Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • Favorites From a Year of Reading

      This might go down as my favorite year of reading.  I made it a goal to read more the last two years, and the momentum from 2018 definitely carried over into 2019.  Reading inspired my travel to new places and offered side trips of meaning in places I’ve been many times before.  It kicked me in the backside with work, writing, exercise and diet, and it inspired me to be a better version of myself than I previously had been.  I’m still a work in progress, but aren’t we all?  In all I read 23 books cover-to-cover in 2019, and dabbled in chapters of a few more.  Here are my ten favorite books this year:

      Atomic Habits by James Clear was by far the most impactful book on self-improvement that I’ve read in many years.  Strongly recommend this if you’re looking to make meaningful changes in your life.  I’m going to re-read it again in January to get a jump-start on 2020.  Habits that are now part of my identity include reading, writing, walking and drinking water.  Habits that went by the wayside include daily burpees and drinking less.  2020 (every day really) offers a chance to reset on habits, with new possibilities with learning language(s) and a few notable work goals.

      The Gift by Hafiz is a stunningly beautiful collection of poems.  Why it took me until 2019 to find Hafiz I don’t know…  but I’m glad I got here.

      Dream Work by Mary Oliver is another collection of brilliant poetry that it took me way too long in life to discover.  Maybe Oliver’s passing this year put a spotlight on her work, or maybe the student was finally ready.  Either way I’m glad I’ve immersed myself in the world of Mary Oliver.

      To Shake the Sleeping Self: A Journey from Oregon to Patagonia by Jedidiah Jenkins is a travel book on the one hand, and a journey of self-discovery one the other as Jenkins wrestles with his religious upbringing and his sexual identity during an epic biking trip across North and South America.  The book reinforces my belief that most people are good while acknowledging some good fortune along the way.  As a bonus, Jenkins pointed me towards one Hafiz poem, Tim Ferriss pointed me towards another, and soon I was reading The Gift (above).

      Awareness by Anthony De Mello is not the kind of book I ever would have picked up, as it feels self-helpy and overly religious at first glance.  And it does have a healthy dose of both things, but this books is an incredible call to action for the self, and backed up with tremendous insight into human nature.  Another book I wish I’d read years ago that I’m glad I got to in 2019.

      How the Scots Invented the Modern World by Arthur Herman is a book I’ve had on the shelf for years that I finally got to in 2019.  Perhaps inspired by my then upcoming trip to Scotland, I burned through the book quickly, learning a lot about the Scottish people who made a massive impact on the world we live in today.  It also prompted me to add a few places to my trip that I might not otherwise have gone to.

      The Map Thief by Michael Blanding poured gasoline on my burning fascination with old maps, and fired me up in another way; as someone who is passionate about historical artifacts like maps and old books, and also in a career based on securing people and assets from criminals like Forbes Smiley, this book was highly relevant for me.

      The French and Indian War: Deciding the Fate of North America by Walter R. Borneman offered me more insight into the place I live than any history book in a long time.  The Northeast corner of North America is where most of this fighting took place, and I took the opportunity to visit many historically important sites in my travels that were inspired by this book.

      Benedict Arnold’s Navy: The Ragtag Fleet That Lost the Battle of Lake Champlain But Won the American Revolution by James L. Nelson is a look at the complex individual that is Benedict Arnold.  And it goes well beyond the Battle of Lake Champlain, with a detailed account of Arnold’s epic raid of Quebec through the wilderness of Maine.  The retreat from Quebec opened up the St Lawrence River to the British, which put Lake Champlain and Lake George in their sites as the critical water route to the Hudson River. Arnold’s fleet delayed the British just long enough to set up the victory at Saratoga (where Arnold played a critical role as well).  I followed this book by reading Valiant Ambition by Nathanial Philbrick, another excellent book with even more detail on complicated life of Benedict Arnold.  Benedict Arnold’s Navy inspired that read, so it gets the nod here in the top ten.

      The Daily Stoic: 366 Meditations on Wisdom, Perseverance, and the Art of Living by Ryan Holiday is, as the title indicates, meant to be read daily, one quick dose of stoic medicine at a time.  After immersing myself in Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations in 2018, I felt that The Daily Stoic would be a great way to add a little daily stoicism to my life.  And it became part of my morning routine, where I’d read this before other books.  I’ll continue this habit by re-reading The Daily Stoic one day at a time in 2020 and on into the future.

