Alexandersmap

    Category: Habits

    • Blank Places

      To those devoid of imagination a blank place on the map is a useless waste; to others, the most valuable part. – Aldo Leopold

      Blank places on maps are increasingly rare.  With technology we’ve managed to reveal extraordinary detail on the contours of the land, water sources and potential sites to camp for the night.  You can hike many trails virtually from the comfort of your home with street view images of what you might see.  Even some of the most remote places in the world have 360 degree images uploaded from some soul that visited before.  And yet there are still blank places on maps that tease and mock those who would plot the world.

      Blank places on calendars betray opportunity lost, or not fully leveraged.  Time is money, they say, and to leave blank places on calendars is to waste our most precious resource.  Make the most of your day and fill every moment with appointments, meetings, conference calls, time for tasks, workouts, dates, drive time and even time to think.  There’s merit in a full calendar, but there’s also merit in blank places on the calendar too.  Some of my best career moments came in blank places that developed into magic moments.

      Blank places in ourselves are harder to see, but we know they’re there.  Revealed in quiet moments, in challenging tasks completed, in new things tried and most especially in things avoided.  Risks not taken reveal as much as they forever hide what might have been had we just begun.

      “Oh, I kept the first for another day!
      Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
      I doubted if I should ever come back.”
      – Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken

      The funny thing about maps is that they reveal where others have already been.  When you follow the map you’re just following someone else’s path.  Way leads on to way, and blank places might never be revealed.  That’s true for most everyone, isn’t it?  We tuck aside those unreasonable pursuits in favor of the tried and true path, never getting around to seeing what’s down that other path.  Don’t despair for what might have been, but be bold enough to see what might be.  See where stepping into the unknown leads you.  Should you find you need to double back the world will be just as you left it.  They might not even look up from their screens long enough to realize that you left.

    • Resetting the Mind

      Monday morning wasn’t offering me any free rides today.  The well of creativity felt tapped out.  I looked through the 27 drafts I had going and wasn’t inspired to pursue any of them.  I tried sitting in my favorite reading chair and read Seneca’s On the Happy Life for inspiration, highlighting many passages yet finding no inspiration for today’s blog.  I put on headphones and listened to my favorite create something of substance song (Wild Theme) on repeat.  Nothing yet…  but getting closer.  Coffee cup drained.  Walked outside and sat on my favorite outdoor muse capturing device and waited.  And finally it came to me.

      “One of the most effective ways to reduce the friction associated with your habits is to practice environment design….  “resetting the room”.
      The purpose of resetting each room is not simply to clean up after the last action, but to prepare for the next action…
      How can we design a world where it’s easy to do what’s right?” Redesign your life so the actions that matter most are also the actions that are easiest to do.”
      – James Clear, Atomic Habits

      It occurred to me that I’ve set a few spaces to optimize productivity.  Sit/stand desk, noise-cancelling headphones, proper lighting, indoor and outdoor spaces at the ready.  All of this is setting the room, as Clear writes about.  And it’s setting the mind as well.  When I hear Wild Theme I get creative.  When I sit in a specific chair my mind focuses on writing.  And eventually it clears the fog and I get to it.  These are all methods of flipping the switch.  Want to work out first thing in the morning?  Put your workout clothes out so they’re front and center when you get up.  Writing is the same way – take the necessary steps of setting the “room” to prepare for the next action.

      Ultimately resetting the room means resetting the mind for the actions you wish to prioritize.  Having a dedicated workspace is important so personal time and work time don’t bleed over into one another.  I think that particular point has been hammered home by just about every business or lifestyle writer out there.  I won’t regurgitate the key points here.  For me it’s not about the space you place yourself in but the mindset you achieve.  Monday mornings are generally difficult because you’re transitioning from weekend activities to the work week.  I don’t recall having a similar challenge with Friday nights or the first morning of a vacation.  It’s all in the mind, this calendar mentality, but the uncertainty of which hat am I wearing at the moment? is valid.  So in times of transition, to reduce the friction, the question how do we make it easy to do what’s right? is paramount to actually getting things done effectively.

