Alexandersmap

    Category: Music

    • Tickled By Audacity

      “Il faut vivre et créer. Vivre à pleurer”
      (Men must live and create. Live to the point of tears)
      ― Albert Camus

      I’ve moved away from apps that teach me to read other languages, because they never really brought me to conversational French or German or Spanish. They aren’t immersive enough for that. Perhaps some of the AI-driven apps will deliver on the promise of multilingual proclivity, but as with most things, we learn by immersing ourselves in proximity to others doing that which we aspire to do. Which is another way to say we ought to challenge ourselves to go and do and be that person who is beyond where we currently are.

      French, for me, is the language I’ve dabbled with too long without mastering. We are all students of something, aren’t we? We may dabble in some things and attempt to master one, maybe two things in a lifetime. Conversational French is as good a skill to aspire to as anything. But skills are merely acquired to bring us to something else. Perhaps reading Camus in the language he wrote in, or perhaps holding one’s own in a local café where the tourists rarely go. We reach places we would never get to through the knowledge and skills we acquire and use.

      To live—vivre—is more than simply going through the motions. We can make a case that going through motions is not living at all. Going through anything is mere existence. To be alive we must do and dare, create and share. Embrace living by turning away from existing, towards something bolder and a little tingly. Those tingles are the nervous system expressing being tickled by audacity.

      Well, to live’s to fly
      All low and high
      So shake the dust off of your wings
      And the sleep out of your eyes
      — Townes Van Zandt, To Live Is to Fly

      How many ways must we say it? Be bold today. Live an expansive life. Try new things with frequency. Wings should never accumulate dust and skills should never be allowed to rust. We’re here to fly and strut our stuff. What is a day but another chance to make something memorable of it? What will we embark on next? What will we finally complete before we run out of time? Immerse yourself. Live and be bold! Vivre à pleurer.

    • Beliefs and Truths

      “Trust, but verify.” — Ronald Reagan

      There’s an interesting story about that expression, “Trust but verify”, attributed to Ronald Reagan. During his Presidency, when the Cold War between the US and the USSR peaked, an advisor to the President told him that the Soviets like to communicate using proverbs. “Trust, but verify” is the english version of an old Russian proverb, doveryai, no proveryai. Whatever we each may believe about Ronald Reagan as a President, we can all agree that he was a talented communicator who captured the imagination of his followers. All consensus begins with some agreed-upon truth. Reagan’s use of the proverb met the Russians on their ground, and it made all the difference.

      Coming from a long line of travelling sales people on my mother’s side
      I wasn’t gonna buy just anyone’s cockatoo
      So why would I invite a complete stranger into my home
      Would you?
      — U2, Breathe

      One should never challenge the beliefs of another person, just as one should never impose their own beliefs on another person. That doesn’t mean we aren’t allowed to question those beliefs, or to decide for ourselves what makes the most sense for us. We are not simply zealots; we are intelligent beings moving through a lifetime of information, sifting through all that experience to find our truth. We may be living in a time when people don’t want to agree upon a common truth, but that doesn’t make the presence of that truth any less true.

      “I don’t want to believe. I want to know.” ― Carl Sagan

      I’m not a scientist, nor an engineer, but I still prefer my information diet to be rich in fact and truth. Skepticism is not a contradiction of another’s beliefs, it’s a survival tool that leaves a healthy gap between what someone is telling us and what we ultimately believe ourselves. Developing a strong BS filter is a survival tool. It doesn’t come from books, but from street smarts. We must build our foundations on something solid, or the very structure of our lives—the stories we tell ourselves are true—will crumble one day.

      To pass from this world still believing a lie isn’t the worst way to go. It’s far worse getting to our deathbed and finding out that it was cockatoo all along, told to keep us in line. History is full of such lies disguised as truth. A little skeptical curiosity goes a long way towards finding the real truth. The question is, do we really want to know it, or would we prefer to just drink the Kool-Aid and hope that everything will turn out fine in the end? Give me the clarity of knowing over the haze of belief. Trust, but verify.