      So there you go, my top ten favorite reads in 2019.  I’m a better person for having read them all, and look forward to revisiting several of them again and again in the years to come.  I’m a better writer for having read them all (still a work in progress).  And there’s a big stack of exciting books to tackle waiting patiently beside them.  So here’s to some great reading in the year ahead!

    • A Decade Of Music

      The last ten years have flown by (as decades tend to do), and looking back on the music that made the biggest impact on me from 2010 to 2019 is certainly challenging.  If there was a theme to the last decade for me, it was travel to faraway places.  And  when you travel you need a great soundtrack.  Here are ten songs that made my decade of long drives, flights and walks a lot better:

      Dawes – When My Time Comes
      Wilco – You And I
      Head And The Heart – Down in the Valley
      Jason Mraz – 93 Million Miles
      The Avett Brothers – No Hard Feelings
      Bruce Springsteen – Land of Hope and Dreams
      U2 – The Little Things That Give You Away
      Arcade Fire – The Suburbs
      Lord Huron – Ends of the Earth
      Muse – Madness

      A nod to The Lumineers, Michael Kiwanuka, Adele, Half.Alive, Twenty One Pilots, Cold War Kids, Portugal, the Man, The Zac Brown Band, Ray Lamontagne and Blind Pilot.  In a different mood I might have chosen a song by any of you.  But that’s music for you.

    • Defer or Dance?

      “Begin at once to live, and count each separate day as a separate life.” – Seneca

      The other night I was walking alone on the street.  Except I wasn’t alone at all.  Two great horned owls were calling out to each other high in the pine trees, moving silently in a dance of their own around the neighborhood, far apart at first, then closer together, then  off to another stand of trees, and finally further away.  I’d look to the dark sky for a silhouette but never see them.  Just the “who who… who, who” of two owls whispering sweet nothings to each other before moving off to the honeymoon suite.

      Yesterday I watched the moon dance with Venus as they set in the early evening.  I was car shopping for my daughter at the time, and opted to stay put while my wife and daughter drove the car we’d ultimately buy one last time to be sure about it before we signed the papers.  Having already made up my mind I stared at the dancers in the sky instead.  I pointed Venus and the waxing crescent moon out to the car salesman, who looked, mumbled something no doubt meant to be acknowledgment and walked back inside, clearly not as impressed with the sky dance as I was.

      This morning I was texting with a friend of mine currently moored in St. Kitts, looking at mega yachts with toys strewn all about them as the one percent play in the same harbor that he and his wife are swimming in this morning.  I follow them with interest from island-to-island as they bounce around the Caribbean.  We have an open invitation to join them at any time, and believe me, I’ve looked into it.  But the timing is all wrong and I’ll have to defer a swim in paradise this winter in favor of steady employment and family.  Life is full of tradeoffs after all.

      Another friend was hiking this weekend, collecting peaks on her quest to knock off a series of summits she hears the call to visit.  She’s hiking almost every free moment to achieve her goals, sometimes with her husband, sometimes with friends, and sometimes solo.  I understand the call, as the Appalachian Trail calls me in a similar way, but I’m deferring that goal knowing I may never do it.  We have choices in life, and I’ve chosen the one more traveled by, and that has made all the difference.  I know I could defer forever and die with regrets, but I’d regret walking off the path I’m on too.  Life is funny that way.

      If each day is a separate life as Seneca says, then every day we wake up we have a choice about what we’ll do with this life we’ve been given.  Today I won’t be swimming with turtles in St. Kitts, I won’t be hiking the Appalachian Trail, I won’t be gazing at the Northern Lights in Iceland or Labrador, and I won’t be hiking to Machu Picchu. So what of today – this separate life? A walk in the woods sounded like a good compromise and I explored local conservation land full of dog walkers and families, and blazed a bit of open land where my footprints in crusty snow were the first.  Perhaps not as grand as other paths, but I have a great family and my health and owls calling out in the night, and that’s not so bad either.  As we end the year, it’s a good time to reflect and be grateful for what you have, with an eye towards the future.  And maybe that’s enough for today.

