Alexandersmap

    Category: Personal Growth

    • 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.

    • Breaking Garden (and Life) Rules

      I regularly break the accepted rules of gardening. Rules like putting the tall plants in the back of the garden. But when something like a balloon flower (Platycodon grandiflorus) or bee balm (Monarda) are shoved way to the back you lose something intimate that you gain when they’re right in your face. So my apologies to the garden rule enforcers. Surely you see my dilemma?

      I was offering advice to a former coworker who wants to quite her job and travel the world with her husband, but she feels stuck in the job, stuck in the life she’s wrapped herself in, and is only looking at the reasons why she can’t just do it instead of finding the reasons to just go for it. I dropped my favorite pair of Latin phrases on her to reflect on: Memento Mori and Carpe Diem (Remember we all must die, and seize the day!).

      Some rules are there for logical reasons; if the tall plants are up front you can’t see the shorter ones behind them. Makes sense. Some rules are there because we’ve all grown up believing stories: you have to get a job and work 50 weeks a year, then skip one of the two weeks of vacation and work on weekends to stay ahead. Who made that rule? Someone who wants to profit on your short productive years before they turn you to dust and plan you out for someone else.

      Make your own rules. Rules like walking out in the middle of a work day and seeing how the flowers are doing, just because you feel like it. Putting yourself out there in the world, to meet it on your terms. And maybe find something of yourself that was hidden when it was shoved to the back by someone else’s rules.

      Balloon Flower

    • Do Uncomfortable Things

      “Being busy is most often used as a guise for avoiding the few critically important but uncomfortable actions.” – Tim Ferriss

      It’s easier than ever to master distraction. There are so many ways to push aside the importance of a specific task for the urgent du jour that pops up as a notification or to the top of your inbox. What is life but the prioritization of important things over all the rest? And yet we so easily cave to distraction.

      Important things fall by the wayside because they’re often uncomfortable. Or perceived to be. Certainly more uncomfortable than scurrying about in the familiar buzz of tasks and quick minutes. There were days when I’d look up, realize the time and see that I’d gotten none of the meaningful things I’d wanted to do completed. For those of us who want to feel accomplishment at the end of a long day, this can be a moment of painful self-reckoning.

      So why do we succumb over and over to the relative ease of distraction and the unimportant? Because it feels like no big thing at that moment, because we put the important task in a box of “uncomfortable”. Because busywork feels like getting things done, but easier than the task we ought to be doing. Because, because, because…

      “The biggest generator of long term results is learning to do things when you don’t feel like doing them. Discipline is more reliable than motivation.” -Shane Parrish

      Uncomfortable has its own pleasures, just not always in the moment. Making a long term investment in ourselves through discipline seems more difficult in the moment, but deferred important tasks only amplify the longer you defer them. Pay me now or pay me later.

      Ultimately, the answer is to know what’s important for the long term and to have the discipline to stick to the tasks that matter in getting you there. Which requires embracing the suck and doing the uncomfortable important things until you forget that it was ever all that uncomfortable to begin with. And that infers that you have a vision for the future you and a clear map for how you’ll get there. The rest is disciplined action. Simple, right?

    • More to See for You and Me

      “From here to Venezuela
      There’s nothing more to see
      Than a hundred thousand islands
      Flung like jewels upon the sea
      For you and me”
      – Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, The Lee Shore

      I heard about a former coworker, a guy with Israeli good looks and intense blue eyes that no doubt closed many negotiations of the heart, who succumbed to COVID after months of treatment. Younger than me, far more energy with a passion for family, travel and technology, in that order. A whirlwind of energy and intellect and movement. Quietly receding from life in a hospital bed in Miami.

      Which once again reminds me that life is so very brief, and the years of fitness and energy are even shorter. So what do we do with our days? Fritter it all away in spreadsheets and conference calls? Watch other people live their lives on social media? Or do something with our own?

      We miss too many opportunities to dance with the forests and the waves and the sky for this business of living. This busyness of living. But is it really living or just staying busy? The game of deferred living is a tragic and fatal one indeed.

      My friend is a reminder of what the stakes are, what the stakes have been, and why we changed everything. And now? Now we are living in the time of the haves and the have nots. Are you vaccinated or not? If you are, let’s celebrate our faith in science and each other and dance with the world.

      There’s so very much more to do in this short life. A hundred thousand islands are just waiting for you and me. Out there, just beyond the horizon. Waiting for us to weigh anchor and go to them. Let’s go out and meet the world.