Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • The Audacious Turn

      “There’s no glory in climbing a mountain if all you want to do is to get to the top. It’s experiencing the climb itself – in all its moments of revelation, heartbreak, and fatigue – that has to be the goal.” — Karyn Kusama

      This week has been filled with moments of revelation, heartbreak and fatigue. Sure, the Olympics has been jammed with such moments, but really, I’m talking about my own unique combination of work week, exercise regime and writing. Anything that represents the climb for us is bound to be full of highs and lows. The trick is to learn to accept it all and keep climbing.

      What makes life more interesting—the view at the top or the obstacles we navigate along the way? Perhaps a better way to ask that question is, which makes the better story? Life isn’t simply that Instagram post capturing the sunset, pretty as it may be, it’s the hike up to earn it and the careful descent down the rock scramble afterwards that we’ll talk about in the days that follow. The thing about climbing is that even while we’re constantly facing challenges, we grow more and more prepared to tackle such things. We grow more fit, more resilient, more determined to do just a little bit more tomorrow. And live to tell the tale.

      This summer has been a reacquaintance with cycling. There are rides I’ve done recently that I wouldn’t have done a month ago. I’ve noticed that the more I ride the less I go to the rail trails. Sure, we can ride them every day and avoid most climbs and vehicle traffic, but what have we experienced? The steep hills I opted out of climbing before are worth tackling now because I’m less intimidated by the climb and because flat gets boring. We do the work that we may climb, and so it follows that we must climb when we’ve done the work.

      That nagging voice is reminding me that there are other hills that I keep riding past in my life in favor of easier rides. There are chapters to write that haven’t been written, awaiting a bolder version of me. We can go an entire lifetime saying we’ll do the tough work tomorrow and never make the audacious turn up that hill. Then again, we can simply be bold today and see how it plays out. We are here to experience it all, aren’t we? So what perceived limitations will we test in our life today?

    • Never Coming Back Again

      “Because in the end, you won’t remember the time you spent working in an office or mowing the lawn. Climb that goddamn mountain.” — Jack Kerouac

      Our mountain is experience. There’s no getting around it. We must get out there and do the things that call to us. We know the stakes. Whatever we do with this day, we ought to make it meaningful for all the right reasons.

      I texted with an avid hiker friend who’s birthday is today. She always takes the day off to celebrate it, which I think is a wonderful way to mark the occasion. Hopefully there are mountains on her schedule today, or at the very least time with people who matter a great deal.

      It happens that today is also the day a woman who works for me returns from maternity leave. When she texted me that she was back I reminded her that she was to punt anything and everything that felt overwhelming over the fence to the team that’s been supporting her while she’s been away. Work is not life, merely a part of life. When we treat it like our life we limit our potential as human beings.

      It’s not my birthday today, and I don’t have a newborn at home drawing my attention, but I do have the same 24 hours to work with. What will we remember most about this day at the end of our days? We ought to do more of that. Make it special, for it’s never coming back again.

    • Too Present to Imagine

      Age saw two quiet children
      Go loving by at twilight,
      He knew not whether homeward,
      Or outward from the village,
      Or (chimes were ringing) churchward,
      He waited, (they were strangers)
      Till they were out of hearing
      To bid them both be happy.
      “Be happy, happy, happy,
      And seize the day of pleasure.”
      The age-long theme is Age’s.
      ‘Twas Age imposed on poems
      Their gather-roses burden
      To warn against the danger
      That overtaken lovers
      From being overflooded
      With happiness should have it.
      And yet not know they have it.
      But bid life seize the present?
      It lives less in the present
      Than in the future always,
      And less in both together
      Than in the past. The present
      Is too much for the senses,
      Too crowding, too confusing-
      Too present to imagine.
      —Robert Frost, Carpe Diem

      Nothing brings you to the present like taking a leap. You’ve left your familiar, solid footing behind, are airborne for an instant and sure to land somewhere new any moment now. We don’t have to imagine the landing in such moments of leaping, we need only prepare ourselves for its inevitability.

      I begin most mornings with a leap into the pool to shake off the cobwebs, and the sensation of leaping never gets old. I recognize the privilege of having a pool in the first place, for it’s a relic of the past that lingers like old soccer balls and scooters. The difference is that it still brings joyful moments even as the life it was built for has changed. Empty nests make for still water most all of the time. Still, I leap.

