Alexandersmap

    Category: Personal Growth

    • Fears, Growth and Energy

      “If we do not have the depths, how do we have the heights? Yet you fear the depths, and do not want to confess that you are afraid of them. It is good, though, that you fear yourselves; say it out loud that you are afraid of yourselves. It is wisdom to fear oneself. Only the heroes say that they are fearless. But you know what happens to the hero.” — Carl Jung, The Red Book

      “Resistance is experienced as fear; the degree of fear equates to the strength of Resistance. Therefore the more fear we feel about a specific enterprise, the more certain we can be that that enterprise is important to us and to the growth of our soul.” — Steven Pressfield

      I’m not particularly afraid of the dark, but when I walk the dog at night I still bring a flashlight with me. Part of that is practical (try scooping up dog poop without light) and part of that is hedging my bets. I may not need the flashlight to see, but if a pack of coyotes decided to come out of the woods to face down my dog and me, seeing clearly slightly improves our odds.

      The thing is, we’re much more likely to encounter shit in our daily reconciliation with life than a pack of wild animals. But we must build resilience for those black swan events anyway. It’s only when we put ourselves in a fragile or vulnerable state that we are truly in peril.

      There are different kinds of fear we humans must face. Let’s start with the fear of the known and the fear of the unknown. Both are heavy hitters, aren’t they? If we know for sure that we’re going to have the crap kicked out of us, there’s an element of fear about the danger we clearly see approaching us, whether that crap-kicker is a person, animal or a storm, we know we’re in big trouble and it’s scary. All we can do in such moments is hope that we’re resilient, skilled or lucky enough to survive.

      Then there’s the fear of the unknown. Anyone who’s watched Jaws knows that the shark is much scarier before you really see it than it is afterwards. Likewise, fear of the dark is fear of what you don’t see. What we don’t know is far scarier than what we do know.

      We ought to condition ourselves to face our fears and do things anyway. I regularly begin most conversations with strangers rather than shrink back into myself, just to see where it takes us. I don’t mind speaking up at public events because I’ve conditioned myself to do it. Anyone can do that, if they really want to. Just do the scary thing, face the unknown and realize whatever the worst thing we imagined would happen wasn’t all that bad in reality. Then do it again.

      I currently have an underlying fear of the unknown with the United States Presidential election coming up Tuesday. I can’t control anything but my own vote, but I can fear for the future of democracy. Likewise I can fear the rising environmental crisis, the impact of artificial intelligence in everything from fake news to the proficiency of hackers to the ability of AI to take away the jobs of creative people. It’s all unknown and a little scary when you think about it.

      The thing is, everything I just mentioned are forces outside of my control. The only way to navigate these kinds of unknowns is one at a time. Bring the flashlight and phone when you walk in dark places. Live in a home situated above the 100 year flood zone. Buy insurance. Diversify investments. Exercise and eat well that we have a strong foundation for the inevitable health challenges that comes in time for all of us. Build layers of protection into our lives and we put ourselves in a position to survive and maybe even thrive. But still, vote like your country depends on it.

      Still with me? I know this is a long one, but fear is a deep topic. And we haven’t even gotten to the biggest fear of all: fear of failure. This is the ultimate unknown staring us down between the ears. Fear of failure makes a lot of sense if we’re walking a tight rope or doing a free solo rock climb high up on a cliff. The consequences aren’t nearly so high in most cases. Most failure bears out as embarrassment or setbacks—things we can learn from that lead to growth.

      So do ask the dumb question, ask out the person you want to be with, take the leap of faith on the job that is very different from the last one. We never know until we try. But in each case, do the work to be prepared for the moment. Informed “dumb” questions are better than ignorant dumb questions. Having the emotional intelligence to be with the person you’re asking out improves one’s odds of success when asking them out. Developing the skillset to handle the job we aspire to inevitably leads to better results than simply winging it when we walk in the door on day one.

