Alexandersmap

    Category: Discovery

    • Purpose Coming to a Head

      The Universe is but the Thing of things,
      The things but balls all going round in rings,
      Some of them mighty huge, some mighty tiny,
      All of them radiant and mighty shiny.

      They mean to tell us all was rolling blind
      Till accidentally it hit on mind
      In an albino monkey in a jungle
      And even then it had to grope and bungle

      Till Darwin came to earth upon a year
      To show the evolution how to steer.
      They mean to tell us, though, the Omnibus
      Had no real purpose till it got to us.

      Don’t you believe it. At the very worst
      It must have had the purpose from the first
      To produce purpose as the fitter bred:
      We were just purpose coming to a head.

      Whose purpose was it? His or Hers or Its?
      Let’s leave that to the scientific wits.
      Grant me intention, purpose, and design —
      That’s near enough for me to the Divine.

      And yet for all this help of head and brain
      How happily instinctive we remain,
      Our best guide upward further to the light,
      Passionate preference such as love at sight.
      — Robert Frost, Accidentally on Purpose

      A hard frost last night had me thinking about Mr. Frost, which had me looking through some poems and quotes, that delivered this delightful nugget. The poem above was published in the March 1961 edition of The Atlantic, well before my time on earth began. But the universe opens up for those who seek more, or at the very least for those who have a subscription to a magazine that offers its entire archive online simply for the asking. We ought to support independent voices for all they offer, not just in complicated times such as these. As we are reminded of when chaos rules, consistency matters a great deal in our march through a great life.

      I spent entirely too much time ignoring poetry as a younger man. I was simply too busy with clever pursuits—or maybe foolish pursuits, it hardly matters. It was when I began writing every day when I was instinctively drawn to poetry. Call it an aspiration for brevity, or a delight in the dance of words, or simply a logical turn towards that which awes. Whatever it is, I saw what I’d been missing and decided to miss as little as possible.

      What is our purpose? We spend too much time dwelling on it, and not nearly enough time pursuing it. Sure, we ought to think about the heading of the compass, but we must set the sails and get moving before the wind dies and we’re left adrift on a cold, dark sea. Sure, that’s a well-worn analogy tossed deliberately into the mix, but heck, what are analogies for but to use in the most obvious moments?

      That digression aside, the question lingers about intention, purpose and design. Poetry prompts such questions, just as art and prose and science do. Humans reaching for some greater truth than what to should have for lunch today naturally evolves over time to form some philosophical core that snowballs into something approaching sublime.

      We might look around and see that the majority isn’t exactly inspiring awe, they’re simply following the easiest path to get through their days. We all fall into that trap now and then, we just can’t allow it to become habitual. Reaching towards our greatest potential is also habitual. It demands that we transcend the limitations of self and strive for a level of perfection and beauty far beyond the limits of our lifetime. That’s on each of us in our time.

    • A Trouble of Excitement

      “I think you write only out of a great trouble. A trouble of excitement, a trouble of enlargement, a trouble of displacement in yourself.” — Eleanor Clark

      Do you feel that restlessness, that trouble of excitement, that comes with being fully alive? To do and be more naturally lends itself to conflict, both internal and with people who want to treat us as who they’ve grown to believe we are. Without realizing that maybe that’s who we once were and nothing more. Of course, we ought to recognize this in ourself as well.

      I was talking to an automotive shop owner who replaced the previous owner, since retired. I asked if he still saw the previous owner, and he told me, all the time. He was bored in retirement and visited the shop to stay connected with who he once was. We know many people, don’t we, who are simply repeat who they were day-after-day until one day they’re expected to leave that another may take over and do the same. Human history may be thought of as generation-after-generation of people taking their turn in a job, a home, a relationship, or a voice of reason in the latest chaotic moment in history. We are simply taking our turn at this thing we do today, and then we will take our turn at something else tomorrow. Trouble begins when someone can’t or won’t follow the natural order of things. Does that mean that trouble is a bad thing, or simply recognized as change?

      What are you going to do when you retire? I have no trouble imagining the answers myself. One day, when I’m done with all of this, I will travel and garden and spend time with people inside and out of my current orbit. Perhaps I’ll be a grandfather who disrupts the fabric of a child’s proper upbringing. Perhaps I’ll follow through on bold claims of long hikes and longer passages on a boat that hasn’t been adopted into my current lifestyle yet. Perhaps all of these things or things not yet imagined in the current state of creativity an interesting life demands of us. I believe that whatever the future brings, I will write something about it for as long as my mind and body allow.

