Alexandersmap

    Category: Music

    • Outward Expression

      “I feel as if my life had grown more outward when I can express it.”
      ― Henry David Thoreau,       A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers

      There’s a tricky thing in writing—deep introspection is conveyed through outward expression. When you read a lot you stumble on some deeply damaged characters who had the courage to put it all out there on paper for others to see. I’ve mined myself similarly, but I don’t have the deep scars that others seem to have. Blame it on a good family growing up, but the fuel for the writing isn’t to draw out the pain of the past but rather to tap into the experience and intense gratitude of being alive at this time. That doesn’t mean there aren’t scars, how does anyone live an unsheltered life without scars? That which you once were is a memory that haunts you or spurs you towards becoming a better person. I’ve long ago buried the character I hated in myself, though he keeps trying to crawl out of his grave.

      Decide what to be and go be it.

      There’s a feeling that comes over you when you decide what to be. It’s like a magnet that pulls you in the direction you want to go in. My sailor and hiker friends know this, for it relentlessly pulls them towards their True North. I smile when someone questions why someone would put all their eggs in one basket. If you haven’t found your basket you can’t possibly know why others do what they do.

      “I don’t want to swim in a roped off sea.” — Jimmy Buffett, Cowboy in the Jungle

      We all have our calling. Do we listen to it or to the helpful guidance of others? When you find that direction, killing time on other things feels like you’re strangling yourself. Urgency and purpose demand your attention. The only way forward is deliberate action. Growing outward requires we stretch ourselves beyond what we once were, and then to keep doing it over and over again. To reach out towards where we want to be often means pulling away from what we once were.

    • Starting Over

      Well the road rolls out like a welcome mat
      To a better place than the one we’re at
      And I ain’t got no kinda plan
      But I’ve had all of this town I can stand
      And I got friends out on the coast
      We can jump in the water and see what floats
      We’ve been saving for a rainy day
      Let’s beat the storm and be on our way
      — Chris Stapleton, Starting Over

      There’s an interesting twist to writing a blog every day; you start having conversations with friends and family who know perfectly well that you write a blog every day, may read the very words that you write and offer commentary on those words the next time you see them. And what, dear writer, do you do with that? Do you carefully edit your blog posts? Shut it down and write anonymously? Or just say the hell with it and write whatever you want to write about? The answer, I think, depends on who you’ve become during your passage through time. This blog isn’t a journal, definitely not a diary, but well-meaning friends and family interpret each post in whatever way they will.

      With that in mind, beginning this blog post with the lyrics to Chris Stapleton’s Starting Over might seem risky, inviting all sorts of interpretation about the restless state of my wandering soul. This is the latest in a string of “hit the road” songs that stir the imagination, right there with Bob Seger’s Roll Me Away and Lord Huron’s Ends of the Earth. I could write a blog post on escapist songs that carry you from here to, well, there. The reason these songs stick is because they resonate. Secretly, we all want to fly, don’t we?

      This month the house was turned upside down as a few rooms are getting painted. One room grew to two, and now a third (it’s a slippery slope, this home remodeling business). When you start moving your collection of things, you get a sense of time spent in limbo. Some of that accumulated stuff has grown a thick layer of dust that you weren’t aware of. The funny thing about dust: it collects on the things that feel most permanent to you.

      Travel is a way of clearing the dust that accumulates on yourself. It sparks the imagination, changes perspective, and informs you about the world outside your comfort zone. Staying in one place just gives the dust a place to land. You ought to fly away now and then, just to feel the changes that have come over you.

      This week my father was moved from his home to a care facility to assess his dementia. It seems the accumulated dust in his brain is getting worse, and the only viable answer was for him to leave his nest and land somewhere else for a little while. It serves as a reminder that none of this is permanent, everything changes, and if you want to fly from the nest you’d best do it while you can. Every day you can start over, until the day you can’t.