    • Creating Temporal Landmarks

      “Temporal landmarks could help assuage that terrible feeling of time speeding up as you age. In what researchers call the ‘calendar effect’, we use milestones to form and retain memories – so university students, say, have much better recall of events near the start or end of term, even when you allow for the emotional highs and lows of freshers’ week or graduation. The more landmarks, the less risk of suddenly realising you’ve no idea where last year went.” — Oliver Burkeman, “This Column Will Change Your Life: The Importance of Temporal Landmarks, The Guardian

      As this is published, it’s a Tuesday. What does Tuesday represent? Taco Tuesday, trash and recycling day on my particular street, the second day of the work week, weight circuit day in my fitness schedule, and really not much else that would differentiate it from Wednesday or Thursday this week. And this Tuesday is a lot like last Tuesday and the one before that. They all blend together, don’t they? That’s why life feels routine; because we’ve built a routine for our life.

      If time seems to fly by faster as we get older, maybe it’s because we have fewer temporal landmarks to frame the days into memorable sequences. We slip into a career, work Monday through Friday week after week, and entire years blend together into one block of our lives. I recently spent seven years working for one company, and the only thing about the job that made one year any different from the next were the big work trips and what happened outside of work that impacted the routine. New product releases, version upgrades, company meetings and even trade shows all blended together into a memory of what I did then versus what I do now. Where did the time go?

      The thing is, in that same time period, I took memorable trips of a lifetime to faraway places, had significant milestone moments with family graduations and the passing of loved ones, and of course we all collectively had the pandemic, national elections, wars and a host of other memorable moments that locked time into amber. We don’t remember each day, we remember moments—and these moments are our temporal landmarks. Some are far more significant and far-reaching than others.

      Where were you when the world stopped turnin’
      That September day?
      — Alan Jackson, Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)

      A day like 9/11 is locked into memory, while the world turning in routine on the days leading up to it fade away. We’ll always remember where we were in that moment, just as we do other similar temporal landmarks. We tend to forget the flow of days around those landmarks. And while none of us wish for those kind of 9/11 landmarks to land in our lives ever again, we may use the theory to create more positive temporal landmarks for ourselves.

      So how will today be remembered? What will stand out about this month in five years? How about next year—what temporal landmarks will we schedule into the next year of our lives to make the time really stand out as memorable? The time will flow into our past one way or the other. It’s up to us to make it something more than routine. A temporal landmark is something we’ll remember this time by. Maybe make it something more special than just taco Tuesday.

    • Crazy or Old

      She thinks I’m crazy
      But I’m just growing old
      — Steely Dan, Hey Nineteen

      I imagine that I’d heard Hey Nineteen many times prior to when it took root in my lifetime soundtrack, but it was when I was nineteen myself when it finally resonated. The song was already considered “classic rock” by then, but for Gen X, we were used to discovering the music of the generation before ours on our own terms. At nineteen I rounded up all the Steely Dan albums and proceeded to immerse myself in them for a few years before banishing them with all rock deemed “classic rock” for a decade in favor of my generation’s music. Now that too is called classic.

      Drink with good people
      Get high as a kite
      Before they drift away
      Out of mind and out of sight
      Well that’s not to say you lose
      Everything and everyone
      Hear me out, take your time
      And watch the setting sun
      Take your hands out of your pockets
      Feel the water run
      Don’t worry about tomorrow and yesterday
      Is gone
      — Caamp, Of Love and Life

      Caamp is made up of men who graduated high school in 2012. So they’re decidedly not of my generation, but they’re old souls just the same. We learn that it’s not how old someone is, but what they have to offer. We ought to remember this of ourselves too. Keep offering something to the world and we never really grow old.

      Call me crazy, but I believe in the power of a great song to transform our perspective and set us free to be something beyond our current identity. My soundtrack is made up of old and new, but the songs that resonate and repeat have something to say. Crazy, old or maybe both, I collect poetry in song, and will carry it with me to the end of this ride.

    • Page-Turning

      “Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?”
      — Mary Oliver, Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches

      When Mary Oliver writes, in the poem quoted above, that there is still time left—fields everywhere invite you into them, I admit that I’ve received the invitation, and I’m stepping into the field. But as bold as I am in some moments, there are times when I breathe just a little. Isn’t it that way for all of us? We talk a good game, but then we do what must be done to keep the lights on and the puppy fed. Life is compromise, we tell ourselves. But sure, there is still time left.

