Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • Break Up the Habitual

      “We need habit to get through a day, to get to work, to feed our children. But habit is dangerous too. The act of seeing can quickly become unconscious and automatic. The eyes see something—gray-brown bark, say, fissured into broad, vertical plates—and the brain spits out tree trunk and the eye moves on. But did I really take the time to see the tree? I glimpse hazel hair, high cheekbones, a field of freckles and I think Shawna. But did I take the time to see my wife?
      ... The easier an experience, or the more entrenched, or the more familiar, the fainter our sensation of it becomes. This is true of chocolate and marriages and hometowns and narrative structures. Complexities wane, miracles become unremarkable, and if we’re not careful, pretty soon we’re gazing out at our lives as if through a burlap sack.
      … I open my journal and stare out at the trunk of the umbrella pine and do my best to fight off the atrophy that comes from seeing things too frequently. I try to shape a few sentences around this tiny corner of Rome; I try to force my eye to slow down. A good journal entry—like a good song, or sketch, or photograph—ought to break up the habitual and lift away the film that forms over the eye, the finger, the tongue, the heart. A good journal entry ought to be a love letter to the world.
      Leave home, leave the country, leave the familiar. Only then can routine experience—buying bread, eating vegetables, even saying hello—become new all over again.”
      — Anthony Doerr, Four Seasons in Rome

      A long quote, but honestly I could plug the entire chapter of this delightful book in here and call it a day. This is a song I know well. We are creatures of habit, and a good habit will save us as much as a bad habit may be our ruin, but this often puts us on autopilot with our senses. There’s a fine line between being fully aware and being overwhelmed. A bit of focus on the task at hand is just as essential as being aware of everything around us. Situation awareness can quite literally save the day for us, but awareness of every situation can make us completely useless.

      Still, so many of us miss the details for the routine. How much of a drive do we ever remember? What of the miracle of commercial flight? Most people simply resign themselves to the screen in front of them for the duration, never glancing out the window at the world of wonder just outside. What of home? Do we ever immerse ourselves in something we once gazed at lovingly, like that picture we once cherished and now barely see? How many marriages end in just such a way?

      We know the Latin phrase: “tempus fugit carpe diem” (time flies so seize the day). Seizing isn’t just an action statement to go out and do bold things, though surely that’s a big part of it. It also means being fully aware of the world around us while we’re living this day. Well before the Romans began creating such memorable phrases, that old Greek sage Seneca had his own take on this, saying “As each day arises, welcome it as the very best day of all, and make it your own possession. We must seize what flees.” Indeed we must.

      Doerr seized his day moving to Rome for a year, grabbing the opportunity of a lifetime just as he and his wife were navigating the challenge of raising newborn twins. That’s quite a one-two punch to anyone’s routine. His call to leave the familiar comes from his own experience in doing just so. But even under such extreme change in his and his wife’s lifestyle, he found routine he had to break through to find full awareness. What of us?

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

      At a party of the weekend I was introduced to someone as “a blogger” and was asked what I write about. I write about everything, I explained, but didn’t go much deeper out of… habit. We rise to meet our moments or we simply go through them. Writing is a form of heightened awareness of the moment. So is photography, for that matter. I tend to be the unofficial photographer at family events and during travel because I see opportunities either to capture or create the moment. In the end, moments are all we have.

      This blog is a call to arms for myself as much as it is a collection of observations and thoughts. Tempus fugit, sir, so carpe diem. Pay attention to the moment, friend, but do note the days gone by on this journey too. We waste so much of it, don’t we? We must be aware, and be productive with our days while we have them. Make each day new all over again.

    • The Cover of October Skies

      Well, it’s a marvelous night for a moondance
      With the stars up above in your eyes
      A fantabulous night to make romance
      ‘Neath the cover of October skies
      And all the leaves on the trees are falling
      To the sound of the breezes that blow
      You know I’m tryin’ to please to the calling
      Of your heartstrings that play soft and low
      You know the night’s magic seems to whisper and hush
      You know the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush
      Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?
      — Van Morrison, Moondance

      It’s no coincidence that we are drawn outdoors in October. In New Hampshire, the foliage is strikingly beautiful on some trees this year, while others have barely begun to turn. Strange what a year of near-constant rain can do to a tree’s inclination to dress up for the party. But the show must go on nonetheless, stragglers will inevitably catch up in their time. For it’s all about the shrinking days now. If leaves are the flowers of autumn, then they’re more like the blossoms of a fruit tree, announcing their time in the sun is over with a brilliant dance in the breeze on their return to the earth. Don’t we owe it to them to bear witness?

