Alexandersmap

    Category: Learning

    • The Freedom of Inaction

      “Nature knows no pause in progress and development, and attaches her curse on all inaction.” — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

      “The human race is a monotonous affair. Most people spend the greatest part of their time working in order to live, and what little freedom remains so fills them with fear that they seek out any and every means to be rid of it.” — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

      The 28th of August is Goethe’s birthday, so I thought it fitting to reflect on two quotes that, on the face of it, seem to contradict each other. Quotes have a way of expressing what you want them to, without the depth and nuance of the longer work they’re drawn from. We live in a soundbites culture, after all, and the lede is all some people want to read. We know Goethe went far deeper, and owe it to ourselves to jump into the deep end ourselves, don’t we?

      On the one hand, we know it to be true that momentum is sustained by continuous action (Stephen Covey would have said pushing the flywheel), yet on the other know that rest is as essential to our long term wellbeing as action is(Covey’s sharpening the saw). They don’t contradict, they aggregate. As with everything else in life, balance is the key.

      As I close out the final miles of a walking challenge I made for myself this summer, I see the cumulative benefit of it in better fitness even as I feel the soreness from some long walks to close out the goal. We know when we ought to rest more, and ignore it at our peril. This is true in everything. Taking some time off from work last week, I anticipated long walks balanced by long stints on the beach diving into the stack of books I’d been collecting for the occasion. That beach time largely evaporated as I conceded time to projects that simply had to get done. The feeling of watching the week slip away with most of that stack of books unread was akin to feeling like you missed your flight as it departed the gate.

      The thing is, there’s freedom in inaction. Deliberate down time without distraction forces us to sort things out in both body and spirit, and clear the way for the next phase of action to follow. That compulsion to do more instead of embracing essential rest eventually catches up to us. I return from time off feeling there was unfinished business, unlike a few weeks ago when sailing, where plugging in or doing projects simply weren’t options. So it seems the key for relaxation is to eliminate any means to rid ourselves of the freedom of inaction. This shouldn’t be physically removing ourselves from task mania, but instead mentally doing so. Just say no to the task master inside.

      Happy Birthday Johann. I’ll try to relax a bit today in your honor. But there’s work to do before that. You know: no pause in progress and development, and all that.

    • To Live an Interesting Life

      Walking a young puppy informs. She grows timid as she gets further and further from what is familiar to her. Furtive glances back and a look up at at me coaxing her along are the routine for those first steps. But then something interesting happens: she becomes more excited about what is unfolding in front of her and pulls at the leash instead of being pulled. It’s all I can do to keep pace.

      To live an interesting life means to skate that line between comfort and discomfort, but also to stretch that line and venture beyond. As we stretch ourselves we don’t just grow, we become: interested, engaged, more substantial in our perspective and thus interesting to others. To be interesting requires we grow as people, experiencing all that life throws at us and finding a way through it all.

      To live an interesting life, we ought to find and embrace the joyful moments along the way, savoring the best life offers while honoring our commitment to ourselves to take on challenges as they’re presented to us, to embrace the suck, as it were, when necessary, and to see things through until the end. There’s a natural balance we find in an interesting life, as we find our stride. What is stride but finding rhythm or cadence? It’s a feeling of confidence that develops through both joy and adversity.

      I wonder sometimes, is a blog a narcissistic endeavor or documenting our way through life? It’s whatever we put into it, isn’t it? If someone at a cocktail party is going on and on about themselves, how soon before you call an audible and bow out of the conversation? On the other hand, when that person is interested and engaged in conversation with you, aren’t you more likely to find them interested as a result? I feel this applies equally well to writing as it does to conversations. Perhaps you agree?

      We cannot live an interesting life without first being interested in life. When we are, we find the courage to step beyond our comfort zone and try new things. Pretty soon it’s us pulling others along to new adventures. We don’t get to choose what happens to us in life, but we can choose how we react. Be interested. The journey unfolds from there.

