Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • Worthy of Our Time

      “Beware the barrenness of a busy life” — Socrates

      The peril of productivity is that we get so busy doing things that we forget to look up and see all that’s passing right before our eyes. I’m not a fan of busy, but I love being productive with my time. And of course beauty is in the eye of the beholder. We can feel when our time is well spent and when it’s not.

      It helps to look ahead. What will we miss most when it’s gone forever? Conversations with people we love. The field that deer and turkey gather in on foggy mornings that will become a development in a growth-at-all-costs community. The quiet rituals in a role we are currently in but won’t be in forever. So much is here today and gone tomorrow. What is worth saving and what is worth letting go?

      The key to a full life is to look for the barrenness and to endeavor to fill it with meaning. What’s missing? What can we add to fill that void? Filling gaps is not busyness when it’s purposeful. And what is full of meaning already that we should endeavor to save for a future we all hope will be brighter? If barrenness is the antithesis of a full life, what is truly worthy of our time?

    • Deliberate With the Highlights

      How do we fill our days? Life is a stack of days, as we know. What fills them fills a life. So we ought to choose wisely. I may have said that once or twice, but I assure you it’s to remind myself to bring out the highlighter now and then.

      On a warm October weekend, I spent the bulk of it working to ready the home and yard for the coming of colder days. Hours with a pressure washer cleaning all the newly vacated surfaces. And warm enough for shorts and a t-shirt. The tropical plants were stunned to be cut to the base and tucked in the cellar. Am I crazy putting summer away on such a warm weekend? It doesn’t matter what the thermometer says, it’s what the calendar tells me. And so my tropical paradise has receded back to memory for the next six months.

      Will I remember the yard work? Maybe. A clean shed offers evidence we can certainly refer back to. But life isn’t meant to be a series of chores before we die. If we’re smart with our time, we should fill the days with highlighter moments too. A late afternoon walk on the beach and dinner out with family are highlighter moments in and of themselves, but within each we can choose something even brighter to mark it as special. Each could have been highlighted with something uniquely out of the box. We know it when we see it. I was more tame than I might have been. Let’s call it refinement.

      All of this makes for compelling reading, no doubt. But the point is, we ought to embrace the productive work that moves the chains in a full life but save a little time and energy for something extra. Our one line a day may be completing a bunch of chores, but it might also a call to catch up with an old friend, splurging on dessert or a fancy drink we normally wouldn’t order, or getting up and out early to witness the Harvest Moon before it too fades into the past. The chores tend to line up all by themselves—we ought to be deliberate with the highlights too.

    • Low Ground, High Places.

      Autumn is when most people flock to the high ground, searching for vantage points from which to take in the foliage. It’s a lovely thing, that foliage. What is less lovely is the flock of people. Foliage gridlock is the ugly phenomenon of fall. So those of us who live amongst the foliage tend to avoid the popular places. Beauty can be found in the quiet places too. A single orange and red leaf drifting to rest just so is all I need. But oh, those vantage points are stunning too.

      My bride and I went to the sea to walk the pup in the low tide surf. That’s just about as low ground as you can get in New Hampshire, and we reached the highest of places watching the pup play in the foam, chase seagulls, and giving the horses a sideways glance. In the offseason the horses return to the beach, riders splashing into the waves as they trot the long stretch of firm sand out and back from the state park.

      We also return in the offseason, favoring the relative quiet it offers. Late in the afternoon on a warm October day, we found we had plenty of company but still nowhere near what it must have been earlier in the day. With the surf up and churning its relentless song, the sun casting brilliant warm light as it drops to the west, there is no foliage to wonder at. Walking along the surf line to witness what the low ground has to say, seeing the joy that a beach walk draws out of my two companions, I can tell you that there is magic just the same.

    • Still, Here

      Silence is the language of god,
      all else is poor translation.
      —Rumi

      It wasn’t all that long ago that it was exciting to see a satellite flying overhead. Now it feels like I can’t look up without seeing one. And it will get far busier up in the sky before too long. That’s just the way it is now, and whether we like it is beside the point. Modern progress chews up beautiful simplicity for breakfast.

      I say this knowing it’s autumn in New England. I’ll celebrate the season while dreading the coming of the leaf blowers. There will be no escaping the drone of these technological wonders as they descend on quiet cul-de-sacs en masse. Envie de t’évader?

      I’m not a purist. I use Waze and Google Maps frequently and listen to satellite radio far more than terrestrial radio. I too embrace the leaf blower like an old friend when the oak leaves blanket the lawn. I play music loudly. I delight in the energy of a crowded stadium. I am thus part of the problem, but I need stillness too. It’s simply harder to find in the familiar places.

      Maybe that’s why I’m getting up earlier than ever. On average I’m up an hour earlier than I used to get up. And I love the quiet time it offers. This blog wouldn’t exist without stillness and stubbornness. Imperfect as it is—as I am, it is my quiet offering to the universe that I’m still here, doing my thing, for at least this one more day. You want stillness? Listen to the applause after that statement.

      The world will keep getting louder and more complex. This requires a more deliberate layering of quiet from which we may hear ourselves think. I’m not convinced the world wants us thinking, but isn’t that a great reason to try? Let us quietly find our way to a more enlightened place.