      I dwell in such things. I have a photographers eye and a philosopher’s mind, and though perhaps neither may ever be fully realized in production each sneaks out now and again. We each aspire to mastery, don’t we? Mostly I hear the call to bring the beautiful to light. It falls on people like us to keep reminding the world that it’s worth paying attention to the magic now and then in our own shrinking days.

      To reach our potential we must be attentive to every detail, and we must put ourselves in the mix. On a crisp Sunday afternoon I spent time at a four-year-old’s birthday party, gingerly holding her infant second cousin like a football, to celebrate the next generation tasked with realizing a brighter future. I spent time at a quiet graveyard, reminding those who couldn’t quite realize a full life of their own that they aren’t forgotten. That they did enough. The two sides of the spectrum dancing under the cover of the same brilliant October sky. Some leaves shine golden in their time, some have arrived back to earth. We are the witnesses to each, biding our time on a quest for mastery.

    • The Magic of Following Through

      “I can give you a six-word formula for success: Think things through – then follow through.”— Eddie Rickenbacker

      The more time I spend on this planet, the more I feel the fulfillment of deliberate action. You build momentum in your life when you do what you say you’re going to do with enough people. There’s a tipping point where everyone in your life simply identifies you as someone they can count on. Following through is a beacon of hope and light in a world where so many quietly quit on others, and in doing so, on themselves as well.

      It wasn’t always so. I once mastered the art of excuses. Lazy and unfocused as a teenager, I would tell myself that it didn’t matter whether I did what I said I was going to do. It didn’t take long to realize the error of my ways. You hear a enough feedback from people in your life who you let down and you begin to feel the urgency to close the gap between who that person was and the person you aspire to be. Following through is the act of growing up and choosing to be the adult in the room.

      Much later in this lifetime, I tend to take on more than I ought to. Saying no becomes the challenge, not saying yes. But no is part of the commitment to yes. To follow through on anything meaningful, we have to subtract something else that might have been a yes. That might be people, or putting in extra time at work instead of being home with the family, or maybe it’s saying no to that donut with our morning coffee. We are what we repeatedly do, and we are also what we repeatedly choose not to do. Over time, many of us learn to choose wisely. Choice is a commitment to that one really essential thing over all other things.

      The unspoken rule here is that we must follow through on our promises to ourself as well. We must be the person we want to be. We must ship the work, as Seth Godin would say, when we say we’re going to ship it. Putting a blog post out in the world every day is just one of many small commitments I make to myself. Like those other small commitments, it pays dividends in profound and magical ways. For in following through over and over, you begin to believe in possibilities you might not have believed in otherwise. And others begin to believe in you for the consistency you’ve shown. We live the story we tell ourselves: this is evidence of who I am.

      There’s magic in following through on commitments we’ve made. We rise to a place of honor by doing what we said we’d do. This is our uncompromising vow to others, and to ourselves. We are showing respect for those whom we follow through with, and surely for ourselves. This leads directly to a better world for those we interact with, and a better night’s sleep for us. Who said we can’t be magicians? Follow through.

    • As Luck Would Have It

      On a visit to the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, DC this week, I found myself in a dark corner of the National Mall with no viable ride sharing pickup location nearby. I’d walked to the monument on dark pathways from the Lincoln Memorial and could always go back in that general direction to pick up a cab or Uber there. Alternatively, I could just start walking towards my hotel in Crystal City and pick up a ride from some business or bright parking lot along the way. I opted for the latter, and descended into yet another adventure.

