Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • Between the Mortal and the Enduring

      “When you are desiring things and fearing things, that’s mortality. The three temptations of the Buddha—desire, fear, and duty—are what hold you in the field of time. When you put the hermetic seal around yourself and, by discriminating between the mortal and the enduring, you find that still place within yourself that does not change, that’s when you’ve achieved nirvāṇa. That still point is the firmly burning flame that is not rippled by any wind.” — Joseph Campbell, A Joseph Campbell Companion: Reflections on the Art of Living

      We each wrestle with the three temptations that hold us in place. Surely, it would be irresponsible of us to simply march off deep into the woods amongst the trees, or atop a summit amongst the clouds, or if you like, to sail off into bliss amongst the rolling waves. And yet it is the desire to hold on to what we already have, or the fear of the unknown, or perhaps simply a sense of duty to others that hold us in place. There’s nothing wrong with staying in place, mind you, but we must remember the price: Tempus fugit.

      To see the world as it really is—to reach nirvana—is to see ourselves as we really are. We are skating the line between the mortal and the enduring, but our bodies are decidedly mortal. The fragility of this life is exactly why we wrestle so much with those three temptations in the first place. We might feel we’re running out of time, or fear we’re missing out on true fulfillment, as we plod along in our chosen role as child, spouse, parent, employee, teammate, friend, follower, mentor… whatever. The shackles are ours alone, aren’t they? Enlightenment was never role-dependent. We become who we will be in our time or we leave this world with untapped potential. It’s up to us to choose the next step.

      We know intuitively what endures. This lifetime is a quest for connection and enlightenment, that we may pick up, carry and then pass the torch to those who follow. Of course, the torch is a metaphor, it is the light we carry within ourselves and pass along. We may burn brightly when we shed the things that dampen our spirit.

      The thing is, we don’t have to chase after dreams, we simply have to reach towards awareness. We may still reach for that place within ourselves that does not change. We may still choose something enduring, even as we accept that we ourselves are mortal. Even as we feel the hold of our accumulated obligations, desires and fears, we should realize that we shouldn’t be chasing anything—we are simply becoming something.

    • To See What We See

      “The traveler sees what he sees. The tourist sees what he has come to see.”
      ― G.K. Chesterton

      I’m curious about the world, and so I wish to venture out into it to see what I might see. It’s the same reason I walk out into the backyard every morning, to see what the sky looks like, to see the progress of the garden, to feel the coolness of the breeze and realize the potential in the day. If I feel this way walking into the backyard, it follows that I’d be equally curious about any other place I might go to, don’t you think? So it is that simply traveling to check boxes is not nearly enough.

      We know the old expression; to live an interesting life, we must be interested. To be curious about the universe spinning around us is the opposite of being self-centered. Looking outward inquisitively draws the universe into our orbit, enriching us all as the walls between fall away. We rise to meet the moment in such interactions, and become something far more than an empty soul.

      In this moment, I’m standing lightly atop a stepping stone, having landed from back-to-back trips and gathering myself to launch into the next trip. By the time I’ve done the laundry I’ll be packing up once again. These are days you’ll remember, I tell myself, even as I look around at this place I’ve landed in (home) with a fresh set of eyes. Every day should offer something to remember, if we remain open to seeing what unfolds before us.

      The best way to savor anything is to realize that it’s all going to fall away one day. We may never pass this way again. So make the most of it when we’re in that moment. That goes for travel as much as parenting or gardening or eating a great meal. There is only now, and this. So what do we see?

    • We Can Only Try

      I have often asked myself the reason for the sadness
      In a world where tears are just a lullaby
      If there’s any answer, maybe love can end the madness
      Maybe not, oh, but we can only try
      — Carol King, Beautiful

      We all know the old expression about the glass being half full or half empty. Are we optimists or pessimists at heart? A stoic might say neither are right, that the glass is simply at the halfway point and we ought to be realistic about that and nothing more. Perhaps. But we all move through this world carrying light or darkness, wearing it on our faces, and the world reacts to us in kind.

      If each step of the journey is the entire point of living, then we ought to find some beauty in the moment. We must learn to carry the light, that we may not stumble into darkness. And brighten the faces of those we encounter along the way. They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. If beauty is also a reflection of who we are deep inside, shouldn’t that tell us something about ourselves?

