Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • Viewing Hedonism Through a Stoic Lens

      I was making coffee with the AeroPress this morning. I’ve quickly grown to love this coffee press for its ease of use, quick cleanup and the great cup of coffee it produces. It got me thinking about this concept of hedonic adaptation I’d been reading about, where we quickly become accustomed to new things that once excited us. Every iPhone owner has experienced this the day a new iPhone was introduced. The trick is to not to allow stuff to dictate your mood. Easier said than done, but there’s value in trying. Will I eventually take the AeroPress for granted? Probably, but Stoicism offers a path.

      “Regularly reminding yourself that you might lose any of the things you currently enjoy–indeed, that you will definitely lose them all, in the end, when death catches up with you–would reverse the adaptation effect.” – Oliver Burkeman, The Antidote: Happiness for People Who Can’t Stand Positive Thinking

      There you go: Memento mori. Stoicism taps me on the shoulder once again telling me not to worry about all that stuff, you’ll lose it all in the end anyway. Your happiness can’t be dependent on the newest shiny toy you buy. None of that stuff matters. Does that mean I can’t enjoy that AeroPress? Not at all, just don’t depend on an object for happiness. That’s a fools game, and expensive to boot.

      According to Wikipedia, “The hedonic treadmill, also known as hedonic adaptation, is the observed tendency of humans to quickly return to a relatively stable level of happiness despite major positive or negative events or life changes. According to this theory, as a person makes more money, expectations and desires rise in tandem, which results in no permanent gain in happiness.”

      I’m watching Sunday football as I finish writing this, tolerating the endless stream of commercials promising me happiness if I buy this car or that, order pizza from that delivery place, or buy that latest iPhone with the cool-ass camera(s). All designed to trigger desire for what you don’t currently have. And all nonsense when you view it through a stoic lens.

    • Lost in an Autumn Playlist

      Autumn. Smell the pumpkin and ripe apples and decaying leaves and wood smoke. Late September through Thanksgiving in New England offer vibrancy with the fourth sense fully engaged in the game of being alive. I could live in many places in the world, but these crisp nine weeks are when I appreciate living in New Hampshire most.

      Autumn. Blue jeans and long sleeves, the heat radiating through a mug warming your hands, wiping dew off the chair before sitting down in the backyard writing chair. Blankets pressing you down into the mattress like you’re a panini. Socks. The days grow shorter and cooler, and the wardrobe changes with the tilt of the earth. We’ve been here before, and we grow reacquainted once again with fabric on our extremities. The dance with Autumn inevitably means literally feeling her on your skin.

      Autumn. Yellow and red waves sweep first over the highlands and wetlands, moving southward and finally capturing the strongest holdouts in between. Northern vistas so stunning you can’t help but stare, and apologize profusely for being so rude. I confess my productivity decreases when I travel to Vermont or northern New Hampshire. Like stained glass in a church, the leaves demand your attention.

      Autumn. Sweetness of apples and the omnipresent pumpkin spice. Last of the harvest turned to cider and preserves. Lighter summer fare giving way to richer dishes that warm you inside out. If you haven’t lost those few extra pounds by now you face an uphill battle as caloric intake holds the advantage. Baked goods take the place of salads, rum gives way to scotch, soups and stews and casseroles tempt and delight. The scale be damned.

      Autumn. The fading crickets song grows sadder while the crows caw grows bolder. Soon the red-winged blackbirds and other transients fill the trees with a cacophony of excited conversation. The hiss and pop of an outdoor fire. And always, a playlist of standards for Autumn. There’s a soundtrack for every season, and Autumn is when my playlists grow reflective.  In the spirit of the senses, I’ll limit myself to five standards that set the tone for Autumn in New Hampshire:

      Philosophers Stone by Van Morrison (King of Autumn music)

      The Long Day is Over by Nora Jones

      I Was Brought to My Senses by Sting

      You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me by Shelby Lynne (sorry Dusty)

