Alexandersmap

    Category: Personal Growth

    • What Dies With You?

      “Imagine if you will being on your death bed – And standing around your bed – the ghosts of the ideas, the dreams, the abilities, the talents given to you by life.

      And that you for whatever reason, you never acted on those ideas, you never pursued that dream, you never used those talents, we never saw your leadership, you never used your voice, you never wrote that book.

      And there they are standing around your bed looking at you with large angry eyes saying we came to you, and only you could have given us life! Now we must die with you forever.

      The question is – if you die today what ideas, what dreams, what abilities, what talents, what gifts, would die with you? ” – Les Brown

      You may have heard a version of this in a Denzel Washington commencement speech with something like 40 million views, but the framework for this story is older than that, and as far as I can tell, Les Brown was the first to tell it. And honestly, his version flows better than Denzel’s, and thus quotes better.

      I’ve been thinking about this lately myself. Whether to keep blogging or focus on the bigger writing I want to do. Whether to travel and explore to the level I want to or defer until some undefined, unlikely time in the future. Asking myself, what do you finish when you don’t have an infinite lifetime?

      Questions demand answers. Most of us distract ourselves from thinking about these things. Our lives are filled with white noise and busywork, but eventually we need to reckon with our ghosts.

      What dreams, abilities, talents and gifts will die with you? We can’t do everything in life, but surely we can do more. So what will you bring to life before you go?

    • No Likeness to That Human World Below

      You ask me:
      Why do I live
      On this green mountain?
      I smile
      No answer
      My heart serene
      On flowing water
      Peachblow
      Quietly going
      Far away
      Another earth
      This is
      Another sky
      No likeness
      To that human world below
      ~Li Po, On The Mountain: Question And Answer
      (translated by C.H. Kwôck & Vincent McHugh)

      Three days later and I’m still on a mountaintop. The aches and pains fade but the glow of walking the ridge line between peaks stays with me. And I wonder at this world I’ve created for myself, pressed in close to a desk, laptop at the ready, always asking for more. The mountains don’t ask for anything of you, but it’s understood that they demand respect.

      Solo hiking, for all the social abuse I receive for it, offers meditation and a connection to the mountains that you don’t get with even the quietest, most reverent hiking buddy. So occasionally I like to indulge in time alone on trails, walking until my own voice finally stops talking to me and I begin at last to listen to the song of the infinite.

      Yet you’re never quite alone in the mountains. There’s always a fellow hiker on a pilgrimage of their own, with a knowing look and a brief exchange before turning their attention back to the trail. The mountains aren’t entirely about solitude, for there are more people than ever on the trails. And every one of us with a reason for being up there.

      There’s an energy that you draw on when hiking with others. A momentum of common purpose, shared struggle, and shared beliefs. I do like hiking with others, quite a lot, and look forward to sharing the mountains with them again soon. Just give me a moment alone with this sky before I reluctantly descend to that human world below. Where I’ll plot my return.

    • Prepping the Night Before

      On the fence about whether to hike a pair of 4000 footers, I decided to just start getting my pack ready, just in case. When the backpack was ready, the boots and hiking clothes laid out, it became a foregone conclusion that I’d actually get up and go at 4:30 AM. But it all started with packing that backpack.

      There’s nothing revolutionary about putting your workout clothes out, or getting your bag packed for an early flight. The work you put in the night before sets the tone for the morning. You don’t forget important things, you aren’t scrambling to find things that you swore were right where you left them the last time you hiked. But mostly, you do what you said you were going to do. Waking up to the alarm with everything laid out eliminates excuses, and pokes you with some positive pressure: I got everything ready, the least I could do is get my ass out of bed and get to it.

      So when you’re on the fence, or when it really matters that you follow through, prep the night before. It’ll make all the difference the next morning. Just remember to set the alarm!

    • Editing Our Short [Life] Story

      “Stuart Cornfeld once told me that in a good screenplay, every structural unit needs to do two things: (1) be entertaining in its own right and (2) advance the story in a non-trivial way. We will henceforth refer to this as ‘the Cornfeld Principle.” – George Saunders, A Swim in a Pond in the Rain

      I don’t recall who recommended Saunder’s book to me. It was most certainly a podcast or blog somewhere along the way. On the face of it the book seems a bit academic, but it’s a delightful class in writing well using Russian short stories as the vehicle for instruction. If that sounds boring, I understand, but Saunders makes the stories come alive while informing us on the craft of building a story.

