Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • Pizza Box Magic

      Pizza is a wonder food for the delight it brings in such a simple formula. A little dough, a little sauce. Top it with a few favorites and you’re on your way to blissful eating. But the most extraordinary, magical thing about pizza is the preservative effect it has on the whole. Think about it, if you left a dish full of cooked meat on the countertop all night you wouldn’t eat it cold the next morning. More often than not you’d throw it away! But not so that same meat on a pizza. You’d eat it without blinking an eye, sometimes cold, and sometimes a second day later. Try that with a piece of bread left on the counter.

      Maybe it’s pizza’s version of the Holy Trinity. Instead of onions, peppers and celery it’s dough, sauce and cheese preserves a pizza indefinitely. But then again maybe it’s something else, hiding right under our noses. I think maybe the box holds the secret. There’s magic in that box; fending of bacteria, staleness and hungry cats alike. A cardboard force field keeping evil at bay. Want to live forever? Move into a pizza box. But please, hold the anchovies.

    • A Successful Repetition

      I was chewing on a page in an old book last weekend that’s stayed with me.  The words don’t flow, but the concept is profound.  Consider:

      “What is a repetition?  A repetition is the re-enactment of past experience toward the end of isolating the time segment which has lapsed in order that it, the lapsed time, can be savored of itself and without the usual adulteration of events that clog time like peanuts in brittle….  Nothing of consequence would have happened because [something] was exactly as it was before.  There remained only time itself, like a yard of smooth peanut brittle.”  – Walker Percy, The Moviegoer

      This concept of what Percy calls a repetition interests me.  In a generally accept it as fact because I’ve experienced it myself sort of way.  Something of a time warp, it places you and an object of focus together at two moments in time, sometimes decades between.  It’s visiting the neighborhood you grew up in twenty years later and seeing things are largely the same, but knowing there’s been millions of changes in the world in between previous and present time.  The reaction of walking into a room and saying “wow, this place hasn’t changed at all.”  Cleaning out the attic and coming across some object of affection from thirty years ago that immediately reconnects you to that moment as if the previous you reached through the object and pulled you in.

      This isn’t a same time next year phenomenon, that’s too short a time span. No, better to have a couple of decades elapse and then boom! It hits you. Serendipity plays a part – there are many places I envision as they were, and going back to them now only highlights the changes. No, this is the realization that smacks you in the forehead as you look at something and fly back in time to that previous you that experienced it then. A bridge between times if you will.

      I’m working through this theory as a couple of catbirds mock me with their cries. Nothing is the same of course!, they cry.  We change both physically and mentally, and even an object of focus has changed at some molecular level. More brittle perhaps. But, I counter, on the whole the same. The same in relation to the rate of transformation in the world.

      The catbirds grow louder. Bear with me I want to tell them (I’ve learned they pretend not to care what I say). Think about a moment when you’ve seen an old friend you haven’t seen in decades, at a funeral or wedding. You’ve both changed in countless ways, but in that moment of reconnection nothing has changed. It’s as if you were resuming the conversation you ended on way back when. And that moment of reconnection becomes a successful repetition. Time evaporates, things are as they were, and will be forever… or at least until the next successful repetition.

    • Felling the Tree

      “Every action you take is a vote for the type of person you wish to be.” – James Clear

      This morning the snooze alarm went off well before I was prepared to get up. I don’t use the snooze button mind you; don’t believe in it. You’re either sleeping or you’re getting up. But my wife uses the snooze button often as part of her wake-up routine. Thankfully most days I’m up well before her alarm would go off. Today was an exception. Feeling a bit worn out I was going to sleep in, until the second snooze convinced me it wasn’t possible.

      This morning I operated in slow motion. Foggy and some aches and pains. I slowly dressed to work out, walked downstairs and drank a pint of water. The internal dialogue trending towards bagging the morning workout and doing it later in the day.  I’ve heard this song before and point my feet towards the basement door, down thirteen steps and onto the erg for a row.  I row 500 meters to warm up and assess my overall condition.  My assessment isn’t good, but I stand after 500 meters and warm up the shoulders.  More aches…  but I ignore them and drop down for the burpees, slower than usual but complete, row another piece and call it a workout.  I’ve done the bare minimum, cast my vote and I’m back upstairs.  I hear the snooze going off upstairs and look at the clock.  60 minutes of snooze buttoning.  Yikes.

      On to reading stoicism, a bit of an article on Ben Franklin in London, and a bit of writing this before my wife is downstairs and off for her commute.  Habits carried the morning for me even as the mind rebelled.  The James Clear quote above stays with me more than anything else in his excellent book.  Simple, memorable wisdom in a bite-sized chunk.  I wish I’d written that.  Instead I write other words, casting votes for the type of person I wish to be.  I’m closing in on 100,000 words written in this blog, and a few thousand burpees.  I need to move beyond the bare minimum workout, which means changing other habits later in the day.  Win the morning, lose the evening and it’s a wash.  Life is too short for a wash.  With only 142 days left in 2019 there’s so much to do still.  Why settle for the bare minimum?

