracted. It would be easy to make half this list collections of Mary Oliver poems, but I subtracted poetry from the list altogether to focus on the craft of the written novel or book. Still, I like to bend the rules, so in making my list of top ten favorite books for the year, I chose eleven. This was a nod to Charlie Mackesy, who spun a bit of magic in a year where it was essential. Illustrating the timeless nature of books (or perhaps how far behind I am in catching up), only four of the eleven were released in 2020. These eleven books are listed in no particular order, largely because there’s a bit of wonder in each of them. Each informed and delighted me.

    Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art by James Nestor
    “The more oxygen life can consume, the more electron excitability it gains, the more animated it becomes. When living matter is bristling and able to absorb and transfer electrons in a controlled way, it remains healthy. When cells lose the ability to offload and absorb electrons, they begin to break down.”

    I find myself thinking often about breathing after reading this book. Waking up with a dry mouth reminds me I need to be better at nasal breathing, when hiking I try to control my breath and focus on how I’m taking in oxygen, and when I chew almonds I crunch with satisfaction, knowing it helps release stem cells and increase bone density. This book is highly informative and strongly recommended for anyone, well, breathing.

    The 80/20 Principle: The Secret to Achieving More With Less by Richard Koch
    “Equality ends in dominance: that is one of the messages of chaos theory. The 80/20 Principle’s message is different yet complementary. It tells us that, at any one point, a majority of any phenomenon will be explained or caused by a minority of the actors participating in the phenomenon. Eighty percent of the results come from 20 percent of the causes. A few things are important; most are not.”

    This was the most highlighted book of the bunch. Honestly, there were chapters I skimmed over because they didn’t sing a tune I wanted to hear, but the theories here are sound. I wish I’d read this book at the beginning of my career, but it’s not too late to implement the core principles in many aspects of my life.

    The Splendid and the Vile: A Saga of Churchill, Family, and Defiance During the Blitz by Erik Larson
    Hitler wanted still more force applied against Britain. America seemed increasingly likely to enter the war but would do so only, he reasoned, if Britain continued to exist. On March 5 he issued another directive, No. 24, this signed by Field Marshal Wilhelm Keitel, chief of the High Command of the Armed Forces (OKW), aimed mainly at how Germany and Japan might coordinate strategy under the Tripartite Pact, which both had signed with Italy the preceding fall. The goal, the directive said, “must be to induce Japan to take action in the Far East as soon as possible. This will tie down strong English forces and will divert the main effort of the United States of America to the Pacific.” Beyond this Germany had no particular interest in the Far East. “The common aim of strategy,” the directive stated, “must be represented as the swift conquest of England in order to keep America out of the war.”

    We all grew up sort of knowing about The Blitz. This book neatly sums up just how tenuous the situation was. I fancy myself well-informed about World War II, but I learned far more from the The Splendid and the Vile than I expected to. For all our complaints about the pandemic, most of us have no idea what real sacrifice is. Larson brings us closer to understanding with this book.

    The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy
    “What do you want to be when you grow up?” asked the mole.
    “Kind,” said the boy.


    A beautiful, simple book. I picked this up for my daughter as a gift and read it quickly before wrapping it up. If 2020 kicked you in the ass, read this. Then read it again. The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse is art, meditation and a warm hug disguised as a book.

    Longitude: The True Story of a Lone Genius Who Solved The Greatest Scientific Problem of His Time by David Sobel
    The zero-degree parallel of latitude is fixed by the laws of nature, while the zero-degree meridian of longitude shifts like the sands of time. This difference makes finding latitude child’s play, and turns the determination of longitude, especially at sea, into an adult dilemma—one that stumped the wisest minds of the world for the better part of human history.

    I’ve danced around this book for years, never getting around to reading it. And then I went to Greenwich and saw the chronometers ticking away in their plexiglass cases and resolved to get right to it when I returned home. This is a story of perseverance solving what was believed to be the impossible. A delightful book.

    Mayflower: A Story of Courage, Community, and War by Nathaniel Philbrick
    No longer mindful of the debt they owed the Pokanokets, without whom their parents would never have endured their first year in America, some of the Pilgrims’ children were less willing to treat Native leaders with the tolerance and respect their parents had once afforded Massasoit.

    Living in New England, you can’t really get away from the story of the Pilgrims. But the part we seem to forget with the Pilgrims is how much they relied on luck and the strategic kindness of Massasoit to survive at all. It seems I’m a descendent of a Pilgrim (or two), so I’m told, and that lineage makes me all the more indebted to the Pokanokets who assured that those first few years here weren’t the last for the passengers on the Mayflower. As the quote above suggests, that indebtedness seemed to skip the next generation, paving the way for the tragedy of King Phillip’s War.

