Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • Ripe For Something

      “I feel ripe for something, yet do nothing, can’t discover what that thing is. I feel fertile merely. It is seedtime with me. I have lain fallow long enough.” — Henry David Thoreau, The Journal of Henry David Thoreau

      If January brings with it resolution to change, February brings bitter reality. Some winters are more bitter and persistent than others. This winter is overachieving on the bitterness scale.

      The pup runs out with her tail wagging, charging past the cleared path and packed snow into the deeper stuff, breaks through the frozen crust and her legs plunge into the deep. One paw trudging after the other, breaking crust and plummeting. All joy is halted and she looks back at me in despair.

      “What is this?!”

      “That’s bitter reality”, I whisper back to her, coaxing her out of the worst of it.

      That’s February 2025.

      Still, the days grow brighter. Thoughts of March are stirring, with April is right behind it. April is daffodils and fragrance. The only fragrance in February is gasoline and windshield fluid. We can look at the lengthening days and think of daffodils, even if they feel a long way off. We can work to survive the worst of winter in the hope of getting to the best of spring.

      Things are darkest before the dawn, and these are the days when we feel something stir within. Thoreau’s journal entry rings true: We can feel it but we aren’t really sure what it is yet. Something is awakening within us, something profoundly ours. It’s our why, our purpose, and it is born and expressed in the things we do with it from here. Unlocked from the inertia of our darkest days into something brighter. Keep trudging pup, joyful days are stirring.

    • Where We Are, Where We Are Going

      Into my heart an air that kills
      From yon far country blows:
      What are those blue remembered hills,
      What spires, what farms are those?

      That is the land of lost content,
      I see it shining plain,
      The happy highways where I went
      And cannot come again
      — A. E. Housman      , A Shropshire Lad, XL

      We all get a little sentimental at times, remembering our days gone by. Youthful vigor and adventures, friends and family long gone but not forgotten, and a sense of place forever locked in the amber of that particular moment. We shall never pass that way again, yet we revisit it often in our memories. And so it must be.

      I believe most of the troubles we have in the world today are related to people wanting to return to some notion of what life used to be like back in the good old days. Instead of making the most of now, instead of working towards a dream of a better tomorrow, people dwell on who they once were. Like a time machine taking us back to see the best in us, and to fix the things that didn’t go our way.

      I remember who I once was—nice enough guy but he didn’t know a damned thing about life yet. He didn’t realize the opportunities he was missing out on. And maybe that’s what people believe they can fix by living in the past. All of it brought us here, to who we are, to where we are. The good, bad and the ugly all contributed to this: our identity. Magnify that by billions of restless souls and we arrive at this particularly baffling time in our collective history.

      Where we went matters a great deal as it brought us here. Wake up and look around, for this is where we are! This is our time, not back then. And time is flying rapidly by, waiting for us to step into living again instead of looking back at who we once were. Be bold today! Where are we going? Work to realize the opportunities we’d miss out on now if we don’t leap. Create the moments that will be fond memories themselves one day. If we aren’t so busy living the dream of tomorrow when we get there.

    • Ifs and Buts

      Better have a little fun
      You ain’t gonna live forever
      So while you’re young and gay, still okay
      Have a little fun
      Why should you work and save and save?
      Life is full of ifs and buts
      Even the squirrels save and save
      And what have they got? Nuts!
      — Elaine Stritch, Are You Having Any Fun?

      Leave it to Volkswagen to revive an old gem from the music catalog. This song plays in one of there new commercials, and credit goes where it’s due. I hadn’t found this one previously on my own. It just goes to show that there is so much magic out there recorded and just awaiting discovery. Go find it already! Even if it shows up in a car commercial.

      It seems frivolous at this moment to remind everyone to have a little fun. We know the state of the world. We have a lot of work to do to swing the pendulum towards a single global story (to borrow a phrase from Yuval Noah Harari). We may never get there in our lifetime, which is a stunning realization for someone who watched the Berlin Wall torn down. But here we are. And it all ought to be taken very, very seriously.