    • May This Day

      After so many changes made and joys repeated,
      Our first bewildered, transcending recognition
      Is pure acceptance. We can’t tell our life
      From our wish. Really I began the day
      Not with a man’s wish: “May this day be different,”
      But with the birds’ wish: “May this day
      Be the same day, the day of my life.”
      — Randall Jarrell, A Man Meets a Woman in the Street

      The walks are colder now. Brisk. As in, I wish I’d put on a pair of gloves kind of brisk. But I welcome the change, even as I mourn for the things that will be missed as the earth tilts away from the sun yet again. Life is change, after all. Don’t blink: it will all change again soon enough.

      We each settle into a routine that becomes our life. We normalize the commute, the chores, the favorite game show we watch when we return home. What is all of this but the same day, repeated, to the end of our days? And so we look for different, while there’s still time, maybe with a little magic mixed in, just to feel like we found some wonder in our day.

      What do we wish for? It usually comes down to something different from the routine. But what is different quickly becomes the same too, when repeated. And so we chase different again and again. And there are times when different is the right answer. But not always. Sometimes the answer lies in gratitude for the rhythm of a beautiful life, built on the foundation of a routine that fits us like our favorite sweater. Just what would you wish for? May this day be savored for all that it brings.

    • The Precious Hour

      “To fill the hour—that is happiness; to fill the hour, and leave no crevice for a repentance or an approval.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

      To win the hour is to advance. To waste it is the proverbial two steps back. We grow forward or we recede backwards into a lesser version of ourselves. Stack enough wins together and we have the makings of a great day—and a great life.

      As time goes, nothing is worth more to me than the first hour of the day. If I don’t use it properly, the rest of the morning feels rushed or incomplete. What is proper? Using the mind before the day steals my attention. Writing and reading something worthy of the precious hour.

      My bride is still asleep when that first precious hour ends. Her productive time is later, when my energy begins to wain. And she’s still going strong well after I’m ready to call it a night. We all have our time when we feel most effective. We all know our limitations, even if we won’t always admit them to ourselves.

      We’ve heard it many times: we each have the same 24 hours to work with. Making good life choices for each may create an amazing day. Making really bad choices can certainly ruin it. We are the sum of our decisions and the discipline we bring to each hour. It will all fly past us if we aren’t more deliberate with how we use the time. Tempus fugit. Carpe diem.

      For me the 13th hour is when I begin to stumble into the questionable. I may eat nutritious food, exercise, do focused and meaningful work and be a good companion to my fellow travelers on this ship of fools we call the present. But then I get mentally lazy, snack on junk food, maybe wash it down with a drink, scroll social media and allow that to stir feelings of anger or envy. All of it wastes that hour, and may leave a lasting impression on the other 23.

      The trick is not just to make the most of our best hour, but to raise the standard for our worst. One good hour won’t make or break a lifetime, but it can certainly put us on the right path. There are 8,760 hours in a year (leaving those leap years aside). That’s way too many to focus on, but we don’t get to skip ahead anyway. It’s fair to ask more of ourselves in each hour to come if we wish to reach a higher level of personal excellence than we reached previously. Raising our average begins with expecting more of ourselves in our best and worst hours. And of course, that begins with this one. Make it precious.

    • A Strange Vocation

      Poetry, my starstruck patrimony.
      It was necessary
      to go on discovering, hungry, with no one to guide me,
      your earthy endowment,
      light of the moon and the secret wheat.

      Between solitude and crowds, the key
      kept getting lost in streets and in the woods,
      under stones, in trains.

      The first sign is a state of darkness
      deep rapture in a glass of water,
      body stuffed without having eaten,
      heart of beggar in its pride.

      Many things more that books don’t mention,
      stuffed as they are with joyless splendor:
      to go on chipping at a weary stone,
      to go on dissolving the iron in the soul
      until you become the person who is reading,
      until the water finds a voice through your mouth.

      And that is easier than tomorrow being Thursday
      and yet more difficult than to go on being born—
      a strange vocation that seeks you out,
      and which goes into hiding when we seek it out,
      a shadow with a broken roof
      and stars shining through its holes.
      — Pablo Neruda, Bread-Poetry

      I’ve gone and shared the entire poem. I’d meant to be more precise with a line or two about the stars shining through or rapture in a glass, but neither tells the story. Perhaps the english translation doesn’t tell the entire story either, but here we are. The point is, in the sharing there is a story. And naturally, we are the stories we decide to tell the world.

      Do you wonder when to begin a new chapter? Or are you too busy finding rhymes for this poem to worry about something that may never be? I think that’s the thing for most of us, isn’t it? We’re too busy living to focus on what’s next. If now is all that matters, why dwell on the tomorrows? Because it’s coming for us, ready or not? The grasshopper learned too late that the ant had it right, but in the end it was the grasshopper who made music. The real lesson is to find time to build a life and to thoroughly live it too.