    Draft No. 4: On the Writing Process by John McPhee
    That four-to-one ratio in writing time—first draft versus the other drafts combined—has for me been consistent in projects of any length, even if the first draft takes only a few days or weeks. There are psychological differences from phase to phase, and the first is the phase of the pit and the pendulum. After that, it seems as if a different person is taking over. Dread largely disappears. Problems become less threatening, more interesting. Experience is more helpful, as if an amateur is being replaced by a professional. Days go by quickly and not a few could be called pleasant, I’ll admit.

    Reading McPhee, like reading Hemingway, it’s easy to get just a bit intimidated. The beauty of this book is that he pulls back the curtains to show you the way. Great research, editors and fact checkers smooth out the rough edges and polish the story, but the work you put into it makes the finished product shine.

    Cape Cod by Henry David Thoreau
    The ocean there is commonly but a tantalizing prospect in hot weather, for with all that water before you, there is, as we were afterward told, no bathing on the Atlantic side, on account of the undertow and the rumor of sharks. At the lighthouse both in Eastham and Truro, the only houses quite on the shore, they declared, the next year, that they would not bathe there “for any sum,” for they sometimes saw the sharks tossed up and quiver for a moment on the sand. Others laughed at these stories, but perhaps they could afford to because they never bathed anywhere. One old wrecker told us that he killed a regular man-eating shark fourteen feet long, and hauled him out with his oxen, where we had bathed; and another, that his father caught a smaller one of the same kind that was stranded there, by standing him up on his snout so that the waves could not take him. They will tell you tough stories of sharks all over the Cape, which I do not presume to doubt utterly,—how they will sometimes upset a boat, or tear it in pieces, to get at the man in it. I can easily believe in the undertow, but I have no doubt that one shark in a dozen years is enough to keep up the reputation of a beach a hundred miles long.

    This book, like Philbrick’s Mayflower, informs the native New Englander about the places that once were the places that now are. I have a stack of quotes from this book that I’m saving for other blog posts, but the one above reminds us that the question of sharks has been around a lot longer than we might believe. Like Thoreau I’m much more concerned about undertow when swimming in the surf, but hey, you never know…

    Siddhartha: A Novel by Hermann Hesse
    “Were not all sufferings then time, and were not all self-torments and personal fears time? Weren’t all the difficult and hostile things in the world gone and overcome as soon as one had overcome time, and as soon as time could be thrust out of the mind?

    I’ve heard enough people recommend this book that eventually I had to read it, and I finished it in 2020. Amazingly, it feels like I read this a decade ago, for all that’s happened this year. Like The Alchemist, it’s a story that teaches you a bit about yourself as you wade through it.

    Thinking in Bets: Making Smarter Decisions When You Don’t Have All The Facts by Annie Duke
    What makes a decision great is not that it has a great outcome. A great decision is the result of a good process, and that process must include an attempt to accurately represent our own state of knowledge. That state of knowledge, in turn, is some variation of “I’m not sure.”

    How do you make decisions? How can you make better, more informed decisions when you don’t have all the facts? And what is a game of strategy versus a game of chance? This book uncovers some of these answers. As with anything, there’s book smart and there’s street smart, and reading about it and understanding it in real life are different things. Duke sprinkles in some street smarts hard won on the poker tables.

    Sailing True North: Ten Admirals and the Voyage of Character by James G. Stavridis
    “The contemporary malaise is the unwillingness to take chances. Everyone is playing it safe. We’ve lost our guts. It’s much more fun to stick your neck out and take chances. The whole attitude is to protect yourself against everything, don’t take chances. But we’ve built this country on taking chances” (Quoting Rear Admiral Grace Hopper)

    A quick, enjoyable read that offers lessons learned from some of the great “Admirals” in history. This is examination of character in ten short biographies, but also an unflinching look at racism and sexism in the Navy and how that battle continues to be fought to this day. And there’s no mistaking the Admiral’s feelings about character in certain political leaders we currently suffer through. A timely message for all of us.

  • The Door is Round and Open

    “The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
    Don’t go back to sleep.

    You must ask for what you really want.
    Don’t go back to sleep.

    People are going back and forth
    across the doorsill
    where the two worlds touch.

    The door is round and open.
    Don’t go back to sleep.

    Rumi

    The moon’s luminescence cut long, deep shadows from the trees across the frozen tundra we call the backyard. I took the binoculars, slipped on some boat shoes and a warm coat for a closer look. Boat shoes generally aren’t the best footwear for frozen tundra, but there’s no ice to navigate. They’ll do.

    I was out the door, gazing at the moon and the constellations around me. The trick is in the order, of course. If you stare at the moon through binoculars first your night vision is shot. But it was the moon that called me outside, and so most of my attention went to the Siren.

    The thing is, you don’t read a poem like Rumi’s the same way after you do something like that. You read that first line and it means something entirely new to you. But then peel back the layers on the rest of this poem and the world opens up in new ways. And there lies the case for blending experience with tapping into the well of thought from those who came before you. You aren’t the first. You’re just carrying the torch on this day.

    Grasp the moment. Grasp the enormity of it all. The door is round and open.