Alexandersmap

    Category: Learning

    • A Sense of Progress

      “One thing we have lost, that we had in the past, is a sense of progress.” — Daniel Kahneman

      “My interest is in the future because I am going to spend the rest of my life there” — Charles Kettering

      This writer’s near-constant focus on improvement is simply a reminder to keep going towards the things that we can control. Sure; momento mori, but before that, we ought to have something to look forward to. A sense of progress is essential to our well-being. We’re all heading towards something, and we’d like to think it’s something better than everything that surrounds us now. Better health. Better relationships with others. Better options for how we spend a random Friday night. Focusing on one thing we may improve upon leads us to better in that thing. Expand that improvement to a few things, and maybe we can feel some positive momentum developing.

      The world may feel like a hot mess right now, and really, there are compelling reasons to feel that way. We cannot control most of what is happening, but we should raise our voice when we can influence the trajectory. How we treat others, and how we treat ourselves, matters more than we realize in any given moment. Ripples project from the center, but they also interact with other ripples. So we must always strive for that evasive personal excellence (arete), knowing that it’s not something that stays bottled up in our core, but is something that projects outward towards others, raising the standard for each of us.

      The thing is, we tend to become what we focus on. When we focus on the steady decline of society, we become fearful and mistrustful, which perpetuates, well, the decline of society. When we focus on developing new skills and our overall fitness, we realize incremental improvements that lead us to a higher level of performance. This in turn may transform our belief in the state of things from pessimistic to optimistic. Applying that positive force on building bridges and lighting beacons of hope may just transform others along the way.

      One twist in our belief for the future may just spritz a little joy into an otherwise methodically-dismal life designed by the doom cycle trolls. Indeed, we’re collectively heading towards the very thing we focus on the most. We ought to set the compass accordingly. Make some progress today—towards something better. It makes a world of difference.

    • Drive

      So if I decide to waiver my
      Chance to be one of the hive
      Will I choose water over wine
      And hold my own and drive?
      Oh
      It’s driven me before
      And it seems to be the way, that everyone else gets around
      But lately I’m
      Beginning to find that when I drive myself, my light is found
      Whatever tomorrow brings I’ll be there
      With open arms and open eyes, yeah
      Whatever tomorrow brings I’ll be there
      I’ll be there
      — Incubus, Drive

      When we finally step away from the endless loop of habit, when we break free of that relentless and pervasive collective belief about who we are and what we ought to be doing with our lives, we may be surprised at the character who emerges. There’s much more to us than the stories we’ve told ourselves. Identity is honed one choice at a time.

      Since completing a summer of transformative action, I gave myself a break. Easing off the twice a day workouts, having some carbs with that protein (or skipping the protein for carbs), and perhaps the most transformative thing of all, indulging in a few drinks to mark the occasion(s). A few days of that will inform pretty quickly. We can easily slide back into who we once were, or we can decide that there’s no going back and reset our days accordingly. It’s like moving back home after college—we’re different people than we were before, and those old rules don’t apply quite the same way.

      Choosing water over wine more often than the other way around profoundly impacts wellness. This is not much of a secret, but it isn’t something we like to think about when we’re deep in the cycle of having a glass of wine with dinner, and another to cap off the evening. I’ve found that my sleep score is greatly improved when I don’t drink. Deep, restorative rest is more important than ever for me. Is our sleep pattern the foundation of wellness? Ask someone who doesn’t sleep well. How’s your sleep? What ought to change to improve it?

      My answer to making significant changes in my life is to choose big goals but the smallest possible increments with which to move the chains. I have a big round number birthday coming up in the spring, and there are a few things I’d like to be when I get there. Healthy and fit, for starters. But also more informed than I am now by continuing on a path of learning that is accretive. And of course, this writing path has a natural milestone that must be crossed eventually.

      Each of us has a vision of who we’d like to be at some point in our lives. We forget that time is flying along (tempus fugit) and we’re quickly running out of runway to take off. Applying a bit of lift each day is the only way to ever get off the ground. Sure, light is where we find it—gratitude and awareness of who we are today is as essential to our wellness as sleep, diet or exercise, but rising to an ever-higher level of illumination optimizes who we will be when we get there. Growth is by its very nature expansive, even as it remains deeply rooted in identity.

      Whatever tomorrow brings, surely we hope to be there. Just who do we want to be when we arrive? There’s no time to waste now, friend. Drive.

    • A Dream of September

      “One of the most powerful wellsprings of creative energy, outstanding accomplishment, and self-fulfillment seems to be falling in love with something—your dreams, your image of the future.” — Ellis Paul Torrance

      If August infers grandeur and majesty, September—Sept—is related both to the clan (Scottish) or simply seven (French). The Highland Games return to New Hampshire, uniting the clans once again, and this was once the seventh month until some knucklehead added two months to the beginning instead of the end of the calendar, forever screwing up the logical order. Isn’t it funny how so many buy into a flawed story? We humans are completely illogical. But I digress…

      When you live in New England, September infers the beginning of magic. This is the high holy season of change and enlightenment. It’s a time of harvest, cooler days and the formal return to learning. We ought to listen to the rhythm of the season and embrace the transformation we wish to embark upon.

