Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • 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.

    • The Deathbed Question

      “You are 99 years old, you are on your deathbed, and you have a chance to come back right now: what would you do?” – Christopher Carmichael

      No relation to me that I’m aware of, but I love the question. This question is referenced by Jérôme Jarre, a young man with an old soul, in a written interview he’d done in Tribe of Mentors, itself a wealth of information and inspiration.

      The answer should never be “not this” of course, but importantly, what IS that answer? The time travel spin is a variation on the dying wish story: I wish I’d spent more time with my children instead of working, or similar wishes. But it’s easy to separate ourselves from the responsibility of that deathbed moment. There’s still time… Carmichael’s what would you do? question brings the future to NOW. And really, that’s all we have isn’t it?

      So, …what’s the answer to the question? Right now?

    • Snatching Necklaces From the Sea

      “The wind freshened, and the Spray rounded Deer Island light at the rate of seven knots.
      Passing it, she squared away direct for Gloucester to procure there some fisherman’s stores. Waves dancing joyously across Massachusetts Bay met her coming out of the harbor to dash them into myriads of sparkling gems that hung about her at every surge. The day was perfect, the sunlight clear and strong. Every particle of water thrown into the air became a gem, and the Spray, bounding ahead, snatched necklace after necklace from the sea, and as often threw them away. We have all seen miniature rainbows about a ship’s prow, but the Spray flung out a bow of her own that day, such as I had never seen before. Her good angel had embarked on the voyage; I so read it in the sea.” – Josh Slocum, Sailing Alone Around the World

      I’ve read that passage a few times over the years since first reading this book, and did so again last night.  There’s magic in setting out on a new adventure, and I feel this paragraph captures that exhilaration.  These are the highlighter moments in the novel of life; the first ride without the training wheels when you have balance and velocity with you and you feel like you’re flying, boarding a plane for a flight overseas to a place you’ve always dreamed of going, or simply the first feeling out steps on a long hike when you realize everything is good to go.  Preparedness meets possibility, and the world is in front of you welcoming you to explore your potential.  Ready?  Go!

      Of course, not every moment is a highlight moment, but there should be something in every day that makes you feel alive.  Every dawn is full of possibility, if we’ll only get out and greet the day.  Over the weekend I re-acquainted myself with my sister’s dog Parker. She’s a yellow lab with a highly expressive face and eyes that tell you everything you need to know.  Reading about Slocum’s boat Spray, I thought of Parker’s expression as she realized she was going for a swim in the bay.  Sheer delight, and a sprint to the water.  May we all have more of that in our time here.

      What shall we make of this day?

    • Great is Today

      If you want to fully feel the urgency of “now” watch a veteran roofing crew begin work on a house. There’s no time to get in touch with their feelings, they pull up, assess and get on with it. Get it done ASAP, and move on to the next house tomorrow.

      It’s the first Tuesday in September, and the first day of school pictures will be snapped all over Massachusetts. New Hampshire went back last week, but really that’s just to get a head start on snow days to come. School begins in earnest this week from kindergarten to college. And so [unofficially] summer ends, Autumn begins, and there’s a heightened sense of the moment.

      I read Leaves of Grass last week. More precisely I finished Leaves of Grass last week. Walt Whitman has some brilliant prose, and some sprinkled liberally throughout this work, but there’s a lot of chewing to get this one down. Lot of Walt getting in touch with his sensuality stuff in there that proved controversial for the time, but this isn’t going to be a post about the work as a whole. Instead, this line jumped out at me:

      “Great is today, and beautiful, It is good to live in this age… there never was any better.” – Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

      Whitman wrote that sometime between 1850 and 1855, when Leaves of Grass was published. It was before the Civil War and other dark days in Whitman’s life. But there are always dark days, and always vibrant days throughout history. Life is the ebb and flow. Don’t bury your head in the sand when darkness reigns, but don’t ignore the extraordinary gift of now we’ve been given either.

      “Look around. Look around. How lucky we are to be alive right now.” – The Schuyler Sisters, Hamilton

      Be alive, right now. That’s all there is. We can’t time travel backwards, and we can’t hit fast-forward.  We all know Aesop’s fable about the ants and the grasshopper, but he wasn’t saying there’s no time for play, he was saying that we need to harvest first, then dance and sing.  So by all means work, and build that nest egg, but don’t lose sight of this magic moment along the way. 

      “Do not be concerned with the fruit of your action – just give attention to the action itself. The fruit will come of its own accord.” – Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now

      I’m weighing that fable as roofers strip the roof over my head and I contemplate Whitman. The irony isn’t lost on me, I’ve been on construction crews and know their world. They don’t stop to smell the roses for very long, but sometimes a moment appears. As I spoke with them before they started I pointed to the ripe grapes they would soon cover over to protect them from debris and told them to help themselves. They savored the sweetness of the grapes with audible pleasure, even as they got on with the work at hand. The fruit came of it’s own accord, then it was time to get back to work.