      But while forces out of our control pivot and wrestle for our attention, our old friend Time keeps flying rapidly along whispering “tempus fugit” in our ear. We ignore the call at our peril. The ifs and buts will always be there to defer our hopes and dreams. Our time is now. Do something meaningful with these days.

      And what is meaningful for one doesn’t mean a lick to someone else. There’s a part of us that wants nothing more than to be floating in a tropical paradise and turning off the news of the world. There’s a part of us that wants to produce something significant in our days—be it art or a career or time we’ll never get back with people we care about. Life is balance, we tell ourselves. We can’t have our cake and eat it too…

      The thing is, we can’t eat the whole cake, but we can have our share of it. We can make the most of the day in a balanced, productive way that carries us forward towards the essential few that matter more than all the rest. Not to work ourselves to an early grave, or to miss out on moments we’ll never get back with loved ones who quietly need us present in their lives, but to find some measure of balance in each day that gives us the best of both. And discovering that we can have a little fun with it along the way.

    • Consenting to Change

      “One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.” — Andre Gide

      It’s easier to stay with the tried and true. Live in the same house, commute to work the same way every morning, eat the same breakfast day after blessed day, and work in the same job for years. Routines fit like a glove, even if it sometimes feels like a pretty boring glove. Routines are the building blocks of identity. Most of us find our routine and stick with it until we’re forced to change by events out of our control. We forget sometimes that we can simply force the change upon ourselves.

      Change is the opposite of tried and true. It’s all new and sometimes we question what the hell we’re doing it for. But the funny thing about losing sight of the shore is we begin to see things we couldn’t see when we were back in that routine. Things about ourselves and our resiliency. Things about others we simply believed would always be there, just as they’ve always been. It all changes, and so must we.

      To grow, we must learn to accept and even love the changes that wash over us every day. Amor fati. And more than accepting our fate, we must develop the inclination to push ourselves to change. Consenting to change is a mindset put into action with every decision. To provoke and prod ourselves ever farther away from those familiar comfort zones and come to relish the unknown rapidly advancing upon us. Here it comes. Be ready for all that it represents.

    • The Artist Is Alive

      “When the artist is alive in any person, whatever his kind of work may be, he becomes an inventive, searching, daring, self-expressive creature. He becomes interesting to other people. He disturbs, upsets, enlightens, and opens ways for better understanding. Where those who are not artists are trying to close the book, he opens it and shows there are still more pages possible.” — Robert Henri

      Most of us take the path more traveled. We charge into marriages and mortgages and minions, motivated by money and the status of more. It takes an artist’s mind to look at the path least traveled and find it compelling, particularly when there are bills to pay and well-meaning parents suggesting you fall in line and start to climb.

      Given all that, some of us come alive later than Leonardo, who found himself a studio boy at 14. Some of us stumbled through our early days unaware of the creative forces dormant within. A sketch here and there, a well-received creative writing assignment, a teacher coaxing us to at least take a few steps down that other path to see what we find. Most of it placed aside awaiting a time when we weren’t so busy reconciling what the world wants for us over our true calling.

      But the artist is alive, hidden within, seeking expression in letters and playlists, gardening and crisply-painted walls, emails and Instagram posts. Finding a heartbeat, we begin to feed our inner artist, expanding further into expression. We’ve stumbled on the path we’ve ignored for years, wondering not where it will take us, but why it took us so long to find it.

      “I don’t want to feel as if my life were a sojourn any longer. That philosophy cannot be true which so paints it. It is time now that I begin to live.” — Henry David Thoreau, The Journal of Henry David Thoreau

      All of those creative forces within, bursting at the seams, seeking to be released. Creative expression isn’t a side hustle, it’s our life force trying to fly. That artist within us is alive, and strives to keep the rest of us alive too. Choose to follow the path where it leads. We may find it beautiful.

