Alexandersmap

    Category: History

    • A Visit to the Montpelier Plantation & Beach, Nevis

      “Montpelier history dates back to 1687 when Sir Hans Sloane, Secretary of the Royal Society of England and a doctor, visited Nevis and discovered this location. A hundred years later, history gave this small Caribbean island prominence far beyond its size. Although many epic battles were orchestrated from Montpelier, this estate became famous for love. Montpelier Plantation witnessed the marriage of Horatio Nelson, famous for his service in the Royal Navy, to Frances “Fanny” Nisbet, niece of the president of Nevis, John Herbert.” — Montpelier Plantation & Beach

      The Montpelier Plantation & Beach has seen a few things in its time. This is a place full of magic, full of stories dating back to the earliest days of British colonialism. A place of enormous wealth generation through subjugation and slavery. A place where countless souls passed through, some forever famous, most forever anonymous. This sugar plantation in the hills of Nevis doesn’t just whisper history, it reverberates history, and at times wrote it.

      There is a weeping fig tree greeting you as you enter the grounds that appears to be as old as the plantation. I’m told it was planted in 1966, apparently a very good year for vibrant growth. The tree has thrived, and is one of the most iconic things you’ll encounter here. But not the only thing. Just a few steps away are the ruins of the old sugar mill, prominently declaring the darker history of the plantation, even as it offers a beautiful backdrop for photographs and private meals within.

      Walking around the quiet, meticulously landscaped grounds, you quickly realize why so many famous people have flocked here, most famously Princess Diana after her divorce from Charles. This is a place to escape from the world and all its madness. When you’re here you separate yourself from timelines altogether, and immerse yourself in something beyond the immediacy of your own life. It’s a place to reset and revise your story.

      It should be mentioned that the food is extraordinary here, exceeding expectations for fine dining. It’s accompanied by excellent service from a friendly staff who know just how to make a moment special. You feel a sense of place here, and become a part of it with your visit. The Montpelier Plantation can be thought of as a time machine, or maybe it should be thought of as a timeless wonder.

    • Between Two Waves

      We shall not cease from exploration
      And the end of all our exploring
      Will be to arrive where we started
      And know the place for the first time.
      Through the unknown, unremembered gate
      When the last of earth left to discover
      Is that which was the beginning;
      At the source of the longest river
      The voice of the hidden waterfall
      And the children in the apple-tree

      Not known, because not looked for
      But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
      Between two waves of the sea.
      Quick now, here, now, always–
      A condition of complete simplicity
      (Costing not less than everything)
      And all shall be well and
      All manner of thing shall be well
      When the tongues of flames are in-folded
      Into the crowned knot of fire
      And the fire and the rose are one.
      — T. S. Eliot, Little Gidding

      Writing actively, it follows that I actively think of writing more than the norm, but really, I’m just a student of life making up for lost time, before I awakened. I’m always on the lookout for a phrase or sentence that resonates with me on a deeper level. Partly this is admiration for the turn of a particular stack of words, and partly because it offers a train of thought I’d love to explore more in the future. Like an engaged conversation between two people, words prompt. Our engagement with others draws us out of ourselves and places our thoughts into the universe. The ripple that results may transcend space and time, as Eliot’s ripple surely has.

      Eliot observed in Little Gidding that “every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning, every poem an epitaph”. Being actively aware of what is being said is a talent of the truly engaged. I’m still a work in progress, as my bride would remind me (funny that I don’t always seem to hear what she swears she just told me—A sign of a wandering mind, or is it a mind slowly slipping into the abyss? Perhaps it’s simply what is heard but half-heard?).

      When I do drift off into the abyss one day, I’d like to leave behind a few cogent thoughts before I go. We ought to feel the urgency in the moment, knowing we are but billion-year-old carbon making a weekend of it in our present form. This present mix will soon reshuffle, as sure as the sun rises. There’s a resounding call for us to pay attention in such moments. Eliot, himself reshuffled, capture my jumble of words better with his own: “the communication of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living”.