      We can literally feel it in the air—these thirty days of September are neatly packaged for life change. We must listen to what whispers. So what stirs within? Our creative energy demands a departure from what was towards what will be. And what a thrill to be a part of it!

      My enthusiasm may seem over the top, but isn’t this the place from which transformative action is born? Dreams aren’t meant to be dull and plodding, but crisp and bursting with flavor, like an apple awaiting plucking with a twist of the wrist. September is upon us, so what shall we harvest in our season? Dream big and get to work. This dream of September moves so quickly.

    • The Master

      The reaper’s story is the story
      of endless work of
      work careful and heavy but the
      reaper cannot
      separate them out there they
      are in the story of his life
      bright random useless
      year after year
      taken with the serious tons
      weeds without value humorous
      beautiful weeds.
      — Mary Oliver, Morning Glories

      The garden begins to fade, and really, who has the time to manage it all, what with so much going on these last few weeks of summer? Life washes over us, and we look up and the crab grass and clover and bittersweet have all gained a foothold once again. And the irritatingly cheerful morning glories, relentless in their persistence, rise seemingly out of nowhere to mock the overwhelmed gardener. We all suffer the same fate: Thinking we’re in control and finding out we were merely apprentices. The master was always time.

      I write every morning, that’s my moment of glory. The payoff isn’t in views or likes or shares, it’s in doing what I promised myself I’d do day-after-day. I forget sometimes that people do read this blog, because I don’t want to think about people reading it while I’m writing it. That kind of thinking makes a mess of us. Flow happens when we forget what happens when we eventually click publish.

      I write that knowing this all could have been anonymous, but ego had its way, and now the secret is out. Ego is its own master, if we let it be. But things like gardening and writing make a mockery of ego eventually. We learn we’re not all that important in the big scheme of things. We just do what we can with the time we have. That in itself is glorious.

    • The Art of Bridge-Building

      I am dead because I lack desire,
      I lack desire because I think I possess.
      I think I possess because I do not try to give.
      In trying to give, you see that you have nothing;
      Seeing that you have nothing, you try to give of yourself;
      Trying to give of yourself, you see that you are nothing:
      Seeing that you are nothing, you desire to become;
      In desiring to become, you begin to live.
      ― René Daumal, Last Letter To His Wife

      We learn to see gaps as we grow. Gaps in our understanding. Gaps in our skillset. Gaps in wealth or education or social standing. Gaps in our disposition. Gaps are forever telling us where our current story ends. And having seen a gap, we either turn away from the edge or begin to build a bridge across it. Either choice leads us somewhere. But far too many of us simply focus on the gap and live their life going in circles. What might be is always on the other side of a gap, while what is remains familiar but fragile ground.

      Some of us spend a lifetime learning the art of bridge-building. We begin as apprentices, closing small gaps in school or sports or with tasks our elders assign to us. If we’re lucky, we align ourselves with those who guide us gently towards ever-larger gaps. If we’re not lucky, we choose a person wearing a t-shirt that says “If you’re not the lead dog the view never changes”. It takes time to move away from a person like that, even when the view was never all that good following them.

      When we learn to see, when we become aware of all that there is on the other side of gaps, we are provoked to become better bridge-builders. Decide what to be and go be it. It’s always on the other side of a gap, awaiting our applied effort. So it is that we must do great things today, or remain on the wrong side of the gap. The choice was always ours to make. There’s no time to waste! Build the damned bridge.

    • Things We’ll Remember

      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

      Life seems far bigger and more monumental in some phases than in others. This applies equally to joyous moments and to the occasionally devastating. We might move through months without much of note happening save the change of the seasons, and then everything seems to happen at once. Things we’ll remember for the rest of our lives happen in clusters, and then suddenly everything grows quiet again for a short time. Life is full of ebbs and flows, and sometimes the wind blows just enough to compress everything into a mad jumble. We ought to remember in such moments that we don’t get rainbows without a little rain.

      Awareness is seeing the signs all around us and embracing life as it comes to us. This may be a joyful exercise or cynical, but our experience is usually a direct reflection of what we are projecting to the universe. We all know people who light up a room when they walk into it, and people who similarly bring a room down. Which do we want to be?

    • True Before You

      I want to unfold.
      Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent;
      for there I would be dishonest, untrue.
      I want my conscience to be
      true before you;
      want to describe myself like a picture I observed
      for a long time, one close up,
      like a new word I learned and embraced,
      like the everday jug,
      like my mother’s face,
      like a ship that carried me along
      through the deadliest storm.
      — Rainer Maria Rilke, I Am Much Too Alone in This World, Yet Not Alone

      One need not be religious to reach for the divine. We may aspire for a level of consciousness and growth that prods us along on our journey through life, reaching ever-higher towards something more than this. Arete, or personal excellence, is a human aspiration for the divine, for which we know we’ll fall short. But reaching for it is the thing.

