Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • 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.

    • Saluting the Ghost Ship

      “I’ll never know, and neither will you, of the life you don’t choose. We’ll only know that whatever that sister life was, it was important and beautiful and not ours. It was the ghost ship that didn’t carry us. There’s nothing to do but salute it from the shore.” ― Cheryl Strayed, Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar

      I sometimes dwell in the things that haven’t carried me. Places I might have gone, or lived in, surrounded by people I might have known, as the person I might have become. There’s nothing productive in what-might-have-been’s, unless we use them to set our current sail. This life is just fine, thank you, but the world will always whisper: “Vienna waits for you”, whatever your personal Vienna happens to be.

      Strayed puts this beautifully—these are but ghost ships that didn’t carry us. Sister lives we didn’t live. I know that I’ll never hike the Appalachian Trail or live on a sailboat in some remote fiord in Norway in winter, but that ghost of a me that will never be still drift into my mind in quiet moments now and then. Except they aren’t always quiet. Sometimes I’ll jokingly state that we’re selling everything and buying a boat, or a camper van, or just jetting off to the Vienna that haunts me that day. The people in my life know my ghost ships and roll their eyes, carrying on maintaining the ship we’re on in the real world. And so do I.

      I blame the artist in me. Creative types create alternative worlds all the time. Not Walter Mitty dreams, for we aren’t daydreamers in that way, but whispers of what may be just over the horizon of our current world, or an idealized version of ourselves as the protagonist. I ought to write more fiction, just to release these would-be characters into the world they crave to be in.

      Watching the crescent moon dance with Venus and Regulus in the early morning sky stirred up the ghost ship once again. Looking westward, Jupiter was dipping towards the west. It was magic time, when the universe whispers to the few cherished souls who awaken to be part of it that life is full of possibility. We may choose and love the ship we’re on for this passage while admiring the ones that slip away to the horizon. Some things will never be in this lifetime, but ’tis a beautiful life we’ve built for ourselves nonetheless, don’t you think?

    • Do What You Need to Do

      See the moon roll across the stars
      See the seasons turn like a heart
      Your father’s days are lost to you
      This is your time here to do what you will do
      Your life is now, your life is now, your life is now
      In this undiscovered moment
      Lift your head up above the crowd
      We could shake this world
      If you would only show us how
      Your life is now
      — John Mellencamp, Your Life Is Now

      I’m currently read a book set in Provence, and it’s having the expected effect of making me crave a trip there. YouTube videos of the place don’t help, as they only affirm just how beautiful it is there. I’ve had similar dalliances with beautiful places around the world. The world is out there, awaiting the adventurous and the bold. The rest may only dream.

      I do snap out of these moments and reset myself to the now. “Your father’s days are lost to you”, as Mellencamp sang; “This is your time to do what you will do”. It’s October in New Hampshire, with peak foliage and crisp air reminding us that we too live in a beautiful place. It’s high time to be present right here. We are human and sometimes want what we don’t have in our lives. We must consistently remind ourselves to skate our own lane.

      “Death may be close at hand; death may be far off. Transcend death with no-thought, no-idea. Do what you need to do, with no regret.” — Awa Kenzo, Zen Bow, Zen Arrow

      It’s easy to say we ought to transcend and do what we need to do, it’s harder to do it in a world that demands attention. I interrupted my writing flow state on this very blog to correct some puppy behavior and give the dog something else to chew on. Does this mean I’m not fully present in my work, or that I’m fully aware of the larger world around me? Puppies are great reminders that we aren’t fully in control of anything, but we can still fit our own work in. A mountain stream is constantly interrupted by obstacles in its flow, yet it still finds its way to the sea.

      The thing is, none of us is here forever, and all of us are faced with the will of the larger world around us. We may yet shake this world nonetheless if we dream big and persist with our purpose. But we must also remind ourselves to look up from it now and again and see just how beautiful this life actually is. If a puppy or autumn foliage or the mirror remind us of anything, it’s that now will soon be then. As Seneca once said, we must seize what flees: Feel the urgency to do what we need to do, and to do it with no regret.

    • Stable Centers

      “Continue to progress, do not stagnate. Consider a spinning top. It moves around a stable center. It spins and spins until it finally falls over, exhausted” — Awa Kenzo, Zen Bow, Zen Arrow

      In this blog I refer a lot to Stephen Covey’s concept of pushing the flywheel, and having momentum in our lives through rigid positive habits. The thing about momentum we sometimes forget is that it’s not about the spinning, though surely action is essential, but about the stable center. We may spin like a whirling dervish, but without a stable center we quickly spiral out of control. Like centrifugal force, positive momentum abhors instability.

