Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • Not Today

      I re-watched Game of Thrones Season 8 Episode 3 last night.  Would I have preferred it to be filmed on a brighter set?  Sure.  But did that make me as outraged as the media critics who stir indignant outrage with words?  Not at all.

      This show requires a second and sometimes a third viewing to peel back the layers of meaning in every scene.  If that makes me sound like a GoT fanboy, well, that’s your issue not mine.  People who criticize the show usually don’t take the time to watch and understand the show.  Or they’re the people who read the books and feel that the show strayed from the books too much.  Whatever.

      To me, someone who opts out of mass television hysteria whenever possible, Game of Thrones is the best television show I’ve ever watched.  I’ve enjoyed watching the characters grow and evolve in a complicated, dark and violent world as that world hones who they are.  We all choose how we are going to react to the things that happen in our lives, and each of these characters evolve based on this.  It’s extraordinary long form character development spanning a decade.

      Back in the real world, I do my best to develop and refine my own character.  I write about people who are long dead quite often and I know that.  That’s part of being a history buff I guess.  But there are lessons in history, and it’s worthwhile to know who came before us.  As George Santayana said, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”  I see countless people not remembering the past, falling victim to yellow journalism, celebrity gossip, reality television, charlatan evangelicalism and political catch phrases.  That there are people out there who believe the world is flat boggles my mind.  But then there are people who believe climate change isn’t real too.

      Game of Thrones offers welcome relief from reality while borrowing heavily from our dark human past.  It’s no stretch to see the similarities in the treatment of women, slavery, massive military conflict, greed and power struggles it leads to, and the privileged lives of the rich.  What I love about the show is that as the characters evolve, they don’t shrink away from these topics, but use them to catalyze the character of the, well, characters.

      The development of the two Stark girls who accompanied their father to Kings Landing and struggled for years to get back to Winterfell is at the core of the show.  Dark things happen to each of them over the years, and may still happen in the final three episodes.  But watching them grow and evolve has proven immensely enjoyable.  In contrast, I’m re-reading Walden and reminding myself why I loved it so much.  These two quotes seemed to call out to me this morning:

      “There is only one god and his name is Death, and there is only one thing we say to Death: Not today.” – Syrio Forel to Arya Stark, Game of Thrones

      “… I read his epitath in the old Lincoln burying-ground, a little on one side, [it told me], with staring emphasis, when he died; which was but an indirect way of informing me that he ever lived.” – Henry David Thoreau, Walden

      Thoreau was a Transcendentalist who believed in the basic goodness of all people and the divinity of nature.  Thrones is perhaps the most stoic program I’ve watched.  Remembering that we all must die, and every character on this show seems to eventually, allows you to live each day more richly.  And maybe be a badass with a Valaryan steel dagger too.

       

    • The Fulcrum of Isolation and Engagement

      Today I drove three hours from my home to a meeting on the Vermont-New York border, an area I was just in less than two weeks ago.  I have meetings tomorrow in the Albany area so I drove ninety minutes to a hotel Clifton Park, where my first meeting is in the morning.  If you’re keeping score that’s 4 1/2 hours in the car alone, with a 30 minute meeting to break it up.  

      Tomorrow I’m in wall-to-wall meetings all day, with a couple of phone calls in between.  And then I drive to Ithaca to have dinner with Emily before I drive out to my hotel in Buffalo.  Another six to eight hours of isolation in a car with high engagement in between.  I generally make calls or listen to podcasts in the car, but sometimes I just turn off the noise and just drive in quiet…  for hours.

      My business life is a balance of isolation and engagement.  These are deep swings in each direction, and not for the faint of heart.  I’m at once a loner and a social being, and perhaps the thing that saves me is that I enjoy both worlds.  