      Deacon Blues by Steely Dan

    • Stargazing

      “But let’s not talk about fare-thee-wells now
      The night is a starry dome
      And they’re playin’ that scratchy rock and roll
      Beneath the Matala Moon” – Joni Mitchell, “Carey”

      These particular lyrics jump out at me every time I hear this song.  The spell of a starry dome night on a beach in Mexico with rock and roll music playing.  I’ve done my best to duplicate that portrait many times over the years, sometimes on a beach somewhere, sometimes just in the backyard around a fire pit, and sometimes on an island on a New Hampshire lake with loud music, fire and friends.  Stars over water, stars high on mountain tops, stars in the desert…  always stargazing in the darkest corners I can find.  Epic bonding time with my dog for years before he couldn’t go on our stargazing walks anymore…  and it seems I wouldn’t without him.

      The days grow shorter with the tilt of the earth away from the sun in the northern hemisphere.  Better suited for seeing that starry dome overhead.  A good reason to get back to nighttime walks, head tilted up for constellations, satellites, and the occasional shooting star.  There’s so much going on up there, and we sit in our houses unaware of the dance happening above the roof.

      “You know Orion always comes up sideways,
      Throwing a leg up over our fence of mountains,
      And rising on his hands, he looks in on me
      Busy outdoors by lantern-light with something
      I should have done by daylight, and indeed,
      After the ground is frozen, I should have done
      Before it froze, and a gust flings a handful
      Of waste leaves at my smoky lantern chimney
      To make fun of my way of doing things,
      Or else fun of Orion for having caught me . . .”

       – Robert Frost, “The Star Splitter”

      Orion returns to the dance soon.  I’ve missed this sky dancer most of all these summer months.  I smiled reading Frost’s description of Orion throwing a leg sideways over the mountains.  Were I that clever with a few choice words!  I’ll get there, or at least enjoy the process of trying to get there.  We can’t all be Robert Frost or Joni Mitchell spinning magic in words.  But they weren’t that once either.  Just get out there and do your dance under the stars.  They won’t judge you.

    • Funny that Way

      Few things get the eyes rolling faster on those who Know me best than me mentioning my indignation over ambient light and noise. Both topics play on my greatest hits collection of irritants for only me. Each is a consequence of proximity to… neighbors.

      Don’t get me wrong, I like my neighbors. Until they do things that normal people do that encroach on my world. Things like mowing the lawn, vacuuming, or the worst offense, leaving a light on. Nothing encroaches on an evening outside by the fire pit like a neighbor’s floodlight illuminating your backyard. Nothing illuminates that feeling of waking up with the world like a neighbor’s floodlight shining in your window shouting “Are you up yet??” But there I go again; greatest hits of irritants.

      Ultimately it comes down to living on the edge of solitude but not quite far enough into the deep end. My desire to see the stars runs head-on into their desire to feel safer on a quiet street at night. And so I grumble a bit to myself and a few trusted advisors and move on. I don’t really want to live on an island out in the middle of the ocean, but I do want to visit once in awhile.

      I spent the night on the Cape last night to visit my parents. I live on the edge of the woods in New Hampshire, this is the edge of Buzzards Bay. Both are blessings. Middle of the night I woke up to the rain pelting the roof and window panes. Got up to slide the windows closed and went back to sleep until the storms passed. Got up as the sky lightened to crows and crickets deep in conversation and the slap of waves on the jetty. Sitting down on the deck to take it all in a mosquito cozied up for a drink before meeting my right hand (her Maker, apparently). This kind of encroachment I can take. So why not a little ambient light? I’m funny that way.

