Alexandersmap

    Category: Personal Growth

    • An Open Mind and a Closed Mouth

      “Many fail to grasp what they have seen, and cannot judge what they have learned, although they tell themselves they know.” – Heraclitus

      If I’ve learned anything in my time on this planet it’s that I don’t know much of anything about most things. But I know a lot about a few things. Very few things, really. The rest is just general knowledge mixed with opinion and occasional bluffing. But even here, I’ve learned to just say what I know and don’t know. The truth shall set you free.

      Knowing what you don’t know, you learn to recognize what other people don’t know. No matter what they say. And sometimes specifically because of what and how they say it. If we are the average of the five people we hang around with the most, do we really want to be a mix of ill-informed opinion and gossip? I should think not.

      Too many are quick to weigh in with advice and commentary on things they’re clearly not experts in. Knowing something well generally means being able to explain it in terms a child might understand. Given this, it seems that most people are bluffing. For all the information readily available in the world, most people just take something they heard at face value and parrot it back at you like it’s gospel.

      Learning begins with first seek to understand. That requires a healthy dose of humility and knowing what you don’t know. When you approach the world with an open mind and a closed mouth you can learn all kinds of things. Like what kind of person you want to become. That seems to be a good starting point.

    • The Battle of Timidity and Boldness

      “Focus your attention on the link between you and your death, without remorse or sadness or worrying. Focus your attention on the fact you don’t have time and let your acts flow accordingly. Let each of your acts be your last battle on earth. Only under those conditions will your acts have their rightful power. Otherwise they will be, for as long as you live, the acts of a timid man…. Being timid prevents us from examining and exploiting our lot as men.” – Carlos Castaneda, Journey to Ixtlan

      I did the math, mentally adding 25 years to my current age and toyed with the idea of being that later age. There are no guarantees that I’ll ever reach that point in my life, of course. No guarantees for any of us marching through time on our annual trip around the sun. But I toyed with the idea of being an old man and wondered at the state of my mind and body. I wondered at the experiences I’d had in the interim, these years between now and then.

      This long sleep we have in store for ourselves is our future, whether a quarter century away or this afternoon, and we ought to live boldly instead of merely timidly existing. I won’t say I’ve mastered this, but I live a better life knowing that the whole dance could end on the next drum beat. But we can do so much more. Simply by living with urgency.

      This theme, the constant reminder of our imminent death, runs through Stoic philosophy. And it runs through this blog. I try, not always successfully, to use it as a cattle prod to my backside. A jolt of awareness that this could all end at any moment, so break free of that routine, break away from the timid existence and live a life of adventure and boldness. It’s the underlying theme of this blog, beginning on the home page with Thoreau’s call to action:

      “Rise free from care before the dawn and seek adventures.” – Henry David Thoreau

      If we accept that we must die, and as improbable as it might seem, at any moment, what might we do to live now? If this is our final act, what will it be? And, if blessed with another, what of the act to follow?

      The answer clearly must be to live the moment with urgency. Say what must be said. Do what must be done. Get out there and live boldly! Pursue the magic in the moment with vigor and a profound lust for life.

    • Each Leap

      It’s funny how things cluster together. Bursts of activity that lump together depending on the place that you’re in emotionally, physically, developmentally. Like jumping rock-to-rock to cross a stream, these places are where we land at a given moment in our lives.

      Some are easy to identify: “student” to “early career” to “committed relationship” to “parent” are all leaps we’re familiar with. But there are other, smaller leaps that come to mind. Over the last year I’ve had clusters of activity – hiking, chasing waterfalls, devouring poetry, home improvement projects, etc. that consumed me for a time and then I was on to the next thing for a while. Those waterfalls are still calling, just as mountain peaks are, it’s just not their time right now.

      Each leap lands you in another place in your life. Each leap changes you forever. I’ll never be who I was before I had children, nor will I ever be the same person as I was before I read The Summer Day or saw a snowshoe hare sprinting through the snow on the summit of Mount Moosilauke or a hundred other leaps large and small that have brought me to this particular landing spot.

      Each leap brings us further across the stream, further from who we once were while closer to what we might be. Knowing we’ve changed, and fully aware of the risks, we must choose which leap to take next. Sometimes we get wet, sometimes we reach a dead end, and sometimes we reach a landing spot we never dreamed of getting to. There are lessons in each.

      At the moment I’ve landed on a series of home improvement projects that demand the usual investment of time and money. But I’m already plotting my next leap, and have an eye on the one after that too. All while the characters in my life are making their own leaps, some drawing closer, others moving further away. And this is as it should be. The stream keeps flowing, even as we leap from stone to stone.