      You can see the walking path I took with a quick Google map with Jefferson Memorial as the starting point and the Westin hotel in Crystal City as the end point. It looks pretty simple on the computer screen—a basic three mile walk on across the George Mason Bridge to the Mount Vernon Trail, past the airport and you’re basically there. In the daylight I bet it’s a lovely stretch of trail to take, and I’d recommend it in the opposite direction for a morning walk to the National Mall. At 10:30 PM (22:30) it feels entirely different. Once you cross the bridge there’s no illumination on the path until you reach the airport. Cars zipping along the George Washington Memorial Parkway provide ambient light, but also ruin night vision. Planes taking off from Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport launch dramatically overhead, making it hard to hear anything else. In short, situational awareness is greatly inhibited. Throw in a place you’ve never been before and only a map on your phone to guide you and you might begin to understand the potential sketchiness of the walk.

      Perhaps I should have turned back towards the National Mall, perhaps I should have walked with others. Perhaps a strong flashlight or headlamp might have helped, had I the foresight to bring them. Then again, perhaps just staying in my safe hotel room when it got dark out may have been the answer. But we ought to embrace whatever adventure we create for ourselves and make the most of it. Not in a reckless fashion, but rather as open-minded seekers of a larger life.

      The thing is, luck would have it that I made it from point A to point B with nothing but a good story to tell. Luck might also have thrown a mugger at me, or a sprained ankle on the darkest stretch of trail far from help. Luck might have had my phone die at an inopportune time. Luck is not something to rely upon. We must rely upon ourselves.

      Whatever we do, whether it’s walking alone in some dark and isolated place or stepping into a crowded, target-rich hostile environment in a city we aren’t familiar with, we must keep our wits about us. Just as we can’t have good situational awareness if we’re distracted with our phone, we can’t make good decisions about what to do next when we stumble into potential danger if we panic. So take a deep breath, assess the situation and choose the best option available at the moment. That’s generally where our luck begins to improve.

    • Somethings

      “Recall a simple and ancient truth: the subject of knowledge cannot exist independently from the object of knowledge. To see is to see something. To hear is to hear something. To be angry is to be angry over something. Hope is hope for something. Thinking is thinking about something. When the object of knowledge (the something) is not present, there can be no subject of knowledge.” — Thich Nhat Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness

      We are each connected to the world in big ways and small. The things we focus on, our somethings, are the essence of that connection. When we become aware of these connections we immediately see our place in the world differently. We are not independent observers to the world, we are very much a part of it.

      So when we inevitably ignore our mother’s well-meaning advice and talk to strangers, is it a voyage of discovery or do we put up walls? Walls come in many forms, from being reserved to working to be overly clever. To be genuine and open is to welcome connection. It’s our gateway to discovery.

      My primary purpose in life is to bridge the gap between the known and the unknown. That bridge is built on human connections—trusted relationships built one genuine and open connection at a time. That connection is substantial, and indeed means something. After all, it’s the stuff of life.

    • A Special Kind of Magic

      This flame that burns inside of me
      I’m hearing secret harmonies
      It’s a kind of magic
      — Queen, A Kind of Magic

      Queen is one of those arena rock bands from my childhood that I thought I’d never see perform live. I mean, after Freddie Mercury dies, how does a band carry on at all? Yet they have, finding a singer of Mercury’s caliber in Adam Lambert who can hit those extraordinary high notes with all the campy energy Freddie brought. Lambert brings it, but so does the band, driven by ageless wonders Brian May and Roger Taylor.

      With this band, you know immediately that they’re doing work that they love with the talent to back it up. You don’t leave a Queen concert disappointed, you leave awe-inspired. Witnessing sustained mastery in the wild generally inspires awe. You leave wondering just how they do it. You leave wondering what more you can do with your own life’s work.

      The thing is, it’s not simply the laser show and incredible graphics flashing on the screen. It’s not just the amazing talent on the stage. It’s not even the video of Freddie Mercury himself making a couple of appearances during the show. It’s the collective love of a multigenerational audience bringing love and vibrant participation to the party. And it’s a feeling that in this time of music legends passing away seemingly every day now, having the chance to be in the room with these guys playing at a high level is a special kind of magic.