      There are days when I quietly quit the world, feeling it’s not my role to be positive or to contribute to the greater good. I’ve done my part, I think to myself, and now it’s time to be less generous with my goodwill. Eventually I snap out of it, shaking off the narcissistic self-talk and come back to the light. What are we here for, after all, but to contribute a verse? Why squander that? We can only try to make that verse beautiful, that others may see.

    • Between There’s

      When we travel frequently, our sense of place is slightly askew. At the moment, fresh off a trip out west, I’m trying hard to immerse myself in the glorious spring days of home while focusing more and more attention to another big trip to come soon. It’s akin to waves rolling onto the beach: each worth of consideration on their own merit, each pulling at our feet as they recede away from us on their return to the sea. If we are to be present between there and there, we must naturally be here. Easier said than done sometimes.

      No matter how busy I feel myself to be, I stop and smell the roses. Alas, it’s not the season for roses just yet in New Hampshire, so I delight in the daffodils and purple hyacinth. My daughter used that expression when we were together on Sunday smelling roses in Los Angeles, and I thought of her as I stepped outside to smell the daffodils and hyacinth on a sunny Tuesday morning back at home. The expression fit both moments; locking in a memory of each place.

      One of the gifts to ourselves in gardening is to plant perennials that come back year-after-year. I planted those daffodils and hyacinth years ago, when the kids were home and life felt very different. Each spring I spend a few moments with each, a reunion of sorts, before moving on to the obligations of the day. Nothing is more “here” than a flower in bloom. They are forever grounded, often long after we ourselves move on to other things. We could learn a few things from them, I suppose, about the essential nature of here, and we scurry between there’s.

    • A Visit to Red Rock Canyon

      The region I live in was experiencing a total eclipse on April 8th. I was in Las Vegas, Nevada with an opportunity to see a partial eclipse. I might have been chagrined by this at another time in my life, but now? Amor fati friends. I watched the eclipse I had before me and made the most of the place and time I had available and visited Red Rock Canyon.

      Red Rock Canyon more than lives up to its name, but red is just one of the many colors in this desert environment. Calico might have been a better choice, and one section of the scenic drive does have that name. It’s a stunning departure from the ugliest parts of humanity you might find elsewhere in the city.

      The scenic drive is a one-way, 13 mile loop winding through the canyon. The one-way nature of it is a blessing as drivers are distracted enough already by the scenery without having to worry about cars coming at them head-on. But it does mean you should take the time to stop at every point of interest for there’s no going back.

      A drive is nice, but I was here to hike. There is a nice network of trails throughout the area, but we spent the bulk of our time at Calico Hills scrambling and hiking amongst the massive sandstone formations. It was similar to Joshua Tree National Park in many ways, without the scale of that place, but more than making up for it with convenient proximity to Las Vegas.

      The region is very popular with rock climbers and we watched dozens of them climbing the cliffs on our hike. Like gambling, rock climbing is not my game, but I can appreciate the skills of those who pursue it. Hiking and scrambling are enough for me, and in a place this beautiful this close to the Vegas Strip, I found the experience both exhilarating and immensely enjoyable.

    • The Momentum of Trust

      “The individual in the organization who collects, connects and nurtures relationships is indispensable. This isn’t about recording the information in a database somewhere. This is about holding the relationships as sacred as they deserve to be.” — Seth Godin, Graceful

      There’s no substitute for hard work and consistency in our work, but life is a lot easier when we also have a network of alliances and trusted relationships developed over time. The very best way to build any momentum in anything is to build a network of trusted people around us. The network becomes our path to greatness, as those who trust us grow into greatness themselves. They pull us up just as we pull them up.

      The moment we change industries, we lose the momentum of trust. Like Sisyphus, we essentially go right to the bottom of the hill and start pushing once again. As someone who has reinvented myself several times over in my career, I know the power and absence of a strong network all too well. Nowadays I hold on to my trusted relationships for dear life, and go to great lengths to keep developing new ones.

