Alexandersmap

    Category: Lifestyle

    • If We Are to Live Ourselves: Thoughts on Didion

      “I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind’s door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends.”
      ― Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem

      I feel the truth in Didion’s observation, seeping into to me like caffeine hitting the bloodstream. For who doesn’t look back on who they used be and shake their head? That’s no longer us, and in many ways, we might wish it never was. But that person helped carry us here.

      Joan Didion passed away yesterday. There are people far more familiar with her work—far more qualified—to write her obituary than me (See Parul Sehgal’s Joan Didion Chronicled American Disorder With Her Own Unmistakable Style”). If you want to glimpse the soul of a writer of consequence, read the words that they themselves offer to the world in their most personal moments. The words that bring you into their world in common bond. Such as this quote Sehgal highlighted:

      “I’m not telling you to make the world better, because I don’t think that progress is necessarily part of the package,” she once wrote. “I’m just telling you to live in it. Not just to endure it, not just to suffer it, not just to pass through it, but to live in it. To look at it. To try to get the picture. To live recklessly. To take chances. To make your own work and take pride in it. To seize the moment. And if you ask me why you should bother to do that, I could tell you that the grave’s a fine and private place, but none I think do there embrace. Nor do they sing there, or write, or argue, or see the tidal bore on the Amazon, or touch their children. And that’s what there is to do and get it while you can and good luck at it.”

      Can’t you see it? Didion placing her hands on your shoulders, looking you square in the eye and imploring you to listen. Get to it straightaway! Live a bit more recklessly. Sing and dance and live outside your comfort zone. Take more chances. Decide who to be, and go be it.

      Didion knew urgency and pain. She lost both her husband and adult daughter within a couple of devastating years of each other. She herself suffered from Parkinson’s Disease in her final years. She might have lived a glamorous life bouncing between Malibu and Manhattan early on, but she suffered losses that would floor any of us. And she shared her journey out of the abyss with her readers:

      “I know why we try to keep the dead alive: we try to keep them alive in order to keep them with us. I also know that if we are to live ourselves there comes a point at which we must relinquish the dead, let them go, keep them dead. — from The Year of Magical Thinking

      Ultimately we either shatter into pieces and fade away ourselves or climb back out to make something of our remaining time on this earth. Didion was a fighter. And her words that remain even as she passes betray her spirit and prompt those who remain to carry on the work:

      “Do not whine… Do not complain. Work harder. Spend more time alone.” — from Blue Nights

    • Now I Saunter

      “I don’t like either the word [hike] or the thing. People ought to saunter in the mountains – not ‘hike!’ Do you know the origin of that word saunter? It’s a beautiful word. Away back in the middle ages people used to go on pilgrimages to the Holy Land, and when people in the villages through which they passed asked where they were going they would reply, ‘A la sainte terre’, ‘To the Holy Land.’ And so they became known as sainte-terre-ers or saunterers. Now these mountains are our Holy Land, and we ought to saunter through them reverently, not ‘hike’ through them.” — John Muir

      I’ve been absent from the mountains for a long stretch now. A heel injury nags and before that an ankle injury right above it and really, what’s it all but excuses and reluctance to push onward through a bit of pain? I’d been saving this quote for my next saunter up the mountains—to the Holy Land—but I’m done waiting for the moment. For all my enduring love for the mountains, my pilgrimage is with life itself.

      John Muir turned the act of hiking to where it belonged; towards reverence. For who doesn’t encounter reverence deep in the mountains? And what of life? Life can be an unfair grind, filled with misery and pain and setbacks, and maybe we feel a bit of reluctance to be reverent about the slog we feel we’re on. There’s immense suffering in this world, serious challenges to our collective future, and I don’t turn a blind eye to it writing about sauntering merrily through life. But shouldn’t we meet each moment for the ripe potential it offers? Shouldn’t we seek a path that brings us to a better place?

      Once I plodded through life, grinding it out in jobs I didn’t love, invested in relationships that didn’t matter all that much in the end, wasting time on the inconsequential. Humans are very good at frivolously consuming away our time like so many empty calories, until our fingers reach the bottom of the bag and we realize we’re left with emptiness and greasy fingers. I’m not so much like that now. Now I celebrate moments. Now I saunter.