      And that brings me back to Seneca, which didn’t seem at all connected to this topic when I started writing this morning.  In speaking about virtue, Seneca’s pointed out that he hadn’t quite gotten to a virtuous life just yet.  To which his critics pounced, saying why should we listen to a man who hasn’t mastered the very thing he lectures us on?  But Seneca turns this around on his critics, pointing out that:

      “I make this speech, not on my own behalf, for I am steeped in vices of every kind, but on behalf of one who has made some progress in virtue.”

      We all tend to think that everyone else has it all figured out, don’t we?  And it can be unnerving when someone who is “showing us the way” admits that they’re a work in progress themselves.  But I’ve come to a point where I view anyone that tells me they have it all figured out is a con artist – be it a fundamentalist, politician, overly aggressive business person: you know the type.  Like you I’ve learned to be skeptical of people who say they have it all figured out.  Instead, I write to show myself the way.  On behalf of one who has made progress in the things that I myself strive for.  Finding a way to flip the switch on a misty Monday morning, and sharing in the process for arriving at the desired state.  The well feels a bit less empty even as I tap from it.  Funny how that happens.

    • Is It Yourself You Seek?

      It is yourself you seek
      In a long rage,
      Scanning through light and darkness
      Mirrors, the page,

      Where should reflected be
      Those eyes and that thick hair,
      That passionate look, that laughter.
      You should appear

      Within the book, or doubled,
      Freed, in the silvered glass;
      Into all other bodies
      Yourself should pass.

      The glass does not dissolve;
      Like walls the mirrors stand;
      The printed page gives back
      Words by another hand.

      And your infatuate eye
      Meets not itself below;
      Strangers lie in your arms
      As I lie now.
      – Louise Bogan, Man Alone

      I seek myself in early morning quiet, listening for the whisper.
      I seek myself on long walks in rough terrain, one step at a time with an eye on the footing and the other at the way forward.
      I seek myself in the long drives to faraway places, with nothing playing but the soundtrack of the tires on pavement.
      I seek myself in pictures, vainly attempting to capture the light and never quite reaching perfection but smiling at the moment anyway.
      I seek myself in the dusty soil, that traps under fingernails and turns into beauty with water and time we hope we have.
      I seek myself in deep plunges into water, thoughts rising with the bubbles as we break the surface, clearer than before.
      I seek myself in lyrics captured from songs in the air, hearing words for the first time and desperately grabbing at Shazam to find the source before it disappears forever.
      I seek myself in habits made and promises to myself broken, with hopes of trying again tomorrow.
      I seek myself in reaching out in service to others, to rejoice in the moment of connection ever fleeting.
      I seek myself in old battlefields and graveyards and monuments to ghosts who only wish to be remembered once more.
      I seek myself in freshly chopped vegetables, sautéing in snaps and pops that betray my anticipation.
      I seek myself in the words that dance on the page, my own or those of strangers in my arms.
      I seek myself in skimming across water, skipping like a stone on the pull of an oar or the puff of the wind and wanting only to fly a little bit longer.
      Tell me, where do you seek yourself?

    • The Dreaded Screen Time Audit

      I watched a housefly bouncing about on a pane of glass, attracted to the light but unable to find a way through. We aren’t very different in this respect, are we? So focused on the bright light that we don’t see the opportunities around us. Noses pressed to screens of all shapes and sizes, and what have we to show for it?

      The fly got me thinking about my own tendency to bounce against a pane of glass. I scanned my screen time usage to see what the real story was. I don’t believe I stare at my phone all day (in fact I practice active avoidance whenever possible), but still I’m averaging five hours per day staring at my phone. Say what? But its true: 5h 10m per day. Ugh. Doesn’t seem possible! But let’s dive deeper, where was the time used?

      WordPress, Duolingo, Waze, Mail, Kindle and Podcasts are generally productive uses of my screen time. Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Safari and YouTube are generally not productive uses of my screen time. I tend to write in short bursts on the iPhone, and longer writing is done on the Mac, so there’s productivity time missing from the equation. Likewise, I tend to read more on an old iPad instead of the phone, so there’s time missing there too. Podcasts, Music, Waze are all multitasking apps and generally aren’t “counted” as nose pressed to the screen apps. But there’s clearly a trend towards more social media happening right now, and that needs to be sharply reduced.