      Nothing ever has been or ever will be the same. You can’t just sit on a rock in the middle of the stream forever. You’ve got to leap again. So make it a good one.

    • The Practice

      “We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.” – Kurt Vonnegut

      “The practice of art isn’t to make a living. It’s to make your soul grow.” – Kurt Vonnegut

      This blogging business can be a grind if you think about it the wrong way. I try not to think about it the wrong way. Still, it pops up in my head in certain moments. What the hell am I writing for? I don’t actively accumulate followers and don’t chase likes. Nor will this site be monetized. So what’s the point?

      The writing is a discipline; a routine of consequence. A practice of art carrying me towards who I fancy myself to be, and I chase it down relentlessly every day. And though I wonder sometimes at what the point of it all really is, I already know the answer. It’s simply to write.

      Kurt Vonnegut was one of those people whom I’d have around that dinner table, along with a cast of characters larger than life through their practice of being what they pretended to be… and thus became. Then again, I hang out with them all the time through their contribution. Or at least the character I think them to be. For they were just people like us, who chipped away at their work until they built something of consequence.

      And there’s that word again: consequence. What are we building in our daily work? Followers, or our souls? I may not ever meet my great-grandchildren if they should ever debut in the world, but I fancy them someday knowing something about me from the way I stack words together… just… so.

      The crew of SV Delos (Brian and Karin) had a live stream conversation on Mother’s Day. For those who don’t know, they sail around the world and post videos on YouTube. They’ve been cranking out videos for years, first as a way to share experiences with family and friends and later as an income stream as it became apparent that plenty of people were interested in what they were doing. Watching their 300+ videos helped me get through the void of travel-less lockdown during the pandemic.

      One thing Brian said caught my ear. He spoke about people who keep working on their boats, project after project, waiting for things to be perfect for them to set out on their own passage. And of course that day never comes because nothing is ever perfect. The point being to just go when things are ready enough.

      On a much smaller scale, blogging is the same sort of passage that Delos is on. You chip away at it, maybe picking up a follower or two along the way (thank you) and see where the passage takes you. And maybe that’s enough. Then again, maybe there’s more.

    • Something Bigger Than Yourself

      “This idea of ‘just follow your passion’, I don’t even have an understanding of what that means. Even though my whole life I have been very clear about the way I wanted to create change, and for whom, it wasn’t this out of the box understanding that we were going to use different forms of capital and support it with the right kind of talent to work a system to create real change …. I would say just start.

      Don’t start by asking ‘what is my purpose’, what is my passion? Start by asking what are the problems that need to be solved? Which ones attract me? And take a step towards that. Take one step and the work will teach you where you need to take the next step. Build tools in your toolbox. If you still don’t know what your passion or your purpose is after you take those steps, follow a leader and learn from that leader. There’s something so powerful… in apprenticing. I would say I apprenticed for fifteen years. And… skipping steps, particularly because life is shorter than we think it is and it’s longer than we think it is, it doesn’t serve the world and it doesn’t serve you.

      Just commit to something. This we don’t tell young people, or even old people. We don’t expect that enough. I think the cult of the individual is also the cult of optionality. And the secret is that when you commit to something, particularly something bigger than yourself, it will set you free. And suddenly you will find a freedom and layering of life that you never understood you had.” – Jacqueline Novagratz, from The Tim Ferriss Show

      The funny thing about Commencement speeches is that they’re full of grand visions and language and guidance for the graduating class. Yet few ever act on the very best advice they hear that day. The quotes above offer some of the best advice I’ve come across for people stepping out into the unknown world of their “career path”: Build tools in your toolbox. Take one step towards solving the problems that need solving, and then another. See where it takes you. When you’re unsure, find a leader worth following and learn from them.

      The thing is, this isn’t just timely advice for the Class of 2021 (or the frustrated Class of 2020 for that matter). It’s great advice for any of us from someone who has walked the path, tripped a few times along the way and risen to greater heights as a result. For all the talk of changing the world most people profess in unguarded moments of truth, the vast majority of us walk the path of career growth and embrace the cult of the individual (living my best life!). There’s nothing wrong with individualism, it just doesn’t do much to change the world.

      Deeper in the interview, Novagratz speaks of tackling problems that won’t be solved in our lifetime. There are plenty to choose from: poverty, racial equality, fixing the climate change mess and a hundred other problems that warrant solutions but are too big for one person to tackle. It’s a funny thing, thinking about taking on a project that you won’t live to see solved. But aren’t we all working to create things that will outlive us? Raising children, building a business, making art, writing… all are beyond ourselves. And so is meaningful change.