      We can’t mourn the past that has left us, simply acknowledge that it is a part of who we are now. It’s like the library of books read and placed on the shelf to be referred to now and then. We are the sum of all of our experience, yet forever leaping into the future. In these moments I come back to seizing the present. Carpe diem is that airborne moment we scarcely think of in the midst of leaping, but it’s everything too present to imagine.

      We must remember we’re standing on the bridge to our future, but not obsess over it to the point of being seized by it. Happiness is bliss in the leap with optimism for the landing. The joei de vivre we fold into the present is one more book on tomorrow’s shelf. We are building a meaningful life as our library grows by the day. Each a present to reflect on, even as we leap for the next.

    • Ought To’s and Got To’s

      “Change your life today. Don’t gamble on the future, act now, without delay.” — Simone de Beauvoir

      We ought to act with more urgency in our days. Ought to’s aren’t the same as got to’s though, are they? We know we ought to work out more, eat and drink less empty calories, read more, make the call we’ve been meaning to make and do that other thing that’s been nagging at us for some time now. What did we actually get to yesterday? That’s the stuff of consequence that moved the chains in our march through time. Got to’s are palpable because we feel the change that comes with them.

      There are few things more fulfilling than a solid day in which we do the things we’d promised ourselves that we’d do. It sets the table for a bolder tomorrow, clears the deck of yesterday’s commitments and confirms for us that we got to do the things we knew we ought to do. Excuses fall by the wayside as accomplishments stack up behind us.

      We know that there’s always another ought to rising up to meet us. That’s life. But that next ought to is easier to face when we’ve gotten to the things that came up before. Each lifts us to a higher place; a staircase of accomplishments rising to a higher identity. The view is distinctly better the higher we climb. Certainly better than down there treading water under the weight of all those ought to’s.

      The thing is, we read an inspiring quote like Beauvoir’s and feel the lift of her words. Do we act on it in the moment? Changing our lives seems pretty big when we think about it, but really it’s just the next thing we’ve got to do completed, and the one after that. So by all means, we must act now, and leave today’s ought to’s in the past where they belong.

    • Solitude and Service

      “He who delights in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.” — Friedrich Nietzsche

      I recently spent some time on an island, and fancied what it might be like to live there. A boat could bring me back to civilization as needed for provisions and conversation. The rest of the time? Blessed solitude. Libraries of books being read and re-read. Volumes of prose written. Time to meditate on the meaning of life. Processing elbow room for the mind and soul. Wonderful, sacred solitude.

      It’s nice to ponder, but I suspect I wouldn’t be truly fulfilled in a life of solitude. I feel another gravitational force pulling me in the other direction. My attention always comes back to a familiar world of contribution to and appreciation for the circle of people who make up my identity beyond the self. For most of us, service to others is our primary purpose.

      Blame it on growing up in a big family or participating in a team sport instead of individual pursuits, but I just seem to be built for social interaction. That doesn’t make my time in solitude any less valuable, but does make it obvious that it’s a now and then thing not an all the time existence. But is it enough?

      The most interesting islands are full of connection to others. Fellow inhabitants, bridges and ferries to connect you to the mainland, Internet and cellular telephone service. Each brings connection for those times when solitude is just too much. We don’t have to live on an island to find solitude any more than we need to be off the island to find connection.

      As with everything, life is about balance. Balance is something we feel, and perhaps the best thing we can do for ourselves is to build a life where we feel our balance between solitude and service are mostly in blessed equilibrium. Surely it’s something to aspire to in our creative, engaged and productive lives. Wherever we may find it.

      Solitude

    • What Feeds Your Head

      “I would urge you to be as imprudent as you dare. BE BOLD, BE BOLD, BE BOLD. Keep on reading. (Poetry. And novels from 1700 to 1940.) Lay off the television. And, remember when you hear yourself saying one day that you don’t have time any more to read- or listen to music, or look at [a] painting, or go to the movies, or do whatever feeds you head now- then you’re getting old. That means they got to you, after all.” — Susan Sontag, from the 1983 Wellesley College commencement speech

      I’m far from the most productive productivity zealot out there, and I’ve always positioned myself as the late bloomer figuring things out as I go. One thing I figured out a long time ago was that I need to have a head start to keep up with that which I aspire to finish today. It’s no secret that I try to jamb as much as possible into the morning hours, that I may be ahead of the game as the world washes it’s nonsense over me. This morning? 11 mile ride, feed the pets, water the plants, read two chapters, responded to essential work emails and now writing this blog in hopes of publishing before 8 AM. Will my hours be as productive as the day progresses? Likely not, but at least I’ve done what I’d hoped to do when I woke up.

