Alexandersmap

    Category: Discovery

    • A Rich Life

      “We do not remember days, we remember moments. The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.” — Cesare Pavese

      I went out for a ride yesterday, cycling the streets in this small town I’ve lived in for so many of my days. It was the first ride of the season for me—admittedly very late to be back at it again, but we get pulled in so many directions, and cycling is only convenient when we’ve got everything ready to roll (including our mind). As with any habit, we make it easy and we’re more likely to do it. We make it hard and it never happens.

      I’m a kid again on a bike, and sometimes I forget to be a kid. A quick ten miles just to blow the rust off a bit and remind myself that I can do this more frequently if I would only put aside the excuses and just go do it. The ride was a rolling reminder of how much I love to ride a bicycle, of how many hills there are in this small town, and a series of flashbacks to who I was at different moments moving through these streets. The days are all a blur, it’s truly the moments that stand out.

      Knowing this, we must aim for the memorable in our days. Moments of clarity, moments of exuberance. What in this routine day will be the thing we will most remember one day when all the rest of it fades away? Break out the highlighter! Dare to be bold, or watch it blur into the obscurity of a life cautiously lived one day at a time. Rise each new morning with insatiable curiosity, wondering, what will we remember of this day? And then being that person that does those things. That’s how to live a rich life. That’s how to make this journey a hell of a ride.

    • Being Mad in a Prudent World

      “Run from what’s comfortable. Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious. I have tried prudent planning long enough. From now on I’ll be mad.” — Rumi

      We are too often prudent. We like to think ourselves mad, but we gradually move back to doing what is expected of us, what is logical, what will pay the bills and such. When all along our wild side cries for release. Do you still hear the cry, or has it been smothered to death?

      I’m not suggesting we each take the sum of our 401(k)’s and put it all in at the craps table, merely that we stray off the straight and narrow more often. Do what nobody ever expected of us now and then, just to keep them from believing they have us figured out. We are more than the expectations others that have of us—at least we ought to be.

      We stack our experiences neatly in a line, one day to the next. Towards the middle, we start to see a trend as our collection of experiences become our identity. This is who I am is as powerful an anchor as any. To slip that anchor in favor of this is who I will be is a scary proposition. And this is why most people never sail beyond that safe harbor. They reach the end of their days wondering where they might have gone but for a little courage to weigh that anchor and set the sails for adventure.

      I see my light come shining
      From the west unto the east.
      Any day now, any day now,
      I shall be released.
      — Bob Dylan, I Shall Be Released

      A blog is a form of expression. Perhaps it’s a way to let the cries have their say, or to document the gradual release of this writer from the anchors that once held him firmly in place. There’s far more to say and do, and following the heading of who we will be is easier said than done. But Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither are we, friend. The voyage begins with each step away from prudent, towards what once seemed quite mad. We find that what was prudent at anchor is mad when we’ve sailed beyond who we once were.

    • The Waterfalls of Letchworth State Park

      If you love waterfalls (and who doesn’t love waterfalls?), Upstate New York is the place for you. Get beyond Niagara Falls and you find hundreds of waterfalls worth exploring (officially over 2000). I’ve written about many of the waterfalls of New York over the years as I’ve explored them, but circumstances had never gotten me to Letchworth State Park to see their beloved three on the Genesee. During a drive from Cleveland to Boston, we finally stopped to see what all the fuss was about.

      Once you get off I-90, the rule is single lane roads rolling up and over hills through the never-ending farmland and woodland of New York. This rule demands two things: a full fuel tank and an empty bladder. Obeying these rules will get you to your destination eventually. Letchworth State Park is a destination worthy of that drive.

      Rolling in on a hot summer day, we pulled up to pay the $10 day entry fee. The park official looked up at the bug-spattered roof bag and asked if we planned on camping. “Nope, just here for the afternoon”, we assured her, and followed her instructions that led us to the restrooms. We all must prioritize our time based on the urgency call of the moment.

      After getting our affairs in order, we drove back towards the southern entrance to the park to the impressive railroad bridge spanning the Genesee River (Portage Bridge). There was ample parking for a Sunday hike, and we quickly made our way to the trailhead at Portage Bridge. Being a New York State Park, you come to expect elaborate public works like staircases, walls and railings, and there they were to greet us as we made our descent.

      The three waterfalls in the southern section of the park are the Upper Falls, Middle Falls and Lower Falls. The Upper Falls, with the railroad bridge spanning the river above them, offer a beautiful view. The Middle Falls are the most impressive and are the falls you can get closest to. The Lower Falls are further away as you’re hiking, but on easy terrain for the average hiker. Once you’ve arrived at the Lower Falls you can either continue hiking through the canyon or turn to head back to where you started. We opted for the out and back, making a solid 5 mile round trip.

      Letchworth is a park full of campers and day-trippers. There are plenty of amenities situated along the route, from restrooms to a restaurant with gift store for those wanting perfume-fragranced candles and such. Closer to Upper Falls there’s even an ice cream stand. That proved a fortuitous opportunity for us to purchase some cold drinks to reinvigorate for the final climb back up to the trailhead.