      We see this in people, companies and political parties that have lost the thing that made them stable. Sports teams may peak at the level of their superstars, but unravel over the course of a season without strong leadership from the role players that are the true foundation of a team. We call them the glue that holds a team together, or lifts it up when things go poorly. It’s those people in an organization who exemplify how things ought to be done and lead by example.

      That stable center in an individual is our morality and sense of purpose. It’s our why, to borrow from Simon Sinek. When we have this in our lives, we do the work that must be done, we don’t skip over the little things that mean a lot, we are proactive in our days, and we have agency over our lives. Why do we get up every day to start anew? It’s often the people in our lives we hold most dear, isn’t it? Family and friends offer community and a sense of place. Teams, congregations and great company cultures do this as well. We need something bigger than ourselves to make our lives larger and more meaningful. When we have it we feel complete, when we don’t we crave it and desperately seek it out.

      Stable centers are usually obvious to us when we have them in our lives. We know what centers us, because our life revolves around these why’s. We are capable of spinning ourselves into greater and greater orbits when our footing is solid. Finding stable centers thus becomes as essential to our growth as establishing good habits and surrounding ourselves with the right people. In fact, when we do these things, we find that we ourselves become a stable center for others. And isn’t that a magical feeling?

    • Morning Coffee

      The line for coffee in a hotel Starbucks is informative. We learn about the lives of others in cross line chatter between coworkers, learn who slept well and who was having a rough morning and we learn who in line has never ordered a Starbucks coffee before. The barista, seeing the confused looks, explains automatically that a Tall is a small and a Venti is a large, and I watch their eyes glaze over in confused despair. I think to myself that I’ve been ordering Starbucks for three centuries and I’ve never seen so many novices in one line before. It’s the arrogance of the familiar. I shift to helpfulness to expedite the ordering process that I may get a coffee before lunch.

      I write this next to a brand new Keurig machine in my hotel room, still with packing tape on it and never once plugged in. The hotel staff had stocked it with decaf coffee pods, which explains why it has never been used. If you’re going to use an in-room coffee-making system at all, make it matter. Some of us take our morning cuppa very seriously.

      It’s not about the coffee, really, but the ritual. It marks the beginning of the day, and importantly for this coffee snob, the start of the writing process. I’ve had to write without it before, but it’s nothing to celebrate. To reveal the extent of my love for coffee, I’m meeting people for breakfast at a local diner, where I’ll surely have more coffee. But it’s not stopping me from having this one first.

      We all have our routines and rituals. Those people in line used to pouring a cup of the hotel courtesy coffee had their morning routine turned upside down. I can understand the feeling of exasperation they were feeling as they ran into the strange world of Starbucks. We are, each of us, dealing with some challenging circumstances. Some are Tall, some Grande, and some are Venti. We’re all in this together friends.

    • All or Nothing at All

      All or nothing at all
      If it’s love, there ain’t no in between
      Why begin then cry for something that might have been?
      No, I’d rather, rather have nothing at all
      — Frank Sinatra, All or Nothing at All

      We get busy, don’t we? We pour ourselves into our work, into our passions, and forget that there are other things that are important for us to do, to accomplish, to experience. Life is a series of tradeoffs and compromises, with a few things dominating our lives in the uncompromising way that identity shades the lenses through which we see the world.

      A month ago I finished a fairly intense burst of high-mileage walking, and then simply stopped. I’ve done this before, with rowing a million meters, with rowing itself, and with other passions that mattered a great deal to complete in the season that they were essential and then became yesterday’s news. It’s either a symptom of being focused on accomplishing what the day at hand demands (generous), or a mind that prefers to stick with one big thing at a time (more likely). It’s an all or nothing at all way of walking through the world.

      “You have feet, and if you don’t make use of them it’s a loss and a waste. Someone is telling you now so that in the future you cannot say: “No one told me that it was important to enjoy using my feet.” — Thích Nhất Hạnh, How to Walk (Mindfulness Essentials, #4)

      The thing is, that walking was serving me quite well, but I just sort of got busy with other things. And suddenly a month flies by and as Thích Nhất Hạnh observed, it becomes a loss and a waste for having not continued to ride the momentum of the moment. And so it must begin again, instead of having simply continued. The lesson is to always lean into the positive momentum in your life.

      We must live our lives as if this time was all we had, for soon it will be nothing at all. Distractions be damned, enjoy the things that fill our days with joy and our future with an abundance of health and energy. We must step to it already.