    • The Shift From Intelligence to Wisdom

      “When you are young, you have raw smarts; when you are old, you have wisdom. When you are young, you can generate lots of facts; when you are old, you know what they mean and how to use them…. if you can repurpose your professional life to rely more on crystallized intelligence—your peak will come later but your decline will happen much, much later, if ever.” — Arthur C. Brooks, From Strength to Strength

      Raymond Cattell theorized that we have two kinds of intelligence: fluid intelligence, which includes problem solving, reasoning and logic, and crystallized intelligence, which is the wisdom to draw upon our accumulated knowledge and derive what to make if it all. If fluid intelligence is exhibited by start-up hustle and eager undergraduate students devouring information, crystallized intelligence is more the consultant swooping in to help a business define their why, or a professor guiding those undergrads towards enlightenment.

      In my career, I’ve been the eager hustler trying to do as much as I could in the world, and I’ve become the person trying to make sense of it all. It’s probably no coincidence that I began this blog when I reached some measure of crystallized intelligence. Surely it would be nothing but fish and chips reviews (ie: discovery) were I still in that fluid intelligence stage. Ten years ago I was still taking exams to add certification credentials to my resume. I wouldn’t dream of playing that game today. Does that make me an old dog unwilling to learn new tricks, or someone who realizes my best game isn’t about that particular trick?

      The thing is, we can still be eager students of life at any age. We can seek wisdom when we’re young and solve problems when we grow old, but it helps greatly to optimize our lives around our strengths in the phase of life we find ourselves in. To be useful and productive means something different at 25, 50 and 75. we ought to dance with our strengths and mitigate the impact of the absence of those strengths we haven’t arrived at yet, or have faded as we change.

      Brooks’ premise is that achievers often fight the natural decline in fluid intelligence instead of embracing the accumulated wisdom and potential of crystallized intelligence. This leads to frustration at best and bitterness at seeing the world pass us by at worst. The answer seems to be finding a groove that matches the music playing on our particular playlist, and dance with that. The tune changes as we change, but it’s music just the same.

    • Free to Find

      ‘When someone is searching, then it can easily happen that the only thing his eyes see is that for which he is searching. He is then unable to find anything or let any thought enter his mind because he always thinks of nothing but the object of his search. He is obsessed by a goal; searching means having a goal. But finding means: being free, open, and having no goal.” — Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

      It occurred to me at one point in my life that I’d read a lot of books, heard many a commencement speech, and listened to countless podcast interviews and Ted talks. These were all forms of seeking, but how much do we incorporate the information we digest into our routines? What have we really found? Is the search merely a distraction from doing the real work of building a life?

      We reach a point, if we’re lucky, when we stop searching at all, and simply become open to what comes into our lives. That doesn’t mean being rudderless, but accepting of the twists and turns that life throws along the path. The path remains, but as the purpose, not as a way to it.

      When you stop searching so much and immerse into the found, life becomes clearer. That doesn’t mean it becomes easier, for those twists and turns demand navigation, but you spend less time looking around for answers. The focus becomes this step on the path, and what’s been in front of you all along.

    • New Places

      “Like silence after noise, or cool, clear water on a hot, stuffy day, Emptiness cleans out the messy mind and charges up the batteries of spiritual energy. Many people are afraid of Emptiness, however, because it reminds them of Loneliness.” ― Benjamin Hoff, The Tao of Pooh

      I picked up a beautiful stone on a rocky beach the other day, as I often do in such places, to add it to a pot of stones I’ve got from around the world. I realized that most of the stones I’ve accumulated while doing this mean nothing more to me than curious novelties, yet I keep acquiring stones from places I’ve been just the same. It’s not logical, but it is my way of saving a piece of each beautiful place I’ve been. Better than a shot glass or a t-shirt, I suppose.

      Lately I’ve been working to reconcile the fact that I’ve been adding more than subtracting. This is a natural activity for many people in the western world: more stuff, more experiences, more accomplishments, more, more, more… We pick up stuff as casually as we load food on at the buffet table. And it’s not just stuff, it’s responsibilities and commitments, work load, home improvement projects, and on and on. We pile on all of these things as we accumulate experience and live our lives.

      When we fill our lives we leave little room for ourselves to emerge. We’re in there somewhere, under the pile of stuff we’ve heaped on our shoulders. A boat needs an anchor to hold it to solid ground, but if you add enough anchors the boat will sink. Do you ever get that sinking feeling? Let something go from your life and feel released.