      The world continues to assault our senses. Sauntering is an embrace of the world as it is, taking it on the chin but greeting life as it comes. A move away from consumption in the present towards the mission of the future potential in all of us. Staying on the path with a spirit of aliveness despite the worst hardships life throws at us. Living with reverence for the gift of the pilgrimage.

    • What Living Ben Franklin’s Five Hour Rule Really Tells You

      Google “Ben Franklin’s five hour rule” and you’ll receive page after page of business magazine articles gushing about how you too can transform your career and life using old Ben’s technique. They spin it to current times saying Bill Gates and Elon Musk follow this rule too! Just click and read on… and you get pretty much the same paragraph from every one of them:

      “The five-hour rule is a process first implemented by Benjamin Franklin for constant and deliberate learning. It involves spending one hour a day or five hours a week learning, reflecting and experimenting.”

      I could link to one of those articles, but which one? They all use the same two vanilla sentences. No deep dive into actual Ben Franklin quotes. I’m at a point in my life where this just doesn’t hold up for me anymore. Life is deeper than a Twitter-sized rule for living.

      You know who’s not breathlessly scanning those business articles for that one key rule used by Ben Franklin? Bill Gates or Elon Musk. Because they’ve long since passed that level of reading and shallow thinking in their own lives through consistent, dedicated learning, applied personal growth habits and occasionally taking audacious risks measured against that acquired knowledge.

      And that last bit is the key. Knowing when to take the leap into the unknown isn’t just instinct, it’s detecting patterns and opportunity gleaned from multiple sources of informed learning. Put down the mobile phone and pick up a book, find a quiet corner of your hectic life, and read. Learn something new that brings you to something else new. And as you acquire that wisdom do something with it. Gates and Musk, like Franklin before them, are just people like you and me who take things to a level the rest of us aren’t prepared or willing to go to… but could.

      For the last several years I’ve read every day, sought meaningful encounters wherever I am, stretched my reading to sometimes uncomfortable places, learned a bit of another language every day and firmly established the habit of writing about it right here in this blog. I’m living that Franklin rule without calling it that. I’ve learned that life is more complicated than two sentence rules for living. But the occasional spark of applied audacity has its place too.

    • Reaching Your Creative State

      “Do you want to do intellectual work? Begin by creating within you a zone of silence, a habit of recollection, a will to renunciation and detachment which puts you entirely at the disposal of the work; acquire that state of soul unburdened by desire and self-will which is the state of grace of the intellectual worker. Without that you will do nothing, at least nothing worth while.”
      – A.G. Sertillanges, O.P. The Intellectual Life

      Every day is a reinvention, a chance to be reborn into whatever you wish to become in this life. For me, this becoming is the whole point of living. But it begs the question—becoming what? Not an easy question, one most people immerse themselves in distraction to avoid answering (present company accepted). Blogging is a public sorting of this becoming bit. The messier work happens behind the scenes.

      When you have a general idea where your compass is pointing, you must put yourself in a state where you might execute on that vision for yourself. And this is where it gets tricky. All those skills you’ve learned to distract yourself from figuring out what you want to be when you grow up work equally well at keeping you from getting things done.

      “Creative people organize their lives according to repetitive, disciplined routines. They think like artists but work like accountants.” – David Brooks, “The Good Order” The New York Times

      And there lies the secret sauce to doing anything worthwhile: Repetitive, disciplined routines applied daily from now until… ad infinitum. Sertillanges calls this productive place your state of soul. A place where we can actualize the spirit of our deepest work and bring it to the world. What a gift. When you’re in this state, why would you ever want it to end?

      The trick to reaching this state of soul is hidden in plain sight: Establish routines and have the discipline to stick with them. Repeat. None of this is revelatory, what’s required is consistency of effort. So get to it. The world awaits your best work.

    • Eudaimonia: The Act of Living Well

      There’s an ancient Greek word, frequently associated with Aristotle, called eudaimonia. Aristotle meant it as living virtuously. It’s best translated in modern English not as “happiness”, but as “flourishing” or “living well”. Let’s face it, chasing happiness is a fools game (for happiness is an evasive and subjective pursuit, and without purpose, empty), but pursuing eudaimonia—living well—is a lifestyle choice. And it begins with knowing what living well means to you.