      Which brings me to this observation on writing a screenplay by Stuart Cornfeld. Who can argue each point when it comes to building a story? Yet so many fall flat in one or both element. And what of building a life? Shouldn’t a life be built around joy and purpose? There’s a balance there between fully enjoying this short life and making something of our short time here, isn’t there? What do we keep in our stories and what do we eliminate? This Cornfeld Principle offers a simple template, even if the application isn’t always so simple in practice.

      Stuart Cornfeld passed away last year. He’s best known for collaborations with Ben Stiller, including a joy nugget, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. I don’t know much about him other than his work, but it’s clear he brought a bit of happiness to the world in his brief go at life.

      Shouldn’t we all aspire to a similar contribution? As we write our oh-so-brief life stories day-to-day, don’t we owe it to ourselves to make it both interesting and non-trivial? Whether our story becomes a page-turner of a life or a satisfying epic is up to us. Edit well.

    • By These Hands

      The gobs of wet leaves and pine straw pulled with bare hands from the gutter weren’t posted on YouTube for the world to see. Nor were the pulled fence posts as they were chipped free of old concrete footings. The world will never wonder at the labor put into such things by these hands. My labor remains undocumented.

      The same fingers that write these jumbles of words once laid brick on a curving walkway only to pull it up two decades later to reset a stubborn gate heaved by frost and refusing to close. This is the price of time in one place, you find yourself undoing what you’ve done before over and over again. It’s the labor of living, and like generations before mine the work goes largely unnoticed by most. Like an Offensive Lineman, you understand that if your work is noticed it wasn’t done correctly. But you know when it’s done well and when it isn’t.

      Labor is done for profit, and it reveals itself in moments. Each time I open the gate without having to kick the bottom corner, I’ll celebrate the sweat and strain of a Sunday in August when the work was done. Each time it rains I’ll celebrate the sound of water running through the downspout and not up and over the top of the gutter. These observations aren’t celebrated in the same way as seeing the Grand Canyon or St. Basil’s Cathedral or the Tower of London for the first time, because they’re mundane. But when you’ve fixed something that needed fixing and see it work, none of those other places matter a lick in that particular moment.

      I know plenty of people who hire others to do their labor for them. I understand this particular inclination, for paying others buys you time for yourself. Time spent on yard work is time not spent on a mountain summit or a beach on these briefest of days we call summer. But I know deep down that the work done by these hands reveals something in myself that I’d never find if I left the work to others.

      There are lessons in the labor, residing deep inside of me, that others may not see. Lessons that open up for you like a swinging gate free of obstruction. Flow through you like water through a downspout. When you do the work, even when it might all be undone once again someday, you understand that our brief, fleeting lives only have meaning in these mundane contributions we make. Even if it’s never seen on YouTube.

    • What Song Do You Hum to Yourself?

      I want to go all over the world
      And start living free
      I know that there’s somebody who
      Is waiting for me
      I’ll build a boat, steady and true
      As soon as it’s done
      I’m going to sail along in the dreams
      Of my dear someone
      – Gillian Welch & David Rawlings, Dear Someone

      There are bigger, more far-reaching songs on the classic album Time (The Revelator), but this one lingers in my head. It likely began with my interest in all things sailing and boats and travel. Or the lullaby rhythm of the song, which comes in handy when you have young children. I no longer have a boat of my own, having sold it off in relief several years ago. For that matter, I no longer have young children, as they begin their own adventures in places all over the world.

      When you want to start living free, what exactly do you want to be free of? Work? Or the life you’ve built around yourself, sturdy and strong, that locks you into a place and time in your brief go on this planet? Are we shaking off commitments and relationships of proximity in favor of the freedom of travel, or are we running from something in ourselves? Or maybe we’re seeking something that we aren’t finding where we currently find ourselves? Fair questions to ask before you set out in your vessel of choice. But never forget that you have that agency.

      A revelator is someone who reveals the will of God to the rest of us. We all decide what this God character is in our lives. We all have our stories about the world and our place in it. There is no better revelator than time, for it reveals within each of us the truth about who we are and where we want to go. Sometimes it reveals that what you’ve wanted most is what you’ve built around yourself. And that, maybe, what you’re seeking is already here.

      Every day I wake up
      Hummin’ a song
      But I don’t need to run around
      I just stay home
      And sing a little love song
      My love, to myself
      If there’s something that you want to hear
      You can sing it yourself
      – Gillian Welch & David Rawlings, Everything Is Free

      The world will open up once again, should we ride out this time and meet it. And then what? What boats are we building? Where do you go from here? Time will surely reveal it all to us, but let’s always remember that we have a bit of a say in the matter too. Over time, if we’re lucky, we learn to listen to the songs we hum to ourselves.