      My bride would add that I ought to pay more attention to the living as well, but my occasional Walter Mitty moments aside, I’ll make a case that I pay attention to the important details. Every moment matters, but some resonate a bit more. If we focused on everything we’d focus on nothing, after all. Playing the long game, and with a lens focused on infinity, is it any wonder that every sentence both matters a great deal and sometimes gets lost in the surf?

      The trick is knowing what to pay attention to in any given moment. We’re all works in progress on our march towards excellence. Knowing that we’ll never quite reach it doesn’t mean we should quit. Our imperfections are a sign of our untapped potential. At least that’s the promise in our present condition.

    • The Greater Good

      “We are burdened with over-realization. Not that we can perceive too clearly the rights and wrongs of every human being but that we feel too deeply our own, to find in the end that what has meaning only for each one alone has no real meaning at all.” — Edith Hamilton, The Greek Way

      There’s a contradiction in the world that chafes. We’re all individuals, making our way in this world, trying to live our best life. But we’re also part of something so much bigger than ourselves, part of communities, of nations, and of a species that often forgets that we’re all in this together. Individuals landed on the moon, but what resonated when they did so were the foothold they established for humanity.

      Humans are burdened by individualism, even as individualism stretches our limits and moves us forward. All progress depends on the observation of individuals that what we have isn’t quite enough, and the decision to then do something about it. Unfortunately, all the violence, violation and hatred in history come from a similar place. The irony of the Ancient Greeks is that they saw the contribution of the individual to the greater good as paramount, and created the very idea of democracy. But at the same time, they had slaves and fought wars to ensure that they’d receive more slaves (or become slaves if they lost). They were far from perfect, but they pursued Arete, or Excellence, just the same.

      We might believe the stakes aren’t quite so high for us today. But aren’t they? We’re in a fight for democracy against the autocrats of the world, home and abroad. A few decades of relative peace has made us complacent, but the pendulum will swing towards democracy or autocracy until checked. Things are very much in play even now.

      The problems in the world generally come down to a crisis in leadership. When we have lesser people in powerful positions, we slide backwards or run off the tracks.. When we have exceptional leaders, we rise to meet the challenges of the moment and the world resets itself. Who are leaders but individuals reaching or exceeding their limitations? We are the choices we make, collectively.

      The paradox of living in the modern world is the blessing and curse of individualism. Everyone is so ensnared in themselves and the screen in front of their faces that they forget that we’re each a part of something much bigger than ourselves. When we look at the problems in the world today, they often come down to self-interest. When we look at the greatest accomplishments we’ve made in history, they’re often the result of collective contribution. With this in mind, it seems the answer to much of our problems lies in rising to meet the moment, together.

    • Santa Monica Sunset

      I learned a few things yesterday that change my worldview. Most notably, I’m not the Skee Ball player I once was. Someone’s got to finish last. I provided enough evidence to convince myself, grudgingly, that I’m not as good as my wife and daughter. So be it. More importantly, I suppose, was spending the time with each of them.

      The Santa Monica Pier is a classic California beach pier, jammed with people watching the waves roll underneath while the sun drops towards the horizon. The arcade and amusement park rides were active, despite a chilly breeze off the Pacific Ocean. Dining choices were strictly fattening and a bit greasy, and nobody seemed particularly concerned about the lack of kale and spinach smoothies on the menu. There’s plenty of that elsewhere in California, this place is for fun.

      Route 66 terminates at Santa Monica Pier. You could drive your car from Chicago to Santa Monica, park on the pier and watch the sunset with some fried dough if you want to. I settled for the sunset, which seemed a great way to wrap up a brief few days out west.

      There’s no doubt this place is touristy, but the beach and rolling waves back it up with substance. Sometimes we just need to forget the world’s problems and have some fun. This place has offered up fun for generations.