      As people grow and change companies it impacts the people who remain as much as it does those who leave. Trust is earned over time. Momentum may slow or disappear altogether. We may choose to be the glue or the acetone in such moments. Nothing ever stays the same in something as dynamic as a career, but we can be consistent in our reliability and presence as a friend, peer and trusted associate. In the end it’s our relationships we’ll celebrate in our time.

    • To Follow the Call

      “When one thinks of some reason for not going or has fear and remains in society because it’s safe, the results are radically different from what happens when one follows the call. If you refuse to go, then you are someone else’s servant. When this refusal of the call happens, there is a kind of drying up, a sense of life lost. Everything in you knows that a required adventure has been refused. Anxieties build up. What you have refused to experience in a positive way, you will experience in a negative way…
      Your adventure has to be coming right out of your own interior. If you are ready for it, then doors will open where there were no doors before, and where there would not be doors for anyone else. And you must have courage. It’s the call to adventure, which means there is no security, no rules.” ― Joseph Campbell, A Joseph Campbell Companion: Reflections on the Art of Living

      We have people in our lives who would read that passage from Joseph Campbell and shudder at the very idea of answering the call. They’ll throw all kinds of logic at you about why this is not a good idea at all, not nearly as good an idea as staying the course and following through on the path chosen for us. It’s an attractive rut to stay in place, doing what is expected of us, with a promise of retirement and a few healthy years before we die. It’s a Siren’s song that has lured many a soul to the rocks.

      Thoreau said something unnervingly similar, didn’t he, when he observed that “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation”? We may either look inward and refute the observation or find it rings true, but we may never be fully the same having seen the truth within us. Still, every day is a new opportunity to step into who we really are. Every day we may follow the call or go on killing the dream. We must choose wisely which voice we follow, remembering that the rocks are closer than we might believe.

      Alone on a midnight passage
      I can count the falling stars
      While the Southern Cross and the satellites
      They remind me of where we are
      Spinning around in circles
      Living it day to day
      And still 24 hours may be 60 good years
      It’s really not that long a stay
      Jimmy Buffett, Cowboy in the Jungle

      Joseph Campbell is very much in the “follow your bliss” camp. He’s largely the originator of the term. There are many who mock this following your bliss strategy as impractical at best and self-deceptive folly at worst. The question is, if we may have our 60 good years doing something we absolutely love—that calls to us—or if we will forever shelve that for what the world wants of us. What will it be, for you and me?

      Perhaps the answer is to follow our call, instead of bliss. Sure, it’s the same thing, but the optics are better for the person who knows what they want and seizes the moment attempting to achieve it. What is the difference between a start-up entrepreneur in the garage and a poet writing in a cabin in the woods? The former have better marketing budgets. We glamorize the chase for a personal fortune but mock the chase for personal enlightenment.

      Whatever our path is, whatever our call, we ought to feel the urgency to follow it immediately. For the rocks are getting closer and there’s no time to waste. Decide what to be and go be it.

    • To Shed, and Grow

      “We must be willing to get rid of
      the life we’ve planned, so as to have
      the life that is waiting for us.

      The old skin has to be shed
      before the new one can come.

      If we fix on the old, we get stuck.
      When we hang onto any form,
      we are in danger of putrefaction.

      Hell is life drying up.”
      ― Joseph Campbell, A Joseph Campbell Companion: Reflections on the Art of Living

      Walking on the beach last week, I picked up two shells. One was tiny and in perfect shape, the other larger and more surf-beaten. Shell identification is not my game, but I like learning new games.. Based on a helpful shell identifier web site I found, we’ll call the small one a Threeline Mudsnail, the other a Shark Eye. I regret not holding on to the Shark Eye if only for the name… but I digress.

      We know that Hermit Crabs swap out old shells for new as they grow. We know that snakes do something similar with their skin thus making Campbell’s analogy resonate so well. Potted plants grow pot-bound and begin to fade if we don’t repot them into something bigger. So what of us? Why do we try to hold on to so much of our past instead of growing into the next version of ourselves? When we create a life for ourselves, parts of that life are going to fall away from us. People come and go. Favorite restaurants close. Developments are built in woods that used to speak to us. Everything changes and so too must we.

