Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • Reading Good Books

      “The art of not reading is a very important one. It consists in not taking an interest in whatever may be engaging the attention of the general public at any particular time. When some political or ecclesiastical pamphlet, or novel, or poem is making a great commotion, you should remember that he who writes for fools always finds a large public. A precondition for reading good books is not reading bad ones: for life is short.” ― Arthur Schopenhauer, Essays and Aphorisms

      This year, speeding right along as it does, is reminding me that the reading has slowed considerably. When the year is done I’ll have read fewer books than I did a year ago, but on the whole better books. Foundational books, pointed to by authors I’ve admired in quotes and breathless recollection. Some history, some philosophy, some great fiction and some regional travel books too. But very few of what used to be called dime store novels—those books that were cheap, popular and formulaic. It’s not that they aren’t fun to read now and then, it’s that they keep me from reading something better.

      To keep improving we must continue to find and consume the most nutritious ideas we can feed our minds. But we can’t stop there, for ideas left adrift are doomed to float away on a sea of words, forever lost in the noise. We must write about the things we encounter, re-read key passages to understand and then make something of them. To become a better person we must raise the average—our average.

      To be an avid reader, we need to have a lifestyle that supports reading. Comfortable chairs in well-lit spaces are wonderful, but it’s more than where we place our bottom—it’s how comfortable we are in that space to open up a portal to another world right there and then. I can read just as easily in a cramped middle seat in coach as I can in a leather recliner in warm natural lighting. To immerse ourselves in anything we’ve got to feel comfortable enough in the act to take the plunge. The people who surround us are more essential to this than any architectural detail. The driver’s seat in our automobiles are a great place to read architecturally, until we start driving and must pay attention to more important things (perhaps someone can mention that to the people with their noses in their phone zipping along in the high speed lane?).

      Once we’ve established a supportive reading environment, we ought to continue raising the bar on what we read. I’m a big fan of a few e-book writers for the page-turner fiction they write, but like sugar I’ve learned that a little goes a long way while a lot will have negative consequences. A healthy ratio of nutrition balances out the empty calories. Better choices in reading material lifts us to places unseen previously. Our view expands as we rise higher and higher up the stack of books.

      It’s too soon for a best books of the year summary, for there’s still a few strong candidates on the shelf awaiting their turn. But looking back at the year, I’m pleased with the best of the books I’ve read for the life-changing impact they’re having. The very best books, no matter the genre, lift us up in this way. The magic in reading is finding the gold. Sure, we may stumble upon a gem on the surface now and then, but to find the richest content we’ve got to mine deeper.

      It’s true that not reading is an art in itself. A useful filter we ought to apply more often in favor of better choices. Choosing to read, but digesting better reads. Tempus fugit: time flies. So read the great stuff first. Perhaps it will be that gem we’ll want to ponder and write about ourselves.

    • The Failover Game

      “Wind extinguishes a candle and energizes fire. Likewise with randomness, uncertainty, chaos: you want to use them, not hide from them. You want to be the fire and wish for the wind.”
      ― Nassim Nicholas Taleb, Antifragile: Things that Gain from Disorder

      When the world is runnin’ down
      You make the best of what’s still around
      — The Police, When The World Is Running Down

      I’m not a stockbroker or day trader betting against the market, but I imagine a few of them have that Taleb quote taped to their computer monitors. No, I’m simply a fan of being more antifragile in a world that is a bit chaotic at times. As this is published, I’ve been forced off the grid. December storms rolled up the East Coast of the United States and eventually arrived in New Hampshire, knocking out power in some communities, including the one I call home. Lucky me.

      A bit of resiliency goes a long way when you own a home, and having a generator or battery backup is essential to maintaining some measure of normalcy when things go dark. Solar panels can charge battery banks that in turn offer clean backup power when the power grid fails you. Whole house and portable generators offer a reliable, if louder, alternative. Judging by the neighborhood when the power goes out, the clear winner is the portable generator. Most purchased in desperation during some previous storm outage. So it goes with such things—we don’t think about resiliency and failover options until we’re faced with an urgent need for it.

      Some people don’t have that luxury. Boaters need a backup should the engine fail. Even sailors need power for communication and to keep the perishables from perishing (food and people alike). Failover engines, generators and batteries offer quiet insurance for the moment things go awry. My friends over on Fayaway have several blog posts describing their redundant systems. On a sailboat the engine itself is redundant, as they’d clearly prefer to be sailing. Steering systems, communication systems, propulsion systems and in the absolute worst case, staying afloat systems are just some of their redundant systems.