    • Hold Your Hat

      Dogs lay down in the evening heat
      Fish do worse when they leave the sea
      Songbirds only end up where they’re going
      In this autumn town where the lights can change
      Some get mercy and some get blamed
      Some get lost when they feel the river flowing
      It’s all holy smoke and the flame dies fast
      We hold our hats while the days fly past
      Cold wind comes and we wait but it keeps going
      Father, Sons and Holy Ghosts
      All come back or they all come close
      Songbirds only end up where they’re going
      Some get hard and some go home
      Some want flesh and some want bone
      I just want to see you in the morning
      — Iron & Wine, Autumn Town Leaves

      Taking a lunchtime walk yesterday, I finally saw the grapes I’ve been smelling on evening walks. The grape leaves have largely vacated the vines, leaving the grapes exposed for all to see. I left them hanging for the birds and squirrels to eat. I savored them this season with my other senses, and that’s enough for me.

      This will be written and published on the tenth day of the tenth month. Two years ago, according to my line per day journal, we had a tremendous aurora borealis lighting up the skies. The great thing about a line per day journal is that we are reminded of things like that as we enter this day’s line.

      Some days bring more to wonder at than other days, but they all might be savored. The objective, of course, is to do something eventful enough to be noteworthy. Magic may or may not ensue today, but surely we can make it interesting.

      How the days fly by while we hold our hats and lean into our lives. Go for a walk in the woods, go to the orchard for apple cider donuts and pumpkins, feel the warmth of the sun counter the These are days to remember, as we live them. Whatever we do, be there for it.

    • Something Beyond

      What did the tree learn from the earth
      to be able to talk with the sky?
      — Pablo Neruba, The Book of Questions

      I ought to stop while I’m ahead. Quote a couple of breathtaking lines from a poet and leave well enough alone. But this isn’t a quote repository, it’s a blog, so onward already.

      As I wrote this earlier today, a neighbor had an oak tree limbed up. It seems that they’ve had enough of the tree’s relentless elbowing for more room. An oak tree can be a tough neighbor, but we moved into a neighborhood that was once a forest, with a developer who took great pains to keep it as much a forest as he could. The trees act like they own the place, and we mostly let them. Still, I understand the need to preserve the house from bombardment; the acorns are bountiful this year. We do what we must to keep order in the places we call home.

      Living in a valley amongst the trees is an implied agreement. We coexist as best we can. The trees offer beauty and shade and a sense of place literally rooted in decades watching over the land. The implication of being a good neighbor is to simply do no harm while maintaining a tidy yard. We all have done our part in this respect.

      Sure, I may write about trees more than I ought to. I may also quote poems with a frequency that either inspires or repels. I follow the suggestion Cheryl Strayed’s mother once gave her to put myself in the way of beauty. Why then keep it to myself, where it will suffocate and die? Learning was never the point, it’s using what we learn to do something beyond our previous norm. If we reach far enough beyond, we may even reach extraordinary.

    • That Dreadful Routine

      “One travels to run away from routine, that dreadful routine that kills all imagination and all our capacity for enthusiasm.”— Ella Maillart

      Two years ago I chose to step away from business travel. I occasionally feel a pang of loss when a trade show in a city I love to visit comes up and I’m not there, but on the whole, I’ve enjoyed the tradeoff of dining with my bride every night and walking the dog with the stars and not-so-distant howl of coyotes for company.

      This week I met with several people who still live the life I walked away from two years ago. It’s reminded me of the old routine, and I find I don’t miss it much at all. Those early morning trips to the airport to make a flight to make a meeting in some faraway place gets old after a couple of decades of doing it.

      The fullness of our lives is in direct proportion to the creativity of our routines. The more we habituate adventure into our days, the more adventurous our lives. Likewise, the more we travel or venture out to meet other people, the more integral a part of the world we will be. We are what we repeatedly do, after all.

      Still, the travel bug never went away, it was simply channeled into travel with people I care about in places I wanted to go. The routine changed to meet new priorities. The routine will change again, no doubt, as I look to the future. We all ought to scrutinize our routines now and then to determine if it’s become a little, well, routine. And then decide what to be and go be it.