      Lately, a few friends have left the company I work for in favor of greater opportunity for themselves. In each case I cheer them on to do great things with their lives, even as I feel the loss of their contribution to the place where I still work. We must grow or risk drying up in the old shell we’ve built around ourselves. Like my kids growing into adulthood and moving to other places, these work friends will still be in my life, just not every day. It’s not a goodbye, it’s until we meet again.

      The trick, I believe, is to stop feeling so comfortable with the character we once were and begin feeling comfortable with the idea of a new identity. When we decide who we want to be and begin the process of becoming that person, we are shedding our old skin. We often wonder after we’ve left it why we held on so very long to something we were so ready to leave behind.

    • Grid Luck

      Yesterday, just as I was about to click publish on a blog post, the power flickered one last time and died completely. As it turned out, the Internet held out a little longer before it too finally passed into that deep night. After no winter at all during winter, winter had arrived in force for one last reminder of who’s boss.

      After a few storms like this, most people learn to build some resilience into their lives. Certainly, food, flashlights and candles are important, but so too are generators for those extended outages. As it turned out, our power was restored after 14 hours. Others in town aren’t as lucky and remain in the dark. The fact that I’m writing this now says something about the response of both the energy utility and the Internet provider and the courage of the crews working to fix everything in adverse conditions.

      They say we make our own luck in this world, which is another way of saying we may take steps to mitigate the impact of bad luck while maximizing the potential of good luck. This is applicable in every part of our lives: health, wealth, education, relationships and our overall safety and security. Having redundant systems in place should the primary system fail is a good practice in every part of our lives. Knowing how to use them is an obvious next step on the path to resiliency.

      If we’re driving an automobile, we ought to know how to change a tire. While we’re at it, we ought to make sure we have a usable spare tire. This same logic should be applied to other areas of our lives where resiliency and a bit of know-how can make the difference between getting on with our day or having a very long one. Amor fati is the starting point for resiliency (we must accept the cards we’re dealt), but it’s a lot easier to love our fate when we’re prepared for it.

      All of this got me thinking about this blogging thing. I’m set up to write it wherever I am, with whatever device I happen to have in front of me, with or without connectivity to the rest of the world. The trick is in publishing without an Internet connection. WordPress offers tools for this too, that we may write ahead of time and simply set the date and time of publication. Personally, I like to live on the edge a bit and publish when I complete the blog. The blog, to me, is evidence of daily contemplation followed by the immediacy of shipping the work come hell or high water the same day. That may come back to bite me when I travel internationally again soon. We measure risk in such ways and determine whether it’s worth changing our routine to mitigate the impact of the worst case scenario. In publishing the blog when it’s completed, I’m essentially saying I’m still here—somewhere. Lucky me.

    • A Walk a Day

      “Walking five miles a day or more provides the type of low-intensity exercise that yields all the cardiovascular benefits you might expect, but it also has a positive effect on muscles and bones – without the joint-pounding damage caused by running marathons or triathlons.” ― Dan Buettner, The Blue Zones: Lessons for Living Longer From the People Who’ve Lived the Longest

      Last summer I had a goal to walk 200 miles for a charity and found the time simply by getting up early and getting out there. Nowadays I’m not walking for a charity (perhaps I should) but I’m walking for life. Initially I recruited the pup, but she’s flipped that script around and now recruits me. She’s quickly learned just the right look to give me to get me off the chair and out the door, where she may survey the neighborhood and remind the rabbits and squirrels that she’s the queen of the cul du sac. She’s more of a runner, this pup, and I can tell she’d rather leave the slow guy behind. But a walk is better than a snooze any day.

      Walking five miles is time-consuming, so most people simply won’t take the time. I often won’t take the time either, but I’ve learned that a bit of multitasking helps to get the wheels in motion. As with any habit, once you’ve got a bit of momentum the routine takes hold. I may not be running marathons, but I can walk the length of one in a week. In this way, those walks add up to something substantial. As a bonus, it does both the body and mind a lot of good.

      When we say that we don’t have the time to walk, we’re really just prioritizing something else. When we think of the brevity of this lifetime, just what is so important that we must rush through it? Besides, that walk a day just might extend our lifespan, and more importantly, a healthy and vibrant years. Isn’t that worth a daily investment? So lace up and get out there, for there’s no time to waste.