      A strong failover game can save the day on a boat, in a remote cabin, on a hike to potentially lethal places, in the automobile we commute to work in, and yes, on a quiet cul du sac in New Hampshire. We ought to apply this to our finances, our support network and anything else that would be really unpleasant or catastrophic should it fail. Every life should have a primary plan with at least one contingency plan, for we are playing chess in this lifetime, not checkers.

      Asking ourselves, “What is the worst that would happen if X happened?” leads to answers on how to mitigate the impact of that worst case scenario. We all learned a bit about resiliency during the pandemic, didn’t we? The world is a bit off-kilter nowadays, don’t you think? Weather, wars, political upheaval, active shooters and the occasional shark attack. When the world is runnin’ down, you make the best of what’s still around.

      We must continuously build more resiliency into our life. A life jacket is not worn as a fashion statement, and a backup plan is never a waste of our time, even if never used. So be prepared, as any Boy Scout would insist. Be the fire that wishes for the wind.

    • The Warm Glow

      You start dying slowly
      if you do not travel,
      if you do not read,
      If you do not listen to the sounds of life,
      If you do not appreciate yourself.
      You start dying slowly
      When you kill your self-esteem;
      When you do not let others help you.
      You start dying slowly
      If you become a slave of your habits,
      Walking everyday on the same paths…
      If you do not change your routine,
      If you do not wear different colours
      Or you do not speak to those you don’t know.
      You start dying slowly
      If you avoid to feel passion
      And their turbulent emotions;
      Those which make your eyes glisten
      And your heart beat fast.
      You start dying slowly
      If you do not change your life when you are not satisfied with your job, or with your love,
      If you do not risk what is safe for the uncertain,
      If you do not go after a dream,
      If you do not allow yourself,
      At least once in your lifetime,
      To run away from sensible advice.
      ― Martha Medeiros, A Morte Devagar

      One ought to drop the mic and walk away after a quote like this, but a blog isn’t simply leaving the words of others on a post and none of our own. We ought to contribute something in our time, especially when prompted so vibrantly. And it should be noted, we ought to live largely, that we might have something to say about the matter when prompted in such a way.

      Taking stock of the year, do we feel gratitude for the experiences we’ve had? Have we tried new recipes and dishes? Gone to performances that took our breath away? Visited places near and far just to see what all the fuss was about? Have we gathered with loved ones and laughed with friends? I hope so for you, and it surely has been so for me. May we all feel the warm glow of a life well-lived.

      They say that firewood warms us three times: when we cut it, when we split it and finally when we burn it. Life is similar, isn’t it? We are warmed by memories of a good life, warmed by how we live our life today, and warmed with a sense of hope for the future. So by all means, we must keep the journal and take the photographs, be bold in our choices today, and make those reservations for those experiences of tomorrow with the hope that we’ll arrive to dance with it.

    • Moving Forward

      A long time
      It’s taken me
      But I’ve figured out
      Now to some degree
      This life
      It happens fast
      I’ll enjoy the time in this hour glass
      Yes I will will will oh yes I will
      
Yeah, I’ve looked
      And what I see
      It’s not what’ve been
      It’s whatcha gonna be
      ‘Cause this world
      We’re walking through
      It’ll dig you out
      Or will bury you
      — Layup, I’m Alive

      The other day my bride and I went out to a local place for dinner and conversation. We secured two seats at the bar right away and celebrated our small victory with cocktails. The gent at the barstool next to me was talkative and we began chatting about the menu and local restaurants and eventually got down to the truth of the matter. He was divorced and alone on a Friday night and missing his wife and kids. He was filling holes in his life wherever he could, but not the biggest hole in his life. Not yet friend, but keep moving forward: This too shall pass.

      Bono and U2 wrote a song about his friend Michael Hutchence from INXS after the latter’s suicide. Hutchence seemed to have it all, but spiraled into a place where he killed himself despite fame, fortune, good looks and good friends. As Bono observed,

      You’ve got yourself stuck in a moment
      And you can’t get out of it

      The whole point of being alive is to grow and to keep reaching for our potential. There will be plenty of setbacks and hurdles along the way that make it all feel meaningless and futile. It’s all part of the climb. Our story in the end is not who we were, but who we become despite it all. The trick is to keep moving forward to that someone better. It’s usually closer than we believe in the moment.

      Moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting the lessons of the past. For those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it, as George Santayana stated so well. We are the sum of all of our parts; the good, the bad and the ugly. It takes time to find all three within us, and to push aside the aspects of our identity we don’t want to dance with anymore. The thing is, when we take that weight off our shoulders we become lighter on our feet, more nimble, and in turn, more alive.

    • The Audacity to Give It a Go

      I want a life measured
      in first steps on foreign soils
      and deep breaths
      in brand new seas
      I want a life measured
      in Welcome Signs,
      each stamped
      with a different name,
      borders marked with metal and paint.
      Show me the streets
      that don’t know the music
      of my meandering feet,
      and I will play their song
      upon them.
      Perfume me please
      in the smells of far away,
      I will never wash my hair
      if it promises to stay.
      I want a life measured
      in the places I haven’t gone,
      short sleeps on long flights,
      strange voices teaching me
      new words to
      describe the dawn.
      — Tyler Knott Gregson, I Want a Life Measured

      I’ve gotten out of the habit of traveling on a whim to whatever comes of the search, “waterfall near me” and “historical site near me”. Lately I’ve been tied to the desk more, with the puppy guarding me awaiting any indication that it’s time to go out and play. The thing is, shouldn’t it always be time to go out and play? We ought to build more adventures into our days.

      Yesterday, I had the beginnings of such an adventure, finding a trailhead near a meeting I was attending. Near a place I’d been a hundred times and never heard the whisper for the din of highway traffic and places to go. A trailhead that promised waterfalls and crisp, slippery December walking. I wore the appropriate footwear and got myself to the trailhead hoping to see at least one of the two waterfalls on the trail. I ran out of time and saw neither, but got a quick hike in anyway. I’ll consider it recon for the next time I’m in the area. Adventures partially fulfilled are better than no adventure at all. The audacity to give it a go is itself a measure of a larger life.

      What stirs us? Reaching the waterfall or the act of reaching out for it? Surely both, but any adventure begins with beginning. When we seek out more adventure in our lives, we generally find it. Every step out into it is an invitation to go further still. And even on those days when we have to turn back towards what is expected of us, the conspiracy of the adventurous spirit remains, whispering “try again another day”.

    • So Much to Admire

      I know, you never intended to be in this world.
      But you’re in it all the same.

      So why not get started immediately.

      I mean, belonging to it.
      There is so much to admire, to weep over.

      And to write music or poems about.

      Bless the feet that take you to and fro.
      Bless the eyes and the listening ears.
      Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.
      Bless touching.

      You could live a hundred years, it’s happened.
      Or not.
      I am speaking from the fortunate platform
      of many years,
      none of which, I think, I ever wasted.
      Do you need a prod?
      Do you need a little darkness to get you going?
      Let me be as urgent as a knife, then,
      and remind you of Keats,
      so single of purpose and thinking, for a while,
      he had a lifetime.
      — Mary Oliver, The Fourth Sign of the Zodiac

      Whispers from a poet, reminding us of the urgency of the moment. Tempus fugit… time flies. Go out and live boldly. Observe and be stirred—get right in the mix. And create something meaningful that might stand on it’s own. It’s a formula for living often repeated here, in this blog about doing all of these things. My daily reminder to not waste a second on the trivial, shared with those who wish to go along for the ride.

      The thing is, when we read the stoics, when we immerse ourselves in poetry and philosophy, in nature and travel, and most of all in the audacious act of heightened awareness, we too begin to live. Less of our own time is wasted. We become hungry for more and more experience, with a burning desire to share it with all who will listen and see for themselves. By opening the senses we let the magic in.

      “Ignorance is not bliss; it’s a missed opportunity.“ — Adam Nicolson, Sea Room

      There’s a price for ignorance paid in unfulfilled wonder and delight. There’s so much to do still. So much to admire. Like that of a poet no longer with us, it’s a whisper (or a shout) to make now count. We’re just part of the choir, singing our part, reminding the congregation to dance with the miracle of life with all the enthusiasm we can muster.

    • Adding Treasure

      “Why be saddled with this thing called life expectancy? Of what relevance to an individual is such a statistic? Am I to concern myself with an allotment of days I never had and was never promised? Must I check off each day of my life as if I am subtracting from this imaginary hoard? No, on the contrary, I will add each day of my life to my treasure of days lived. And with each day, my treasure will grow, not diminish.” ― Robert Brault

      I took a walk with the pup late last night, hoping to see the Geminid meteor shower. Most magic in the sky is inevitably obscured by cloud cover, so when we’re lucky enough to have a crisp, clear sky and a meteor shower we ought to get out the witness it. It proved to be a walk filled with exclamation points punctuating the celestial dance. Like days, every walk is different. A few are special.

