Alexandersmap

    Category: Learning

    • Foundations

      “Mistakes are, after all, the foundations of truth, and if a man does not know what a thing is, it is at least an increase in knowledge if he knows what it is not.” ― Carl Jung

      Navigating years as they unfold may make us more intelligent, or less so, depending on the lessons learned along the way. I’m shocked at the distinct lack of intelligence displayed in some people my age or well past it. I’m impressed with the brilliance and maturity of some people much younger than me. I’m sure I shock them at times too by what I don’t know at my own age. Such is the journey through time for each individual.

      We all ought to make more mistakes along the way if only to figure out that we should take another path to becoming. Fear of mistakes is what keeps us from going anywhere at all. There are times in our life when we debate whether to take a hard left instead of staying on a familiar course. Both are deeply impactful, but which elevates our experience the most? Life is full of such forks, and most follow the path well-travelled. And that makes a difference too.

      We don’t learn and grow by staying the same. We must challenge ourselves in new ways, that we may build a stronger foundation from which to see the world differently. Our lifetime of learning and experience, reflected and acted upon, carries us to a greater and more profound identity. It’s right here in front of us, where we might ask once again, what next?

    • No Time for Fog

      “Be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high. Then life seems almost enchanted after all.”
      ― Vincent Van Gogh

      Some days the enchantment of living boils down to how well you slept the night before. I’m blessed with more restful nights than restless, which I suppose leads to more awareness and, it follows, enchantment with the universe. For those other days? There’s always coffee or a plunge into cold water. If we are otherwise healthy, we must approach our days with urgency and the belief that we have no time to waste wandering around in a fog.

      I’m quite aware that I’m falling behind on the journey to personal excellence (arete). That’s not an indictment on the generally good person I try to be, more an acknowledgement that we humans have a long hill to climb and I started paying attention late in the game. We ought to be born feeling the urgency, but most of us figure it out after enough trips around the sun.

      The thing is, we can’t walk around all day with our head in the clouds. There’s no time for fog when we wish to visit the stars in our brief dance. So when we encounter it we ought to strive to rise above it. That requires a steady climb to a higher plane with the dogged attitude that we must do something in our time. Arete is reserved for the gods, of course, not us humans. All we can do is strive to meet our potential and find enchantment on the climb.

    • Momentum in the Moments

      “We should tell ourselves, once and for all, that it is the first duty of the soul to become as happy, complete, independent, and great as lies in its power. Herein is no egoism, or pride. To become effectually generous and sincerely humble there must be within us a confident, tranquil, and clear comprehension of all that we owe to ourselves.” ― Maurice Maeterlinck, Wisdom and Destiny

      We must first reach for our own potential, that we might fully lend it to others. Put another way, we must become increasingly necessary to those around us through the value we bring. Value is our accumulated skills, knowledge and presence applied to contribution. To make a greater contribution, we must build up our value.

      When I look at my career, the times when I’ve been happiest are when I’ve been able to contribute something substantial to the overall cause. The times when I’ve been most miserable in my work are almost always when I feel like I’m not contributing my full value and I’ve lost my way. The thing is, these feelings come well after the work that it took to arrive there, for momentum is built in the moments leading to it.

      This is most obvious in how we feel about our fitness level. If we’re feeling fit, it’s generally because of all the work that led us to physical fitness. Working out can be tedious when we view it as something we have to do. When it becomes part of our identity it’s simply part of our days. And this applies to everything else we do in life: reading and learning, writing and artistic expression, connection to the people in our lives, and our continual development in the self.

      Excellence is a habit. But so is laziness, sloth and a bankrupt soul. Both ends of the spectrum are paths built on the moments that precede our arrival there. We must choose how we spend our days accordingly and build momentum in the right things. So it is that nothing is more important in a brief life than our self development, that we may be more valuable to ourselves and others in the moments to come.

    • Start Again

      The birds they sang
      At the break of day
      Start again
      I heard them say
      Don’t dwell on what has passed away
      Or what is yet to be
      Ah, the wars they will be fought again
      The holy dove, she will be caught again
      Bought and sold, and bought again
      The dove is never free
      Ring the bells that still can ring
      Forget your perfect offering
      There is a crack, a crack in everything
      That’s how the light gets in
      — Leonard Cohen, Anthem

      For all the madness and imperfection in the world, this is our time in it. We may still let the light in and find our way again. This theme has snuck into my awareness a few times in the last few days, in social media posts, in video clips from commencement speeches, and engraved on a bench overlooking Rockland harbor in Maine. It seems everyone is reaching for something, and whispering to those who follow how to find their way. When we open ourselves to the universe, it will tell us all we need to hear.