      Recently I added a puppy to my life. This can be seen as another added responsibility and maybe one anchor too many. Then again, maybe it was the anchor I needed. What’s clear in getting acquainted with her is that other anchors may need to be tossed aside that this ship may stay afloat. And this is how we grow in new directions in different seasons of our lives. We encounter new and different things that carry us to new places.

    • Commitment vs. Obligation

      Commitment is seeing things through despite all the obstacles, stress and BS thrown our way. Commitment is being fully present in the moment even when being elsewhere seems so damned appealing in the moment. It’s an unsaid line in the sand that you’ll do what you tell yourself you’re going to do.

      Obligation isn’t commitment. It’s a feeling that you have to do something, either because you’re required to or honor-bound to get it done. We tend to take pride in our commitments and resent our obligations. That ought to tell us all we need to know about the differences between the two.

      When commitment butts up against an obligation it can cause stress and consternation. We desire to serve our commitments but sometimes obligations get in the way. The trick is to minimize obligations while focusing on our commitments. Easier said than done, but so it must be. Life is complex, no doubt, but the recipe for happiness is leaning into the commitments we wish to serve while separating ourselves whenever possible from the obligations.

    • Seeing the Way

      Only the perfect man can transcend the limits of the human and yet not withdraw from the world, live in accord with mankind and yet suffer no injury himself. Of the worlds teaching he learns nothing. He has that within which makes him independent of others.
      If the eye is unobstructed, the result is sight. If the ear is unobstructed, the result is hearing. If the nose is unobstructed, the result is smell. If the mouth is unobstructed, the result is taste. If the mind is unobstructed, the result is wisdom.       — Chuang Tzu

      In the quest for clarity, we must remove the distractions and occlusions that get in the way of truly seeing. Mostly, this is our monkey brain at work, but often the circle of influence around us plays their part too. It isn’t a stretch to think of examples of the times we’ve opted for anything but seeing (the phone currently cradled in your hand is a great tool for this). We all want clarity, but take great pains to avoid it. Such is life.

      Seeking wisdom in a world full of madness seems frivolous on the one hand but absolutely essential on the other. None of us get out of this alive, but we may transcend our current hyper-distracted mind with a bit of applied focus. Easier said than done: I mean, I just got a puppy. I’ve blown up part of my home with yet another remodeling project. I’ve got a brother with terminal cancer. Who has time such pursuits as wisdom when your world is upside-down?

      The thing is, life is always full of such urgent distractions. We have to pause a beat, even in the most maddening of times, and find clarity and purpose. Without it we’re simply winging it through life, and find ourselves looking around and wondering where the time went. We must fill our lives with the essential for our lives to be fulfilling. The things I listed as distracting from purpose are themselves essential for a full life. You likely have a similar list. The aim isn’t to remove these things, but to rise above them to see the forest for the trees, that we know where we’re going. To know, deeply, that this is the way for us.

    • Expanding the Fullness

      “Five decades ago, some very kind people in Japan slipped me the secret: you can dramatically extend life—not by multiplying the number of your years, but by expanding the fullness of your moments.” ― Shinzen Young, The Science of Enlightenment: How Meditation Works

      “Pay more attention to every moment, however mundane: to find novelty not by doing radically different things but by plunging more deeply into the life you already have.” — Shinzen Young

      I don’t meditate, not in the traditional sense anyway. Instead I remain present with whatever the world offers me. With a new puppy I’m very much in her moments as she learns her new environment and sorts out the complexity of living with two cats who aren’t yet pleased to share the limelight with a new being. Some things take time.

      The trick is in savoring our presence right here and now. We ought to immerse ourselves in whatever we’re doing, but we get caught up in the minutia of everyday living instead. We react instead of absorb, and in doing so, sometimes miss the nuance of the moment. But seeing how a new puppy navigates the garden changes how you look at it yourself. Zooming out a bit, you also see how the world reacts to the new puppy. Fellow humans gush, while felines feign annoyed indifference. House wrens chirp threateningly when the pup gets too close to their nest, betraying something else happening there that I wasn’t previously aware of. When we pay attention to the world it opens up for us in fascinating new ways.