      It all comes back to that invaluable Boy Scouts motto: Be prepared. When we’re prepared for the moment the moment becomes less scary. So prepare! And know what failure really means before taking the calculated risk. This is what gives us the best opportunity for success. When we’re prepared and know we’ve done the work, fear may still tingle the spine, but it’s transformed into productive energy.

    • The Start of Something New

      “One is never afraid of the unknown, one is afraid of the known coming to an end.” — Jiddu Krishnamurti

      Last month I left a job I’d been in for 6 1/2 years. It was coming to an end for some time, and the company did me the favor of reminding me that I was an employee at will. I have another job lined up and ready to go in a couple of weeks, so there’s no real underlying stress in the move, more a move from that which I’d grown comfortable with to a move towards something completely different. So it goes. In my mind it was a necessary sabbatical, and the time filled with consequential experiences I might have missed otherwise.

      Ending anything can be hard, especially if the ending wasn’t our choice. We’ve all had our heart broken at some point in our lives. Holding on for dear life isn’t a good look in relationships, in a career, or really with anything we know we must let go of. Still, there’s something exhilarating about starting something entirely new. We learn through all the changes we go through in a lifetime that change in itself is usually for the better. The hard part is letting go of what we once had. Yet it’s still a part of us, isn’t it?

      What is known is comfortable for many (and stale for others). Conversely, what is unknown is either scary or tantalizing, depending on how ready we are for change. Each encounter with the unknown makes us more prepared for the next. In a lifetime of change, we learn that each is simply another step forward for us, even when it may feel like going backwards. Indeed, life is change, ready or not. Why hold on to something simply because it’s comfortable when our time here is so short? Dance with the unknown. Start something new.

    • Two Options

      “In any given moment we have two options: to step forward into growth or to step back into safety.” — Abraham Maslow

      Growth ought to be our default as we navigate the world, but deep down we are instinctual creatures with a fear of being eaten by predators or cast out of the tribe to wither and die alone. It doesn’t help us grow, these old fears, yet we spend some part of our lives looking for safety and the comfort of familiarity. It’s counterintuitive to step away from it all and find our own way, but it’s essential to meet our potential.

      Yesterday is dead and gone. With it went who we were then. Today’s version of us is the sum of all that we’ve accumulated to now, but nothing more until we choose to grow towards our next greatest version of who we might be. Potential is a bear to wrestle with, but it’s the only way to move closer to arete: personal excellence. There’s only one choice when we really think about it.

    • Stories to Tell

      He who does not travel, who does not read,
      who can not hear music,
      who does not find grace in himself,
      she who does not find grace in herself,
      dies slowly.
      He who slowly destroys his own self-esteem,
      who does not allow himself to be helped,
      who spends days on end complaining about his own bad luck, about the rain that never stops,
      dies slowly.
      — Martha Medeiros, Die Slowly

      Sure, this blog is one big reminder to live in the moment and to savor it all. Amor fati already! The aim is a counter narrative to the relentless soundtrack of outrage, nihilism and distraction found in most media platforms nowadays. Be the change you wish to see in the world and all that. In this way the blog is a lifeline to anyone who needs to hear it, beginning with the author.

      What became clear a thousand posts or so ago is that writing a blog is a solitary act of self reflection shared with the world, or at least the few that seek it out or stumble upon it. Travel, reading, music, gardening, hiking—whatever it is we’re exploring in the season and discovering within ourselves ought to be fair game. Every day is a statement of here we are.

      We are alive today, and maybe not tomorrow. We must heighten our appreciation for that gift and find within ourselves the grace to accept and carry the weight of our brief shelf life. Not to dwell on it, just to acknowledge it as a compelling reason to jump back into the dance with life.

      So bravo to the adventurous spirits who seize their precious lives and get after it. We all should be so bold. You do you, I’ll do me, and perhaps we’ll meet on the dance floor one day soon. If we are blessed to meet again, may we each have our share of intriguing stories to tell.