      We know the world is imperfect just as we know that we too are imperfect. We ought to stop counting our flaws and focus on the things we’re doing right. Work on the good things, let the rest fall away like bad relationships. And aren’t the imperfections we focus on nothing but a bad relationship that we can’t break away from? Let it go already. Start again with the clean slate of a fresh outlook.

      Imperfections are beliefs about the things we don’t have in our lives. None of us are born whole, we each have something within us that is imperfect. My own list is uncomfortably long—but so what? Focusing on what we don’t have in our lives is the surest path to misery. Discomfort is good when we apply it to changes we can influence, but undermines us when applied to focusing on who we’ll never be. That person doesn’t exist and probably shouldn’t—they’re just a character in the story we tell ourselves about our place in this world.

      “When you cut water, the water doesn’t get hurt; when you cut something solid, it breaks. You’ve got solid attitudes inside you; you’ve got solid illusions inside you; that’s what bumps against nature, that’s where you get hurt, that’s where the pain comes from.” — Anthony de Mello, Awareness

      The trick, it seems, is to be more fluid in our perception of ourselves. Joyfulness is found in awareness and acceptance. Being aware of our imperfections and the gaps between who we are and who we wish to be is healthy and may lead to positive change. So is accepting that sometimes the gap is just there to show us who we aren’t meant to be. Ring the bells that still can ring.

    • Ideas, Dogma and Individuality

      “All leadership takes place through the communication of ideas to the minds of others.” — Charles Cooley

      “Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.” ― Steve Jobs

      If there’s one thing that will define this time in our collective history, it’s the division of people into one camp or another. It’s all dogma and posturing, with little basis in actual reality. Stories are powerful, and “people like us” is compelling precisely because we don’t want to be perceived as “people like them”. It’s all just stories, amplified and accelerated by technology perhaps, but still just stories. We believe what we believe, and choose to follow those who make us feel like we belong to something bigger than ourselves. Sometimes the results are extraordinary, and sometimes they’re a tragic stain on human history.

      The key for you and me is to know that we’re always being sold on a story, and to separate ourselves from the passion of the moment to find the truth within ourselves. That’s easier said than done, especially when the people we surround ourselves with start singing the same song as the lead singer. Who doesn’t love a good singalong? It’s only when we sober up that we realize how foolish the whole thing was. That’s what the passion of the crowd will do, and it’s challenging to remove ourselves from that mosh pit once we’ve been swept into it.

      There’s no doubt that individuals get swept up in the events of their time. Sometimes self-determination isn’t in the cards. But sometimes it is. Logic and reasoning may not be as fun as chanting and clapping and doing tomahawk chops seems to be, but it removes us just enough from the zealotry of the moment to think more clearly about who we want to be. This applies equally to any group-think activity: political, religious, regional, familial and cultural. When we become part of the tribe we may identify with certain beliefs and behaviors as normal and acceptable, while we quickly judge or dismiss rival beliefs and behaviors as naive at best or abhorrent in more extreme circumstances. Wars have been carried out for less.

      The story we tell ourselves about who we are defines us and our place both in the group we find ourselves in and in history. Decide what to be and go be it, but know the risks from making the choice of the individual: ostracized, berated and occasionally burned at the stake. That’s exactly why most people simply go with the flow. But we ought to remember that there’s a price for every decision.

      The thing is, individualism aside, we all want to be part of something larger than ourselves. Being a contributor to a meaningful organization or cause feeds our purpose for being here in the first place. When we separate ourselves from dogma and popular opinion and find that we align with the mission we’re joining, extraordinary things may happen. There’s power in teamwork and shared objectives, after all. We just need to be in it for all the right reasons.

    • A Sequence of Everything Wanted

      “Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.” ― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

      Slow down you’re doing fine
      You can’t be everything you want to be before your time
      — Billy Joel, Vienna

      In a dizzying turn of events, last night capped a sequence of things wanted for some time delightfully happening one after the other, from Rome to Athens to Sicily to Florence to… New Hampshire. Life is sometimes simply great timing, realized. To visit the Colosseum and the Sistine Chapel and the Acropolis and Mount Etna, to see Michelangelo’s La Pietà and David to bookend an epic trip and then return home to find the elusive Aurora Borealis dancing in my own backyard hours later is a sequence I’ll be processing for some time, thank you. This isn’t meant to be a brag about how lucky the last couple of weeks have been, rather a realization that patiently working towards something combined with a bit of good luck goes a long way in a lifetime. Amor fati.

