Alexandersmap

    Category: Personal Growth

    • Surfacing

      “You drown not by falling into a river, but by staying submerged in it.” — Paulo Coelho, Manual of the Warrior of Light

      It’s easy to get submerged in our routines. Buried in our work. Wrapped up in our frantic days. The obvious question is, when do we come up for air? The less obvious questions might be, what have we immersed ourselves in and should we get out immediately?

      “There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, ‘Morning, boys, how’s the water?’ And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, ‘What the hell is water?”
      — David Foster Wallace, This is Water (Kenyon College commencement speech, 2005

      If each day is structured by belief and ritual, when is it appropriate to question what those beliefs and rituals are? I should think, always. But then life gets a little messy, doesn’t it? When we’re always questioning what we’re doing with our days, we’re not moving through life smoothly. We’re bumping into truth at every turn, switching direction, bumping into something else, and it feels like we’re being constantly jostled. If you loved riding on the bumper cars as a kid, then question everything. If you prefer to charge through life picking up as many experiences as possible until the ride ends, it’s best not to slow down and linger with questions at all. Maybe a roller coaster was your ride. Simply buckle up, put away those loose items and don’t eat the chili dog beforehand.

      The thing is, we need to settle into some form of ritual and routine in our lives, that we may gain a sense of place and time—that we may actually do something while we’re in this place and time. For it will all float away soon enough like all the rest. What the hell is water? It’s all this stuff floating around us friend. Whether we dove into it headfirst or quietly sank in doesn’t matter so much as what we choose to do now. Remember if you lose your bearings that bubbles float up (so exhale a bit now and then). Immersion has its benefits, but surfacing offers perspective and maybe even survival.

    • Blame It On the Poets

      Man with wooden leg escapes prison. He’s caught.
      They take his wooden leg away from him. Each day
      he must cross a large hill and swim a wide river
      to get to the field where he must work all day on
      one leg. This goes on for a year. At the Christmas
      Party they give him back his leg. Now he doesn’t
      want it. His escape is all planned. It requires
      only one leg.
      — James Tate, Man with Wooden Leg Escapes Prison

      I hope you laughed when you read that poem. I know I did. It reads like a standup routine, like many James Tate poems, I suppose. Maybe that’s why I’ve strayed into his work a little, just because a smile is better than a frown, and certainly better than a scowl. We all scowl too much nowadays.

      I was reading the news just this morning. I make a point of not reading the news before I write (because of that scowl thing), but I found myself awake thinking about to-do list items. Instead of getting up to do these things, instead of rolling over and reaching for some REM, instead of doing a workout or brushing my teeth or attempting to steal the covers back from my bride—instead of anything really, I opened up the BBC app to see what was happening in the world. And of course I scowled.

      When one starts one’s day in such a way, one ought to quickly find a way out of it. Social media is nothing but random clickbait video clips now. I surely could have gone there for hours of screen time. But I sought out the council of a poet to set me straight. And that road less travelled has made all the difference.

      This ritual of writing before any other thing continues to serve me well. The world can go to hell in a mindless spiral of dancing stars, home renovation transformations and fantasy football trades, but I may ignore it all and simply write what comes to me. This clunky, impossible to navigate blog, my running collection of deep thoughts and discoveries, goes on for at least one more day. Blame it on the poets if you like. More likely it was me all along.

    • Crazy or Old

      She thinks I’m crazy
      But I’m just growing old
      — Steely Dan, Hey Nineteen

      I imagine that I’d heard Hey Nineteen many times prior to when it took root in my lifetime soundtrack, but it was when I was nineteen myself when it finally resonated. The song was already considered “classic rock” by then, but for Gen X, we were used to discovering the music of the generation before ours on our own terms. At nineteen I rounded up all the Steely Dan albums and proceeded to immerse myself in them for a few years before banishing them with all rock deemed “classic rock” for a decade in favor of my generation’s music. Now that too is called classic.