      As we were rehydrating four girls with their grandmother were walking away from the ice cream stand with soft serve cones quickly melting in the sun. As they licked to keep up, one of the girls said, “Best day ever.” as they made their way to a picnic table. I thought to myself, you just might be right.

      Upper Falls
      Middle Falls
      Lower Falls
      Genesee River below Lower Falls
      Classic New York State Park stairs and railings

    • Returning to the Cascadilla Gorge Trail

      For a few years I found myself spending a lot of time in Ithaca, New York. If you love waterfalls and a relaxed college town vibe, it’s the place to be. I forgot how much I missed it until I returned.

      My connection to Ithaca runs deep. My favorite Navy pilot went to the big red school on the hill. My daughter went to the big blue school on the other hill. I have a long affinity with the Moosewood restaurant through the cookbooks and [not nearly enough] visits to eat there. There are other connections but you get the point.

      It’s those waterfalls that root deeply into your soul and never release you. My favorite Navy pilot used to tell me that Cascadilla Gorge was his favorite, and I feel the same way. It doesn’t have the jaw-dropping impact of Ithaca Falls or the height of Taughannock Falls, but it’s a more intimate experience—especially early in the morning when you have the place mostly to yourself.

      I was with my favorite Navy pilot last the last time he visited Ithaca, to see his granddaughter and see the campus again. We saw some waterfalls then too, but not Cascadilla Gorge. It was beyond his ability at that point in his life. I thought about him as I descended back down along the rushing waters. We are only here and healthy for such a brief time. Will I ever visit this gorge again myself? Who knows what the future brings? But I am here, now, when it matters most.

    • To Live

      “To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.” — Oscar Wilde

      Do interesting things. Cross borders—real and imagined. Test the validity of advice from timid people. Discover the bridges that fill the gaps between who we are and who we aspire to become. For the clock is ticking and time grows short, even as we foolishly believe it may run on forever.

      There’s work to be done (surely there’s always work to be done), but make it work that explores limitations and offers a steep ascent in learning. Always remember that we may never pass this way again, so do what calls for attention while we are here—younger and more vibrant than we would be if we ever were to return.

      To live, and not to merely exist. This is our quest. Get to it already!

    • Faces on the Wall

      Whenever I visit an art museum, I work to appreciate what the artist was saying with their work. As with everything meaningful, we feel art as much as we see it. But there will always be some art that just doesn’t reach us.

      When I come across art that I don’t feel, I concede that either the muse wasn’t trying to reach me through that artist or perhaps that artist missed the opportunity to connect. Either way I move on to find art that I may feel immensely. Tempus fugit: time flies, and life is too short to linger with art that doesn’t connect.

      I may linger with impressionistic landscapes or cubism or neoclassicism, but I know that the art that will usually stop me in my tracks is simply a portrait. I’m drawn to faces on the wall just as I am with faces in a crowd. Human connection across space and time is my empathic jam. Does that make me less sophisticated than the lover of modern art? Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn. We must ignore those who would shame us for what we love.

      Rembrandt Laughing, self-portrait
      Portrait of Suzanne Le Peletier de Saint-Fargeau, Jacques-Louis David
      Child Braiding a Crown, William-Adolphe Bouguereau
      Isaac Fuller, self-portrait
      Raphael breaking the fourth wall, Raphael Rooms
      The Dean’s Roll Call, Thomas Eakins

    • Making Magic

      “But all the magic I have known
      I’ve had to make myself.”
      — Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends

      We all find our way in this world. The question is, our way to what? Some live a life of servitude framed in family expectations or social status. Some are brought up believing that nothing matters anyway, so why try? Some are so focused on transcending where they started that they are forever climbing, ignoring anything that doesn’t bring them ever-closer to the top. And some walk through life looking to capture the magic of the moment as they present themselves. We are what we focus on. Give me magic.

      Living a life where we are forever collecting moments of magic may seem a frivolous waste of time to the climbers. The non-believers will wonder what the point of it all is when life is nothing but despair and worry to them. We can only work to help them see what was dancing in front of them all along.

      Magic is spun out of art and words arranged just so. Hope and love and beauty are spun of magic. Generosity and purpose are woven of magical fibers. Magic is in the interaction between fellow travelers on life’s journey. Magic is manufactured out of parts and pieces and collaboration. Magic is getting out of the way to watch our children grow into exceptional humans. Magic is daring to notice. Magic is daring to do, despite all the naysayers who believe that magic is childish nonsense.

      As with anything in this brief moment of consciousness, magic offers a spark of insight and wonder to illuminate the darkness and show others what is hiding in plain sight. To make magic is to help others to see beyond the anger and fear and misery that a singular focus on non-magical things brings to the world. This blog post may be nothing but a jumble of words, heavily sprinkled with the one, or a catalyst for awareness. It’s not for me to say which it might be.