      The thing is, I wear my impatience on my sleeve (and blog about it more often than I ought to). Some of us simply want to get right to everything as quickly as possible, knowing that time flies and we aren’t getting any younger. Sure, tempus fugit, but slow down—you’re doing fine… Vienna waits for you. Simply plot the steps, do the work, follow through and hope fortune smiles on you.

      Hope is a tricky word, and that’s where impatience comes in. Perhaps the better word is trust. We must trust the process when we build our systems. Work, marriage, fitness level, artistic contribution, social interactions, and yes, bucket list items are all lifestyle choices built on faith that doing this will lead to that. When it doesn’t arrive promptly we restless types get a bit impatient, so a reminder of all that’s come to pass helps now and then. Gratitude goes a long way.

      Life lessons are all around us, if we simply stop rushing about so much and focus on the journey. The biggest lesson is that the journey continues, and each milestone is simply a marker for where we’ve been and what we’ve seen and who we were at the time. What’s next matters too, doesn’t it? Our past is our foundation for the growth to come. We shall get there some day. For haven’t we thus far?

      Aurora Borealis, New Hampshire 10 May 2024
      Aurora Borealis, New Hampshire 10 May 2024
      Aurora Borealis, New Hampshire 10 May 2024
      Michelangelo’s La Madonna della Pietà
      Michelangelo’s David

    • The Traveler Resets

      We shouldn’t simply travel to places to keep up with the Joneses or to gather likes on our Instagram feed, but to reach a more informed and enlightened place, from which we may cross the chasm into the next unknown. It’s readily apparent in going to the bucket list places that there are plenty of tourists already. We must be the traveler instead.

      The traveler is the ambassador, the diplomat, the pilgrim, the student. The traveler is forever curious and wondering what’s around the next corner. It’s in learning the proper inflection to “thank you” in a language that isn’t yours but is most definitely theirs. To travel is to learn to see what we might not have imagined. It’s rare to be surprised by anything in this fully-connected world, but life is more than an Instagram photo or Google street view. The traveler uses all senses and tries to see around the corner from those famous pictures everyone else is taking. I was as impressed with the strikingly sad face of a gypsy beggar working the line to see David as I was with Michelangelo’s masterpiece itself. Both were masterful; the expectations of the encounter set the lasting impression. We know mastery when we see it.

      The challenge with taking a trip full of bucket list experiences is figuring out what to do with ourself when we return. Sure, the laundry and a good sleep in one’s own bed are quite necessary. A general assessment of the home and garden situation upon return reassures. Those work emails must mean something quite essential too (or what are we there for?) if only to see who ignored the out of office message. This is all the reset in action.

      We know we’ve had a great holiday when we face a large reset: time zones, empty refrigerator, thirsty plants and remembering passwords we thought we’d memorized (do get the app for those). When we travel enough we learn to master the reset. It’s not our first rodeo, it’s just the next bend in the road to some higher plain. I’ve experienced far more than I can summarize in a few paragraphs. Silence may be the best measure of an experience.

      Ah, but what of the blog? It’s shockingly obvious that the content the last two weeks has been a bit rushed, a bit unedited, and published at odd times of the day for those used to a certain routine. Travel writing is fun. The trick is to carve out the time to write as you’re maximizing your days. But done well, isn’t that how it’s supposed to be anyway? We aren’t here solely to document our experiences in the world, but to fully live in the time we have, wherever that may be. The best writing isn’t done on the trip itself, it’s after we’ve reflected on all that we’ve experienced in our time. In the end, it’s perspective on the entire journey that resonates.

    • The Slopes of Vesuvious

      “For believe me! — the secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is: to live dangerously! Build your cities on the slopes of Vesuvius! Send your ships into uncharted seas! Live at war with your peers and yourselves! Be robbers and conquerors as long as you cannot be rulers and possessors, you seekers of knowledge! Soon the age will be past when you could be content to live hidden in forests like shy deer! At long last the search for knowledge will reach out for its due: — it will want to rule and possess, and you with it!” — Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science: With a Prelude in Rhymes and an Appendix of Songs

      Living dangerously isn’t so much about reckless acts of defiance against Darwinism. To live dangerously is to risk who we once were for who we might become. Once you’ve experienced the world you can’t put the genie back in the bottle, we expand into something more. Travel opens the mind to new possibilities, just as reading Nietzsche does.