      Like the housefly, I’m bouncing against the bright glass surface and not finding another way out. Who wants to live like a housefly anyway? Not me, thank you. So I need to wean myself off again. The biggest culprit is Twitter, which has become my default news feed. There are valid reasons to be on social media in this time we live in. But what am I really getting out of it? Validation of viewpoints I already have? On my deathbed I won’t say I wish I’d spent more time on Twitter, but I might regret not spending more time outside, face-to-face with the world and the people in it. At least the ones who aren’t pressing their own noses into a screen. What does your screen time look like? If it’s more than you’d like meet me outside – we’ll take a walk and talk. No phones required.

    • Realizing the Path

      “The path of water is not noticed by water, it is realized by water.… To study the way is to study the self, to study the self is to forget the self, to forget the self is to awaken into the ten thousand things.” – Brian Doyle, from the Forward of One Long River Of Song

      “Every action you take is a vote for the type of person you wish to become.” – James Clear, Atomic Habits

      I’ve been thinking about why I write this blog every day. Surely it isn’t for money, or to influence the masses, or even for the thrill of likes and affirmation. Fame? No thanks. A form of immortality? Come on now… No, each post is a step down the path and a vote for identity. I’m a bit overdue to walk this path, but I’m happy to be on it now. Ironically, spending a hour or two writing every morning clears my head enough to be more productive in my day job. I guess it clears the plaque out of my brain cells. It also makes me more focused at home and more engaged with the world around me. All wins in my book. I think that’s enough.

    • Going to Do

      “What’s the me in ten years going to think about what I did today?” – Hugh Howie, TKP Interview

      I wrote a 500 word post Friday night about what I was going to do, read it and tucked it away in the drafts folder. I won’t write about what I’m going to do, I’m just going to do it and write about it after I’ve accomplished something. I have nothing against planning, but I’ve been caught in the trap of making bold claims and not getting there. No more “We will go to the moon” proclamations, just set the goal and get it done. And then I listened to a couple of The Knowledge Project (TKP) podcast interviews I’ve been meaning to get to, and it clarified my thoughts on the matter. I’ve noted my short-term goals, and I’ll pursue them earnestly, but quietly.

      “A lot of our calcification, the inability to break our stasis and launch our lives in a different direction is the feeling that we should have done it ten years ago and we’ve lost the opportunity and now we can’t do it.  But ten years from now we’re going to think the same thing about this very moment, today…  whatever you think you could have done five or ten years ago to change the direction of your life, you can do that right now, today, and make that deflection point, that decision…” – Hugh Howie, TKP Interview

      I can look back and see deflection points throughout my life. Places where I did something that led me to something else that led me here. We all can, really. And sometimes you’ll wish you’d done this or that other thing along the way, or done more of something that clearly would have brought you further down the path to where you wish you were at. But Howie turns that around and points to the future you looking back on you today. Today is your deflection point – what will you do with it?

      And that brings me to another TKP podcast that the interviewer Shane Parrish highlighted in his newsletter; Robert Greene’s concept of alive time. It’s been borrowed and amplified by Ryan Holiday as well. I keep coming back to this concept, and the words “alive time” chirp in my ear whenever I waste time playing one-too-many games of computer chess or watching television or scrolling through political opinions on Twitter. No, you were meant for more than this, get to it already.

      “You really don’t own anything in life. When you’re born, and you come out of your mother’s womb, and you’re kicking and screaming, and you go through your 60, 70, 80, 90 years of life, you think that you own stock and money, and this, that, and the other, but really, you don’t own anything, because it all disappears, it all goes away, and you die, and there’s nothing left. The only thing, the only thing that you own, the only thing that we can say is that you own time. You have so much time to live. … Let’s just say you have 85 years to live. That is yours … Alive time is time that’s your own. Nobody tells you what to do, nobody is commanding you how to spend it. … Taking ownership of your time means I only have this much time to live, I’d better make the most of it, I’d better make it alive time, I’d better be urgent, have a bit of an edge, be aware of each moment as it’s passing and not in a fog.” – Robert Greene, TKP Interview

      So when we talk about this pandemic in ten years, how did it serve as a deflection point in your life? How did you use your alive time to pivot into a new and exciting pursuit? How did you use the extra time with family? What did you learn? What workout did you do that proved foundational in your path to better fitness? What’s the me in ten years going to think about what I did today?

