Alexandersmap

    Category: Learning

    • A Thousand Lives

      “A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.” — George R.R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons

      Having breakfast with an acquaintance the other day, I was asked for recommendations on great books to read. Knowing my audience, I rattled off five books I thought he’d get something out of and briefed him on why I recommended each. He ordered two of them before we left the table, which I’ll take as validation of my judgement on such things.

      Comparison is the death of joy, as we all know, and I don’t compare my habits to anyone else. I may work out more or less than the next person, or write more or less, or pick the habit. The point is to set a personal standard for yourself and work to measure up to that standard, and stretch to exceed our own expectations. My standard for reading is not a random total number of books read, but a minimum of ten pages per day. Some books are 10x or more of that ten pages, and with some it’s all I can do to meet the minimum, but reach it I do. In this way, I read roughly 25-30 books per year.

      How does that compare to the average reader? Pretty well, if you look at the general population. Compared to an avid reader? Not so great. If I devoted myself to page-turners, ditched social media and worked less, I bet I could hit 100. But I’m happy with 25-30 books that move me, change me, educate me or entertain me. To live a thousand lives in this one seems quite expansive to me. How about you?

    • Following Your Own Way

      If you want, then start to laugh
      If you must, then start to cry
      Be yourself, don’t hide
      Just believe in destiny
      Don’t care what people say
      Just follow your own way
      Don’t give up and use the chance
      To return to innocence
      — Enigma, Return to Innocence

      This blog is inching along again. Inching towards what, exactly? Proficiency in writing? Show up and create something every day and see where it takes you. If nothing else, we become better at shipping the work, and there’s a lot to be said for doing what we tell ourselves we’re going to do. Keeping promises to oneself matters a great deal in a world of broken promises and shattered dreams. We may not be able to rely on everyone, but we can learn to rely on ourself. The trick is to up the ante with those promises. What got us here is great, but it won’t get us there—and there is where we’re trying to get to.

      Enigma is on my life soundtrack, and when I hear a song like Return to Innocence, I remember exactly where and who I was at the time. It turns out I’ve come a long way since then. We don’t generally leap from untapped potential to arete, we show up every day and incrementally drag ourselves through the good days and the bad, until one day we look around and realize we’ve done what we’d told ourselves we wanted to do and then some. Suddenly, that song means something completely different than it did then. Or maybe it’s us that’s completely different.

      So have we arrived at the place we aimed for when we started? Are we even aiming for the same thing? More likely, we’re still a work in progress, with different goals now than we had then. We are likely better from where we were but with some work still to do towards where we are going. We humans are always moving the goal posts as we grow.

      Don’t care what people say, just follow your own way. We learn that following our own way is a tough grind. Well-meaning folks and more timid souls everywhere are quick to curb our enthusiasm for what they perceive as reckless behavior. Thank you for your concern; but I call BS. Nothing meaningful ever happens without risk. The lesson is always the same: be bold today to reap tomorrow’s rewards.

    • The Impeded Stream (RIP Wendell)

      It may be that when we
      no longer know what to do
      we have come to our real work,
      and that when we no longer know
      which way to go
      we have come to our real journey.
      The mind that is not baffled
      is not employed.
      The impeded stream
      is the one that sings.
      — Wendell Berry, Our Real Work

      It’s been a rough year for poets and singers. It seems the beautiful souls slip away from this chaotic place where the ugliest thrive. Or is it that we just care more when the light goes out? And when a light goes out, who will carry the torch next? Why not us, friend?

      Which leads to the question, what will we do? For all the confusion and obstacles that life throughs at us, we work our way through it all, somehow. Persistence and belief in our direction are the keys to growth. A stream carves more deeply with persistence and time. So it is that we ought to keep the work flowing, despite all that is thrown at us along the way.

      Beauty doesn’t die, it simply finds another place to grow.

    • Rigidity Will Be the Death of Us

      Here is an amazement—once I was twenty years old and in
      every motion of my body there was a delicious ease,
      and in every motion of the green earth there was
      a hint of paradise,
      and now I am sixty years old, and it is the same.
      — Mary Oliver, Am I Not Among the Early Risers

      Back-to-back posts quoting Mary Oliver? There’s no arguing that she is a frequent guest in my writing and in my mind. In fact, I quote her so often that I make it a point to avoid quoting her. The blog isn’t a fan page for a specific poet, it’s a series of observations put into words one day to the next.

      Earlier this summer I simply stopped writing. I’d had a writing streak of a couple of thousand posts and ended it deliberately. Even as I began writing again the inclination to publish every day became less essential. When I have something to say I’ll say it. I don’t expect the world will grind to a halt. The only thing we are assured of is an ending one day. Memento mori.

      Once I was twenty. Where does the time go? The trick is a healthy body and sharp mind, kicking bad health down the curb as long as possible. But more, it’s walking through life with a healthy sense of curiosity and wonder. Life is fluid, and we ought to be too. Rigidity will be the death of us. Endings are simply beginnings for something else. Stay open, keep moving, and be curious.

    • How Swell Thy Sting

      I was sitting outside with a good book, minding my own business, when in the blink of an eye a yellow jacket flew into my face just below my lower lip, panicked and stung me. I only knew it was a yellow jacket when I saw it fall to the deck after brushing it off. I’d done nothing to provoke it, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. All I could do was put an ice cube on my face to mitigate the swelling, take an antihistamine and get back to the book. Sure, it would have been better if it had never happened, but it also could have been worse.