    • To Be Ignorant Is to Be Afraid

      “To be ignorant is to be afraid, and in the dark mystery of the unknown a man cannot find his way alone. He must have guides to speak to him with authority.” — Edith Hamilton, The Greek Way

      And, truly, what of good
      ever have prophets
      brought to men?
      Craft of many words,
      only through
      evil your message speaks.
      Seers bring aye
      terror, so to keep
      men afraid.
      — Æschylus      , Agamemnon

      Both of these quotes were drawn from Hamilton’s extraordinary book. The Gutenberg Project offers the entire English translation of Agamemnon, which the link above will take you to. Hamilton’s life story is itself fascinating and worth a deeper dive another time. For today, let’s focus on the urgency of climbing the steep hill of the informed. History ebbs and flows and, as Mark Twain said, rhymes.

      Much of the world runs on fear and ignorance. Those in the know shake their heads in disbelief at the things the ignorant regurgitate from the talking heads trying to hold power at any costs. That they’re largely successful speaks to the effectiveness of the platforms designed to stoke the fire. We must put out the fires being stoked or eventually be consumed by them.

      We dare not be ignorant. Look around at the world and feel the obligation of the informed, carrying the weight of the ignorant. We must look squarely into the eyes of those who would destroy democracy and rise up to meet them. Many will walk through life with blinders on, lest they witness anything contrary to what they’re told. There’s no nuance in the fears they express, no dance with life, merely a cycle of fear of what others are coming to take from them. They don’t see that they’ve already had everything taken from them by their messenger of choice.

      The thing is, we can’t change the extremists on either end of the spectrum, we can only shine a light on, and be open to, the truth. Life is a dance with either ignorance or knowledge. We must choose our dance partner with the utmost care, and in turn teach others to dance. Feel the rhythm in the rhyming of history and step towards truth. The alternative is wretchedness and fear. What kind of life is that?

    • Footsteps

      I wonder, now and then, who has tread on the ground I walk on. Surely this thought comes to mind often in famous places where people whom we remember did things that stir the imagination and puts us in their shoes, if only for a little while. The history buff in me lingers in places where famous moments happened. It’s my way of understanding their moment a little better, even as my moment in that place is so very different. I’m a visitor in that place in that moment, they defined the place in theirs. Walden, Culloden, Kehlsteinhaus, Liverpool’s Cavern, Saratoga… each stirred up ghosts as I walked in footsteps. Some we honor, some we simply try to understand.

      There’s that word again: understand. We can never put ourselves in the place of the characters who brought us here, but we can learn from them. History rhymes, after all. When we learn from those who came before us we might change the script, or gain insight into our next move. We’re all just re-writing history, we’re all playing the same chords. We make of it what we will.

      Last week I visited Gljúfrabúi, partly inspired by watching a YouTube video of someone walking into the gorge to experience the hidden waterfall. I re-watched that video, just to see it again from the perspective of someone who has now been there. For all the thousands of people who have likely walked there, the experience of that particular person walking in my footsteps when I’d actually walked in theirs felt circularly surreal for me. It reminded me that each of us is walking in the footsteps of others while also creating footsteps for those who will follow us. Doesn’t it make you wonder, how will we define our place?

    • A Visit to Reykjavik

      Reykjavik is the capital city of Iceland and the northernmost capital city in the world. As with any great city it has a strong foundation of history, culture and character. For the most part it’s highly walkable with a vibrant and diverse food and bar scene, friendly and interesting people. The trick is navigating the ice and wind in winter. They deal with ice by heating some of the main sidewalks, utilizing their abundance of geothermal heat. The wind you just learn to deal with. This blog post is a postcard from a city I’ve quickly grown to love.