    • For My Next Trip Around The Sun

      For my next trip around the sun, if I may be so presumptuous, I’ll try harder to meet the Aurora Borealis on its terms. Maybe finally catch those evasive Northern Lights, I really do need to meet up with them this time around.  I’ll travel again to faraway places.  Places previously unknown to me that caught my imagination in a travel article or a book.  Places that Google street view hasn’t posted online.  I know these places are out there, I’ve tried in vain to reach them with a mouse before.

      For my next trip around the sun, if good fortune should shine upon me, I’ll rest a hand on the trunk of a Sequoioideae, but first I’ll learn how to spell it without copy and paste.  I once spent a week within an hour’s drive of Redwood National Forest and never bothered to go visit.  Some excuse about work, I suppose.  I don’t recall that mattering in the end anyway.  Touching a redwood tree and looking up to the sky would have mattered far more.

      For my next trip around the sun, if the stars align and I make the full trip, I’m going to celebrate the graduation of my first born and prepare for the graduation of my second born.  The world has changed in ways that seemed fictional not too long ago, and presents challenges that you and your generation will rise up to meet.  I hope my generation and my parents generation does the same and you have something to build on.  The world isn’t fair, we all know that, but a few generations collaborating on solutions to the world’s problems seems a logical next step.  The world is ready for non-violent transformation.  Will it begin with now?

      For my next trip around the sun, should I be so bold, I’ll strive more.  Strive for more meaningful contributions, strive for more engagement in conversation, strive to be more disciplined in the food and drink I take in, strive to be more consistent with the daily habits that make a difference today and for however many trips around the sun you have left.  We all know what we should do, how many do it?  I strive to do it this time around the sun.   You know I’ll write about it, so feel free to poke and prod me should I fall behind.

      For my next trip around the sun, if it should come to pass, I’ll savor more.  Savor the sounds and sights and smells that make up the moments of the day.  Sip a little slower, chew a little more, slow down just enough, look up from the phone and see what’s happening around you.  Savor the time passing by instead of grabbing it tighter and watching it escape anyway, like beach sand in a tight fist.  Savor the long walks and the long talks and the short moments that catch your breath.

      For my next trip around the sun, should the gods look down upon my favorably, I’ll look up more.  Look up at the sky to track our progress over the next year.  Look up old friends you don’t talk to nearly enough.  Look up at the stars and learn to identify them by the way they align with other stars from our unique perspective in the universe.  Look  out, up and out again as the sun rises, warms the skin and the earth around you and drops down again below the horizon, as we all must do eventually.  And so you begin another trip around the sun.  Where will it take you?

    • Stay Up Late

      I stayed up so late last night that it was almost today. Apparently people still do this. Personally, I’ve grown too fond of early mornings over the years to spend much time up past 10 PM or so. We all choose the toll we want to pay of missing out. We can pick only one: late night fun, early morning productivity or sleep deprivation. Life is full of sacrifices.

      This is serious business of course. Marriages end on smaller things than sleep cycles. Like “why did you put the dishes away in that cabinet?” or “I was cleaning out the attic and threw away that box full of old stuff”, or something like that. Sleep cycles, and lack of sleep, amplify small annoyances into bigger things than they should be. When you’re socially isolating together for an extended time it’s best to minimize such sources of contention all around. We’ve learned long ago to give each other space. Hers is running and late nights. Mine is gardening and early mornings. We make it work.

      I’m not sure the standup comedian we watched on television was worth the hour of sleep I sacrificed, but the toll was paid, the coffee is hot, all will be forgiven. Just don’t do it every night. A life together is made up of these little special moments, repeated, with a soundtrack of The Association’s soothing greatest hits playing softly in the background. “Say, why did you put this dish in this cabinet? You know it’s always gone over here, right? I’m sorry? … okay, I think I’ll have another coffee. Would you like one too?”

      I think tonight I’ll get to bed at a decent hour…

    • Horses and Butterflies and Viruses

      “For years and years I struggled
      just to love my life. And then

      the butterfly
      rose, weightless, in the wind.
      “Don’t love your life
      too much,” it said,

      and vanished
      into the world.”
      – Mary Oliver, One or Two Things

      I woke up restless. It builds rather than dissipates as I go through my morning ritual of hydration and caffeine and reading. I recognize it immediately. The writing will be more difficult today, I thought, and surely it has been. I struggle at times with structure: chafing at rigidity and schedules and routine. But I chase these things anyway, thinking a proper to-do list brings order to life. My morning routine saves me more than it imposes on me, and today will be no different.