    • October Initium

      My life a spreading ring
      of quiet, like the trout’s brief
      in-breath
      at the surface of a river,
      like the slow
      outward movement of a raindrop
      spreading on a still lake.
      — David Whyte, Death Waits

      Initium is the Latin word from which initiate is derived. It simply means a beginning. Today is the first day of October, which seems an appropriate day to begin something beyond a new month. We don’t have to wait for New Year’s Day for such things as life change, we simply need to decide to begin.

      What is a great life but the steady expansion of personal experience? We are collectors of days, filled with that which enriches us. To leave a day empty feels wasteful. Do something with the gift, or squander it. We rise each day facing the same choice.

      Initiative is only the beginning. We must act upon it. On this first day of October, seize what flees. Carpe diem.

    • Resonance and Depth

      “It goes without saying that a fine short poem can have the resonance and depth of an entire novel.” — James Wright

      Poems are like friends: find the right one and it will change your life. And like people we encounter throughout our lives, they serve as stepping stones between who we were prior to landing on one and who we become as we launch towards some other insightful plateau.

      So what is reading a great novel, if not more time with something of substance? Like a marriage that carries us on a journey of discovery? We may find a resounding truth in a few words, or one that unfolds over the course of a lifetime. A resolve towards discovery is the thing.

      I started reading The Count of Monte Cristo again. And in reading it, I came across a business card from a decade ago that I’d stuck between the pages as a placeholder marking the last time I’d passed this way. Have I mentioned that I’ve started and stopped reading this novel a few times over the years? Perhaps this time I’ll finish it. Twenty pages a day and it will be wrapped up by Thanksgiving. I can surely outpace that metric, given enough time… and the inclination.

      We are the sum of all that we layer atop the foundation we venture out into the world with. No doubt a solid foundation helps a great deal in reaching a higher potential. Isn’t that why we strive to put our children in the best neighborhoods and schools we can afford? But a solid base means nothing if we don’t grow from it. We may shore up our own foundation, and fill gaps through a regimen of lifetime education. This is our duty to ourselves, to reach for that elusive arete in our time. Or we could simply coast into a lesser version of who we might have been. The choice is ours.

    • Delight Is in the Details

      “The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life.” — William Morris

      Our level of interest in the details of life dictates how much we get out of it, and yes, how much we are delighted in the living of it. Case in point, I am as interested in the proper capitalization of the title of this blog post as I am with the view out the window I find myself next to as I write this near a bay alive with choppy fetch, bouncing boats and hunting birds soaring above.

      Why should we care about every little detail? Because it’s the stuff of life! More precisely, the stuff of our life. This, friend, is it. And making something of it is our purpose. Indeed, the devil is in the details, so draw delight from the lot of them. That is the recipe for an expansive life.

      We are each collectors of days, with a stack of them making up our lifetime. Within each day in turn are a collection of moments and minutia that are the stuff of life. Paying more attention to that stuff allows us to appreciate all that we have or have held as uniquely ours. Gratitude and delight follow closely behind awareness of all that is.

    • The Impeded Stream (RIP Wendell)

      It may be that when we
      no longer know what to do
      we have come to our real work,
      and that when we no longer know
      which way to go
      we have come to our real journey.
      The mind that is not baffled
      is not employed.
      The impeded stream
      is the one that sings.
      — Wendell Berry, Our Real Work

      It’s been a rough year for poets and singers. It seems the beautiful souls slip away from this chaotic place where the ugliest thrive. Or is it that we just care more when the light goes out? And when a light goes out, who will carry the torch next? Why not us, friend?

      Which leads to the question, what will we do? For all the confusion and obstacles that life throughs at us, we work our way through it all, somehow. Persistence and belief in our direction are the keys to growth. A stream carves more deeply with persistence and time. So it is that we ought to keep the work flowing, despite all that is thrown at us along the way.

      Beauty doesn’t die, it simply finds another place to grow.

    • Something

      “I am only one, I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.” — Edward Everett Hale

      Absorbing the latest foolishness in the world, I wonder whether I ought to care more. The thing is, I care a great deal about everything, but I can’t control hardly any of it, so I focus on something instead. That, I believe, is the trick to getting through life with the soul intact. The nicks and bruises of everything may sting and surely are unpleasant for the logical mind, but remember that everything cannot get past a hardened mind. Alternatively, we may let something in to nurture and grow.

      Decide what to be and go be it. Just who do we wish to become in future versions of the self? We’re flying along towards the future anyway. What something today will make the biggest difference in who we will be then? If we stop focusing on everything, something more essential becomes easy to focus on.