      Hallgrímskirkja Lutheran Church
      Leif Erikson Statue, given to Iceland by the United States in 1930 to commemorate the 1000th anniversary of his discovery of America
      Parliament Building
      Harpa Music Hall

    • One’s Way

      “The important thing is never to let oneself be guided by the opinion of one’s contemporaries; to continue steadfastly on one’s way without letting oneself be either defeated by failure or diverted by applause.” — Gustav Mahler

      Gustav Mahler was an Austrian composer who’s work is familiar to us whether we know it or not. His Symphony No. 1 in D is the basic tune of “Frère Jacques”, the nursery rhyme embedded in our brains as children. He built his legacy as a conductor and composer in Vienna, a place chock full of legendary conductors and composers, and navigated his career through both anti-semitism and general criticism of his work, which pushed boundaries many weren’t ready for. So in this context, his quote becomes illuminating.

      There’s a moment after we’ve tied a shoe or set a sail just so when we look up and begin going where we determined we’d go in our minds just a beat before. It’s that moment of beginning on one’s way, wherever it may bring us, that is transformative. Everything that comes after is a matter of resolve: Do we finish what we started or to let it fall by the wayside and try something else?

      Most likely, the worst criticism we face comes from within. Self-doubt, imposter syndrome and fear of failure have destroyed more art than all the critics and book-burning zealots combined. In such moments, we must keep going, one way or another. Easier said than done, of course, but pushing through has a way of building confidence and resilience. We simply learn to ignore the voice inside.

      “Most of us have two lives. The life we live, and the unlived life within us. Between the two stands Resistance.” — Steven Pressfield

      That moment of beginning, of breaking through that Resistance, is a big step in reaching our unlived life. But every step thereafter has its own subsequent Resistance. Put one foot in front of the other, and soon you’ll be walking across the floor, as the song goes. To reach our potential we must overcome all the external and internal noise that is distracting us from that voice in our head that is telling us quietly, persistently, what we ought to do.

      Today we’re beginning something, and continuing other things. Who we once were passed away in that beat. This blog post, like the 1,663 before this one, is another step for me across that proverbial floor, with the character who wrote each long gone. What remains is the sum of each, on the way to becoming something entirely new. Who we become is in so many ways up to us, determined by the choices one makes on one’s way and our steadfast resolve to arrive at what’s next.

    • A Walk Around Walden Pond

      A visit to Walden Pond can be immersive, if you go at the right time. Many people go in summer to swim and enjoy the pristine water. Many fish for large mouth bass and other prizes. But the pilgrims go to visit Henry David Thoreau’s famous pond and the woods surrounding it. I’ve watched the place change over the years, but the pond and woods remain largely as Thoreau would recognize.

      You must treat a brief visit to Walden as you would a visit to a nightclub with a cover charge. There’s a flat fee of $30 USD to park. That applies for an hour or the entire day. There’s a lower fee, apparently, for Massachusetts residents. I suppose you can also opt for other ways to get to Walden Pond, but this was the simplest way to spend time at a place. The area surrounding Walden Pond is a mix of highway, commuter railroad (as it was in Thoreau’s time), capped landfill and houses increasingly further out of reach for someone choosing the lifestyle of the person who made this place famous.

      Early December is considered late autumn, but my visit felt more mid-autumn, with temperatures warmer than they should be this time of year. Henry David Thoreau would have shaken his head, I think, at some of the same behavior he observed in his day leading to the climate change we’re experiencing today but generally sitting on our hands about. But it made for a lovely day to walk around the pond.

      There is a well-defined path around the pond. It’s maintained and easy for most walkers to navigate. They make you feel like you’re in a cattle chute for much of it, with wire strung on each side of the path to keep wanderers from straying off the path. Signage explains this as erosion control measures. As a hiker of the White Mountains in New Hampshire, I’m all too familiar with the impact of popularity on trails and the surrounding landscape. I stay to the path, liberated from the freedom to wander, I instead focused on the environment around me.

      You can hear the world encroach on you at Walden. Distant highway sounds, construction, sirens, airplanes flying overhead and the commuter train all remind you that you’re in a suburb of Boston. It’s best to acknowledge this, but let it go as Thoreau let the train go as it went past in his time. The landscape is largely preserved, the water clear, awaiting those who would linger.