    • Purpose in the Flow

      Teachers told us the Romans built this place
      They built a wall and a temple
      And an edge of the empire garrison town
      They lived and they died
      They prayed to their gods
      But the stone gods did not make a sound
      And their empire crumbled till all that was left
      Were the stones the workmen found
      All this time
      The river flowed
      In the falling light
      Of a northern sun
      — Sting, All This Time

      Our empires will crumble one day: We learn to accept this even as we continue to gain momentum in the current of life, for this is our time and these are our days to do and be. To exist at all is a blessing worthy of a deliberate life. To move through our time deliberately is to honor the gift, even as we struggle to understand the meaning of it all.

      The river flows endlessly to the sea: At the point of their finally meeting is an estuary, with swirling whirlpools of confusion and the brackish mix of fresh and salt water exerting their will upon the other. The sea always wins in the end, but it never forgets that it is the river that gives it life. In return, it will give up it’s waters to begin the cycle again and again. So it is that life is a series of tolls paid for the privilege of being here, now. We ought to pay that toll with gratitude to our final breath.

      Progress hides in plain sight: We chip away at our goals—fitness, work, writing, books read, or maybe faraway ports of call, and with each small win we feel that sense of accomplishment for having made another step forward. Even the occasional stumble is okay, so long as we feel we’re moving in the right direction. We don’t really know where it all will take us, but collecting incremental wins feel like the right thing to stack up in a short dance with a vibrant health span. What else are we going to do with our time but grow and learn and find connection with other like-minded beings making their own way through the madness of life? Our purpose is found in the flow, not in the arrival.

    • Put It to Words

      “Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes. Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such” ― Henry Miller

      Some mornings I don’t do anything right away. Nothing but let the pup out, feed the h’angry cats, step outside and settle into silent appreciation for the day as it is. Busy will come soon enough. Productive sometimes joins busy to offer a leap forward. And that can be enough some days. Having done some things, we feel that familiar pull to do something even more still.

      The trick in all of this is observation. We must listen more than we speak (two ears, one mouth). And we must learn to see what is dancing right in front of us, for it is life in all its tragic, hilarious, glorious entirety. And Walt Whitman had it right all along: That you are here—that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

      That verse doesn’t write itself. I have some avid hiker friends who would do well to blog. To put their thoughts and feelings to words that would outlive their adventures traversing the granite and schist. Writing pulls something out of us that pictures don’t, even as they tell their thousand words. For those thousand words are mined from within, and brought to the surface to be shared.

      A woman I once worked with took a creative writing class and now every social media post is a beautiful postcard to the world of her early morning walks around the north shore of Massachusetts. The only reason to ever go on social media is to see what someone is doing with their brief go at things in this world—why not post something beautiful? Whatever our choice of expression, we do well by sharing our very best observations with others, that they may see what in that moment was only ours.

      These days I’m inclined to soak up everything for all it offers, yet I keep choosing that dance of busy and productive. One can have both, if each moment is approached with intent. These days will soon be over like all the rest before. What have we got to say about our encounter with it? Put it to words, friend. And share it with a world looking for something beautiful previously hidden from them.

    • The Whisper

      “The key to efficiency is doing things right. The key to effectiveness is doing the right things.” — Peter Drucker

      I’ve made some changes this summer that have in turn changed how I spend my time. Things I did in an unfocused way have become very focused, while things I shouldn’t have focused on at all have been removed entirely from my day. When we make changes, it’s important to take stock of how we react to these changes. What do we want more of? What do we miss? Which habits are going to finally stick and which will we forever be trying to kick?

      The trick in Drucker’s quote is knowing enough to stop doing the wrong things. We haven’t got time for wrong things in this brief go at things. Knowing the difference between what is right for us and what isn’t thus becomes essential to an effective life. But what is right and what is wrong anyway?

      To borrow from The Tubes old song, what do you want from life? What are we being efficient at that doesn’t align with what we want? If we’re moving with purpose but we’re going in the wrong direction aren’t we just wasting time? Life requires constant assessment. To check the compass now and then to find our true north before taking another step. But knowing what our true north is in the first place requires a level of self-awareness that takes time to develop.

      So it is that we must tackle everything we do as if it’s the most important thing in the world for us in that moment. Painting a room? Aim for perfect lines. Writing a proposal? Look for words that inspire and eliminate what detracts from the real message until it flows like a clear mountain stream. Grilling dinner? Turn down the heat and focus on the perfect moment to flip that fillet. Perfection lies within us, waiting for us to focus on every opportunity to reveal it.

      Any task or odd job will speak to us, informing us that yes, this is the right path, or no, this won’t do for us. If we half-ass the work, we’ll never know the potential in it (let alone our own potential). The whisper comes to those who are focused on excellence in whatever they do. That doesn’t mean we have to keep doing it once we’ve determined it isn’t right for us, but having done it well, we may leave it behind with honor and a hint for where to go next on our journey.