      We have this one shot at things. We’re told that if we do it right once is enough. It’s the doing it right part that’s the trick. What’s right for you may not be right for me. Life is a deadly storm with no survivors. To know this and still set the sails for a journey of a lifetime is audacious and liberating. Decide what to be and go be it.

      Truth is discovered through awareness and a ritual of keeping the blinders off. It’s cleaning the hazy film off the mirror and having a closer look. Truth is something that unfolds before us. We write it down, think it through, move towards something more visceral. Repeat. That’s where this writer has lingered lately (as if you had to be told). With every blank screen, with every word pondered and debated (Is this too much truth?) Just where are we taking this? How close to the truth do we dare to go anyway?

      If that sounds too serious and self-absorbed, well, believe me, I think so too. Blogging is simply the laying of breadcrumbs along this path of discovery. We’re on our way to find out. Have a laugh at the imperfections even as we strive for some measure of improvement. We’re all doing the best we can given the spoiler of how it all ends. That, friends, is the truth.

    • Be a Part

      Look around you, look up here
      Take time to make time, make time to be there
      Look around, be a part
      Feel for the winter, but don’t have a cold heart
      — Little River Band, Lady

      After a summer of vigorous discipline, immediately followed by a week of frenzied activity leading up to a major family event, bookended by even more significant events, I can feel that it’s just about time to look around and figure out where to set the compass next. Our cadence of living changes as we say yes to so many things. This is the price of a full, expansive life. We may welcome all that it brings while still recognizing the need to take a breather now and then.

      Living in the moment demands a level of awareness and participation higher than the average. We are here and present, and also in the act of being fully alive. Really, it can be quite exhausting. And fighting the desire to simply veg out for awhile is ever more challenging. We must take time to be there, but also to not be there now and then. Awareness includes knowing when to say enough is enough. Maybe the answer is, enough of those things, let’s try these other things instead. We know when we get there what is right for us right now.

      The U.S. Army had a slogan used to recruit more ambitious candidates: Be all you can be. I think it’s appropriate to adopt this slogan for our own standard of living, even for those of us who opt for the civilian life instead. Being is participatory. We have a shelf life for personal excellence (arete) and the clock is ticking. Breathe in, breathe out, and move on to the next great adventure. We have the opportunity to be a part of it. Seize it.

    • The Moments Between

      “The moments between your milestones are not filler.” — Nelou Keramati

      We know a milestone moment when we’re in it. It’s often marked on the calendar months or years ahead of time, carefully planned for and anticipated with excitement. Bucket list trips, weddings, reunions and graduations are milestone moments, and tend to dominate our thoughts for the time leading up to them and in our memories well after. And naturally, they deserve our full attention.

      But let’s not forget the moments between, the days when simply being alive within our routine existence occurs. This is the stuff of life—these days of work and hobbies and tedious chores practiced daily. Practicing awareness and intent in these moments too are our building blocks for a greater standard.

      Living an excellent life demands our best effort even on our average days if we are to raise our average. Leaning in to the daily activities that stimulate growth and development, stir and inspire, and demand more of us brings us closer to that more fulfilling life we aspire to. Each day is filled with something, why would we settle for less than is possible?

    • Pacing our Quest

      You must turn back to the simple things, just as your dream says, to the forest.
      There is the star. You must go in quest of yourself, and you will find yourself again only in the simple and forgotten things.
      Why not go into the forest for a time, literally?
      Sometimes a tree tells you more than can be read in books.
      — Carl Jung

      Up earlier than normal, I read a book of poetry by a well-known author. One singular poem within it, read in a moment of searching, prompted me to buy it. Reading it again, I can’t for the life of me see it the same way. Everything has its time—we are the ones rushing through life.

      Lately, I’ve found myself licking my finger to turn the page well before I reach the end of the one I’m on in my haste to move forward in my reading. It’s a habit born of heavy non-fiction reading, and forcing myself forward to just get through some paragraphs I’d otherwise be lost in trying to understand. That may be okay for textbooks, but surely not appropriate for poetry.

      There’s a lesson here: we must know where we are in our lives and adjust our pace accordingly. Our pace of life isn’t meant to always be frenetic. We can make a case that it should never be. One day perhaps I will return to that book receptive to what that poet had to say. In the meantime, it rests on a shelf with all the others. Books are far more patient than people are.

      Pace is the thing. The right pace will lead us to awareness, holding our hand even as we try to pull away at every new thing crying for our attention. We must learn to slow down and see what we’ve been rushing past. Just as a poem isn’t meant to be quickly scanned on our way to the next, our hours are only ours when we pause this mad dash through our days and set a more gentle pace.

      What are we really trying to find anyway? Meaning? Knowledge? Satisfaction? These aren’t scooped up like power-ups in a video game. It isn’t found on the next page, or the next chapter of our lives, it’s found here and now, waiting for us to slow down enough to notice. We must pace our quest accordingly, if we ever hope to find what we thought was somewhere else.