    • So Much Left to Know

      Well, in the end I’ll know, but on the way I wonder
      Through descending snow, and through the frost and thunder
      I listen to the wind come howl, telling me I have to hurry
      I listen to the robin’s song saying not to worry
      So on and on I go, the seconds tick the time out
      There’s so much left to know, and I’m on the road to find out
      — Yusuf/Cat Stevens, On The Road To Findout

      The writing comes easier at the moment, but I feel a need to step away from the routine and get back to exploring. Why do we write when we may do? We know the answer lies in the question. We write so that we may do. One feeds the other. And so we must venture outward and return inward, farther and farther, deeper and deeper, again and again.

      Discovery is the game. We’re all just souls marching through time, trying to figure it out as we go. Anyone who tells you they know all the answers is a fool or a charlatan. The rest of us must stay curious, focus on optimization within each day, and see what we may encounter along the way.

      Accumulate enough experience and we may dance with wisdom. That word itself is a trap, and those who have accumulated wisdom will be the first to tell you it’s still the beginning of their own journey. I’ve learned a lot in my time, but mostly that I don’t know nearly enough to ever believe I’m wise. More a wise guy trying to hide the fact that I’m still on the road to find out enough. The rest will reveal itself or it won’t. Who are we to rush discovery?

    • Principled and Pliable

      “For those who believe in God, most of the big questions are answered. But for those of us who can’t readily accept the God formula, the big answers don’t remain stone-written. We adjust to new conditions and discoveries. We are pliable. Love need not be a command nor faith a dictum. I am my own god. We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.” — Charles Bukowski

      This is no time to be frozen in fear at the future. Life teaches us that those who remain rigid eventually get shattered when the cold wind blows. Be pliable but principled. This is our magic elixir, our truth serum. The juice that makes us truly alive.

      Borrowed principle is taking the word of some authority figure of the moment saying theirs is the only truth and blindly following along with it. That’s not pliable, that’s being unrooted in principle. Those who are unrooted get swept up in the current and are eventually flushed away.

      Principle is the discipline developed and set from within. It’s come from the mind, body and soul. This is who I am, and this is what I stand for. We all must develop principle or we will forever stumble through the darkness, latching on to anyone’s supposed truth as a lifeline.

      Pliability is a reaction to the forces beyond our control. Don’t let those forces break you, friend! Learn to bend when a bend is needed, but develop the agility necessary to not break at the application of forces out of our control. Pliability doesn’t mean compromising our integrity, it means questioning the dictates the world lays down upon us and finding the truth for ourselves. We become what we say no to perhaps more than for what we say yes to.

      This is our path forward. Principle and pliability: strongly rooted but flexible enough to stand the storm. This too shall pass. We may dance in the maddening winds of change and make this time our own, just hold on for dear life to something solid within.

    • Virgin Snow

      “Every single thing you do today is something that your 90-year-old self will wish they could go back and do.
      The good old days are happening right now.”
      — Sahil Bloom

      Overnight snow is the best kind of snow. It’s like Christmas morning with its big reveal at first light. With it, we may think in terms of chores or play. Either way, it won’t be here forever. We must always remember that neither will we.

      Snow removal completed on the home front, sun offering a brilliant day that felt warmer than it really was, I read the timely Thread above from Sahil Bloom and it reinforced what I knew I had to do. Really, I’d been thinking it all morning. Get out there in it! Find some virgin snow and glide across it with all the vigor one can muster. For we may never cross this way again.

      Snowshoeing on local trails can be thrilling or discouraging, depending on the condition of the trail and the snowshoer. It didn’t start off well, with a dog walker arriving just ahead of me post-holing the trail where the snowshoers before me had been. Adding insult to injury, the dog walker didn’t clean up her dog’s poop, dropped right next to the trail. That’s no way to go through life, I thought to myself. But walkers in deep snow are quickly overtaken; I nodded hello, said hi to the pup and kept my feelings to myself. I was here for something more essential than policing other people’s behavior. I was here to fly.