    • Our Cosmic Dance Together

      “Move on to the next moment, uninfluenced by the previous one… eternal life is now, in the timeless now.” – Anthony De Mello

      It’s that time of year again, when you start thinking about time passing.  It’s not just the end of a year, it’s the end of a decade.  Whoa. Another decade passed by?   So it goes.  Ten spins through space around the sun; our cosmic dance together.  The sun is the same in a relative way but you’re older…  Ain’t that the truth.  But so what?  What’s timeless anyway?  Granite?  The ocean?  Khakis? We’re all just spinning around on the same planet as it moves around the sun, and doing the best we can in our moment.

      “All you really need to do is accept this moment fully. You are then at ease in the here and now and at ease with yourself.” – Eckhart Tolle

      The more trips you take around the sun the more at ease you become with yourself.  At least for many of us.  There are plenty of people who grow more insecure with age, as if their entire identity is wrapped up in youthful beauty or athletic talent or the hustle of burning the candle at both ends.  There’s a Twitter debate going on right now about how successful people work 80+ hours per week.  That’s not my definition of success, that’s my definition of serfdom.  I’ve worked in toxic cultures before, and anyone telling you to sacrifice your life for work is toxic. Time is the ultimate currency, why give yours to a con artist with big promises? Better to dance to your own beat, I think. Eventually we all have to leave the dance floor, so why not enjoy it while we’re on it?

      So our odds of seeing 2020 improve by the hour, but if you aren’t learning and growing all you get is a better pair of New Year’s Eve glasses than 2019 offered. I’ve grown a lot this year, and I’m optimistic about the future too. Hopefully we all arrive back at this point on our next trip around the sun better for the journey. Whatever that time brings, I plan on appreciating each moment.

       

       

    • Sorting Out The Walk

      The funny thing about walking 10,000 steps every day is that I don’t lose weight doing it.  10K is a minimum recommendation after all.  But I’m healthier for having done it.  At the very least I’m not eating or drinking when I walk, so those calories float away.  But walking 10-12K isn’t going to burn a lot of calories.  I know from experience that if I’d rowed every day for the amount of time that I walked, I’d lose weight pretty quickly.  And with the holidays here perhaps I should be rowing more to get ahead of the calories.  But I like to walk and so I do it.  I feel the mild ache in the morning and know that I’ve been doing something positive.  Back when I rowed we’d call it the good kind of sore.  That rowing soreness was a whole body sore.  Walking is a different sore altogether, but still good.

      I tend to walk early in the morning or late in the evening.  When you walk in the neighborhood in the middle of the day it turns into a chat instead of a walk.  At night the neighbors notice me walking as they drive by or call in their barking dog (thanks), and I carry a flashlight so they know it’s just me, walking again.  I give a wave and explain away this walking at night behavior with a generic “gotta get those 10,000 steps” statement, at which they smile knowingly.  Or maybe uncomfortably, as in just humor him and let’s move on.

      Walking feels like forever only when I’m trying to check that 10,000 step box.  On the treadmill this is misery because it takes so long.  Walking outside I forget that I’ve got this goal of 10K and just walk, and it just happens.  There’s a lot to be said for being outside, when outside offers solitude anyway.  Yeah, there’s that too.  I’m a social being and enjoy walking with other people, but there’s a lot to be said for walking alone too.  I try to sort things out as I walk.  I assess my general health when I walk (Why is my heart racing going up this hill?  Too much caffeine?).  Or sometimes I don’t think about anything and just look at the stars and, this time of year, the Christmas lights in the neighborhood.  But mostly I walk, and feel better for having done so.  And isn’t that the point?

    • Looking Out The Window On The Day After The Shortest Day

      I wonder what the Mourning Dove says to the squirrel as they both dine at the seed buffet dropped from the feeders to their feet.  They both look around timidly, ready to dart to safety from threats real and imagined.  But they’ve learned to coexist with each other, knowing deep inside that this other species isn’t a threat to me.  Other birds – Chickadees, Jays, Cardinals – drop seeds to the ground as they sift for that special treat for themselves (or maybe as a nod to those below), and the ground feeders take over from there.  They seem to take care of each other even as they compete for the same food.  But they don’t look at each other as food and maybe when you’re both on the same link in the food chain that’s enough.