      Does this make me strange?  Perhaps.  Then again, I feel like a heavy reliance on interaction with others is unhealthy.  Striking a balance is key, and that emotional fulcrum point is very different from one day to the next.
      I drove around Portugal by myself and thoroughly enjoyed the experience.  Would it have been better with Kris or a few friends?  Absolutely.  But it would have been different too.  And the trip I took by myself will be one I’ll remember fondly despite the isolation.
      I take mini side trips to see interesting things.  But let’s face it, visiting an old graveyard in the middle of nowhere is not everyone’s idea of fun.  Best to knock off my flights of historical  fancy whenever I can, but without dragging along people who aren’t as into it as I am.
      There’s another aspect to traveling alone; I notice things more.  Like an old stone pyramid built as a monument to a long-dead Basque explorer in Victor, New York.  Or a monument honoring the Knox Trail near Saratoga this afternoon.  Or an old gravestone marking the final resting place of Jane McCrea, murdered by Native Americans who were accompanying General Burgoyne in his ill-fated march to Albany which sparked a unifying outrage amongst the Colonial Army that helped fuel victory at Saratoga.
      Make no mistake; I thoroughly enjoy the company of others. I find deep conversation with complex, vibrant people as thrilling as any waterfall or vista I’ve chanced upon (My god I love a good conversation!). And I’ve tried to be what Malcom Gladwell would call a Connector in holding together the cast of characters I’ve become friends with, and pulling others in as well. But the many hours alone in a car ahead of me this week don’t fill me with dread either. If I have the chance to reconnect with an old friend during that drive time all the better.

    • The Rewards of Restless Wandering

      This has been, to now anyway, an unfocused morning.  These are the mornings that test your routine. Something’s off.  It started by waking up twenty minutes earlier than usual, dwelling on that for a moment too long, staring at the reflection of the moon in the pool, then looking up at the moon being tickled by the budding tree branches, then back down to the reflection and so on.

      But I got dressed and did my usual exercise routine.  And yet it too was unusually unfocused.  Not pulling the handle down to the catch position on the erg, not putting my ring back on after rowing, and on and on.  But I made it through the minimum workout unscathed.

      Reading was off too.  My mind wandered to an article I’d read which made me wonder how a certain author I’ve read before would think about that article, which made me search for said author on Twitter instead of pressing ahead with my reading.  This restlessness of mind isn’t uncommon, but perhaps I’m just paying more attention to it given the routine I’m trying to hammer home.  But I did the bare minimum of reading that I wanted to do and set about writing this blog post.  Looking at the time, I’ve realized that in getting up early I’m still way ahead of the game and despite being “off” the day is not at all in jeopardy of spiraling out of control.  Life is full of distractions and unexpected detours.  Following a system allows you to stay on track even when you get pulled off the mark a bit.

      All that restlessness did accomplish a few things.  Instead of reading ten pages of my current book, I looked up Wayne Curtis’ Twitter account and started following him.  I saw a post of his that inspired me to look up a unique travel experience in Edinburgh when we’re there next fall.  I read a Ryan Holiday article on the magic of bookstores that made me want to return to a bookstore on Martha’s Vineyard that I especially enjoy.  I read an NPR article about Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit that reminded me of my life in 1991 and reflect on that for a moment.  The morning, only 90 minutes old at this point, has not been unproductive at all.  Such is the human experience.

      Through all that unfocused 90 minutes, my routine kept me on track, ensuring that I did the three things I want to do every morning while giving me the flexibility to… wander a bit.  And the wandering is where the magic is.  Yesterday I finished a meeting in the Hancock Tower in Boston and walked back to my car in the garage, threw my bag in the trunk and went for a walk on Commonwealth Avenue.  There was purpose in it too – I wanted to see the John Glover statue there, which I’ll write about sometime soon.  But the wandering served its own purpose as I took the long way back to the car I visited the finish line of the marathon.  If you’re going to pay to park in this part of Boston you might as well get your money’s worth.

      I’ve written the equivalent of a long novel over the last 15 months of blogging.  Last year I lapsed a few times and fell out of the habit of writing.  This year I haven’t missed a day yet, and hope to continue that consistency for the rest of my life.  This morning, as I was fighting through that restlessness, my morning routine served as guard rails to keep me on track.  I still wandered, but managed to get where I was trying to go nonetheless.

       

    • Seeking Adventures

      “Rise free from care before the dawn, and seek adventures.” – Henry David Thoreau, Walden

      Good old Henry David Thoreau, planting seeds of wisdom throughout Walden.  There are stretches of this book that are tough to digest, but when he’s on point he’s a brilliant sage.  I’m glad that I’ve come back to Walden, and will spend more time on the book overall soon.  For now, there’s this quote to ponder.