      The spirit of eudaimonia, going back to Aristotle, is to make the most of yourself in your short time here. That making the most of yourself business is what you and I have been chasing for a long time, isn’t it? To live virtuously, to flourish in the art of living, to learn and grow and travel and build something better of yourself. To be fit and vibrant and sharp as a tack. To be articulate and passionate and the eager student in this master class of living.

      We are all in the pursuit of eudaimonia, we just don’t use that particular word to describe our objective. Maybe we should. There’s another Greek word, Arete, meaning excellence, that comes to mind. If Arete is the ultimate goal, eudaimonia is the path to get us closer to it. We may never reach the former, but we can certainly flourish and live well and strive to maximize our potential. And isn’t that the point of living in the first place?

    • Right Where You Are

      The sun set in the sea; the same odd sun
      rose from the sea,
      and there was one of it and one of me.
      – Elizabeth Bishop, Crusoe in England

      An old work acquaintance moved to the city, and walks to an embarrassment of great restaurants just down the street. I asked her about the noise and such things, being a country mouse like me. But all she talked of was the thrill of being in the heart of it. She was right where she wanted to be. And isn’t that a thrill?

      I walked the short beach twice yesterday, to see what I was missing working with my back turned to it. I feel gratitude for the beach, but mostly for the bay that opens up the sky and the universe beyond. You don’t get quite so spun up about projects when you look at salt water. And I wondered again why I don’t live in such a place as this. Do you get tired of the infinite? I should think not. But our time with the infinite will come soon enough. Now we wrestle with deadlines and commitments and trivial pursuits.

      It’s different for each of us, this right where you ought to be feeling. The question might not be where you are at all, but what you’re doing that ought to be confronted. If you feel you’re right where you want to be in your work, in your life, then the world you walk out to meet will feel right no matter where you are. And when it’s not, well, even the divine feels a bit off.

      We are where we are, there’s no getting around that. We only have this one go around before the universe moves on to those who come after us. It’s not the place so much as how you fill it that matters. Otherwise it’s just a void, isn’t it?

    • Let Me Live Until I Die

      “Lord, let me live until I die.” – Will Rogers

      This is the kind of daily prayer or affirmation I can get behind. Said daily as I open my eyes to a new day. Let me live until I die is a bold stake in the ground to make the most of every moment. And shouldn’t we celebrate the possibility of the new day? What’s the alternative, to dread the commute to work, or the work itself, or what we come home to afterwards? To distract your life with media and alcohol and empty calories? No, thank you! Let me live until I die.

      It’s easy to slip into the dark melancholy of the world. It’s easier to slip than it is to climb. But slipping only leads you to new lows. Far better to climb, as tough as it might seem, to reach new heights and see new vistas. To leap out of bed to see what we might accomplish in this new day seems a far more interesting way to wake up to the world than to hit the snooze button and hide under your pillow.

      Life isn’t easy, we all know that. But the world bows to those who climb to the top, look around and light the way for the rest to see. To be a beacon requires energy and an unquenchable desire to burn brightly. You can’t burn brightly if you’re drowning in misery. Get up and get out there, where the oxygen is. Be fit and passionate and embrace life in a full bear hug.

      To live is to move, to embrace, to laugh, to love, to explore, to learn, to dance, to take a chance and to grow. Get out into the world and make the most of living while we can. I’ll see you out there.

    • Up to the Nostrils

      “I think you should always do shit that scares you. You just always have to do stuff that scares you. Just wander right off into the water right up to where just your nostrils are out of it. And then just try and live there.” – Brandi Carlile, on The Howard Stern Show

      How deep are you in the body of water you presently find yourself? How can you wade in deeper? How can you challenge yourself more than you are right now? Are you afraid of drowning? Or simply afraid of getting a little wet?

      Stern is a brilliant interviewer, and when he has someone as extraordinary as Brandi Carlile on his show, someone who rises to the occasion because she’s not afraid to wade in up to the nostrils, the conversation is compelling. Because there’s something drawn out of that conversation that transcends the people talking, they draw something out of you too. You find yourself questioning just how deeply you’ve been willing to wade into that water yourself. In that question is the answer for what you’ve got to do next, should you have the courage to do so.