      Amor fati (love of fate) is easy to say, harder to practice. We are constantly offered opportunities to accept the world on its terms. Do we? Another opportunity will surely bump into us sooner or later.

    • Wise Guy

      “The art of being wise is knowing what to overlook.” — William James

      If I struggle with anything in life, it’s containing a streak of sarcasm that runs through me, seeking attention through expression. There is a big difference between being wise and being a wise guy. The former are revered, the latter get knocked off by rival gangsters. Just who do we want to be anyway?

      On the road to arete, one must shrug off the inclination to be clever all of the time. The trick, I think, is to stop thinking of things to say all of the time and learn to listen, observe and absorb what is being said and done around us, that we may be more informed. Personal excellence is a chosen path, achieved one good choice at a time. Choosing to be less clever and more attentive is a step closer to reaching our potential (should we dare).

      There’s nothing wrong with having something to say. That doesn’t mean we have to say something just to fill a gap in conversation. A pregnant pause usually births some insight we might have missed if the space had been filled with all sorts of clever nonsense. Mind the gap, as the Brits say. There’s usually something hiding there.

    • Progression

      “I am suffocated and lost when I have not the bright feeling of progression.” — Margaret Fuller

      I have a garden and fancy myself above average in gardening. But I’m the first to tell you I haven’t reached mastery in the fine art of horticulture. My vegetable garden is barely holding on. A friend who focuses exclusively on his vegetable garden knows more about tomato varieties than I ever will. I know exactly who to ask for advice when my own tomatoes aren’t thriving or are getting nibbled on by some critter in the night. But in general, my gardening skills progress every season.

      A life of progression is a happy life. The alternative is stagnation or regression, and what fun are either of those? No, we must be advancing in a clear, positive direction to live a fulfilling, joyful life. At risk of an eye roll or two from the friend group, progression requires production. We must produce the results we aspire to achieve.

      We usually progress in one area of life while regressing in another. We can’t focus on everything. Every yes is a no to something else. I choose to be completely ignorant of pickleball and cribbage, that I may aspire to greatness in, say, gardening and writing. That I haven’t reached greatness in either is beside the point. I am happy with progression. The key to a happy life is finding that something to progress towards.

    • To Rise Above

      “Great minds have purpose, others have wishes. Little minds are tamed and subdued by misfortunes; but great minds rise above them.” — Washington Irving

      It happened again just yesterday. A friend called to use me as a sounding board for a self-described obsession over a shocking trial happening in Massachusetts right now. I listened politely for a while as she failed to pick up on my signals that I was the wrong audience for shock gossip. Eventually I was saved by a call coming in to exit stage left.

      For the record, I’m the wrong audience for any shock gossip. Don’t tell me what the neighbors have done now, tell me what you are doing to rise above it all. Forgive me if I pull away from the misfortunes of the world. One may be aware and empathetic without swimming in a pool of misery and indignation. Call me boring, call me ill-informed, call me no fun at all if it helps, but don’t call me to gossip about the world.

      I won’t apologize for my focus on the productive use of my days. We may debate whether the output is worth the trade-off in precious time, but the point is to be useful doing something meaningful, not gossiping about the folly of mankind. Here is real empathy: We’re all just stumbling around in the dark, trying to find our way in this lifetime. Mistakes and misfortune happen to all of us. It’s what we do about it that will matter in the end. The conversation I want to have is on just how we’re each achieving liftoff in our own quest to soar.

    • Unencumbered

      “Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

      They say the best professional athletes have the shortest memories. Striking out in your last at bat doesn’t mean you’ll strike out in this one. It simply means you’ve seen this pitcher before and hopefully learned a thing or two in the encounter. And that philosophy carries the day in all things in life. Don’t let yesterday’s nonsense encumber us on as we rise to meet each bright, clear morning. Do what must be done with the clarity of hope and purpose.

      I’ve been carrying this post for twelve hours awaiting this next paragraph. There was a time when I would write a couple of crappy paragraphs just to round it out to something worthy of the post. But I’ve learned that throwing up a post with the primary aim of word count leads to some not very good blog posts. To encumber the reader with fluff words does a disservice to each of us. So let us leave on good terms. Until tomorrow then?

    • Who Knows Where the Time Goes?

      Across the evening sky,
      all the birds are leaving,
      But how can they know,
      it’s time for them to go?
      Before the winter fire,
      I will still be dreaming,
      I have no thought of time.
      For who knows,
      where the time goes?
      Who knows,
      where the time goes?
      — Sandy Denny, Who Knows Where the Time Goes?

      The other day I heard the honking of geese as I sat under the umbrella reading in the shade. I only heard and never saw the geese, but a sudden pop on the umbrella made me stop reading and look up. It turns out the umbrella saved me and the book from an unpleasant deposit a goose was making on its flyover.

      Yes, the geese are back. A sure sign of the summer season shifting towards later in the game. And have you noticed? Sunrise is later too. The summer harvest is abundant and relentless. Acorns are already bouncing off the pavement. Back to school sales are in full swing, and Halloween candy will be sold out if we dare wait until October to buy it.

      Ready or not, time moves on. Memories relentlessly pop up in social media feeds. WordPress prompts us to look back on our own posts from this date in previous years. Reminders are everywhere to look up from what is occupying our attention and have a look at where we are, where we’ve been, and what’s changed.

      And still, we have no thought of time until something jolts us into awareness. Beating a familiar drum, we ought to savor those summer tomatoes and corn, soak up the sun and time with one another. For who knows where the time goes? Tempus fugit. It flies right along like geese on a mid-August day.