      Rise free from care before the dawn…
      I’ve been off and on again with that early to rise thing.  For years I prided myself on getting up very early indeed.  But approaching midlife (for me that meant 50) I started “sleeping in”; not setting my alarm, waking up at 6:30 naturally instead of making myself wake up at 5 or 5:30 AM.  No, I’ve come to value sleep.  But now I just go to bed earlier.  No use staying up late to overindulge myself on television, junk food, alcohol, social media or other nonsense.  No, early morning is my time, and this habit I’m re-establishing (day 23!) of working out, reading and writing is a hell of a lot better than that other stuff.

      … and seek adventures.
      Well, I can certainly embrace that idea.  Adventure means different things to different people of course.  For me it means accepting a little risk in life, seeing new places, trying new things, stretching myself in new ways and generally getting on with the business of living an interesting life.  But life is about balance, or at least that’s what we tell ourselves.  I’m okay with balance, but with the scales tipped towards adventure.  I’ll have time for balance when I’m unable to do the things that must be done.

    • We May Never Pass This Way Again

       

      What good is livin’ a life you’ve been given
      If all you do is stand in one place? – Lord Huron, Ends of the Earth

      I was in Rutland, Vermont today and had to be in Burlington several hours later.  So naturally I wanted to check off some historical ghost dancing while I was in the area.  There’s a direct route to Burlington from Rutland – drive up Route 7.  I chose a more roundabout way to get there that added an hour of driving and another hour of walking around and seeing what I came for.  I’ll write about each stop over the next few days.

      One stop that proved futile was the primary objective of my side trip.  I’d hoped to make a quick stop at Fort Ticonderoga to look around a bit.  Unfortunately it doesn’t open until May, which of course means I’ll have to find another reason to detour through this part of the world.  The Lake Champlain/Lake George waterway was the superhighway into the interior and served to transport several armies back and forth between the French and Indian War and the Revolutionary War.  Fort Ticonderoga was an important link in the chain of fortifications defending this route.  Alas, I’ll have to dance with it another time.

      One of the joys of travel is finding the unexpected.  I found plenty of unexpected on this trip, and that hour of driving out of the way turned into two extra hours in the car.  I don’t regret the extra time, and will gladly trade off some of my evening hours tonight and some of my day off tomorrow to pay back that time for work.   Seals and Crofts had a soapy hit song in the 70’s called We may never pass this way again.  That’s how I feel about these side trips: I’m there anyway, why not dance with the local ghosts?

      Such is the freedom a sales job affords me.  As long as I don’t abuse the privilege, a side trip when I’m in an interesting place is a worthwhile investment.  Making calls along the way means that I’m killing two birds with one stone.  The inner critic tells me not to waste valuable selling time on such pursuits.  Will side trips make me rich in sales?  Definitely not.  Will it give me something more important than money?  I think so.  Balance is the key of course.  Work hard, play hard and all that.  Or at least make the most of your opportunities on both sides.

    • Sunbeams and White Oak

      There’s something about the angle of the sun at dawn and dusk that is magical.  The sun hasn’t dropped down to the horizon yet, but seems to be shining through a magnifying glass to illuminate everything it reaches.  Western faces of trees become bleached in sunshine and eastern faces dimmed in shadows that cast deep into the forest behind.

      My favorite tree in my backyard is a massive white oak.  It was once hidden by young white pine trees and scrawny maples.  When we cleared the smaller trees in front of it the white oak jumped out as the star of the backyard.  It’s times like dusk with the natural spotlight of the sun shining bright upon the light gray bark of this old veteran of the forest really – and literally – shines.

       

      The sun has long since set, but I’m still thinking about the glow in the forest tonight.  And I’m grateful for having been there to witness it.  For the glow has reflected back on me.

    • Chin Up

      Rowing is a great exercise, and as I’ve mentioned I’ve gotten reacquainted with it the last couple of weeks as I work to re-establish my morning exercise habit.  When you row alone in a basement there are a few ways to pass the time on long rows; play music, listen to a podcast or some other audio program, or watch something on television.  More often than not I opt out of all of these and just row in silence.  Or more appropriately, I listen to myself.

      During a million meter rowing campaign I did a few years ago as a fundraiser for a friend of mine, I injured myself somewhat early on in my attempt by overextending.  In rowing that means coming up to the catch position and lunging forward for a bit more.  The only way to do this is to drop your head, kick your seat back and extend your hands forward.  When I was younger I thought this gave me an extra 2-3 inches of drive.  But the cost isn’t worth the benefit.  Over-extension on the erg enforces bad habits on the water where balance and swing are critical, and they expose you to potential injury.