      We can’t run on empty forever. We’ve got to fuel the engine that keeps us running down the hours. Hydration and nutrition are a given, but we can’t forget to refill the mind’s battery. A good night’s sleep to keep the brain fog at bay, then seek to fill up with as much nutrient-rich experience as we can find. What feeds our head? We ought to be more creative and attentive to our choices. Garbage in, garbage out and all that.

      I’m pressing for more travel, more music, more art, more face time with interesting people, and more diverse experience than I’ve accumulated thus far. How much is enough? We’ll know it when we get there, and I’m a long way from there now. Sontag’s speech to young graduates was likely well received, but it’s their parents and grandparents who really knew the score. Life will constantly get in the way of feeding our mind and soul. We must carve out the time and jealously guard it, lest it disappear forever.

      So be bold today. It’s not the first time I’ve asked, and won’t be the last. I’m asking it of you and also of me. Today’s the day. Nice starts are great, but sprint to the finish this day. There’s just so much to see and do and only now to work with.

    • Attention is Vitality

      “Do stuff. be clenched, curious. Not waiting for inspiration’s shove or society’s kiss on your forehead. Pay attention. It’s all about paying attention. attention is vitality. It connects you with others. It makes you eager. stay eager.” ― Susan Sontag

      Many things compete for our attention. The pup wants very much for me to pay full attention to playing frisbee with her for the entire morning. There’s a part of me that would rather do that than shift attention to other work. But there are things we must do in our lives that call to us. What we pay attention to determines where we go after all.

      Perhaps I love my return to cycling because of the state change it brought to me, or perhaps it’s because I’m very focused on the act of staying upright and making miles when I’m doing it. There’s no texting or doom scrolling on my part, and hopefully not on the part of the drivers nearby. There’s just full attention to the joyful act of flying inches over the pavement, with the occasional hill to punch up the heart rate.

      During this morning’s frisbee session I listened to the world around me. The sound of a horse whinnying at the farm beyond the woods, a crow having a conversation with another crow that preferred silence (thank you very much!), the hum of distant morning drivers on country roads, the sun shining brightly upon grateful oak leaves, the still wet footprints from an early morning plunge in the pool, a bit of coolness in the air. Paying attention offers a wealth of information from which to become engaged with the universe. Alternatively, we may focus our rapt attention on one thing until it’s done. I’m particularly good at the former, and force myself towards the latter. Some tasks are easier than others.

      There’s just so much to pay attention to in this world, screaming as it is for ours. The trick is to filter it all out and listen to the call of the wild within us. What excites us? Why aren’t we doing more of that to see where it leads us? Life is a meandering path of engagement and diversion with an undefined destination set against a clock ticking relentlessly in the background, reminding us that we’re running out of time. Do stuff! While we still have the currency of attention, health and vitality to stuff those minutes full of experience.

    • A Unique Wonder

      I read somewhere that meteor showers
      are almost alwavs named after the constellation from which
      they originate. It’s funny, I think, how even the universe is telling us
      that we can never get too far
      from the place that created us.
      How there is always a streak of our past
      trailing closely behind us
      like a smattering of obstinate memories. Even when we enter a new atmosphere,
      become subsumed in flames, turn to dust, lose ourselves in the wind, and scatter
      the surface of all that rest beneath us, we bring a part of where we are from
      to every place we go.
      — Clint Smith, Meteor Shower

      Walking the pup the other night, I saw a shooting star far brighter and more colorful than the norm, with a very definite tail and distinct blues, greens and yellows in the burn. I thought for a moment that it might have been a stray firework but for the direction it was falling and the distinct shooting star vibe. Was it an elusive fireball or simply a particularly passionate meteor? I think the latter, but it was the brightest and most colorful I’d ever seen. This particular shooting star apparently contained enough copper, magnesium and iron to treat me to that display of blue, green and yellow I’d witnessed. Throw enough science at anything and the magic evaporates. Let’s just call it a unique wonder in a sky full of beautiful.