    • A Day at the New Hampshire Highland Games

      This weekend the New Hampshire Highland Games take place at Loon Mountain in Lincoln. Want to feel like you’re in the Scottish Highlands in America? Go to Lincoln. The games seem to grow more popular every year, now a 3-day event peaking in popularity on Saturday. Saturdays bring a crush of people soaking up all that is Scottish culture, sampling whiskey, buying kilts and t-shirts, watching the games and the pipers, listening to lectures and traditional music, and of course eating; eating fish and chips, haggis, meat pies and the like.

      Advice for anyone going: Friday and Sunday are less crowded and less expensive. Purchase tickets in advance and bring cash. Both help you avoid long lines for those using plastic to enter. Almost everything is cash only, so come with plenty. The ATM line was as long as the beer line, and three machines were down to one for a time as they struggled to keep with demand. And by all means get there early! The lines to get on a shuttle bus were extremely long. From parking my car Saturday morning (when admittedly I got a late start) to when I finally entered the games was just north of an hour. As with the ATM’s, the shuttle buses struggled to keep up with the hordes of people. Get there as early as possible!

      The New Hampshire Highland Games are spectacular, and no surprise it grows in popularity every year. Blessed with good weather, I soaked as much as possible (lot happening this weekend and I only had the one day). Waiting in lines is a requirement, but simply staking a claim on the ski slope and watching the caber toss and stone press was easy enough, and wildly fun. The crowd roared when Steve Schmidt set a world record in the stone press, and was abuzz when the announcer pointed out a bear passing by further up the slope. The crowd was here for a good time and they found it. And so did I.

      In just over a month I’ll be visiting Scotland for a week. Thats not nearly enough time to see everything, but it just means I’ll have to go back. The Highland Games were a good primer for that trip, but they certainly stand on their own as a must-do event. I’m already planning for a return next year.

    • Frogs and Acorns and Autumn Joy

      I’m not going to sugarcoat it, the garden is fading fast.  Sure, there’s crisp fall air to appreciate if you must.  Autumn is my favorite season, and particularly this year I’m excited about an upcoming trip to London and Scotland.  But this year summer ended abruptly with two events changing the backyard paradise I worked all spring for.

      The first affront to summer was having the roof done.  A new roof is a lovely thing indeed, but the damage done to the summer garden was catastrophic.  Some of it was my own doing of course – strategic weed wacker work through the faded bee balm and daisies to carve a path for the inevitable tarps and plywood needed to catch the roof debris.  But alas, a few prized perennials caught errant shingles as well.  The garden will rebound next year, but it may hold a grudge.

      Second, the pool is covered over for winter weeks earlier than normal.  I can hear the condensation drips splashing into the pool now, saying “What happened to the sky?” while frogs circle the perimeter wondering where the trendy amphibious nightclub went.  I expect I’ve ruined a lot of frog dates closing shop so early.  Sorry frogs.  Not seeing the water hurts me too, but not as much as watching acorns ricochet off the deck, bounce across the patio and splash into the pool to serve as beach balls for coy frog daters.  Autumn is called fall for a reason, and we’ve got some serious fall happening.  Something had to give and this year it was pool season.

      So what we’re left with is a few survivors dancing in the garden, faded potted tropicals wondering where they went wrong in life, and the extraordinary Sedum ‘Autumn Joy’ standing proudly amongst the destruction in the garden; a miracle of color in an otherwise sad garden.  Even the roofers seemed to be rooting for it, and I appreciate their protective efforts as so many of her neighbors fell.

      So here we are.  Autumn in New Hampshire.  A bit different this year, but autumn nonetheless. September eases you into it, with apples and pumpkins and outdoor evening fires.  October will bring the foliage and then the leaves grudgingly join the acorns scattered throughout the yard (there’s no walking barefoot at night in September when you have oak trees).  Autumn joy indeed.

       

    • I Mourn for the Undiscovered

      Up early, reading some Robert Frost poetry I don’t remember reading before.  I’m mesmerized by a line and read on.  I get like this.