      Visiting places for the first time that you’ve heard about all of your life is an education. The problem with those places is everyone else is joining you there to complete something in themselves too. I’d like to think that we all visit a place with the same objectives, but you know some just want to check a box while the enlightened few try to bring context and meaning to the visit. But let’s face it, we’re all a combination of both, it’s simply the ratio that separates the Instagram model from the student of history.

      The thing is, one person’s fruitfulness is another’s waste of time. We’re all on our own path through this lifetime. The trick is to get more comfortable with risk, for the fruit is often out on a limb awaiting the courageous.

      Pompeii with Mount Vesuvius looming large

    • Sensory Miracles

      “Slow down and taste and smell and hear, and let your senses come alive. If you want a royal road to mysticism, sit down quietly and listen to all the sounds around you. You do not focus on any one sound; you try to hear them all. Oh, you’ll see the miracles that happen to you when your senses come unclogged.” — Anthony de Mello, Awareness

      I had the opportunity to walk around Mykonos as a guide for a blind man. His wife was eager to shop with mine, so we set them free to go be. We went for a nice walk through the miracles of sensory experience that are the streets of Mykonos. Doing this on my own surely would have been joyful (if you can’t find joy in Mykonos you are truly lost), but my joy was amplified by awareness of things I take for granted—things like variations in terrain, people walking towards me, and the many curbs, shelves and flowering vines protruding from buildings that make Mykonos such a beautiful place to wander about.

      The first thing you notice as a guide is pace. Everything slows down as you guide another person with their hand on your shoulder and your focus expands beyond yourself to what is coming up that may trip them up or bump at them from above. Once pace is established, next comes heightened awareness, that you may describe all that surrounds you both in ways that are hopefully interesting to your blind counterpart. Flowering vines, the grout between paving stones underfoot, the white painted stucco and narrow streets providing naturally cool places to move about, and the miniature cars and trucks navigating those tight streets, often prompting a retreat to doorways and up steps.

      The thing is, I will always remember Mykonos differently for having guided him through its streets in this way for a couple of hours. Having been the one seeing a place both for the first time and in this way for the first time, I can’t help but have a stronger affinity for Mykonos through that experience than if I’d simply wandered about on my own. Perhaps my senses finally unclogged as I was taught to see for the first time. We should all be blessed with such an opportunity.

    • Greek Character

      “Character is a Greek word, but it did not mean to the Greeks what it means to us. To them it stood first for the mark stamped upon the coin, and then for the impress of this or that quality upon a man, as Euripides speaks of the stamp—character—of valor upon Hercules, man the coin, valor the mark imprinted on him. To us a man’s character is that which is peculiarly his own; it distinguishes each one from the rest. To the Greeks it was a man’s share in qualities all men partake of; it united each one to the rest. We are interested in people’s special characteristics, the things in this or that person which are different from the general. The Greeks, on the contrary, thought what was important in a man were precisely the qualities he shared with all mankind. The distinction is a vital one. Our way is to consider each separate thing alone by itself; the Greeks always saw things as parts of a whole, and this habit of mind is stamped upon everything they did.” — Edith Hamilton, The Greek Way

      Greece is a place of rugged beauty, to be sure, but also of rugged character shaped by a sense of timelessness that we simply don’t have in my own country. To walk around a structure built in 444 B.C. is to taste eternity. We are humans of course, and eternity isn’t ours to embrace just yet. But we may reach for the eternal in the form of development of our character.

      Poseidon was one of the Olympians for the Greeks, presiding over such volatile things as the weather. For a Greek sailing off to fish or fight, Poseidon was a big deal, and someone to cater favor with. He also influenced the temperament of horses, and was known as the “earth shaker” for his power to control earthquakes. So building a temple devoted to Poseidon made a lot of sense, and where better for it than on a prominent cliff overlooking the Aegean Sea on Cape Sounion?

      It’s one thing to read history, quite another to stand on the edge of a cliff between the Aegean Sea and a temple erected 2500 years ago as a tribute to the god who controlled both that sea and the ground we stood on. Best to embrace the spirit of the ancients in such moments, rather than incurring the wrath of Poseidon. And that’s the thing about Greece: you feel that you’re trying to measure up instead of trying to stand out. It’s a subtle difference, but it matters a great deal. It’s not that we aren’t special (our mother’s would insist that we are), it’s that we may be integral to something far beyond our time and place. That’s the Greek character.

      The Temple of Poseidon, 444 BC