      So if you’re tired of the same old story
      Oh, turn some pages
      — REO Speedwagon, Roll with the Changes

      There’s been some serious page-turning going on this year—enough that a scorecard might be appropriate. Global changes. Personal changes. Every day offers a transformation if we let ourselves step outside of our routine long enough to see it. And we ought to keep track of our lives in such a way, through journals and pictures and retrospect. Just see how far we’ve come! And always the question; just where are we going next?

      And still there is time left. Still it feels sometimes that we are breathing just a little, calling it a life. The thing to do, it seems, is to be bold right now: aware and alive, doing that thing that demands our attention in this small measure of time. The next step will take care of itself, if only we would change our story right now. To breathe deeply—while doing that which leaves us breathless, is where boldness lies awaiting action.

    • 50 Years: SS Edmund Fitzgerald

      Does anyone know where the love of God goes
      When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
      The searchers all say they’d have made Whitefish Bay
      If they’d put 15 more miles behind her
      They might have split up or they might have capsized
      They may have broke deep and took water
      And all that remains is the faces and the names
      Of the wives and the sons and the daughters

      — Gordon Lightfoot, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

      I’d be remiss to let the 50th anniversary of the sinking of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald pass without a mention. It would be a footnote were it not for the Gordon Lightfoot song that made ship and crew immortal, but tell that to the families. We all pass eventually, preferably peacefully in our sleep a long time from now. An abrupt, tragic end was not on anyone’s mind when those 29 men sailed off into history. One wonders what their final moments were like, but what is certain is that all hands were lost and the ship broke in two. It was the final straw for shipping on the Great Lakes, prompting higher safety standards and oversight. And perhaps that is the ultimate legacy of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

    • More Than Virtual

      I always feel like somebody’s watchin’ me
      And I have no privacy (Oh-oh-oh)
      I always feel like somebody’s watchin’ me
      Tell me, is it just a dream?
      — Rockwell, Somebody’s Watching Me

      It was raining hard overnight, with a full moon to boot, but that didn’t stop my aurora notification from alerting me to the possibility of seeing the northern lights right now if I’d only get out of bed and step outside! Nope. Not taking the bait, thank you. But thank you for contributing to my not-so-excellent sleep score.

      If we let it, technology will increasingly control our lives. We learn to live by number of steps, VO2 max, heart rate, active minutes and rest. My Kindle app helpfully informs me that my reading streak ended (I don’t want to break it to the app, but I’ve been reading actual books behind its back). I get a notification telling me how much screen time I’ve had this week, and the irony of being notified to look at my screen doesn’t escape me. We’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t use these damned devices.

      We take our wearables with us everywhere, and increasingly, our phones as well. The other day I deliberately left my Garmin on my desk when I went to bed, just so I wouldn’t be scolded for my sleep score the next morning. The void in my data history will likely haunt me forever, but it was nice for one night to not be followed along every step of the way.

      Right. Not being followed. Who am I fooling? I walked into an LL Bean store to buy a new belt to replace the one that was now too big for me and now my Instagram feed is full of LL Bean advertisements. We have a virtual heat map of everywhere we’ve been whenever we wear or carry our technology. There is no escape save shedding it all and going analog.

      It’s not like I don’t appreciate the statistics. As a data-driven spreadsheet nerd, I love tracking trends, maintaining positive habit streaks and the like. But I like it on my terms. We’ve let the genie out of the bottle, and technology is not going back to the mainframe server room. We either dance with the devil or unplug completely. Which is worse? Ask AI, it will surely tell you.

      Maybe I’ll just begin by turning off the aurora notifications. Maybe. Fear of Missing Out (FOMO) is alive and well in such notifications, and they’re helpfully suggesting that we stop living a real life and look at the screen again. But just who do we want to be anyway? More than virtual, for starters.