      Millions of songs on iTunes, and I’ve barely scratched the surface of what’s out there despite a lifetime focus on music.  I’ve spent huge chunks of my time exploring new music, Shazam’ing songs in loud bars and quiet coffee café and back in the day hanging out in used record stores in Harvard Square trying to find that one gem, that magical song.  And I’ve found many over the years.  Eclectic collection perhaps, but dammit, interesting.

      A bucket list of places to see, and slowly I chip away at it.  My list grows shorter, not because I don’t want to go to all the other places, but because I want to focus on the specific few.  Linger in special places, like listening to a song over and over until you really know it.  Instead of trying to chase everything in a spin of futility.  No, not that.  Give me Thoreau at Walden or Hemingway in Key West.  Or Frost in Derry.  I’ve visited each of these places and understand the power of immersion it had on them.

      I mourn for the undiscovered songs, poems, books and places.  The conversation you never had with a grandparent.  The sunrise you slept through, the lonely beach you didn’t stroll on in winter, the ridge line you didn’t cross, the Northern Lights that danced unseen, the big city that woke up without you, the swims in bracingly cold water and salt on the tongue that you’ll never taste; the places you’ll never be.

      We can’t be everywhere of course.  But I’ll do my best to be present in this moment at least.  Tomorrow will come and I hope to see it.  But don’t mourn for losing today if I should get there.

    • Move to Live

      “To be human is to be on the move, pursuing something, after something. We are like existential sharks: we have to move to live.” James K. A. Smith

      Early start today, and my routine was subsequently turned upside down. Writing and exercise were postponed for commuting and work tasks. And so be it, here I am writing, and the exercise will happen this evening instead. We all need a little agility to effectively navigate life’s twists and turns.  If I look back on this summer, I’ll say I regret not swimming more, not hiking more, not taking more late night star gazing walks….  but also not meeting with more customers, not writing more, not reading more.  I do something, but I could do more.

      It all counts. Do more. Keep moving forward or we atrophy and die. Existential sharks… moving to live.  Write the book, start the business, ask for the date, take on the project, take the chance today on something bolder than you might have done yesterday.  Fortune favors the bold, after all.

      “Make mistakes of ambition and not mistakes of sloth.” – Machiavelli

      James Clear highlighted this Machiavelli quote in his weekly newsletter and it hit me like jumping into a cold lake early in the morning (something I’ve been known to do):  Boom!  You’ve got my attention!  I’ve made many mistakes of sloth over the years – we all have, but use Machiavelli’s advice and choose your mistakes wisely.

      “Some say risk nothing, try only for the sure thing,
      Others say nothing gambled nothing gained,
      Go all out for your dream.
      Life can be lived either way, but for me,
      I’d rather try and fail, than never try at all, you see.

      Some say “Don’t ever fall in love,
      Play the game of life wide open,
      Burn your candle at both ends.”
      But I say “No! It’s better to have loved and lost,
      Than never to have loved at all, my friend.”

      When many moons have gone by,
      And you are alone with your dreams of yesteryear,
      All your memories will bring you cheer.
      You’ll be satisfied, succeed or fail, win or lose,
      Knowing the right path you did choose.”

      – William F. O’Brien, “Better To Try And Fail Than Never To Try At All”

      Well, there it is; Go all out for your dream.  ’tis better to try and fail than never try at all.  Make the mistake of action instead of the mistake of sloth. Keep moving forward. Be an existential shark already.

    • Moving Past the K-Cup

      Plastic.  It seems to be all anyone is talking about now.  And not in that this is the future way that The Graduate portrayed.  Plastic has come full circle as it’s accumulated so much over the last 50 years that we can’t avoid the reality that it’s a real problem.  And so the plastic straw and the plastic single use bags at the grocery store are under attack.  In this way the younger generation is way ahead.  Both of my college-age children are well beyond the thought process of my generation.