      The main trail had already seen visitors, and I did my part to compress the trail further—a gift for those who would follow without snowshoes. Eventually I reached an intersection where the snowshoer before me had gone left, while the side trail to the right was virgin snow extending on through the trees for as far as my eyes could see. The choice was clear.

      Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
      I took the one less traveled by,
      And that has made all the difference.
      — Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken

      I know these woods well. I know where the waterfalls lie smothered under ice and snow, where granite outcroppings and hemlocks form a cathedral as beautiful as anything made by man. Snow transforms the landscape and forces one to learn it anew. If the trail had been broken I might have strayed further afield, but I felt an obligation to guide those who would follow my tracks. Stay on trail to show the way, and I may stray another day.

      I tend to think in time buckets now. What might I do now that I won’t be able to do later in life, when I’m old and frail? Do that thing now and celebrate the gift of health and vigor. Maybe one day we will regret not watching others live their best lives while we sat on the sidelines, but I think not. This is our time too. What are we to do but make the most of this day?

      Virgin snow with a worn, familiar trail revealed underneath
      Out and back trail compression

    • Free Will

      “That which you call your soul or spirit is your consciousness, and that which you call ‘free will’ is your mind’s freedom to think or not, the only will you have, your only freedom. [This is] the choice that controls all the choices you make and determines your life and character.” — Ayn Rand

      “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
      ― Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning

      We ought to listen more to the voices of those who survived the darkness of authoritarianism. We ignore their voices at our peril, we remind ourselves, without fully grasping just how close darkness can be in any given moment. This is no time for apathy and indifference. Ah, but there is no time in our lives when apathy and indifference should be allowed to exist. It’s our life, after all! We must choose the path of self-determination and active participation as if our very future depended on it.

      Our toll in this lifetime is to live fully aware of all that exists and to deal with it with the currency we have available. The universe will remain forever indifferent, the world itself will attempt to shrug us off, and life will always be unfair. Wars and natural disasters and tragedies are always going to be a part of our story. We may wish it weren’t so, but wishing doesn’t pay the piper. We may choose how we react to these truths in this ridiculous blip of time we exist in before we are drawn into the vacuum of infinity.

      So choose well! That is our only real choice today and forever more. Face the truth of who we are and what surrounds us, muster up all that we’ve accumulated thus far in our database and make the best choice possible now. We may choose to step into the next moment boldly, exercising our free will and the audaciousness that develops with routinely going a little farther than we did in our last choice. In this way we may freely dance into our future self for as many days as we are given.

    • The Company We Keep

      “All we have experienced is so much gone within us, and there lies. It is the company we keep. One day, in health or sickness, it will come out and be remembered. Neither body nor soul forgets anything.” — Henry David Thoreau, The Journal of Henry David Thoreau

      We know that we are the sum of our experiences to this moment, so why do we short our experiences garnered today? We must live as if we were dying, as that song once suggested to the hungry masses. How many listen to a call like that? Maybe tomorrow, after we finish bing watching The Office again. Haven’t we learned yet that tomorrow’s never come? Memento mori...

      These are days we’ll remember—if we make it memorable. Those of us who write in a line per day journal know the coldness of not having much to write about on any given day. On days like that, as the evening gets dark and cold, I take the pup for a walk and look for planets amongst the stars, listen for owls and coyotes in the distance, inhale the crisp air and remember that I’m alive another day. So many of our days are there simply to connect the memorable ones together. But they all count just the same.

      Reading a journal entry from Thoreau written on this date in 1837, I thought of all that was to come for him. His own thoughts were on the sum of who he was to that point. We all write our future from the perspective of our experiences and observations thus far. Expanding the palate with progressively more adventurous moments that lead us to a shift in identity. We all have the kernel of our future within us, wrapped around our past. Our past life is the company we keep, whispering to us about all that we might discover if we just step beyond the sound of our own voice.