    • Fully-Valued

      “To get the full value of joy you must have someone to divide it with.” — Mark Twain

      Joy shifts time. It locks moments in amber. It makes years seem like days, even as days seem like minutes. It’s all a collection of joyful minutes, sprinkled with the jolts that life throws at us all. We learn to value our time together for the shared experience of living as the world sweeps past us like a swollen river after a storm.

      Now everyone dreams of love lasting and true
      Oh but you and I know what this world can do
      So let’s make our steps clear that the other may see
      And I’ll wait for you, and if I should fall behind wait for me
      — Bruce Springsteen, If I Should Fall Behind

      We live in our time machine, my bride and I. I know it’s a time machine because I look at old photographs, or think back on certain moments, and when I compare them with the date they were taken I’m shocked by the time that has flown by. We are betrayed by years, but we aren’t yet old. But tell that to the kids and they’ll laugh. Tempus fugit, indeed.

      May your hands always be busy
      May your feet always be swift
      May you have a strong foundation
      When the winds of changes shift
      May your heart always be joyful
      May your song always be sung
      May you stay forever young
      — Bob Dylan, Forever Young

      Printing out a wedding photo, the clerk commented that I look the same as when the picture was taken. Looks are deceiving, I laughed. Health is its own time machine, and for the most part we’ve been blessed with good health, coaxed by fitness and nutrition and good-enough genes. We know that time always wins, no matter what time machine we fly about in. A joyful life softens the landing, but we’ll land one day like all who have come before us.

      Maybe time running out is a gift
      I’ll work hard ’til the end of my shift
      And give you every second I can find
      And hope it isn’t me who’s left behind
      — Jason Isbell and The 400 Unit, If We Were Vampires

      We learn not to worry about what we cannot control. To always be worrying is to forsake joy for uncertainty. The only certainty is this moment together, so make it count in quiet gestures and unspoken ways. Joy is rooted in love: love of life, love for another, love of the moments built one upon the other for as long as this ride may continue. Nothing lasts forever—we know this all too well. But enjoying each something for all it offers is a path to a fully-valued, joyful life.

    • As and Always

      As now can’t reveal the mystery of tomorrow
      But in passing will grow older every day
      Just as all that’s born is new
      You know what I say is true
      That I’ll be loving you always
      — Stevie Wonder, As

      I’m feeling older today with yesterday’s passing. Sore all over, mentally tired, wondering why I didn’t hire someone to put new shingles on the shed. I know the answer: Because I can do it myself. And so I pay the price and won’t complain.

      For me, As is Stevie Wonder at his creative peak. It’s been a long time since I listed favorite songs from any artist. I won’t be doing it today. I’ll simply recognize the sparkle in this gem. It was part of the soundtrack played on repeat yesterday that carried me through the challenging stages. Music lifts us in such moments.

      The thing about roofing that shed is I know if I do it right I will never do it again. In 20 or 30 years, I will not be climbing up a ladder with a handful of shingles. Like planting a tree, it’s a gift to a future I may not see. We should move through every day as if we are leaving a gift for our children’s grandchildren. For we will not always be here, but we may offer something to always.

    • 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 fallin’
      To the sound of the breezes that blow
      And I’m trying to please to the callin’
      Of your heart strings that play soft and low
      — Van Morrison, Moondance

      The October sky in New England is a wonderful thing. Sunrises and sunsets are full of color that somehow match the foliage as it peaks. There is a crescendo when all of the colors are most vibrant and then it all seems to fade away. And so we ought to put ourselves in the way of beauty, just as Cheryl Strayed’s mother suggested. We are either there for it or we aren’t.

      It all goes so quickly. Autumn foliage sprinkles us with magic and all too soon fades and returns to the earth. Blink and we miss it. The lesson is to get out and see what we can while the opportunity presents itself. And we know that the lesson applies well beyond leaves.

      Tempus fugit. Time flies. Dare to use our time, or risk losing it. Every day may be a love affair with life. As with any love, life will only offer to us what we put into it. It’s up to us to notice the details. We may choose to play an active role in the chores that make each day meaningful and productive. We may dare to ask ourselves in those moments of hopeful scheming, how may we extend this magic just a little longer?