      I hear people mock the straw shaming – but I’ve heard this all before when change hits home.  People mocked ADA compliance when it hit their wallets, or political correctness when it came to changing the names of their school’s mascots (I was a “Chief” in college, so I know how divisive this was).  Change is hard, and especially hard when it begins to hit the way you’ve always done things.  We get used to convenience, and there’s nothing more convenient than plastic stuff.

      I’ve recycled plastic for 30 years.  I diligently put my plastic bottles in the recycling bin and place it on the curb.  When you had to separate your plastics from cardboard I’d be in the garage making sure everything was separate.  And I celebrated when I didn’t have to do that anymore.  So moving to cardboard or reusable straws?  Slightly inconvenient, but not that big a deal.  Moving back to paper bags or bringing my own bags to the grocery store?  Habit more than a convenience issue.  I’ll be fine.  In fact, the only thing that has proven to be challenging for me is the damned K-cups.

      I’m a coffee lover.  And I’ve made coffee just about every way you can.  I don’t even mind the ritual of making a pot of coffee in the morning.  In fact, I used to love it.  But I’m trying to drink less coffee and if I make a pot I’ll drink a pot.  Make half a pot?  You’re making too much sense.  I’ve tried French presses, single cup drip coffee makers, and all of that assorted coffee gear that’s been out there for years.  Except for one.  The AeroPress.  I’ve seen the AeroPress in action as my nephew used it for his coffee.  I’ve given the AeroPress as a gift to friends who are sailing around the world and blogging about it.  But I hadn’t purchased one for myself…  until now.

      I can’t reconcile the waste associated with K-cups.  I’ve had just about enough of them.  And so this morning I’ve finally brewed my first cup of coffee with an AeroPress.  From a timing standpoint the Keurig has it beat, but not by much.  If I adjust the amount of water I boil in the kettle to a single cup, turn the Keurig on to heat water at the same time I’m boiling water, then go through the brewing experience the AeroPress is very close to the same time.  I timed my second brew (with boiling water ready to go) and it took me 3 minutes start to finish, including cleanup.  If you figure a minute for a Keurig with pre-heated water, I’m saving two minutes per cup with a K-cup.  I can live with the extra two minutes, as the process of brewing the cup is meditative – something I’ve missed with Keurig.

      The benefits are hard to ignore.  The coffee tastes FAR superior!  I was using a bag of Peets coffee that’s been sitting in my cabinet for the entire summer and it blew away the K-cup.  I imagine a fresh bag will be amazing.  And I had none of the mess of a French press.  Simply unscrew the filter, pop out the coffee plug and rinse.  Done!  Looking at the biodegradable coffee and paper filter in the trash felt a lot better than seeing a plastic K-cup in there.  And I have the option of composting the coffee plug to amend my garden soil for an even greener experience.

      So here’s one man’s experience with taking a step away from the K-cup.  The AeroPress is highly portable, easy to clean, and makes truly excellent coffee in close to the time that a K-cup takes.  The cost of a K-cup averages $.60 cents USD.  A bag of really great coffee will be a fraction of that per cup.  So I’m saving money, creating less waste, and drinking better coffee.  I feel better already.

    • The Siren Call of More

      Energy. Vibrancy. Concrete, glass and steel. Traffic. Relentless traffic. Fit achievers marching to close the deal or set a new PR. Steakhouses and pizza and other temptations tip the scale. Look up and you see money reaching for the sky. Look down and you see the homeless trying to get a leg up or having given up. Urine stains on concrete sidewalks. Sewer system reminds you that there’s another world under that sidewalk.

      Taxis and buses and Uber this way and that. Roar of engines, wail of sirens, honking of horns. This world clamors for attention. Like many big American cities Chicago won’t wait for you. “Be better” it calls. “More!” It cries. As the old business cliche warns, “If you’re not moving forward you’re falling behind.” So get moving already. Play the game or get out of the way.

      It’s easy to get caught up in this crazy world of “more”. The siren beckons… But “less” has its own call.