      The coating of snow offers little in the way of camouflage for the parade of animals that move through the woods behind the house.  Protected land close to a stream is a refuge during hunting season, and a bridge between wild places the rest of the year.  Standing in front of the window, invisible to wildlife, that snow offers a spotlight on the animals that move through the woods.  This morning three deer moved quietly by, nuzzling the snow aside in search of acorns.  They’ve come to the right place and find plenty to nibble on before quietly moving on in a pattern of walk, nuzzle, eat, pop head up searching for threats, repeat.  A month ago there were ten deer walking this route, and I wonder if the cold or the hunters got the rest, or if these are just other transients moving down the wooded safe route.

      The other day I watched fourteen turkey walk through the woods in a tactical formation the Marines would be proud of, each assessing threats, stopping to see what was available to eat, moving forward with precision.  I wondered how long it would be before they found the feeders, and of course I should have known they already knew about them, they were just approaching with full situational awareness.  In a few minutes the turkeys running point were scratching the snow and nibbling seed, soon others joined them, but never more than a half dozen at a time in one spot.  The rest occupied the perimeter, with a couple rotating in now and then.  Turkey pecking order was on display, and I wished I’d had a better camera with me than my iPhone offered. But there’s no coexisting with turkeys, and the squirrels and Mourning Doves steered clear until the turkeys moved on.

      This is my version of New Hampshire, at the edge of the woods on the day after the shortest day of the year, as viewed from behind the window pane. The days are getting longer now, and I look forward to getting back outside on warm days, observing this world from outside. But I know it would be different when I’m out there, as some wildlife avoid humans. So this view offers something you don’t get outside, and today I appreciate the difference.

    • I Must Get Back To The Sea

      “The sea 
         isn’t a place
           but a fact, and
             a mystery”
      – Mary Oliver, The Waves

      It’s been less than two weeks since I’ve visited the ocean, and it feels like forever.  We’re deep into the holidays now, and the end of the quarter, the end of the year and the end of the decade.  There’s no time for the ocean right now, but on the other hand there’s no better time for the ocean.  I’m planning at least two trips to the ocean in the next week, for exercise and sanity and a bit of winter beach solitude.  I’m close enough to salt water that it’s not going to break either the time or financial banks.

      I noticed a lot of fresh water experiences in 2019, Lake Michigan, Lake Ontario and exploring a double-digit number of waterfalls in New York, New Hampshire, Connecticut and Scotland. I’m hoping 2020 brings even more opportunities to ponder the mysteries of the ocean.  I know I have a good head start teed up for New Year’s Day.  For today, I’m using this Mary Oliver quote as inspiration for a four of my favorite moments with salt water in 2019.  

      Camusdarach Beach: My bucket list beach, and I’m grateful I had the chance to check this box in 2019. Sure, it was a rainy November day, but it was still as beautiful as I’d hoped it would be. I’m already plotting a return.

      Plum Island: My go-to winter beach, close to home and blissfully isolated on a cold weekday. My lunchtime walk was my favorite long walk on a beach this year.

      Sailing on Fayaway: I shake my head thinking I only went sailing once this year, which was the fewest number of times on a sailboat I’ve had in years. I’m grateful for the crew of Fayaway for giving me the opportunity to sail with them. I’ll get out more in 2020, I promise myself.

      Buzzards Bay: Home away from home. The sunsets are stunning, but I’m partial to the sunrises. Swimming in Buzzards Bay doesn’t offer surf action, but it makes up for it with warm, salty water you can float in forever. At least I wish sometimes it were forever. The last swim of the year is always bittersweet, and, like sailing, I always hope for more next year.

      We only have so many days, where do you prioritize the time you have? If I’ve learned anything in reviewing the year, it’s that I need to double down on my time with salt water. On the beach, on an oceanside trail, on a boat, or swimming in it, I must get back to the sea.

    • International Arrivals Gate

      You want people watching with stakes? Hang out at the International Arrivals gate for awhile. Hugs and smiles and screams and tears are commonplace at Arrivals, but every reunion is different. That stoic gentleman standing next to you? That teenager feigning indifference? They light up when that special person walks through the International Arrivals gate, with waves and shouts and a run through the crowd for giant welcome hugs.

      The International Arrivals gate is an amplified version of the Domestic Arrivals gate, not just for the distance traveled to get these people face-to-face with each other, but for the big differentiator in International: the reveal. As a passenger you walk off the plane, walk twenty miles to check into the country, stand in line for customs, and then to baggage claim. This process can take minutes or hours, all the while your loved ones await unseen on the other side of a secure door, watching the doors open, hopes rise, but ahh… someone else walking through. Someone else’s reunion, with flowers and signs and joyful celebration. The reveal amplifies the intensity. The anticipation grows, and the doors open and you watch another reunion, and another… until finally you see the person you’re there for and it’s your turn to turn from stoic stranger to wild hand-waver and giant bear-hugger.