    • Delight Travels Well

      I want a life measured
      in first steps on foreign soils
      and deep breaths
      in brand new seas
      I want a life measured
      in Welcome Signs,
      each stamped
      with a different name,
      borders marked with metal and paint.
      Show me the streets
      that don’t know the music
      of my meandering feet,
      and I will play their song
      upon them.
      Perfume me please
      in the smells of far away,
      I will never wash my hair
      if it promises to stay.
      I want a life measured
      in the places I haven’t gone,
      short sleeps on long flights,
      strange voices teaching me
      new words to
      describe the dawn.
      — Tyler Knott Gregson, I Want a Life Measured

      Some people travel to feed some void within themselves that crossing borders and boarding planes promises to fill. Some people travel for a sense of accomplishment or one-upmanship that fills some other need they might have, keeping up with the Joneses or maybe even putting them in their place with bigger tales of adventure. Some simply love the thrill of discovery that can only come from climbing out of one’s own box and exploring something entirely new.

      The places we go transform us and linger in our minds for years to come like a quiet conversation with a romantic partner we knew once upon a time. We who travel are known to flirt with adventure, and adventure usually rolls her eyes at us having heard it all before. It’s just our turn on the dance floor, and tomorrow someone else’s. Does that mean we shouldn’t travel? Of course we should, but a little perspective and humility go a long way with the locals and those who follow along back home.

      Comparison is the death of joy, as my bride reminds me, and I’m at peace with the stage of life I’m in. We’ve arrived at a good place, she and I, a place where we don’t worry so much about the pace of filling our own bucket list and instead focus on living deliberately. When we travel we are thrilled by the experience, when we don’t we find beauty in the small corners of our existence we’ve been missing for want of attention. Discovery is an attitude, not a stamp in our passport. We may choose to delight in it all.

      How do we measure our lives? Just what are we keeping score of anyway? I’ve come to view the scorebook more narrowly, in the encounters and discoveries I’ve had today, whether near or far from home. When we make it our practice to find wonder in the smallest details of our days, we find that the world opens up for us more than ever. It turns out that delight travels well, and is at home wherever we are.

    • The Highest Possible Thing

      “It’s so silly in life not to pursue the highest possible thing you can imagine, even if you run the risk of losing it all. You can’t be an artist and be safe.” — Francis Ford Coppola

      To reach for something beyond our present capabilities is to risk something tangible, be it a hit to our reputation, our financial or physical wellbeing, or our precious time. It’s easier to just do what everyone wants of us, rather than to keep answering the same old questions about what we’re going to do with our lives. That question is so common that it auto-filled as I typed it.

      The thing is, we waste so much time just answering the damned question instead of simply pursuing the dream that most people never ship the work. Wait too long and that dream dies with us one day. Talk about losing it all…

      That voice of reason means well for us, but it thinks small. Nothing perfectly reasonable turns out to be great. Reasonable only leads to “fine”, as in, “How’s everything going for you, old friend?” Our confidant who once knew our secret dream back in the day asked. “Oh, it’s going fine.” We respond, and all that was lost but unsaid was revealed.

      When it comes time to put our highest aspirations ahead of the feeble excuses about time and commitments or the expectations of our tribe, we must train ourselves to forget reasonable. The biggest risk is wasting the present in the futile hope that tomorrow will be any different. There is no tomorrow, old friend: Take the bold route now.

    • The Only One

      “We have two lives, and the second begins when we realize we have only one.” — Confucius

      Blame it on autumn, or maybe the series of life events I’m currently passing through, but it feels like life is starting over again. Every moment we’re fully alive offers that opportunity of course, but stack enough stuff on the scale and the balance tips enough. Enough for what? For whatever is next in this one wild and precious life, as Mary Oliver so vividly put it.

      This is it, last time I checked, so let’s make the most of our time together. Double down on adventure, take calculated risks more frequently, do the “one day” bucket list things in this time bucket while we have the vitality to experience all it might offer. Defer deferral for a [real] change.