      How much is enough to share? Each word published is released, never to be mine again. Perhaps that’s for the best; these words were only looking to fly free from me that they may dance in the light. I’ll click publish and go about my day, looking for as much meaning in the grind as I found in a few moments of creative output. Which work will live beyond me? It isn’t for us to decide, but to offer the best of ourselves in whatever we give our lives to.

    • Wealth in Health

      “The greatest wealth is health.” — Virgil

      On a beautiful Sunday afternoon, I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t get out for a ride on the bike. It’s been leaning against the wall mocking me for weeks, waiting for my excuses to run out. Busy should never be our excuse for not exercising, not when the true answer is that we chose to prioritize something else with our precious time. So I got out there, and quickly surprised myself with the gains I’d made.

      If we remember our three currencies in life—health, wealth and time—we ought to consider both our accumulation and spend rate of each. Will I be riding a bike up steep hills when I’m 85? Probably not, but I can do it today. And in doing it today I’m increasing the probability of doing it one day when I’m 85. So I ought to do the work today that makes me healthier tomorrow.

      But it’s hard for us to work hard to accumulate for some imagined version of ourselves in a few decades. Perhaps the better thing to do is focus on more immediate gains in health and vitality and let the compound interest of a lifetime of fitness do the rest. The trick is not just to be active, but to do the activities that are enjoyable so that we keep on doing them for the rest of our days.

      I’ve come to enjoy weight circuits because they’re relatively enjoyable to do (and I get to play my favorite music loudly). Those weight circuits have made me stronger and leaner, making those hill climbs on the bike easier, which in turn makes riding the bike even more fun than it already was. After not being on a bike for a month, I set four PR’s on four measured segments of the route, making for one exhilarating ride yesterday. It wasn’t like I set out to do a time trial, it just happened because I was more fit than the last time I rode.

      I know that each workout is going to help me as I grow older, but the payoff can’t be some far off tomorrow if I hope to be inspired enough to make it a lifetime habit. But thankfully, today’s reward is an immediate increase in energy, vitality, athletic performance and in the way we feel about ourselves as we see gains. It all builds on itself, allowing us to reap the rewards of an active life now while building a stronger foundation of fitness for our latter years. And that, friends, is a win-win.

    • The Dog and the Frog

      “A calm and modest life brings more happiness than the pursuit of success combined with constant restlessness.” — Albert Einstein

      Every morning I let the puppy out to relieve herself. Inevitably, she ignores her full bladder and makes a beeline for the pool to see who is swimming there today. Most mornings this time of year there’s a frog bobbing around with the acorns believing it’s found paradise on earth. And so the standoff begins. The pup will circle for hours if I let her, chasing something that she’ll never catch. The only way to break the spell is to take the net and rescue the frog from the pool, relocating it over the fence. Tomorrow it will likely be right back in there again, awaiting the pup. This would go on each morning until the end of time if the season wasn’t drawing to a close.

      Are we any better than the dog following the frog? We also run around in circles relentlessly pursuing some concept of happiness or success, as if either are tangible. Reach for either and we find it’s bobbing somewhere other than the place we just dove for it. Each are nothing but ideas of what we think we ought to be.

      The aim of life is growth. A tadpole or a mighty oak measures it’s time alive in growth, and so should we. We ought to break the spell of chasing happiness or success, whatever the heck those mean to us and focus instead on purposeful gain. What might our net gain be today with a change in focus? Knowledge or strength? Enlightenment? A deeper understanding of ourselves and our place in this world?

      Forget about running in circles with nothing to show for it but a wet nose. Break the spell of the chase and focus on incremental growth instead. Whatever moves the needle forward in a meaningful way towards personal excellence and growth are the true wins for the day. Stack enough of these wins together and we may realize a state of happiness and success.

    • Always Mine Time

      “When I paint a picture, the time it takes will always be mine, or I get something out of it; time doesn’t end because it has passed. I feel sick when I think about the days that are passing—interminably. And I don’t have anything, or I can’t get at it. It’s torture; I can get so furious that I have to pace the floor and sing something idiotic so that I won’t start crying with rage, and then I almost go crazy when I stop again and realize that meanwhile time has been passing, and is passing while I’m thinking, and keeps on passing and passing. There is nothing so wretched as being an artist.” — Jens Peter Jacobsen, Niels Lyhne

      When we stumble across that which captures our move through time, traps it in amber as Vonnegut put it, we realize the infinite—that which is timeless. Timelessness is itself an illusion, as is time, we simply capture our passage through it with something that will outlast us.

      Do you doubt this? Look at an old photograph from a moment in the past and feel what stirs within. Read an old letter, when people still wrote those, and see what is captured in amber. I write this blog post, as with all the rest of them, knowing that once I hit publish it becomes always mine time—this moment of thought and emotion and intellectual momentum (or perhaps inertia) are now captured. I move on to the next thing in my day, and the next; passing and passing. What of the rest is captured? Precious little, but these words remain.

      What artist hasn’t felt swept up in the moment of creation? What artist hasn’t felt the emptiness of uncreative moments? We must be productive in our time, or watch it drift away like so many empty days. The only answer to the coldness of time is to do work that matters, and to strive towards mastery in it. Personal excellence (arete) may be forever out of reach, but to reach for it is to make something more out of… time.