      As you roll overstuffed bags around the crowd of people staring past you at the gate waiting for the next reveal, it emphasizes our human connection. We’re all the same, really, and we’re all in this together. The International Arrivals gate shows people letting their guard down and being humans connected to other humans. None of the divisive nonsense, just reconnection. And that’s what brought me there too. Reconnection. It’s nice to have the nest full again, if only for a little while.

    • Sunrise in Bitter Cold

      It’s no secret in my world that I’m a sunrise junky.  There’s nothing wrong with sunsets, and I love a good one as much as anyone, but there’s something to be said for earning the show the way getting up early for a sunrise does.  There’s also the mindset of the beginning, rather than the ending to the day that I appreciate.  I like beginnings it seems.

      This morning the sunrise rose over the hills, split into fragmented rays by the trees in the woods, and finally reached my face as I did some outdoor chores before work.  It’s been bitter cold the last few days, but the sun would have none of my complaints.  Blame your Mother for turning a cold shoulder on me, the sun seems to say.  And I nod, silently thankful for the warmth that does reach me.  And I thought of a beautiful turn of words from this Mary Oliver poem that I’d read recently, appropriately named Sunrise, “it is another one of the ways to enter fire”:

      “… I thought
      how the sun

      blazes
      for everyone just
      so joyfully
      as it rises

      under the lashes
      of my own eyes, and I thought
      I am so many!
      What is my name?

      What is the name
      of the deep breath I would take
      over and over
      for all of us?  Call it

      whatever you want, it is
      happiness, it is another one
      of the ways to enter
      fire.”
      Mary Oliver, Sunrise

    • Telling Stories

      “No story lives unless someone wants to listen.” – J.K. Rowling

      There are two ways to look at this Rowling quote. There’s the story we try to sell to the audience – read my blog or my book, buy my product or service, hire me for the job, let’s do lunch… whatever. The story we tell others to persuade them to invest time, attention or money into what we’re offering. But there’s also the story we tell ourselves, “I am a writer”, “I am here to help others”, “I am a rainmaker”, that ultimately has to come first. If you don’t believe your own story how can you expect others to buy into it?

      I was thinking about a George Mack Twitter thread on high agency that’s stuck with me for since I read it a year ago. Here are the key points from that thread:

      “High Agency is a sense that the story given to you by other people about what you can/cannot do is just that – a story.
      And that you have control over the story.
      High Agency person looks to bend reality to their will.
      They either find a way, or they make a way.

      Low agency person accepts the story that is given to them.
      They never question it.
      They are passive.
      They outsource all of their decision making to other people.

      If in doubt, ask yourself, what would Wetzler do?
      1. Question everything
      2. Bend reality
      3. Never outsource your decision making”

      (Alfred Wetzler was a prisoner who escaped Auschwitz and helped bring awareness to what was happening there).

      Pushing myself to become more high agency, less low agency has been a mission ever since.  What story am I telling myself?  That I’m someone that gets things done, or someone who falls in line and does what is expected of me?  In general I’m proactive in reaching out to others, tackling projects (high agency) but tend to stall when I hit roadblocks (low agency).  In general I follow the rules of the game (low agency), but what if the rules aren’t really there in the first place?  Everything in social life is a construct, so why not construct my own life?  That’s high agency, and a better story than passively going through life as a cog in someone else’s story line.

      And so I’m pushing myself more in my career (which requires high agency thinking), and I’m writing more out of my comfort zone, and questioning other things in my life that I might have let slide before.  This bending reality to my will thing seems arrogant on the surface, but that’s passive thinking, isn’t it?  I have plenty of examples of people in my life bending reality to their will who I wouldn’t call arrogant, but instead adventurous and bold.  And who doesn’t want their main character to be adventurous and bold?

      The thing about high agency living is that it builds on itself.  You start with one bold question, push back a little and go in a different direction and it changes you.  Do it again and you change a little more.  Pretty soon you have momentum on your side and step-by-step eventually you’re living audaciously.  And that’s a story I’d like to see more of.