      When I hear someone like Novagratz speak, I recognize the small thinking I’ve been guilty of in my own lifetime. Thinking about things bigger than yourself is a path towards immortality, in a way. It’s creating something that will outlive you. Shouldn’t it be something that positively alters the course of humanity? If that seems too bold, well, maybe we aren’t giving ourselves enough credit for what we might accomplish. If we’d just commit and do the work. The work of our lifetime.

    • Living Atypically

      “We all know that distinctiveness – originality – is valuable. We are all taught to ‘be yourself.’ What I’m really asking you to do is to embrace and be realistic about how much energy it takes to maintain that distinctiveness. The world wants you to be typical – in a thousand ways, it pulls at you. Don’t let it happen.” – Jeff Bezos, from his final letter to shareholders as CEO

      That pulling at you bit is the trick, isn’t it? We all want to be integral in the lives of those who mean so much to us. We all want to be the glue that holds it all together. We all want to belong, somewhere deep down. And it feels like for that to happen you must be… consistent. Predictable. Who you’re supposed to be.

      I don’t know what atypical means to Jeff Bezos. What’s the ask here? To work relentlessly for the company objectives and scratch and claw your way to the top, or something entirely different? The Amazon culture received plenty of bad press along the way. But doesn’t everything atypical? And Amazon is atypical, and in being so, culturally transformative. Bezos also said this in his letter:

      “If you want to be successful in business (in life, actually), you have to create more than you consume. Your goal should be to create value for everyone you interact with.”

      I can’t argue with this, can you? So what of us? As the world slowly opens up again, what are we to do with the freedom of movement? Will we return to what we once were, or gently alter course towards what we’ve always wanted to be? How are we creating value? For we’re more than individuals living our “best life”, we’re a part of something bigger than ourselves.

      “You have to pay a price for your distinctiveness, and it’s worth it. The fairy tale version of “be yourself” is that all the pain stops as soon as you allow your distinctiveness to shine. That version is misleading. Being yourself is worth it, but don’t expect it to be easy or free. You’ll have to put energy into it continuously.”

      We have this wee bit of time, and then the dance is done. The challenge is to keep thinking bigger, adding more value and meaning in your life and for those around you. This in itself is atypical in a way, isn’t it? So many bury themselves in distraction and pettiness and mock outrage. Where’s the value in that? Get outside of yourself and go build something of substance from that burning vision you have.

      I encourage you to read that shareholder letter. There’s a lot of boldness in there, and it’s clear that Bezos isn’t done yet. And neither should we be done. For there’s so much more to do. In our own unique way.

    • Poems and Cat Puke

      The clouds have left the sky,
      The wind hath left the sea,
      The half-moon up on high
      Shrinketh her face of dree

      She lightens on the comb
      Of leaden waves, that roar
      And thrust their hurried foam
      Up on the dusky shore.

      Behind the western bars
      The shrouded day retreats,
      And unperceived the stars
      Steal to their sovran seats.

      And whiter grows the foam,
      The small moon lightens more;
      And as I turn me home,
      My shadow walks before.
      – Robert Bridges, Dusky Shore

      There’s a moment when expectations meet reality. Certainly we all expected more out of 2020 than we got, and I can say the same about this morning’s blog. It started with a poem – Dusky Shore, as you see. It became cleanup in aisle 5.

      I’ve toyed with Bridges’ famous poem for some time, undecided about whether to dance with the classic romantic lines, or leave well enough alone. It has all the ingredients sprinkled together just so – the moon and the sea, post sunset dusky bliss and a turn towards home… but it still misses the mark for me. And I’m not sure why.

      I believe it’s in the way the words are stacked just so. It feels like he’s playing to the audience a bit to me, instead of mining his soul. But still the words are lovely in the way that a Thomas Kinkade painting is. Pretty, I suppose, but not really my style.

      As I walked down the stairs contemplating this poem and whether to go there, I came across the apocalyptic mounds of yellowish cat puke on the area rug that announced my quaint dalliance with Dusky Shore was going to take a back seat for the moment. As the designated early bird in a house full of night owls, I’m faced with such moments more than I care to remember. You either pretend not to see it or grab the paper towels and deal with it. I’ve learned it’s best to tackle the demons head-on and get on with your life. There’s nothing more demonic than cat puke on an area rug.

      I wonder about Robert Bridges, turning from the white foamy sea towards home, shadow walking before. As he opened the door to his humble home, what greeted him? For all the beauty of the prose, every now and then a little cat puke intrudes upon your Rosebud Cottage. It may be unwelcome, but it teaches you a bit about who you are when the moment of bliss is interrupted.