      When I was younger, there was no visitor center, but there was a bath house. At some point well before I came into this world some well-meaning people decided that the best way to save Walden Pond was to make it a recreation center. So a bath house was built, beach sand extended and you had a destination for family recreation. Thoreau’s cabin is on the opposite shore from the bath house, but it’s the first thing you see when you walk down the visitor parking lot. You’re either at peace with it or not, but it’s relatively benign in the off-season.

      Walden Woods extend well beyond the perimeter of the pond, and we can thank people like Don Henley for their commitment to preservation. Generations of developers find a way to squeeze as much money as they can from resources, and there are plenty of people who would turn the place inside out and up. There’s a place for development in this world, but there ought to be a place for preservation too.

      I’d brought a water bottle with me on the walk, warm day that it was, and decided in a moment of inspiration to fill it with water from Walden Pond. Thoreau drank straight from the pond in his day, I’m not inclined to do that without a filter. Instead, I brought the water with me for another pilgrimage. Just across that highway is the center of Concord, where Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson lived. Just beyond the center is the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, site of Author’s Ridge, where Thoreau, Emerson, Alcott and others are buried. I stopped for a brief visit on Author’s Ridge, told of my visit to his old cabin site, and poured Henry a sip of Walden Pond. Cheers Henry.

      Walden Pond
      A view of the pond just down the hill from Thoreau’s cabin site. This is similar to the view he would have had.
      Pile of stones next to the cabin site. I’m not loving it, but cairns are how people seem to express themselves. The site to me feels like a construction site, cleared and ready to build.
      The cabin site is surrounded by granite pillars to denote the position and size of the cabin.
      Creative cairn art rising out of Walden Pond.

    • See the Signs and Know Their Meaning

      “Two students had studied for many years with a wise old master. One day the master said to them, “Students, the time has come for you to go out into the world. Your life there will be felicitous if you find in it all things shining.” The students left the master with a mixture of sadness and excitement, and each of them went a separate way. Many years later they met up by chance. They were happy to see one another again, and each was excited to learn how the other’s life had gone. Said the first to the second, glumly, “I have learned to see many shining things in the world, but alas I remain unhappy. For I also find many sad and disappointing things, and I feel I have failed to heed the master’s advice. Perhaps I will never be filled with happiness and joy, because I am simply unable to find all things shining.” Said the second to the first, radiant with happiness, “All things are not shining, but all the shining things are.” — Hubert Dreyfus, All Things Shining: Reading the Western Classics to Find Meaning in a Secular Age

      All Things Shining, linked above, is a heavy lift in places. When you wade deeply into western literature with a heavy emphasis on Homer, Dante, Jesus and Melville’s Moby Dick, you’re going for a deep dive. Nobody said delving into nihilism, polytheism, and monotheism would be a page turner. I’m the better for having read it, but earned the finish that I’ve just given you freely. For it ended with this delightful epilogue, casting a glow that lingers.

      We may live a life full of routine and tedium, nastiness and fear of the unknown. We may also live a full life overflowing with ritual and wonder, generosity and openness. The lens we view the world through matters greatly in determining how full this brief dance really is. Some of my closest acquaintances choose to complain about everything in their life. They aren’t leaving a trail of joy behind them. Other acquaintances are relentlessly optimistic about the world and their place in it. They lift the room with their presence. Surely, not everything is wonderful, but many things are. What do we focus on?

      These are the days you might fill with laughter until you break
      These days you might feel a shaft of light
      Make its way across your face
      And when you do you’ll know how it was meant to be
      See the signs and know their meaning
      It’s true
      You’ll know how it was meant to be
      Hear the signs and know they’re speaking to you, to you
      — 10,000 Maniacs, These Are Days

      These are days we’ll remember. Focusing on the joyful bits isn’t an escape from the harshness of the world, it’s an acknowledgement that there’s two sides to the coin in life. This isn’t putting our head in the sand, for joy coexists with sad and disappointing in this world. We can fixate on unrelenting misery and darkness, or flip the coin and give our attention to all the shining things in this lifetime. The choice has always been ours.