    • Shattering the Peppadew Jar

      (Reposted after quirky WordPress delete)

      This morning I was pondering the power of routine in our lives when my routine abruptly changed.  I was filling a glass of water in the refrigerator when I noticed the basket of limes was protruding out because they were crowded by the package of strawberries.  In pushing the strawberries to side I started a chain reaction that led to a jar of peppadews to topple over onto the glass I was holding in my hand, shattering both immediately.  They eventually ended up on the floor, where the juice and glass and peppadews and water began to flow outward in all directions.  Suddenly I wasn’t focused on the next step in my morning routine and quickly began the cleanup process, which included extracting two small slivers of glass from my hand.

      Prior to that moment, I had been contemplating in succession the workout posters on the wall in the basement where we exercise, and then the cookbooks on the shelf in the kitchen, and thinking about how we rarely look at either.  When I work out I generally do the exercises I’m familiar with, I don’t scan the wall for a new one.  When I cook uiuiI usually cook the same things over and over, rarely going to the cookbooks for something new.  In the time I could scan the index of a cookbook I could Google a couple of available ingredients and find a dozen four and five star-reviewed recipes.  And yet the cookbooks remain ready should I need them.

      Routines are powerful things indeed.  I’m better for having changed the start to my early morning from grabbing a coffee and scrolling through social media to exercising first, reading second and writing third before I jump into whatever the rest of the world is up thinking about.  I credit reading Atomic Habits for shaking me loose from the normal routine.  Other books have inspired me along the way, but that book was like a jar of peppadews shattering in my hand, triggering me to change things immediately.

      This is my 200th blog post this year, and this is the 189th day of the year.  I’m well ahead of last year’s pace when I started this thing.  Last year I posted 143 times total.  That’s the power of establishing habits for you.  I’ve read more, and better books.  I’ve worked out more consistently as well. But the writing has been the one I’m most pleased about.  I was contemplating what to write about in this 200th post of 2019 – travel, gardening, history or some such thing, but nothing has done more for my writing than changing my daily habits.    Some of it is pretty good, some of it isn’t so good, but I’m not aiming for perfection.  Instead I’m establishing the habit and the commitment to shipping every day, as Seth Godin would say.

      Follow some friends of mine at fayaway.com to see how they’re doing their own version of shattering the peppadews to sail around the world.  Other friends have completely transformed their lives by focusing on hiking the mountains of New Hampshire.  We rarely see them anymore but they’ve never been healthier or happier than they are now. I watched a niece similarly transform herself through hiking and other lifestyle changes. Another good friend from Maine left an abusive marriage and moved to the mid-Atlantic region, where she just announced her engagement to a much better person. All shattering their own peppadew jars. Anything is possible if you just shake yourself free of the shackles of routine.

      “Don’t think, try.” – John Hunter

      “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit.” – Aristotle

      What Aristotle left unsaid is that mediocrity is also a habit. Change – getting out of your comfort zone, can be good indeed. James Clear talks about casting votes for your identity. If you identify yourself as an athlete you’re more likely to get up and work out. If you’re identify yourself as a disciplined eater you’re not even going to see that bowl of M & M’s your wife leaves right next to the door. Carrying the metaphor further, shattering the peppadew jar is deciding what your identity is going to be and casting that first vote. Who you’ll be, and who you won’t be on a larger scale.

      Back in my early twenties I used to call rowing an attractive rut, because it’s easy I could see the benefits of doing it in my overall health and fitness level, but I could also see the opportunities I was missing out on to do it. Travel, taking specific college courses because they conflicted with rowing, going out with non-rowing friends to an event because it would impact my performance. When you believe the overall benefits outweighs the costs it’s inconsequential that you’re missing out on things. About when I started identifying rowing as an attractive rut I was changing the equation in my own mind. I still row, but I don’t have illusions of winning the Head-of-the-Charles anymore.

      Achieving anything requires a healthy measure of sacrifice. Establishing one routine at the expense of another. You can remain average at a bunch of things and get along perfectly well in this world, or you can do the work that makes you exceptional at a specific thing and below average at other things. Attractive ruts are found in routine. But life is all too short, and before you know it another decade has flown by.

      “A rut is a grave with the ends knocked out.” – Laurence J. Peter

      So perhaps it’s best to shatter a few more peppadew jars. Sometimes an abrupt reminder to shake up the routine is the best thing that can happen.

       

       

    • Love the One You’re With

      I woke up extra early today, hearing the call. Looking out the window I see a faint orange tint to an otherwise black sky. Not time yet, but close. I lay back down, but it’s no use. The call prevails. I scroll social media to distract the restless spirit. A quick scan confirms my worst fears of missing out. Aurora Borealis seen in Maine and New Hampshire last night. I switch to the Aurora app and look at the blob of green and orange stretching across the entire northern hemisphere, dipping down enough towards New England that a perch on Mount Washington or Katadin would surely offer a glimpse. Despair. I’ve missed it once again. I close the app and open Facebook to distract me. An old college friend posted pictures in Iceland… bet she saw it, I think to myself. Enough! I get up, get dressed and walk out to the crickets. No Aurora here but something equally spectacular I’m blessed to witness. The last day of August calls, and there’s plenty to see right here.