      So as I row since then, I remind myself to keep my chin up.  Sometimes physically looking up at the ceiling to emphasize it.  There’s an obvious metaphor about keeping one’s chin up in the sense of being positive.  But in this case I think of “chin up” as reinforcing good habits; not reaching for things that aren’t worthwhile and focusing on things that will bring you benefit in the long run.  I know my weaknesses at this point in my life, but I also know my strengths, and I work to emphasize those instead.  Sometimes I just need to remind myself to make adjustments and stop lunging for things that don’t matter in the long run.

    • Car Stickers

      Today I was driving through Connecticut when I passed a car with seven or eight stickers on various rear and side windows.  The one that caught my attention was a profile of a backpacker with a dog on a leash.  Another one that interested me was an Ithaca College sticker.  I didn’t know the driver of this car, but I’m confident that I’d have an interesting conversation with them if the opportunity ever presented itself.  Stickers say a lot about the driver.

      The vast majority of drivers – myself included – have no bumper stickers or their magnetic cousins on their cars.  Maybe a parking sticker for work or school, but nothing that announces who they are or what they believe in.  Contrast that with the in-your-face nature of the overtly political advocate’s car.  Pro-Trump and anti-Hilary.  Anti-Trump and pro-Hilary.  Either way I see the stickers on their car and I definitely don’t want to have a beer with them.

      Stickers announce affiliation with a school, a sports team, a community, military branch, or a favorite vacation spot.  I have no problem with this.  Embrace your tribe and be proud.  You want to show how many kids and pets you have with stickers?  Have at it.

      I do have a problem with antagonists and posers.  You want to put an extra-large bumper sticker on your car telling the world what you believe?  You’ll be noticed, but you’ll be thought poorly of by the majority of people you’re sharing the road with.  You’re probably blocked or muted by your Facebook friends too.  The world is seemingly full of antagonists lately.  Sorry, I have no time for your agenda.

      Posers are another troubling lot.  Your kids got into four of the best colleges in the northeast?  Good for you.  I’m not having a beer with you, but good for you.  Stickers are innocent enough on their own.  It’s the driver’s approach to this rolling art that makes me shake my head.  Such are the roadways of 2019 America.

       

    • Yes… and especially, No

      I’ve been very deliberately cleansing my news feed.  I Believe that I need to be informed, see both sides of issues and get my news from multiple sources.  But there’s so much insidious outrage porn out there that I’ve become an aggressive editor to what comes at me.  This is not analogous to putting my head in the sand, I’m still aware of what matters.  No, this is self-preservation.

      It started with the obvious.  Don’t watch the local bleed it leads news.  Don’t listen to politic outrage radio.  Don’t listen to sports radio that only seeks less to infor, highlight and discuss as it does to mock, rage and complain.

      But digging deeper, it meant muting friends and family who post clickbate outrage.  Sifting out the people I follow on Twitter based on not just what they post, but what they like.  These likes end up in my feed whether I want them or not.  Thanks a bunch Twitter.

      This falls into the know what to say no to philosophy.  I’m getting better at saying no.  But also yes.  I’m following more long-form bloggers like Farnom Street and Brain Pickings.  I’ve been following Seth Godin for years.  Instead of being a slave to the radio I listen to podcasts.  And after talking to a friend I’ve decided to give Audible another go.  Other yeses are Instagram feeds from places I want to go, or go back to.

      Ultimately we become what we focus on.  In this world where everything demands your focus, saying no more seems to be the only way to move ahead.  No gives you more elbow room for yes.

    • Faraway Birds

      Up before the dawn, I grabbed my phone and walked down to the water.  These are my favorite moments of the day; to look out at the gray stillness and watch the coming of the light.  Sunsets are grand things that garner the most attention because their more accessible.  And I love a good sunset as much as anyone.   But sunrise is my time.

      This morning brought a pink and salmon sky and a chorus of thousands of unseen migratory birds saying “It’s time!  It’s time!” as they discuss their own plans for the day amongst themselves.  Today is March 30th, and the bay is still.  No boats, no planes dragging insurance company banners behind them, no social media buzz, no landscapers blowing grass clippings, no noise save for those birds.

      I didn’t stay for the sun to pop up over the horizon.  This time of year it’s hidden behind a spit of land jutting out from the Pocasset River.  The best show is well before that anyway.  But the full day is ahead of me, and soon us as the human world wakes up and drowns out the chorus of faraway birds.