    • Get After It, Again and Again

      Lingering in the good soreness from a couple of days of long beach walks, I can’t help but wonder how fit I’d be if I walked the beach every morning before the sun rose. Then again, I think the same thing after a great hike, after consistently rowing anaerobic pieces, or doing intense weight circuits or swimming laps in salt water. Active is active, and the point of active is to do what you can where you are with what you have. Otherwise you’re inactive.

      So get after it. Carve out the time and do the work. This naturally goes for anything we pursue in life. Plodding along half-assed is a form of wasting space, and we aren’t here to waste space, are we? Sliding into comfortable complacency is just so… easy. But it doesn’t get us where we really want to go.

      “You can usually accomplish more by giving something your full effort for a few years rather than giving it a lukewarm effort for fifty years. Pick a priority for this season of your life and do it to the best of your ability.” – James Clear

      Beginning in early July I challenged myself to 20 days of rigid eating and exercise. It turned out I wasn’t so rigid with either, but still managed to lose 6 pounds and noted significant progress in kettle bell repetitions (my focus during this time period). It was just enough to make me want a little more. Really, a lot more. And so I begin again.

      Normally I’m an Olympics junkie, and love to watch athletes who put everything into their sport come together to compete. If I were broadcasting the Olympics, I’d be following athletes from different sports and different countries for years documenting the blood, sweat and tears as they grind away at it all. Then put together a montage of each, no matter how they finish in their events, through the closing ceremonies and then back home. Where they look around, smile and begin again. But broadcasters (and most people) celebrate the big moment, not the process that gets them there and beyond.

      The more trips around the sun I take, the more I see that life is about becoming, and it’s never fully realized. It’s celebrated in small moments of lingering soreness and beginning again the next day. We’re here to get after it to the best of our ability, to work towards that person we want to become. Beginning again and again.

    • Each Precious Moment

      “If you can be annihilated at any moment, then it’s each moment that’s precious. And if you don’t experience each moment, if you don’t understand how precious each moment is, then you are missing out. ‘cause that‘s all you can be sure of getting is right now.” – Sebastian Junger, from The Tim Ferriss Podcast

      I love Junger’s gruff quote above, for he bluntly points out what we all know and assume otherwise. This is all so very short, so enjoy each moment. Go out and find those micro adventures in between obligations. Say yes to the sunrise walks and the sunset celebrations and the meaningful conversations.

      For the second day in a row I was up at 5 AM and heading to the beach for a walk and sunrise. Distant lighting on the horizon was a spectacular pre-event. Feeling the warmth of the ocean in Miami as I walked the surf line helped lock in another memorable moment. These are the days you’ll remember, should you ever reach that future you.

      David Letterman asked Warren Zevon, in the last days of his life battling cancer, what he’d learned during the fight. Zevon’s answer was simple yet powerful: “Enjoy every sandwich”. And that’s what I thought to myself as I watched the sun rise up over the Atlantic Ocean. Just enjoy this precious moment. Experience it for what it is, and hope for another tomorrow.

      Miami Sunrise

    • To Untie the Knot

      Seek that wisdom
      that will untie your knot
      Seek that path
      that demands your whole being
      Leave that which is not, but appears
      to be
      Seek that which is, but is
      not apparent
      – Rumi

      This entire blog is a work in progress. The output is the measure of the man, but the process itself is the progress. To write daily is a challenge, and I’ve had moments when I want to just stop altogether and use this time for something else. But I recognize the knot within myself that needs to be untied, and writing every day seems to be the path to get me there.

      You learn a lot about yourself in the process of daily work, and keenly come to know that which you don’t like about yourself along with the things you celebrate. But isn’t that the point? We all persist and clear our individual hurdles, and maybe turn in new directions now and then. Writers just document it for the rest of the world to see.

      This knot isn’t quite untied. But I’ll keep working at it. Thanks for sticking with me.

    • Walk On Into Futurity

      “What is a course of history or philosophy, or poetry, no matter how well selected, or the best society, or the most admirable routine of life, compared with the discipline of looking always at what is to be seen? Will you be a reader, a student merely, or a seer? Read your fate, see what is before you, and walk on into futurity.” – Henry David Thoreau, Walden

      Well, which are you – a reader or a seer? Are you going to live vicariously through the adventures of others or seek your own way? There’s no time to ponder indefinitely, you must choose to live, and to walk boldly towards that future you. The world shrugs indifferently at the masses who live in quiet desperation, and opens up for those who dare to break free of the routine.

      Deferring life is a fool’s game, but most of us willingly play it. What meaningful leap will you take today towards that future you so desperately cling to? For if not now, when?

      Decide what to be and go be it.