      Yesterday I walked four miles at lunchtime to shake off the feeling. In the last mile of the walk I saw the horses by the fence and eagerly anticipated saying hello to them when I reached the bottom of the hill. As I was thinking this another walker came into my vision, marched purposefully to the fence with his camera phone rising above his head and spooked the horses away. Resentment at this intrusion boiled in me until I realized it would have been reversed had I been in his shoes and he mine. The horses didn’t care which of us intruded first, only that they wanted no intruders. They stood at the edge of the fence because they’d found their end point of freedom. Yet rebelliously snuck their heads through the slats for a nibble of grass on the other side. I finished my walk with mixed feelings.

      Like most of the world I need to fly away from the cage; to weightlessly catch the wind and let it carry me away. To vanish into the world and return again someday, maybe. Such is life in the cage, it seizes the restlessness inside you and amplifies it. Serving the greater good staying in place offers mixed feelings as well. The virus doesn’t care who it intrudes upon, only that it has room to grow, and careless or prudent hosts alike offer that given the opportunity. The virus is restless too. Who’s patience will run out first?

    • A Different Street

      Yesterday I wrote about streets in faraway places that I loved walking. Last night I took a quiet walk on the street I live on to get reacquainted with the night sounds of early spring. I marveled at how alive it was. Not Royal Mile or La Rambla alive (for only a few streets are, really) but small New Hampshire town alive.

      I’ve walked less at night than I once did when Bodhi was with us and eager to leave his evening mark on the world. The habit went with him when he passed. Habits die unceremoniously, one day you’re on track and the next something comes up and, well, there you are with time gone by and no momentum in the old flywheel. But last night the restlessness rattled the lid just enough to get me up and out.

      Walking out into darkness requires adjustment. Your eyes? Naturally, but also the rest of your body adapts to a new environment. I felt right away that perhaps the coat was a little too light, the gloves not quite heavy enough for a slow walk but adequate for a brisk walk. I set about briskly, taking note of aches and pains from moving the house back to order after yet another renovation project. If social isolation has done anything positive, it’s given me the time to finish a long list of somedays. On balance I’d rather have the world right side up but there you go; upstairs is almost like new.

      Glancing up, I’m startled by the brilliance of Venus. She’s been making a fuss for some time now but goodness I felt someone changed her bulbs to LED’s last night. She scolded me for not being outside more, and ignored my long list of excuses. Venus has heard every excuse you know… she turned her attention back to Orion as he slowly brought the hunt relentlessly westward and downward beyond the horizon, where all the dancers go eventually. He’ll be back tonight, we can only hope we will be too.

      My attention turned to the other night sounds. The Great Horned Owls were having a long conversation about dining options or what to name their first hatched or maybe “look who decided to get his ass back outside“, I don’t speak enough owl to know for sure. All I know is they were animated – passionate even. Owl talk faded as I walked on and other sounds took over. First were the peepers and their nightclub mating chorus. Then the train whistle from miles away, sounding much closer in the cold stillness of the night. And when the whistling stopped the metallic sound of wheels on tracks continued for the duration of my walk. Why hadn’t I heard the wheels before? What made the night so still? Pandemic of course. There simply aren’t other sounds filling in; no cars humming by, no motorcycles in the distance, no dogs barking in neighborhoods in between. Even the owls and peepers seemed to be quietly listening. Nothing but the train wheels, the cold night stillness and me.

      The coat didn’t feel too thin by then. Briskness warms, and my legs kept their pace as my mind lingered on the stillness of the night. My mind was clear again, and turned from night sounds to plot twists and character development. My mind chewed on making magic for many steps more and I finally turned up the driveway and turned out the lights, leaving the street a little more still. One last march to close out March. This street, like so many streets now, more still than usual as we turn the calendar to a new month. Like the train and the peepers and the owls, I’m looking forward and thinking of what’s next. Venus smiles down and recognizes the folly in it all.