    • Bluebirds in Winter (Playing the Long Game)

      Many moons I have lived
      My body’s weathered and worn
      Ask yourself how old you’d be
      If you didn’t know the day you were born
      Try to love on your wife
      And stay close to your friends
      Toast each sundown with wine
      And don’t let the old man in
      — Written by Toby Keith/sung by Willie Nelson, Don’t Let the Old Man In

      There are few things more beautiful than a bluebird set against snow on a brilliant, sunny day. But bluebirds don’t just randomly show up to brighten your snowy landscape. If you want bluebirds in winter you’ve got to give them a compelling reason to visit. The work starts in the longer and warmer days establishing a consistent and reliable place for them, to be rewarded when the days grow shorter.

      Age is an attitude. Sure, you might make a case for the gradual breakdown of the body, but with consistent effort you can control the rate with which the body breaks down. There are plenty of voices out there pointing towards habits and social norms dictating our long term health and vibrancy, not the number of trips around the sun. We all know people who defy expectations about age, bouncing around well into their 90’s and beyond. And we can rattle off examples of people who died too young, with the wheels coming off at a shockingly young age.

      We know there are no guarantees in this world, but barring accident or underlying hereditary conditions, when we die often comes back to how we live. Which makes you think, as you see the days fly by, how are you going to play this hand? What are the habits and norms that are going to dictate how we feel when we wake up tomorrow morning, or how we feel in five years? What can we do today to feel better in ten years than we feel now? Shouldn’t we focus on doing more of that?

      If we want to play the long game, we ought to walk away from the short term temptations that compromise our fitness tomorrow. Eat well, drink less, move more, experience something new every day and spend time with friends and loved ones. The long game means putting our bodies and minds in the best possible position to meet the future.

      Remember the old expression: The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The second best time is right now. What are you building towards? Best to get started today. Plant that tree. It’ll give you a place to hang the bluebird feeder.

    • Moving on, Always

      What if we could stay together
      And simply move on day after day after day
      Sun and stormy weather
      You and I together
      Moving on always?
      — Ryan Montbleau, The Boa      t Song

      There’s a time warp experience to walking on the same beach with the same person from one year to the next. On an unusually warm Saturday in February I took a 3 mile walk on Hampton Beach with my bride. We had plenty of company, for everyone else had the same idea. Power walkers, casual strollers, hard core swimmers, horse riders, and seemingly every dog in New England chose to be on the same beach at the same time. But at low tide on that particular beach there’s no shortage of elbow room.

      I tend to celebrate quiet beaches more, but the people receded into the background on this walk. For it was a walk through time. Reflecting on the past, talking about the future, observing the present stepping across the fragile hourglass of life as we moved across the sand beneath us. She talked about time spent right in this very spot as a child years ago, the memory still fresh in her mind. I recalled a similar walk several years ago and her same observation, when we were both so different and yet the same. Everything changes on the beach, including the people who walk it.

      The parade of dogs kept bringing us back to the present. Dogs of all shapes and sizes celebrating the moment at hand. Dogs, like children, have a way of bringing you back to the present. And there we were, walking the beach, considering the deck of cards we’re playing at this moment in our shared life, knowing the challenges coming soon but assessing the opportunities too. You can cover a lot of ground walking the beach, even when you can see the end clearly from where you began.

      Sand and warm sunshine Saturday, snow on Sunday. Sun and stormy weather, all in one weekend. Such is New England. Life isn’t always a walk on the beach, but then again, on some precious few days, it is.

    • Meaningful Todays

      “So imprudent are we that we wander in the times which are not ours, and do not think of the only one which belongs to us; and so idle are we that we dream of those times which are no more, and thoughtlessly overlook that which alone exists.” – Blaise Pascal

      Pascal died at the age of 39. His measure of time that was his was relatively short compared to the average lifespan today. But we all know the deal. No guarantees about tomorrow and all that. You may have read a blog post or two from this writer about it along the way.

      Shah-la, la-la-la-la live for today
      And don’t worry ’bout tomorrow hey, hey, hey
      — The Grass Roots, Let’s Live For Today

      Sure, let’s live for today, and make the most of it, but remember to hedge our bets about tomorrow. Don’t throw away your future being reckless with today, but also remember not to be reckless with today by staking all your hopes on a future that could fall away in a second. Make the most of this moment at hand, while keeping the 401(k) in the back pocket.