      I joined a group challenge with co-workers.  We all travel, and we all struggle with the balance of exercise versus caloric intake that the job seems to demand.  We’ve all agreed to lose ten pounds by the time we reach a trade show in Chicago next month or pay $20 bucks and hear about it from those who were successful.  Nothing focuses the mind like peer pressure, so I’m all in on this challenge.  But I noticed I gave myself a pass last week (after all I had five weeks to complete the challenge).  I recognized this trend – it reminded me of pulling all nighters to complete papers in college.  Wait until the last minute, then put yourself through hell to reach a goal.  You won’t fell the tree with one swing of the axe…  I like the more intelligent approach of consistent, daily action and the compound effect, and so an incremental increase in daily workload to reach the goal is in order.  Keeping it going for the rest of the 142 days offers a head start on 2020, a nice round number with some big moments scheduled.

      I’ve always been intrigued with the concept of accelerating through the curve.  In racing that means slowing down in the first half of the apex and accelerating in the second half. Using momentum to your advantage.  In life momentum starts with casting consistent, daily votes.  That applies in your career, with exercise and weight loss, and writing.  The lack of momentum also applies in each of these areas, so why build anchors when you can build kites?  Or to return to that zen philosophy, you need to chop for a long time to fell the tree, you can’t do it with one swing.

    • State Change

      Everything has changed. Well almost everything. New sounds; I’ve never heard that dog bark before. The rumble and back-up beeping of construction equipment is new too. Seems to be road work happening at the top of the hill. A young squirrel is working the oak tree in the neighbors’ yard and there’s a constant drip of acorns plummeting through the leaves and thumping onto the ground.  Seems early for the dropping acorns but the squirrel seems to know more than I do about the matter.

      Some birds remain, like the brown thrasher I spent all summer trying to figure out. But the bluebirds are gone, and with them the feeling of early summer. Some new birds sing but I can’t place them. Migrating from someplace to another destination, with a quick stop in my neighborhood. I don’t know birds like I know some other things. But the more I know about anything the less I seem to know about that very thing.  Such is the way of the world.  I’ve learned to respect the journey of self-education, and hate myself for falling into the trap of thinking I know everything about anything.  Worse still is acting so.  Better to be open to the world around you; a sponge not a bullhorn.  There are far too many bullhorns already.

      Autumn is in the air. I felt it on Buzzards Bay as the winds shifted. This is first day of school bus stop air, and we aren’t yet halfway through August. And here in New Hampshire with the cool, humid air and white noise background buzz of crickets singing their late summer song.  Getting outside away from media opens the senses and the mind alike.  But other changes are in the air. A quarter of the family flying to London soon state change kind of air.  Another quarter entering senior year in college kind of air.  And what are we doing in this big house with all this stuff kind of air.

      Gone for a week and everything is different.  It would have been different if I’d been here too, but the daily gradual change isn’t noticed the way it is when you step away for a bit. Everything changes constantly. And so do I. A little for the better in some ways, a little for the worse in others, but generally more growth than decline. We all know what the ultimate end game is, but that doesn’t mean you have to live like you’re dead already. I know too many people who live in virtual bubble wrap, watching the world pass them by. I want to shake them loose, and whatever cobwebs I’ve grown myself, and shout “Embrace the changes; there’s magic in the air if you’ll only feel it!”

      I have a drive to Connecticut to get to.  That drive brings me from New Hampshire through Massachusetts to Connecticut, then the reverse this evening for the drive back.  Four hour round trip drive time, and more like seven hours with meetings thrown in the mix.  I could probably stay overnight in Connecticut, but there are compelling reasons to get back home this week, and so I’ll do the round trip instead.  My state change is both literal and figurative today.  But I do enjoy the journey.

    • Raising the Average

      “Perfection is the enemy of action.” – Ryan Holiday, The Daily Stoic

      Somehow I haven’t found the time to walk five miles every day this week. Busy with stuff. Like finding excuses to not get some exercise. But somehow I’ve managed to knock off a dozen burpees every day. Granted, it’s a small token of daily fitness, but I haven’t broken the streak yet. I’ve established a cadence with burpees. It’s a form of daily ritual, a small gesture towards fitness. It won’t close the gap on its own but it gives me some measure of achievement.

      Seth Godin mentioned in an interview that he writes multiple blog posts every day, essentially building a library of possibilities to post. I have no such library. Instead I write as inspiration strikes, usually in the morning but sometimes late in the day. But I post daily to keep the streak alive, typos and all. I’m not writing a masterpiece, though I surely try. The cadence is what I’m focused on. Hopefully the content meets expectations on occasion.

