Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • Time Enough

      “The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.” — Rabindranath Tagore

      We often get hung up on time and how quickly it all flies by. Yet we have more than enough for one lifetime when we use it well. We just waste so very much of it on things that aren’t all that essential. The moment is all that matters, we keep telling ourselves, and yet we measure time. The instant we recognize the fragility of the moment and our place in it, the more we begin to fully live. This is everything, all at once, and it’s a wonder to behold.

      This morning I reconciled myself to spending money and time on a problem that I inadvertently created several years ago. To spend money and time on things that I once thought were finished forever is frustrating, but instead of getting spun up in the error I’m finding joy in the resolution of the problem. With every decision we have the opportunity to set the future straight. We may celebrate this and move on to the next.

      As a rower I know the value of the current stroke in setting up the next one. Effort and recovery are forever linked in a quest for that elusive perfection. A life well spent isn’t all about the highlight reel stuff seen on Instagram, it’s the daily grind and the challenges we overcome that we may live to fight another day. Effort, recovery and setting ourselves up for the next—again and again. Stitch together enough such moments and we may build something meaningful that transcends the ordinary.

      We have time enough, even as we wish for more. Aspire to make more of the moment instead of wishing for more moments. Excellence is found here, awaiting our rise to meet it.

    • Changing Seasons

      “There is nothing permanent except change.” — Heraclitus

      Somehow cycling season is drawing to a close. Sure, there are plenty of nice days to ride all year, but the challenge is finding enough daylight to ride safely. I’m more grateful for rail trails as the days get shorter. But there’s something to be said for those favorite routes on narrow country roads on a warm, sunny afternoon. I’ll remember a few rides fondly on those cold and dark winter afternoons.

      The obvious thing is that when we spend more time outside, we become more aware of the weather, but also the seasons themselves. A slow turn towards autumn is detectable well before September, a bite to the air in late November will signal a turn towards winter, and so on. Having experienced the seasons, we feel it when there’s a change in the air. Some of us quite literally feel it in our bones. Old injuries become reliable harbingers of a variation from the norm.

      We learn to celebrate every season for the change it brings. We may have our favorites, but there’s joy to be found in each. Often it’s just a matter of stepping outside to see what greets us. These are days we’ll remember as the good old days one day. Days when maybe everything seemed so upside down, but still present the gift of people and places in our lives that one day won’t be. We realize over time that a bit of gratitude for whatever season this happens to be in our lives is what changes everything.

    • A Star In Our Hand

      “Begin doing what you want to do now. We are not living in eternity. We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand – and melting like a snowflake.” — Francis Bacon

      September, the seventh month, happens in the ninth month of the year. Rather than simply adding two months to the end of the calendar those Romans just dumped January and February on us up front, and we humans have been two months behind ever since. As if we had all the time in the world to work with, we’re also forever playing catchup. No wonder we all feel like life is flashing by before our eyes.

      We all want to feel that we’re ahead of the game, or at least keeping pace. If productivity is the lead indicator of progress towards a goal, we ought to be very clear about what that goal that we’re being productive towards actually is. Otherwise, why are we going there in the first place? Productivity without purpose is nothing more than busywork. Busywork is a crime against nature, for we all know we aren’t dabbling in eternity. Wasted time robs us of more vital pursuits.

      It follows that if our time is melting away at alarming speed, we ought to be doing more of what we want to be doing now. I may have written a version of that a few hundred times in the course of this blog’s existence, but repetition penetrates the dullest of minds, and my own action demonstrates a good sharpening is in order. So I risk repeating myself if only to remind myself that today, like the stack of yesterdays before it, is fragile and in want of attention. Make it sparkle like the star is wants to be.

    • Digging Holes to Yesterday

      “Don’t let yesterday use up too much of today.” — Will Rogers

      The pup is obsessed with yesterday. She saw a chipmunk go into a small hole and proceeded to make it a big hole (just when we thought she was past the digging stage of life). This morning she was right back out there, chasing chipmunks because they were right there for the catching yesterday. Of course, the chipmunk has moved on to safer places, it’s just the memory that remains. Still, our pup remains a prisoner of what once was.

      What of us? What holes are we digging to yesterday, instead of being in today’s moment? I can think of a few of my own holes that ought to be filled in and left behind. It’s hard to climb when we’re deep in a hole.