      Have you ever stood next to someone who radiated energy? Fully alive, vibrant, aware of the moment—living in the moment. Not delusional about the challenges life throws at you, but also not pissing it away in drudgery or low agency. Instead they dance with life. Grab the moment and make something memorable and meaningful of it. String together as many meaningful todays as you can muster. That’s not drudgery, that’s purposeful.

      Stick with what that which is ours alone. Live it with a gleam in your eye and a thirst for adventure. Making the most of what we have in this moment. Sounds a bit more fun than deferring to tomorrow, doesn’t it?

    • Can’t See the Open Road

      Mellow is the man who knows what he’s been missing
      Many, many men can’t see the open road
      — Led Zeppelin, Over the Hills and Far Away

      Huddled in a group at an Irish pub, four men scheming for the future: one free of obligations and ready to roam, one surfing the peak of his career and working to cash in before it crashes, one just riding the swell and hoping this time—this time— he’d caught the right wave, and me, a would-be writer and wanderer observing the human condition. I’m surfing my own wave, of course, but don’t we all dream of coming about, hoisting the main and sailing away instead?

      “We labour at our daily work more ardently and thoughtlessly than is necessary to sustain our life because it is even more necessary not to have leisure to stop and think. Haste is universal because everyone is in flight from himself.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche, Untimely Meditations

      Nowadays we can all see what we’ve been missing in YouTube videos, Instagram and Facebook posts, or wherever you choose to live vicariously through the lens of others. My own favorite footage often involves drones flying above stunning landscapes, as if I were flying myself. And don’t we all wish to fly?

      But the question is, do we wish to fly away from something or towards something? For life is short and we can’t waste our precious time running away from ourselves. Yet so many do, in distraction and debauchery and debate. It’s easy to run away, but impossible to really get away from that nagging discontent.

      Old friend Henry David Thoreau pointed out that “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” He would also say that, “So thoroughly and sincerely are we compelled to live, reverencing our life, and denying the possibility of change. This is the only way, we say; but there are as many ways as there can be drawn radii from one centre. All change is a miracle to contemplate; but it is a miracle which is taking place every instant.”

      In other words, life is change, everything is changing around us even as we debate what we ought to do with ourselves. Which brings me back to a constant refrain: We must decide what to be and go be it. And be content with that which we leave behind.

    • This Will Be Our Year

      Now we’re there and we’ve only just begun
      This will be our year
      Took a long time to come
      — The Zombies, This Will Be Our Year

      Normally I take time to assess the best memories or the favorite stuff accumulated to wrap up a previous year in the final days leading into the new year. This year, other than listing a collection of books read, I am far more inclined to put 2021 to rest and get on with living. I imagine I’m not the only one in that respect.

      So how do you set the table for a great year? We’ve covered some of this already, deciding what to be and go be it is a good attitude to begin with. To realize it, you’ve got to act on it. Book the trip, block off the vacation time, commit to the athletic event, reserve the campsite or the trail hut and you’re halfway there. In some ways you’re forcing your own hand. Or you can look at it as making a commitment to your future self. It’s a high agency way of taking your life in your own hands and not just going with the flow of random events.

      Booking it naturally starts a countdown to arriving at the moment you do it. A to-do list immediately accumulates. Want to run a marathon or hike the Presidential Traverse in the White Mountains? You’d best get in shape before you set off, buddy. The world doesn’t need another unprepared fanatic hitting the starting line. Commit and begin the incremental climb to fitness so you can actually finish what you most want to start.

      Is it that simple? Of course not, but you’re far more likely to do it if you place a financial and time stake in the ground and then give yourself just enough runway to take off. You can’t commit to something so far off that you lose focus on the goal, but it can’t be so short that you aren’t ready when you arrive. Plan, then execute on that plan in a carefully measured number of workouts, vacation days, or paychecks. Use time and money to help you arrive, not as an excuse for not going at all. We become what we prioritize.

      The big moments await your commitment. Put a stake in the ground at the end of the runway and gather some momentum. It’s time to soar.