      Every morning this week I’ve gotten up for the sunrise, alone to catch the sun break the horizon. There’s a feeling of hope for this new day, as there was yesterday and hopefully tomorrow. I haven’t had a perfect day yet this week, but I’ve had good days nonetheless. Perfect days are evasive creatures; I’ll take great days or even average days. Average is still pretty good when you look at how dark the world can be. I woke up today (bonus!), saw a sunrise, sipped some coffee and read a bit of meaningful prose. I’ll take that kind of start any day. Chasing perfection leads you down a path of never good enough, which leads to the darkness. I choose the light, errors and all.

      There’s a great article about Dalilah Muhammad’s world record 400 meter hurdle run in Sports Illustrated this week. She ran an imperfect race, but she didn’t need perfection to get the WR because she’d worked so hard to be at a level of performance where an average race was still far ahead of the perfect race for someone else was. There’s a lesson there for all of us. We can’t reach perfection but by continually raising the bar in our own lives we can reach levels of greatness in our pursuits. Steady improvement over time moves us closer. That seems healthier than never good enough.

    • One Token Ripple

      This morning I stood out on the jetty well before sunrise looking for the pre-event light show. Not much aside from the building gray-to-white-to-orange glow. Limited cloud action and such. As I stood there waiting for the moment I heard the unmistakable momentum of the swells begin building on the rocks and retreated back to higher ground before my shoes soaked through. The wake of some unknown boater from some time before reached the place where I stood. Their ripple intersected with mine and I was the wetter for it.

      Turning around to scan the horizon for my mysterious boater friend, I saw the glint of first orange light up the windows of some house in Marion. They owned the earlier sunrise while I waited for the sun to clear the hills of Pocasset. Turning back to the east I waited out the climb until finally the dark hills caught fire and I became part of the new day too.

      Walking back to the beach I saw footprints and tire tracks below the high tide mark and realized I wasn’t the first one on the beach this morning. Like Robinson Crusoe I recognized I wasn’t alone. Less a shock to me. As the active fishing community here starts their day during my deep sleep stage. I rise early, they rise in the middle of the night.

      I read yesterday that there have been an estimated 107 billion people. I’ve felt the ripple of a small percentage of them, but have been touched by untold others. People I’ve never met, like the boater who’s wake got my feet wet this morning, or the Army Core of Engineers who built the jetty I stood on when it washed over. Or the carpenter who installed those windows betraying the coming sun in Marion. Authors read, and those who influenced them in turn. A chain of 107 billion links; of those who came before and those amongst us still.

      Two cups of coffee later in conversation with a friend who’s ripple has been more profound, we heard the slapping water and boiling sound of a bluefish run right into the beach. Walking down to the water line we watched the swirling ballet of bluefish and fry dance right to the sand and back out again. I saw the reflection of four fry on the sand that had leaped out of the water to escape the frenzy. Scooping them up I flicked them back into the bay one at a time. Perhaps they’ll survive to adulthood and feed some family a year from now. Or avoid that fate and spawn another generation. Impossible to know, but whatever happens to them, it’s one token ripple sent to the future.

    • Osprey

      Few birds inspire awe like an osprey as it hovers and dives 30-40 feet to pluck a seafood dinner out of the bay. I’m grateful for digital cameras as I wasted plenty of shots trying to do the osprey hunting overhead justice. Surely a better photographer than me could capture this raptor more impressively, but here is my attempt to capture the majesty of the osprey.

      Buzzards Bay got its name from explorers confusing osprey with buzzards. I don’t dwell much on buzzards, but appreciate the deft flying skill of the osprey as they search for prey or dance together in the sky. They’re the original navy pilots, striking terror in the hearts of fish and small critters alike. Top guns of the bay.

    • The Stack

      I started last weekend with seven books I wanted to finish. It’s now Wednesday and I’m at nine. The stack grows faster than I can read it. It’s an endless climb, and I can’t say I’m thrilled about it.

      Life is full of choices. What to eat, who to spend your time with, where to work, what to watch, what to wear… endless choices. Reading is another choice, and so is what you read. I’ve decided to be as aggressive with paring down books as I am with choosing what I watch on television. If it’s not grabbing me by the shoulders and screaming look! or isn’t providing useful information that moves me forward then I’m simply not sticking with it.

      Perhaps I’ll miss out on something, but more likely than not I’ll read more, finish the good stuff and give myself permission to get rid of the rest. Enough with partially read but never finished piles on the bed stand or clogging up the Kindle app. It’s time to downsize the marginally interesting to make room for the highly compelling.