      I don’t write about the stars so much nowadays, but I still look up most every night and marvel at the universe. If we are indeed stardust then we are staring at our distant cousins out there. Some of us dwell on where we came from, some chalk it up to a Creator and dismiss any talk of science as sacrilege. None of us is really in the know on such things, and the people who shout the loudest are usually the ones who know the least. We all crave answers, don’t we? It’s just that some settle on the answer someone else tells them is true instead of remaining open to other possibilities. Where we come from, if we go back far enough, is infinity. We’ll return there someday soon. What we choose to call that infinity is up for discussion.

      The thing is, we all accept some version of where we came from, it’s where we’re going that we can’t quite understand. We are all shooting stars streaking across the sky to our final days, memento mori and all that. But we may add enough color to our lives to make our journey wonderful, and perhaps inspire others on their own journey too. In our dance with infinity, this brief time is unique to us. Shouldn’t we aspire to as much as we may fit in along the way?

    • Let Us Be Bold Today

      “I think that all human systems require continuous renewal. They rigidify. They get stuff in the joints. They forget what they cared about. The forces against it are nostalgia and the enormous appeal of having things the way they always have been, appeals to a supposedly happy past. But we’ve got to move on.” — John W. Gardner

      Rigidify isn’t a word I use frequently, but isn’t it perfectly opposite of embracing change and the growth that comes with it? We’re all changing every day, we just don’t see the changes until we’ve looked back with some perspective. Sure, there are abrupt changes that turn us upside down now and then in a lifetime, but for the most part we must be the invoker of state change in our lives.

      The problem is that everything grows so damned comfortable. We’re less inclined to change dramatically, preferring the incremental changes we can absorb with careful consideration. That’s why we stay where we are, doing what we’ve been doing, with the people we’ve always done them with, until the end… Rigidified. Let that <yawn> not be us.

      We get caught up in big picture stuff too often, and forget the small act we can make in the moment that will change everything given enough momentum. There’s a feeling of hopelessness in people paralyzed by all the things in their life that get in the way of the leap into new. Change feels too big. Maybe start with how we spend the next hour instead. What is the most dynamic, energizing, empowering thing we can do right now that is within our control? Do some version of that. Shake off the cobwebs and leap! At least try a little hop?

      “You’re not dying. You just can’t think of anything good to do.” — Ferris Bueller to Cameron, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

      We all need that Ferris Bueller character in our lives to call us out for getting too comfortable in our own current state. If good is truly the enemy of great, then good enough in this moment is keeping us from something far better. We ought to be more creative with our hours. This current one is slipping away quickly. So consider this a Bueller callout and shake off the cobwebs. Let us be bold today.

    • An Adult on a Bicycle

      “Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race.”
      ― H.G. Wells

      It’s hard to believe I went years without riding a bicycle. I mean, I had two hanging in the garage just waiting for me all that time. When the time came I had to hose off the gathered dust, give both a tune up and generous helping of chain oil before tentatively rolling off on the first ride on each. The road bike needed a cleaning, the mountain bike needed a new chain, and here I am riding bicycles again. Why do we postpone the things we love in favor of responsibility and rigid structure to our days? We only have so many of them.

      Want to add a bit of joy to your life? Roll down a quiet road or trail on a bicycle, feel the breeze pick up as you gain speed and watch time slip away as you fly. Cycling is a worthy diversion from the tumultuous, divided time we find ourselves in. To do seemingly frivolous things is to choose joyfulness over tedium.

      The thing is, it’s not frivolous at all. I’m sore in new places from the miles I’ve ridden over the last few days. I forgot how many hills there are in this small town. But for every climb there’s an opportunity to roll down the other side. The mileage adds up quickly riding a bicycle, and the workouts are always interesting. Winter will be here soon enough, summer is the time to be outside doing things we won’t always be able to do. Time will catch us one day, so peddle like mad to stay ahead of it.

      What is the point of all this carrying on about riding a bicycle? Well, it’s about finding delight where we can in worthy pursuits outside the norm. Being a kid again in some small, rebellious way. Leave others to their treadmills and Pelotons and reps, we might choose to fly instead.