    • The Beauty in Fragility

      I’m stubborn in some ways, no surprise to anyone who knows me, but sometimes I admit it to myself in quiet moments such as the one just before this one. I was thinking specifically about the beautiful Douglas fir beams that I turned into a pergola back in 2007, rotted now and about to be replaced by new fir beams that I just cut yesterday. My bride suggested PVC or some other engineered product that would ensure it would be resilient. A friend told me to just use pressure treated lumber so I never have to do it again. But I have enough plastic in my life. I have enough chemicals swirling around in my microclimate already. I chose like for like.

      When I built it the first time, I looked into cedar or redwood, but the price tag was prohibitive. Honestly, having replaced the wood a couple of times now, I should have just invested in redwood then, but 17 years isn’t bad for painted fir standing against the elements in New Hampshire. How has the last 17 years treated us? When I think about the wooden pergola that I built with my own hands back then, I feel something differently than I do about some more permanent building materials. There’s beauty in fragility. We know it won’t last forever and look at it differently than we look at something that we know will outlive our grandchildren.

      Working with the fir yesterday, I honored the wood and the tree it came from, with careful measurements, deliberate cuts with a jigsaw and slow turns as I moved the beams around to cut the other end. I’m 17 years older than the guy who did this the first time, after all, and slow and deliberate meant I could get out of bed without feeling like I was run over by a truck. I’m not so stubborn that I don’t see I’m fragile too. But more than that, I know this is the last time I’ll ever rebuild this particular pergola. I’m not just honoring the wood and the tree, but my own moment of youthful vigor. For time conquers all, friend, even this amateur craftsman whose seeing the truth in every project.

      Raw cuts awaiting further attention

    • Cradled in Custom

      They have cradled you in custom,
      they have primed you with their preaching,
      They have soaked you in convention through and through;
      They have put you in a showcase; you’re a credit to their teaching —
      But can’t you hear the Wild? — it’s calling you.
      Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide us;
      Let us journey to a lonely land I know.
      There’s a whisper on the night-wind,
      there’s a star agleam to guide us,
      And the Wild is calling, calling. . .let us go.
      — Robert Service, The Call of the Wild

      We all know the stories we’ve been told all our lives: Do well in school, go to a great college, get a great job and work hard to climb the corporate ladder, meet a mate who aligns with the story, have children and teach them to believe the same story and retire to do all the things we’ve skipped following our assigned script. Most people who struggle in this world are following someone else’s script instead of their own, or feeling the crush of expectations from those who want the best for us, believing the best for us is the story. But all along, and often unheard in the chorus of good intentions, is that the best stories are the ones we write ourselves.

      We each have our call of the wild, but do we heed it? There’s a time and a place for everything, we often remind ourselves, deferring to tomorrow what calls to us today. Perhaps today is a day to step off the chosen path and chase what calls to us. Perhaps this is the time to see what luck betide us. The only certainty is that the call will fade away with our vitality if deferred too long. Heed the call while there is still time to rewrite the story.

    • Thou Hast Thy Music Too

      “Give me books, fruit, French wine, fine weather and a little music.” — John Keats

      Where are the songs of spring? Ay, Where are they?
      Think not of them, thou hast thy music too
      — John Keats, To Autumn

      Keats only lived to 25, but his life was memorable because he had productive energy and talent and used it to churn out enough poetry to capture the world’s attention. Had he lived another few decades, I wonder where his voice might have taken him. Perhaps less flowery and more pointed? Our voices change with time, having lived beyond the illusions of our youth to a place more… earthbound.

      I’ve long ago abandoned any idea that writing a blog post every day would net a million followers. That’s Seth Godin territory. Blogging is a daily practice in writing, and thinking more deeply about consequential things. The idea of advertisements and diligently churning other platforms for clicks is not my game. Frankly, it’s not a game at all anymore, it’s simply the practice of writing every day. A steady climb to a better place.

      If life is short, but hopefully not as short as Keats’ life was, then to live it with joie de vivre seems vital. Ah, the poet has joie de vivre—but does the blogger? I think so, friend, but taking oneself less seriously and learning to enjoy the discoveries one makes about the universe along the way would surely carry us to a more joyful place than overanalyzing one’s key performance indicators (KPI’s) ever would. We don’t always have to know where we’re going or even why, but we ought to feel something stir deep within us when we move through our days. For ’tis true, thou hast thy music too.