      What comes next? Where do we go from here? What do you have to give up within yourself to get try to live in that place where you’re just on the edge of drowning? For that is the place where you transcend the ordinary.

      We forget, in our fear of wading in so deeply, that we don’t have to drown. We might just learn to swim in deeper waters. We might just thrive when we find that scary stuff isn’t all that scary after all. Go deeper.

    • Collecting Volumes of Experience

      To gain entry into restaurants in Manhattan in the current state of the pandemic you need to show your vaccination card or a picture of it. Some folks also ask for your ID, which I’m happy to provide. I’d left the card in my hotel room, but fortunately had a photo buried somewhere on my phone. And I eventually found it in the mass of recent pictures – was that San Francisco? Los Angeles? Raleigh? Vermont? It seems I’ve been busy lately.

      During that search I stumbled on a photo of three birds pecking in the South Carolina surf at sunrise. I remember the moment, still less than two weeks ago, but the picture was lost in a crush of other photographs and memories (or is that .jpeg’s and memories now?). It occurred to me that I ought to hit pause again soon. And right on cue Thanksgiving arrives in America next week. More timely, and more different, than ever.

      Life comes at you in waves, and we’re a lot like those birds, waiting for something to chew on with the next one that rolls in. Sometimes you find that where you’ve landed is the perfect place at the perfect time for you. And sometimes you look around and wonder whether you’re on the right beach at all. The answer isn’t always obvious, and the real trick is to keep an eye on that next wave so it doesn’t wash over you.

      I’ve collected thousands of photos of moments like that moment with the birds. Small and large experiences captured in memory, both mine and in some data center in the Cloud. Scrolling through a few hundred photos looking for that picture of my vaccination card reminded me to spend a little less time planning the next landing spot and savor the one you’re immersed in now. It’s not always about finding a better beach, but simply enjoying the one you’re on, and appreciating where you’ve been.

    • Life is the Train

      “Our life is a constant journey, from birth to death. The landscape changes, the people change, our needs change, but the train keeps moving. Life is the train, not the station.” – Paulo Coelho

      Traveling by regional train is such a treat when you’ve been subjected to the indignities of air travel and commuting in the relentless grind of traffic. Taking an Amtrak from Boston to New York is not the fastest way from point A to point B, but my gosh it’s surely the best way. Give me the rolling scenery without the stress of distracted drivers and unpredictable traffic, thank you. Give me actual leg room in coach over whatever they think proper leg room is on a regional jet between any two cities in the United States. The train is the best way from here to there if the option presents itself.

      There are two options when taking the train from Boston to New York (or Washington beyond). The first is the Acela, the “high speed” option. The second is the regional train. The difference is in top speed the trains can travel at, and the number of stops the train makes along the way. For all the potential of the Acela, it only gets you there about 30 minutes faster. I’m quite content taking the regional most days. Sit on the port side going south for the coastal views and the sunrise, or the starboard side for the great view of the city as you make your final approach to Manhattan.

      Days blend into weeks, which blend into months. Years fly by and suddenly you can’t recall how many times you’ve done this particular trip. Last week I was flying up and down the East Coast, this week I’m doing a portion of that trip ten feet above sea level. In the last month I’ve been in nine states and when I land in my hotel room tonight I’ll have slept in 12 different beds. Clearly I’m inching back to my old nomadic lifestyle. With travel as with life, I’ve found that it’s usually far better when you’re taking the journey with someone than running solo. But most trips that’s not the way it works with business travel.

      The world changes, that’s not a negative statement, but a simple fact of life. And we must keep adapting to change, and keep authoring our own life story. To stay in one place seems a waste to me, when there’s so very much to see out there. Why not explore the world while you have health and mental faculty on your side? We’ve seen how it goes when you wait too long. Life isn’t fair, it will brush you back with a fastball and strike you out with a nasty curve before you know what happened to you. Get to it while you can, and don’t ever strike out looking.

      Travel by train gives you the time and mental space to think. To appreciate how far you’ve come, and not stress out about where you’re going. You’ll get there, just stay on the train. Life is like that, isn’t it? Stick with things, keep moving forward and things tend to work out for you. Trains and baseball analogies, all in one post. Isn’t it funny how far a rolling coastal view will take the mind?