    • Maintaining a Steady State

      We each plot our beginnings in this lifetime, but what of our endings? When do the wheels come off? When will be the last time we do that thing we love to do? We ought to look this expiration date squarely in the eye and be aware that all good things must pass, thus cherishing the time we have with it. I may never again row a 2000 meter race for speed and it won’t break my heart, but I’ll happily row beyond that mark with far less intensity. The goal is no longer to be the fastest, but to sustain a base level of fitness from now until the last.

      When I run out of things to write about, I’ll simply stop writing. The words that resonate will be rephrased into the words of others, ideas will become turned over like compost and feed a new generation of seekers. It’s bold to think so, isn’t it? More likely the blog will quietly fade into the past, as we all must do some day. Each of us has our time to shine.

      Perhaps the point is to build and carry the very best of ourselves to our last days, that we may offer something meaningful for those who follow us on the path. More essential still is to lead by example now, that others have the courage to find their own verse. To be steady in a time of turbulence offers more value to others than being first across any proverbial finish line.

      Some aspire to be on top, and that’s great for them. Most of us aim to maintain a steady state, filled with the highs and lows of a lifetime, but generally predictable progression to something… better. Not dull, mind you, but sustainably predictable growth. As any financial advisor will tell us, there’s a lot to be said for predictable growth. Leave volatility for the young and restless.

      I write this having added a puppy to my life, which tends to turn a well-established routine upside down. This may signal the end of my blogging days, or perhaps a reason to reinvent that steady state with a burst of volatility and restless energy. Whatever the outcome, it won’t be the same old thing. But who says a fresh perspective isn’t welcome in an otherwise steady life?

    • The Fullness of Time

      “The measure of a life is a measure of love and respect,
      So hard to earn so easily burned
      In the fullness of time,
      A garden to nurture and protect
      It’s a measure of a life
      The treasure of a life is a measure of love and respect,
      The way you live, the gifts that you give
      In the fullness of time,
      It’s the only return that you expect”
      ― Neil Peart

      I missed a few days in a row of my one line per day journal entry. What exactly did I do on Wednesday? Work from home? Take the dog for a walk? Write a blog and drink too much coffee? Yes to all of those things, but what was the essence of the day? That journal is my daily reckoning. When you go back to it after a few days to fill in what you’ve been up to you quickly realize that much of your days are pretty much the same, repeated over and over again.

      When I look at the year, it’s been full of wonder and adventure. Visits to stunningly beautiful places, big life events in the family, a new puppy. It would be hard to summarize the fullness of this year in a few short sentences. But what of the individual days? Individually, our days are feast or famine, with some jammed full of adventure and others rather bland by comparison. Every day can’t be a lifetime highlight. Some days are simply average.

      Sure, we ought to fill our time with more adventurous fare. Add more micro adventures and left turns to see what is out there in the world. We know intuitively that time is flying by, but what do we do to make each day uniquely special? If today was our last, will we make it an exclamation point or end it all with a simple period? I like to think I’ll go out with an ellipsis (…) just to make the world wonder what I was up to next.

      “The day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking towards me, without hurrying.” — Jean Cocteau

      Cocteau reminds us of our impermanence. It’s a lovely vision of life and death coming closer by the day, until one day we meet the infinite once again. Our lives are a singular entry in the vastness of time: here today, gone tomorrow. Knowing this, we ought to raise the average in our average days, we ought to sprinkle in more adventure and mystery and love, we ought to “live like we were dying” as that song goes. Life shouldn’t be a nihilistic series of meaningless days, it ought to be a gift we give back when we’ve done something meaningful with it. We know that our days will pass, but will they be filled with substance? We each have the opportunity to answer in our own…

    • The Inner Necessity

      “We all have an essence, something inside of us that was uniquely assigned by the universe. This goes deeper than talent and skill. It’s a calling. An inner necessity.
      Your essence doesn’t care about power, promotions, or possessions. It only cares about one thing: expression.
      If essence is who you really are, then expression is how you show up in the world. Your essence is always calling for you—expression is how you take that call.
      There’s a saying in the Gospel of Thomas: If you bring forth what is within you, that thing will save you. If you don’t, it will destroy you. That’s the thing about your essence. It is an inner flame that either lights up the world around you or burns a hole inside of you.
      Each of us gets to choose between expression and emptiness. But no one escapes that choice.”
      — Suneel Gupta, Everyday Dharma