    • Diminishing Returns vs. Compound Interest

      Sunrises don’t suffer from the law of diminishing returns the way sunrise pictures do. Getting up for the sunrise in the summer means getting up early, and you’re either in or you aren’t. Yesterday morning I lingered in bed a few minutes too long and missed the sun breaking the horizon. This morning I made a point of catching that moment and still missed it by five minutes. But I managed to witness a decent show nonetheless.

      The thing about sunrises is that once you’re up and experiencing it you recognize it was worth the effort. The thing about sunrise pictures is that they become too much of a good thing already! Too many sunrise pictures on social media and you experience the law of diminishing returns. People like the first, but by the third day in a row of posting that sunrise (or sunset) they’ve had just about enough of you. Best to practice a bit of moderation already. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all.

      The first cup of coffee offers a thrill you don’t get on the second cup. Wrapping your hands around a hot mug of coffee and taking that first sip is right up there with that sunrise for sensory thrills. The last sip in that mug is just trying to capture the last of the fading heat before the dreaded lukewarm blahness takes over. You have the second cup to recapture that thrill but alas it’s not the same (but so worth it anyway). By the third cup the magic is completely gone, you’re just in maintenance mode. If you have another you start questioning your choices in life. Such is the nature of diminishing returns.

      The nature of addiction is similar to that coffee experience; always searching for that thrill, increasing the dose, continuing past the point where you know you should stop. I’m simplifying it and have seen too many people struggle with addiction to treat the topic cavalierly, but I think about it because I’m challenged on it. People toss the word addiction around lightly. I’m not addicted to coffee, but I dance on the edge with it. So too with other things. I’ve danced with the topic of how much is healthy and how much is too much? on many habits; alcohol, coffee, Words With Friends, social media… blogging.

      My wife runs almost every day, and has since well before I met her more than a quarter century ago. She’s a better person after a run when she hasn’t run in a few days. As with coffee so too with exercise: Too much of a good thing offers diminishing returns at best and injury to self at worst. I’ve seen her go beyond her comfort level in training for stretch goals and become injured. 5K to half marathon is her natural range and she thrives in it. Her habit loop is generally very positive and has given her a lifetime of good health and energy in return.

      Self-awareness helps you develop good habits, and so do the people you surround yourself with. If you’re truly the average of the five people you associate with the most, then surely having those five be purpose-driven, physically active, supportive friends is better than the five being aimless, hard-living and dismissive acquaintances would be. Coming back to diminishing returns, those five will reinforce that first, second and third act of a habit. Do one more rep versus have another drink. Habits become more about reinforcing identity and less about the result of an individual act. The return over time builds on itself. The return on moderation, consistent exercise, getting proper sleep and reinforcing good habits with a network of positive influences in your life is the opposite of diminishing returns, it’s compound interest.

      A lifetime of getting up early and seeing the sunrise has generally benefited me more than staying up late watching television or closing out the bar would have been. There’s a place for those things too, but I’ve found the benefits of staying up late offers diminishing returns as I get older while getting up and getting the heart rate up, reading a bit and writing has given me compound interest. And after all, are we riding the wave to the beach or sliding sideways to the curve? The end might be the same but the journey should be more interesting along the way.

    • Collectively More Jaded

      In 2016 we took a family vacation to Orlando the same week that a pop singer was murdered there, a young child was killed by an alligator at Disney and the Pulse Nightclub mass shooting occurred. The news from Orlando was about as grim as it could possibly be. And yet we carried on with our vacation, escaping into Harry Potter and roller coasters, aware of the darkness nearby but determined to enjoy our vacation.

      Two more mass shootings in the last 24 hours and no end in sight. Unstable, generally white men lash out in acts of cowardly violence against innocents and we all reflect on the senselessness of it all. The world around us is more enraged and indignant than it was three summers ago, but more cynical too. We mock spineless politicians with their “thoughts and prayers” and grow hardened to what was once uncommon horrific violence. Change comes painfully slow in our society, but it comes. That common sense prevails is proven out over time offers no solace in El Paso or Dayton this morning.

      Terms like “shelter in place”, “run, hide, fight” and “lockdown” were virtually unknown until twenty years ago when Columbine started this endless string of mass shootings. Now people know the types of weapons used and can figure out the manifesto of the madman by where and when it happened. Lower the flags yet again, order the flowers and light the candles. Just don’t mess with their right to bear arms. Mental health screening? Just a foot in the door and before you know it they’re taking everyone’s guns… I know the NRA response as well as I know the rest.

      As with three years ago I’d prefer a vacation without the body count in my head. But if I had my way a lot of things would be different. Instead, of writing about an otherwise beautiful morning on Cape Cod I’m reflecting on mass shootings yet again. Looking up, I watch boats heading out of Buzzards Bay while others bob on the water fishing for whatever is biting today. The world marches on, collectively more jaded than yesterday morning. Maybe this time something will change. Or maybe tomorrow.