    • Destinations Are Where We Begin Again

      Ships go sailing
      Far across the sea
      Trusting starlight
      To get where they need to be
      — Josh Groban, Believe

      A challenging couple of years brings us back to Christmas morning 2021. We know it’s not over just yet, this pandemic, but we have optimism for the year ahead. Tempered by other challenges in the world, other realities at home. Life isn’t easy, it was only framed that way by our support system of family and friends and community. Generous spirits that touch our lives at just the right time. Helping us navigate the stormiest of seas. Relationships make life worthwhile. Belief in ourself begins to develop in our tightest circles, and carries us to destinations we never imagined when we began.

      May you have the opportunity to spend time with those who love you most today. Merry Christmas.

    • I Guess I’ll Have to Do It While I’m Here

      And I won’t feel the flowing of the time when I’m gone
      All the pleasures of love will not be mine when I’m gone
      My pen won’t pour a lyric line when I’m gone
      So I guess I’ll have to do it while I’m here.
      – Phil Ochs, When I’m Gone

      It’s that time of year—the mad shift towards Christmas and New Years Eve and all that represents for us. There’s a natural and sometimes confusing triangulation of planning for the future, wrapping up the present and reflecting on what’s done and gone. I’d suggest that listening to this 55 year-old Phil Ochs folk song is a great way to pause and reflect on what might be prioritized from this moment onward.

      Ochs would end up committing suicide a decade after singing this song, with a family friend commenting in a New York Times obituary that “Mainly, the words weren’t coming to him anymore.” We all have our timeline and our perceived value to the world, the demons caught up with Ochs before he could climb back out of the darkness. The word “prescient” is used a lot when When I’m Gone is introduced, usually dropped right before telling people of Ochs suicide, as if it isn’t prescient for all of us.

      That’s the relentless message in this smooth folksy song: Stop waiting and do it while you’re here. For we’ll all be gone soon enough. Plan for the future, as we must, but live now.

    • George Harrison in Four Songs

      George Harrison passed away twenty years ago today, on the 29th of November, 2001. So soon after 9/11 it made the moment feel like the universe was piling on a bit, for George—the quiet Beatle—was the one I identified with the most. In these last twenty years I’ve come to appreciate his work even more. So on this anniversary of his passing, here are four of many extraordinary songs from George Harrison’s solo career:

      Give Me Love (Give Me Peace On Earth)
      Give me hope
      Help me cope, with this heavy load
      Trying to, touch and reach you with
      Heart and soul
      … My lord

      A regular on every upbeat, joyful playlist I create, this song makes you feel glad to be alive. And that’s not unusual with George Harrison songs, for he made the most of his time on this Earth. You can easily say he was the most spiritual Beatle, trying to find meaning in this crazy world we live in and turning that search into songs of celebration and fellowship. My Sweet Lord is another example of this spiritualism exploration, and the two often end up on the same playlists.

      Behind That Locked Door
      Why are you still crying?
      Your pain is now through
      Please forget those teardrops
      Let me take them for you
      The love you are blessed with
      This world’s waiting for
      So let out your heart please, please
      From behind that locked door

      I’ve heard that George Harrison had a collection of ukuleles and loved playing them. This is a beautiful song for that particular instrument, and you feel George drawing a smile out of you even on your darkest days. Such a quietly delightful invitation out of your protective shell and back into the world.

      What Is Life
      Tell me, what is my life without your love?
      Tell me, who am I without you by my side?

      Sure, you can interpret this song a couple of ways. Is the relationship between two people in love or between a person and God? You might even consider that this was the first album released after The Beatles broke up, and it can mean something else entirely for you. It’s whatever you want it to mean, and it sticks in your brain for the catchiness and clever lyrics.

      All Those Years Ago
      We’re living in a bad dream
      They’ve forgotten all about mankind
      And you were the one they backed up to the wall
      All those years ago
      You were the one who imagined it all
      All those years ago

      George’s song about John Lennon, written after he was murdered in New York, celebrates the bond between the two lifelong friends even as it pointedly dismisses those who profited by knocking them and others down. These lyrics still stand out as we deal with a rise in nationalism, racism, and profiteering as the world struggles to reverse climate change and bring about positive and inclusive social change. John would have been a loud voice in the conversation today, and I suspect George would have been right there shoulder-to-shoulder with him. As he was all those years ago.