      We ought to seek out that specialness in every day. It’s likely hiding in plain sight. As with everything life-amplifying, a bit of awareness surely helps. Knowing the Geminids were happening got me out of a warm house on a cold evening at a time when I’m usually fast asleep. Likewise, a bit of research before traveling to a new place nets all kinds of treasures worthy of a side trip, treasures that will whisper to us in the quiet moments until we experience them, and then whisper delightfully forever after: “We really got to experience that!”

      Awareness is essential, but so is engagement; we ought to talk to the people sitting next to us, we ought to find the local scenic vistas, we ought to dance when the music kicks up a notch. and yes, we ought to miss out on a bit of comfort now and then to try bold things. The time will flow right by either way—shouldn’t we do something more with it?

      “Rise free from care before the dawn, and seek adventures.” – Henry David Thoreau

      The mindset of steadily adding memories instead of subtracting days is a wonderful way to filter exactly what we’re going to do with this day at hand. We can’t possibly stop the flow of sand through the hourglass, so maybe taking a walk on the beach and forgetting about that hourglass altogether is our best move. When we steadily accumulate magic in our moments life becomes something memorable. Go be deliberate and adventurous—for that’s where the treasure is.

    • Designing the Sweet Life (La Dolce Vita)

      “A man must find his occasions in himself, it is true. The natural day is very calm, and will hardly reprove his indolence.” ― Henry David Thoreau, Walden

      In a full confession that will surprise no one in my circle of friends and family, I struggle with the act of idleness. I rarely sit still, even on vacation, choosing to explore whatever place I find myself in, and too often stack too many activities into those “idle” days. There’s no lying on the beach for hours for me. The default is activity over idleness. I marvel at the pets for their ability to simply nap away hours of a day. If I nap at all I set the alarm for 15 minutes and get right back to moving about as soon as possible. And the idea of sleeping in? There is no snooze alarm in my world.

      But that doesn’t translate to being productive all of the time. We can putter about without really getting anything done. The world is full of people quietly quitting the work they have in front of them. There are plenty of people opting out of frenetic lifestyles. There are whole cultures built around the sweetness of doing nothing (dolce far niante: I’m looking at you Italy). So how do we restless souls learn to chill out a bit and live the sweet life (la dolce vita) ourselves?

      “Doing less meaningless work, so that you can focus on things of greater personal importance, is NOT laziness. This is hard for most to accept, because our culture tends to reward personal sacrifice instead of personal productivity.” ― Timothy Ferriss, The 4-Hour Workweek

      The thing is, Thoreau and Ferriss, both known for promoting more strategic idleness in our days, have also produced some significant work that resonates beyond the moment they created it. For all their perceived idleness, there’s an underlying productivity hidden in plain sight. That’s what people miss in the idea of la dolce vita—it’s living the sweet life while still keeping the lights on with productive work. It seems we can have it all, if we create a lifestyle that is both pleasurable and productive.

      The trick is being far more strategic in our productivity, thus giving breathing room for idleness. We ought to know what we’re really setting out to do in this lifetime, and break that down into milestones. Milestones in turn are achieved through work strategically designed into our days. If that sounds like the antithesis of dolce far niante, well, I understand. But it really is the essence of living Thoreau’s “natural day”: filled with enough idle time to feel we’re not cogs in a machine while still producing something memorable.

      Productivity (and idleness) requires focus. Doing the work that matters most in the moment and then get on with living that sweet life. We’re all students of maximizing the potential of our lifetime. We ought to know what makes life sweet, and also meaningful. Designing a pace of life that balances the two is the essence of a sweet life.

      Ultimately, designing a lifestyle that maximizes our potential should be our focus. But potential for what? Wealth? Fame? Isn’t it really time spent doing the things that makes a life sweet? Time with people who matter a great deal to us. Time doing the things that make life a pleasure. Time structured in a way that it doesn’t feel like we’re biding our time but living it.

      So the question when designing a lifestyle is, “what will maximize the number of beautiful moments we may stack together in this finite lifespan?” Nothing brings focus to our days like remembering we only have so many of them. Memento mori. Stop wasting time thinking about it and go live it, today and every day we’re blessed with. The Italians are on to something, don’t you think?