      So stop wasting time already! This is all we have left. Practice active savoring in this one and only dance through life. We can be co-conspirators while the rest of the world marches on thinking there will always be a tomorrow. Let’s not waste a second on such illusions. Seize what flees.

    • All the Nerve

      Oh, when you were young
      Did you question all the answers?
      Did you envy all the dancers
      Who had all the nerve?
      Look round you now
      You must go for what you wanted
      Look at all my friends who did and got what they deserved
      — Crosby, Stills & Nash, Wasted On the Way

      Early this morning far from home I turned the corner and my headlights spotlighted two coyotes who quickly scurried off into the woods. I had no business being right there at that moment, but for a series of events that brought me to that encounter. Just a guy putting himself in the way of beauty (thanks to Cheryl Strayed’s mom for the suggestion).

      We know the people who have all the nerve. They’re usually the ones who have few regrets in the end. To be bold is to break out of the boxes we framed around ourselves. We ought to make box-breaking a regular part of our routine. Really, it’s the only way. How else can we grow?

      Rising to meet the day

    • The Roll of the Peculiar

      “There’s a point, around the age of twenty, when you have to choose whether to be like everybody else the rest of your life, or to make a virtue of your peculiarities.” — Ursula K. Le Guin

      We finally begin to hit our stride when we ignore the expectations of the well-intentioned and follow our own path. For some of us it comes well after our formal education and those earnest early career moves. Momentum isn’t leaping off the cliff, it’s picking up pieces of our identity and adding them on, one after the other, like a snowball rolling down a mountain of fresh, sticky snow. Soon there’s no stopping us.

      The thing is, that momentum applies as much to the wrong slopes as it does the right one. Once we start rolling and picking up habits, stopping becomes very challenging indeed, let alone nudging ourselves over to another slope. We don’t always know which slope is our slope, but we often know which one is not for us. And we know we can’t wait forever to decide: we must eventually roll.

      Some snowballs appear as oddballs. So what? Does the world need yet another compliant commuter making their way to a job they hate? Who want to go through life wedged into a box like that? Find a place where it’s okay to roll the way you want to roll. That which makes us peculiar also makes us unique, and there’s always an audience for someone unique. What is more virtuous than a life spent growing into the purpose we were meant for?

    • Going From, Toward

      “A traveller! I love his title. A traveller is to be reverenced as such. His profession is the best symbol of our life. Going from —— toward ——; it is the history of every one of us. It takes but little distance to make the hills and even the meadows look blue to-day. That principle which gives the air an azure color is more abundant.”― Henry David Thoreau, The Journal, 1837-1861

      Any hiker is familiar with Thoreau’s description, so too any sailor. Those who venture out into the world are bound to find it. It takes but little distance to make where we’ve been take on a bluish hue. The same can be said for where we’re going, if we look far enough ahead anyway. Life is only abundantly clear when we live in the present. ’tis this day that we must seize.

      Just as Thoreau documented his life through his journal entries and the books he wrote, so we may document our own journey from, toward. These breadcrumbs show where we are as much as where we’ve been. The act of writing every day, then publishing a bit of it, has changed each of us that travel this path. The lingering question isn’t when we’ll stop writing, but why it took us so long to begin? So much of our pre-writing lives will remain entombed within us when we pass one day—isn’t that a pity? The world doesn’t need to know all the details, but there are some tasty breadcrumbs growing stale back there on the trail.

      It’s essential to ask ourselves where we’ve come from to bring us here. So too to look at where we’re going. The act of writing about such things is contemplative and enlightening, states the world ought to linger in more than it currently does. I often get caught up in the excitement of tomorrow, and were it not for the daily ritual of writing I might miss now altogether. Life isn’t meant to be shaded in blue, but lived forthwith—with all the immediacy and urgency that word conveys. What would we write about tomorrow that reflects where we’ve been today? Steer towards that.