    • Mine the Magic

      “Dumbo got airborne with the help of a magic feather; you may feel the urge to grasp a passive verb or one of those nasty adverbs for the same reason. Just remember before you do that Dumbo didn’t need the feather; the magic was in him.” ― Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

      Earlier this morning, still before the sunrise, I sat out with a cup of coffee trying to determine what kind of bird was making a very unusual call when the pup decided I’d lingered long enough without throwing the frisbee and put me to task. That lengthy sentence alone indicates how blessed I am to have a moment like that, one that repeats regularly, despite all the madness in the world. There are plenty of people who would trade places and I’m not so wrapped up in my storm of minor problems that I don’t recognize that. Circumstances arise that change our trajectories, but we largely determine who we become. We mustn’t forget to savor such moments when we find ourselves living them.

      The question of next is always weighing on us, even as we tell ourselves to immerse ourselves in now. Humans are built to ponder the future, with hope or dread or maybe chagrin, but the future isn’t anything but a script that hasn’t been played out yet. We may yet sharpen the pencil and draft something clever for our future self. And isn’t that the hope for all of us creative types? We anchor ourselves to the moment while drafting the exciting, implausible next. Drafts are always rewritten as the editors in our universe play their part, but we may still influence the final scene.

      I never did figure out what that bird was. It flew away to sing its strange song somewhere else, and I was left with another missed opportunity. Life is full of such things, and yet we still have agency. Sometimes we have to remind ourselves to stop grasping for magic feathers and simply mine the magic within ourselves, that we may realize it one day. Don’t let that dream be another missed opportunity that flew away with time.

    • The Lifetime Study

      “Learning does not make one learned: there are those who have knowledge and those who have understanding. The first requires memory and the second philosophy.” ― Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

      When I was an undergrad I took a Philosophy class that turned me upside down. I promised myself at that time that I’d go back to school someday, maybe after retirement, to study it more completely. I was young then and it never occurred to me that philosophy is a lifetime study, not something you do in school.

      This weekend was productive. In fact, far more productive than my work week last week was. That says a lot about the state of mind I was in last week in my chosen career, as well as during the weekend when I channeled all that untapped productivity into getting things done. Reflecting on it now, it makes me reassess how I’m spending my Monday through Friday. We’ll see how this week goes. I’ve started it with two of the three things that kick off a great day: reading and writing. And a brisk walk with the pup is just around the corner for the trifecta.

      But what then? We must schedule our productivity, lest we slip into bad habits. There’s a whole list of things that must be done, but what’s the one thing that, having done it, would make this day as good as one of our best days? Focusing on productivity seems far more effective than dwelling on philosophy. But really, the two go hand-in-hand. We must know how to optimize our what, but surely we must begin with understanding our why.

      So it is that I dive deeply into philosophical works that challenge my casual why’s, and dare myself to write about them here on this blog. Travel and history and observations about my current fitness challenges will surely be a part of this blog for as long as I’m capable of writing it, but they’re all means to an end. We never stop being a student, we just pay more taxes as we grow. Understanding just why we’re here in the first place, and what to do with that realization when we reach it, was our thesis all along. It’s fair to ask ourselves regularly, how’s it coming along?

    • Borrowed Experience

      “It is far better to borrow experience than to buy it.” — Charles Caleb Colton

      Our lifestyle is roughly the same most days. My bride and I have nomadic tendencies, but circumstances are keeping us local lately more than in other ports of call. The pup and aging parents are our chosen anchors at this season in our lives, and we largely embrace the opportunity to spend time we won’t get back with each. Still, those nomadic tendencies stir under the surface. And this is where strategically borrowed experience can fill the gap.

      Most of us borrow experience, through reading great novels, watching immersive media, taking a weekend in a bed & breakfast somewhere or living abroad for an extended period for work, school or simply to change the landscape we walk out to each day. Often these borrowed experiences are a right of passage at different stages of our lives: going off to summer camp, going off to university, moving to a new place to start a job, and finding the religious, philosophical, political and social structures to wrap around ourselves to make that experience more fulfilling for us in that time in our lives.

      When does borrowed experience become a wholesale change in lifestyle? Probably the moment you stop thinking of the experience you’re having as borrowed at all. We grow into our lives, don’t we? Those structures we build around ourselves become our normal: physical structures like the roof over our heads or the boat we bob around in, social structures like the people who act as our touchstones in the world, each become part of our identity as we root ourselves into living that experience. At some point we aren’t borrowing the experience, the experience is who we are.

      Isn’t it better to try on the shoes before you buy them, just to see how they fit? We may find that once tried is just enough, or alternatively, that we love how we feel in them. Either way, we’ve had the experience and, if we’re fortunate, have the agency to choose what to do next. Life is change, after all, and those things we dabble in for a weekend getaway can easily become who we have become. The thing is, once we become that next thing, we begin to borrow other experiences and the whole thing begins again.