      I’ve been walking past this book, Everyday Dharma, since it arrived and set firmly on the kitchen counter, a gift from one of my bride’s company executives to the employees. It wasn’t meant to be my book to read, but I’d just finished one book and wasn’t feeling the vibes from three other books I’m in various stages of reading, so why not add one more? Sure, I generally try to finish what I start, and advocate for focusing on the task at hand, and yet when it comes to books I can’t seem to help myself. Everything in this world is timing.

      Lately I’ve seen the wheels fall of some people I know who were so focused on putting everything within themselves into their careers that they forgot to do the maintenance that keeps us all healthy. We all must choose how we express ourselves in this world. Sometimes the form of that expression rips us apart, either from outside forces eventually overwhelming us or from that inner flame burning a hole inside of us, saying more and more persistently, “this is not who I am”. We ought to listen more, but there’s just so much to do first.

      We’ve all asked ourselves the question, “What do I find most fulfilling?” as we navigate our lives. Rungs on the corporate ladder seem enticingly close, the pay a little better, the title a more soothing ego stroke, but when reached we find that it wasn’t the view we thought it would be. Our life’s purpose was never the next rung on the ladder, the degrees we acquire or the accolades of our biggest fans (thanks Mom). Our life’s purpose is that inner flame burning a hole inside of us, trying to find expression in the whirl of a busy life.

      The thing is, we generally know the answer already, we just push it off for another day in favor of what others want for us. As those people I know have learned as their wheels fall off, there are only so many other days. The question remains, as Mary Oliver asked so much more eloquently than I can in The Summer Day:

      “Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
      Tell me, what is it you plan to do
      with your one wild and precious life?”

      May our expression be grounded in our essence, fulfilling and centered. We are each here for so short a stay. Yes, everything in the world is timing, and this is our time friends. So for me, I write, and read one too many books, I contribute what I can in productive and meaningful ways, I dabble in uncomfortable things and venture to unfamiliar places, and most of all, I savor. Yikes, that’s a lot of “I’s” in one paragraph. So how about you? We may all bring light to the world from our inner flame, and mustn’t we? Before it ends all too soon. What is it you plan to do?

    • Incendat Magica

      Don’t lose the wonder in your eyes
      I can see it right now when you smile
      We gotta go back, for a while
      Gotta go back, into that magic time
      — Van Morrison, Magic Time

      I often associate Van Morrison with autumn, thanks in part to the shift in my own soundtrack from summer music to autumn music, which leans more into jazz and soulful introspection. When the jeans replace the shorts it’s time for Van Morrison on my playlist. Some people put up plastic skeletons and black and orange decorations. Some of us stick to music. It’s all part of weaving our own brand of magic.

      I write about magic and wonder quite often in this blog, for it’s the stuff of life. When we create magic we are locking memories into place, like a snapshot we’ll remember forever. At least our forever. We do things that bring joy to our lives, and magic ensues. But let’s face it: Some people in our lives simply aren’t joyful. We may have fun with them, we may even find them interesting or even fascinating to be around, but there’s no joy. No joy, no magic. Simply peaceful coexistence. There’s very little wonder to be found in coexistence. Strike a spark.

      Vivere admirari: To live in wonder.

      Magic is associated with wonder. We often see this on display at big events, and certain places and times in a life. The trick is to dabble in a bit of magic every day, hidden in the joy we bring to moments as they unfold. As with anything joyful, magic works best when shared with others. A spark must have kindling just close enough together to create flame. Too close and you choke out the spark. Too far apart and the spark has nothing to catch hold of. We feel it when it’s just right.

      Incendat magica: To kindle magic

      Perhaps it’s frivolous to write about magic and wonder when the world is so dark and cold. But then again, maybe a spark is just what we need to kindle something warm and bright. We have magic for a reason, don’t we? It changes reality into something more.