    • Worthy of Good

      “Isn’t it more appropriate for us humans to endure and be strong? We understand, after all, that we suffer for the sake of something good, either to help our friends, to aid our city, to fight on behalf of women or children, or for the most important and weighty reason of all, to be good and just and self-controlled. No one achieves this without pain. And so I conclude that because we humans acquire all good things by pain, the person who is himself unwilling to endure pain all but condemns himself to being worthy of nothing good.” – Musonius Rufus

      Looking back on the last year I wonder at the person I was a year ago, optimistic yet unsure about the pandemic. Working from home all the time was new; different and unfamiliar. A year later, the work is once again taking over. But we’re different, aren’t we? And so is the nature of the work.

      Ultimately, we either do the work or become masters at hiding from it. In general, and over time, this becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy for us. Do the work that matters, harden the softness that threatens your effectiveness and eventually good things will come your way.

      The days fly by when you’re deep in productive and rewarding work. Over the last year there were plenty of days that felt both unproductive and unrewarding. Sometimes you feel that things will never get back to normal. But the rewards are there for those who push through the pain and frustration and loss. Which makes me wonder, have I done enough to be worthy of those rewards? Are we doing enough now?

      If we know we can do more, shouldn’t we?

    • Reach

      Momentum is about rate of iteration and persistence, not brilliance.

      Luck is a function of surface area.

      In the early days, effective people increase their luck by exposing themselves to more opportunities and more people.

      There’s a reason why successful people tend to be proactive: they’re expanding their reach.

      Reach is a serendipity engine.
      – @Julian

      Anyone who sells anything has stumbled upon the truth of what Julian Shapiro is saying here. It’s profoundly obvious that the more people you reach out to the more you’ll expose yourself to opportunities. The trick has always been finding the right people, and the right opportunities, at the right time. And until you’ve built a network up around yourself and located the 20% of people who will help you the most in life, the more you’ve got to just get out there and play the numbers game.

      Momentum through our rate of iteration and persistence applies to everything we do in life.

      Want to be fit? Do the work, push yourself to do more, be consistent. Repeat.

      Want to speak a different language? Learn the basics and then push your limits. Immerse yourself in a culture where you must stretch yourself to be understood.

      Want to be a great writer? Read more to know what great writing is. Live more to have something to say. Write more to get good at it. Publish more to gain a following. Connect with more people to find the 20% who will help you the most in your career.

      Do more. Expand your reach. Reach is a serendipity engine. Simple. And simply true.

      For people starting their careers, I’d point to these simple @Julian tweets as the core lesson. No need to buy the books, attend the success summits, or watch hours of video. Just do the work, intelligently and persistently, that moves you towards your goal.

      Reach involves a level of discomfort. The very act of reaching implies going beyond your current place. Going beyond your comfort zone. To places of uncertainty and rejection and the unfamiliar. We’ve all felt that when walking into a room where we don’t know anyone. What we forget is that most of the people in that room feel the same way.

      Reach leads to connection.

      So go out on a limb.

      When you continue reaching, the uncomfortable becomes comfortable. Opportunities come up. Friendships and alliances are formed. And you grow in new and unexpected directions.

      So by all means, reach.

    • Quicksand and Tasks of Consequence

      “Bad writing is almost always a love poem addressed by the self to the self.” Toby Litt

      “The more books we read, the clearer it becomes that the true function of a writer is to produce a masterpiece and that no other task is of any consequence.” – Cyril Connolly

      The time we spend, these moments slipping through the hourglass, are either consequential or quicksand. And so the tasks filling those moments are loaded with questions – is this the right use of this brief moment in time or might there be a better place to spend the grains of sand? Is this a task of consequence, or is it a love poem to the self, mere folly?

      You know when you’ve stepped in quicksand. Maybe not immediately, but soon enough you recognize the stickiness of a habit and the sinking feeling that you’re not making any forward progress. Quicksand is tricky stuff. The one thing you don’t want to do when you’re in it is flail in place.

      Writing a blog every day might not be a masterpiece, but is it folly? The act of writing is pouring your grains of sand into a jumble of words and placing them just so. With a picture in your mind of what they might be if you could just get it right.

      The ultimate measure of tasks is whether you’re flailing in place or going somewhere consequential. What might you otherwise be doing with those grains of sand? The answer isn’t what are you doing now. Not really. It’s what are you becoming? That is what really matters. For what will your masterpiece be, in the end?

      Work towards that.