      The other day I sat in the sun while my brother slept, exhausted from sleepless nights from the pain he finds himself in as he undergoes a third round of radiation. He’s got limited time now, and the quality of the time he does have is greatly diminished by the treatment plan he’s chosen. Despite the underlying tragedy of his situation, my own in that moment was rather pleasant, and I was struck by the contrast as the two of us occupied a small corner of the world in very different phases of our respective health spans. Contrast aside, or perhaps serving as an amplifier, I found myself very much in the moment.

      It isn’t lost on me, the end of life struggles of one person against the beginning of life awakening of a puppy. And me? Somewhere in between, living day-by-day and doing my best to savor the plunge.

    • Here We Are

      “Welcome Aboard, Mr. Pilgrim,” said the loudspeaker. “Any questions?”
      Billy licked his lips, thought a while, inquired at last: “Why me?”
      “That is a very Earthling question to ask, Mr. Pilgrim. Why you? Why us for that matter? Why anything? Because this moment simply is. Have you ever seen bugs trapped in amber?
      “Yes” Billy in fact, had a paperweight in his office which was a blob of polished amber with three ladybugs embedded in it.
      “Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim, trapped in the amber of this moment. There is no why.”
      — Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse Five

      Every book is different the second or third time you read it, and when you add a few decades of life experience to the lens they tend to transform into something entirely new. More accurately, we do, even as the book remains the same. Re-reading Slaughterhouse Five as an adult makes the changes in me readily apparent. Perspective is a beautiful thing indeed.

      Lately I’ve been saying time flies more than I can ever recall saying it. This whole life is a time warp of emotion and transformation and growth and the occasional sideways slide off the cliff. We do with these things what we will, for we each handle the changes we go through in our own way.

      Not everything will make sense, all we have is control over is how we react. Life is complicated in that way. No wonder they needed to write a serenity prayer. It speaks to the common challenge we each face of dealing with our moment in the amber:

      God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

      The thing is, all these changes move us along the path. Heck, change is the path. That which does not kill us makes us stronger, makes us better equipped to handle the next thing that comes our way, and the one after that. Resilience is a superpower honed through adversity. We ought to remember that some have it much worse than us, and sure, some have it better too. But we’re all going through something.

      So here we are, in the amber of this moment, trying to figure out that evasive why. Maybe Vonnegut had it right all along and there is no why at all. Does that mean we shouldn’t look for purpose? Or simply to stop trying so damned hard and live the best life in the amber that we can muster? We know how it ends, we ought to focus on how it plays out instead.

    • Facing the Storm

      There’s a metaphor that’s easy to find on the Internet if you Google it about the difference between cows and bison. When a storm is approaching, cows huddle together and run away from the storm. The problem with this is they end up running with the storm, thus prolonging their discomfort. A bison, on the other hand, runs into the storm, facing the discomfort of it head-on, and in doing so, the storm soon passes over them and shortens the duration of their discomfort. The lesson, of course, is to face the storm.

      One of the leaders of the company I work for told this story to a couple of us, and it fit his personality perfectly. When it comes to the tumultuous change needed to grow our company, not only is he facing it head-on and charging, he’s asking everyone around him to be a bison instead of a cow. In our moments of discomfort we must choose whether to face it or try to retreat from it.

      It’s likely most people don’t change because they don’t like the feeling of discomfort associated with beginning—of facing the storm. I’m currently walking around with an abundance of lactic acid and a reawakened creaky ankle, all from the combination of beginning to walk longer distances again and rowing much more than I had been. This state change has created discomfort that will eventually fade as my body adapts. We’ve all felt this, and we know where it leads if we stay on track. Most people retreat from discomfort instead of pushing through. Be the bison instead.

      It’s fair to ask ourselves just what it is that we’re charging into. Is this a storm we want to face? But we know deep down that change is coming either way. Pay me now or pay me later: this is true with everything we do in our lives, whether getting in shape, getting ahead in our career or managing our relationships. You can’t just hide from storms, you’ve got to face them head-on and get through them. To do otherwise is to prolong the discomfort. So get to it already.