    • Three Legs of the Triangle

      Beginning Tuesday morning through last night I drove from Southern New Hampshire to Rocky Hill, Connecticut, up to Danbury, over to Dover Plains, New York, up to Albany, up to Burlington, Vermont and back down to Southern New Hampshire.  That’s a roughly 700 mile perimeter triangle on a map that is bigger in area that some of the states I drove through.  I’ve found that the people are mostly the same no matter where I go, but there are some differences in the three legs of that triangle.  The drive from Southern NH through Massachusetts and Connecticut is one world. The other two legs from Dover Plains to Burlington and back offer a very different world.

      I was at a bar in Danbury talking to a guy who was waiting out the traffic with dinner and a couple of drinks before he got back in his car to crawl home.  I know a guy in Massachusetts who does the same thing.  The traffic in both places will murder you 1/10th of a mile at a time.  There’s a helplessness that comes with relentless traffic that can eat you alive. That guy in Danbury was shell-shocked by a combination of forces working against him.

      Sprawling development has changed Danbury from the place I knew 25 years ago.  Perhaps nothing disgusted me more than seeing condos perched on the top of a hill, offering lovely views for the people who lived there but ruining the view for everyone that had to look at what they did to that hill.  Wedging more homes into open space means more and more people jamming onto those roads.  But the people are great, if worn down by the grind of traffic, urban sprawl, and Connecticut’s bureaucracy. There’s seemingly a sign everywhere telling you what you can and can’t do (Take my sunglasses off when I drive into a tunnel? Who knew?).

      New York is two states, metro New York and everywhere else. Dover Plains is not Metro NY, and neither is anyplace else along the stretch from there to the Canadian border, save for some Capital District commuter misery. North of Saratoga you can breath again. And other than the ferry drama mentioned in yesterday’s post those two longer legs were uneventful bliss. No condos carved into hilltops, no commuters on the verge of boiling over. Bliss.

      If you’ve ever stood by the side of a road you know how unnatural it is. It’s a horrific blur of noise, fumes and speed, all meant to rapidly transport goods and people from one place to another as quickly as possible. It’s inherently inefficient, destroys vast swaths of land, disrupts communities and ultimately destroys itself and chunks of the planet. The flip side of that story is that the world becomes smaller. I love the highway system when I’m zipping around 2/3 of that triangle, and hate it when I’m crawling along on the other 1/3. It’s a complicated debate, but I hope we get it right in the end. Let’s not let the 1/3 leg become the norm

    • “Ferry” Tales

      Waze. A blessing and a curse. Better than GPS no doubt. But sometimes it gets it really, really wrong. Yesterday was one of those wrong times.

      After bouncing between meetings from Danbury to Albany I set Waze for my next destination; Burlington, Vermont. I’ve done this drive in reverse a few times, so no big deal, right? But Waze conditions you to drive in autopilot, and I was well into my drive when I double-checked the route it was sending me. Bad news: It had me taking the ferry. Worse news: That ferry stopped running for the night an hour before. I could either try to make the last Port Kent ferry or go all the way around the lake. Damn.

      Cursing myself did no good. Cursing Waze did less. Instead I did a re-set of both Waze and my own brain. It was raining hydroplane hard if I were to push the speed. Instead I checked the time, realized I’d get there with plenty of time to spare and drove to the tiny ferry terminal in Keeseville, New York. When I arrived the booth attendant ignored me for whatever was on television, not jumping to attention until I pulled behind the only other car in line. Grabbing my tiny umbrella I walked back to the booth and paid my $30 for the ride across. It was worth three times that for me as the buckets of rain made short work of the umbrella and soaked my dress shirt sleeves and my favorite off-roading leather sole shoes.

      30 minutes later we were boarding the ferry for the ride across Lake Champlain. I knew the view we were missing in the rain and fog, and described it to a retired couple from Wisconsin taking the long, scenic (usually) route to Cape Cod. I described the strategic importance of Lake Champlain and the story of when Benedict Arnold was a hero before it all went wrong for him. The blank, polite stares told me to swing the conversation back to their trip. They were traveling the old school way, with a road atlas and no smart phone or GPS. I recalled days when I’d have plotted my own trip, noted bridges and little things like ferry schedules. I told them they might just be on to something.

      The crew joined in on the conversation. This was the last run of the night and all the chores were done. As we cruised into Burlington I looked over the shoulder of the couple from Wisconsin and pointed out the sun setting as the clouds lifted just in time. We were just slipping into port with the lighthouse to Starboard. The trip was full of twists and turns, but it all aligned for this moment. Three passengers and as many crew, sharing it before we all hustled to our respective positions. Things have a way of working out if you just trust… but verify.