    • Being Open to Delightful Encounters

      “Do anything, but let it produce joy. Do anything, but let it yield ecstasy.” ― Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer

      We learn much from puppies and children. For all my self-absorbed analysis of the world and my place in it, there’s nothing like putting your ego on the shelf and playing a game of fetch with the pup, or laughing at the world like a toddler does, at the smallest of delights encountered. There are lessons on how to live in such moments of clarity.

      Life is either an active pursuit of joy, or a series of distractions designed to make us believe that we’ve done enough with our days. Which we choose determines how we feel about the game in the end. So it is that I throw the frisbee in the morning fog while my coffee grows cold inside. What’s a cup of coffee but a joyful jolt of clarity anyway? The frisbee seems more sustained and meets canine approval.

      On a solo walk yesterday through a high roller neighborhood yesterday I encountered a couple walking their own dog. Given the neighborhood, the chances are they were high rollers. Given the neighborhood, one could make the case that I was as well (not quite). The dog was a big black Labrador retriever eager to greet everything encountered, including me. The couple were less enthused, with doggie dad grimacing at the thought of saying a word at all. I know a no trespassing sign when I read it— this was an encounter best completed quickly. I said a quick hello to their dog and nodded and smiled at the grimace greeting me, and we walked in opposite directions. One never knows why someone is holding back their joy, for life is full of reasons for grimacing. That doesn’t mean we can allow them to steal our own joy.

      We ought to live our lives focused on joyful interaction with the world, but we know the world is full of pain and misery and the occasional threat to our own well-being. To see the world through the eyes of a child seems naive and fraught with potential danger. Walking through life with our guard up surely seems more pragmatic, but we face other threats when we keep the world at arms-length. We rob ourselves of the possibility of delightful encounters along the way.

      The more life I put behind me, the more I find myself in the business of joy production. We can’t get a smile out of everyone, but we can surely try to raise the collective spirit of a world increasingly in a sour mood. Perhaps this is too much to ask as a purpose of a single lifetime, but it can surely be a product of one.

    • The Kindred Sky Spirits

      The puppy is growing up. She’s seven months old as I write this, and her shackles of timidity are finally being thrown off. We walk at night and she doesn’t shrink in fear at every trash barrel or shadow. It offers this star gazer the chance to dance with the constellations once again without alarming the neighbors. The odd neighbor walking the streets in the dark isn’t so very strange when he’s walking his dog. The dog is learning that this is our time together, but my head is often tilted upwards while her nose is down. We assure full coverage I suppose; the two of us walking with noses pointed in different directions.

      The pup has learned that I’m a sky spirit, temporarily grounded in this lifetime of servitude to the nest. Do I want to fly? Don’t you?? To fly is to soar! You bet I want to fly. I steal envious glances at the hawks and osprey gliding overhead. I marvel at the flocks of geese in formation. If they can do it why can’t we?! Alas, it’s not in our genes to flap our wings and soar. And yet we’ve learned how to fly anyway. How audacious of us.

      My favorite videos are flying videos. Give me drone footage over the perspective from the ground any day. There’s wonder in soaring above it all, and I’m immediately drawn into the world from the vantage point of a fellow spirit. That we are grounded doesn’t mean we can’t soar. There are opportunities all around us should we look for them.

      And there are people in my life who are kindred sky spirits. We don’t see each other often enough, but when the sky offers magic, we conspiratorially and usually virtually nod upwards—did you see that? Yes. Yes I did. And noted: so did you friend. Almost a shared secret hiding in plain sight, the sky. The masses are like the puppy: noses down. They’re looking at their phones or god knows what while the kindred glance upward, finding magic all around.

      Some of us instinctively know the phase of the moon, or which planets are visible at any given moment. We keep an eye on the possibility of an aurora and curse the inevitable cloud cover that occurs at seemingly every meteor shower or Northern Lights display. Not for us, not this time. We grow weary of such self-talk and scheme trips to faraway places where the weather seems to follow us mockingly. Some things aren’t meant to be, but we keep looking anyway.

      There’s no doubt the world is full of ugliness and misery if you look for it. Most of that resides in the world of humans, right at ground-level. We are forced to confront the worst in us on a regular basis. And yet there’s also wonder and magic in the world, just waiting for us to look up and find it. Don’t we owe it to ourselves to look beyond the broken surface and learn to soar above it?