      Drink with good people
      Get high as a kite
      Before they drift away
      Out of mind and out of sight
      Well that’s not to say you lose
      Everything and everyone
      Hear me out, take your time
      And watch the setting sun
      Take your hands out of your pockets
      Feel the water run
      Don’t worry about tomorrow and yesterday
      Is gone
      — Caamp, Of Love and Life

      Caamp is made up of men who graduated high school in 2012. So they’re decidedly not of my generation, but they’re old souls just the same. We learn that it’s not how old someone is, but what they have to offer. We ought to remember this of ourselves too. Keep offering something to the world and we never really grow old.

      Call me crazy, but I believe in the power of a great song to transform our perspective and set us free to be something beyond our current identity. My soundtrack is made up of old and new, but the songs that resonate and repeat have something to say. Crazy, old or maybe both, I collect poetry in song, and will carry it with me to the end of this ride.

    • Sunrise at Sea

      When the mild weather came,
      And set the sea on flame,
      How often would I rise before the sun,
      And from the mast behold
      The gradual splendors of the sky unfold
      Ere the first line of disk had yet begun,
      Above the horizon’s are,
      To show its flaming gold,
      Across the purple dark!
      — Epes Sargent, Sunrise at Sea

      I’m not often at sea for sunrise, but as an early bird snug up against the eastern coast, I go out of my way to find a sunrise over sea whenever possible. Put yourself in the way of beauty, as Cheryl Strayed’s mother whispers. And so I rise.

      Getting an early start to the day has its perks, but also its price—generally paid at a time night owls find hilarious. Precious night owls! They don’t know what they’re missing. What’s missing is the crowd. And in that solitude we may hear the whispers of the coming day. We may witness the miraculous beginning of a new day of light and consequence.

      Lately I’ve wondered what to do with the time after I click publish on this blog. One answer is to keep on writing. Another is to keep things the same—a measure of stability in an uncertain world. We have agency in how our day —and our life—unfolds. Is this enough, or have we only just begun? Whatever the answer, don’t waste the day away staring at the horizon wondering when to begin.

      To show its flaming gold,
      Across the purple dark!

    • Worthy of Devotion

      “Before you come alive, life is nothing; it’s up to you to give it a meaning, and value is nothing else but the meaning that you choose.” — Jean-Paul Sartre

      We may not know why we are here, or even why we should get out of bed at all, but the fact remains that we are here, contributing our verse (work in progress that it is), and isn’t participating in the bold act of discovery far more interesting than simply conceding that we don’t know, so why try at all? Do try, if only to find the next piece of the puzzle. If only to get beyond nothing to the abundance of somethings awaiting our discovery.

      If a daily devotional provides a spiritual set of the sail, suggesting a course correction that may need to happen, then Satre’s challenge to seek meaning is as informative as prayer. What is a devotional but the ritual of focus beyond ourselves to some greater purpose? To ask ourselves daily why we are here and what to do with the opportunity is a path to higher purpose.

      To ponder the potential of the self isn’t narcissistic, it’s expansive. When we ask, “what have I got to offer?”, we don’t focus on the “I”, but the “offer”. Devotion draws us beyond self, slipping towards the spiritual and the gracious—it slips towards meaning.

      Waking up is a strong indicator of being alive. In our quest to make this day something better than the last, shouldn’t we seek that which makes us truly feel alive? Simply going through the motions is a disservice to the potential of our vitality. What is worthy of our devotion? We may begin there.

    • Old Riddles and New Creeds

      After one moment when I bowed my head
      And the whole world turned over and came upright,
      And I came out where the old road shone white.
      I walked the ways and heard what all men said,
      Forests of tongues, like autumn leaves unshed,
      Being not unlovable but strange and light;
      Old riddles and new creeds, not in despite
      But softly, as men smile about the dead

      The sages have a hundred maps to give
      That trace their crawling cosmos like a tree,
      They rattle reason out through many a sieve
      That stores the sand and lets the gold go free:
      And all these things are less than dust to me
      Because my name is Lazarus and I live.
      — G.K. Chesterton, The Convert

      Chesterton famously converted to Christianity when he was 48. The fame came with his zealous endorsement of the Catholic faith in his writing. The poem above is one example of that, indicating his joy at being born again. He passed away at 62, which seems really young now, but a full life in 1934 when his whole world turned over and came upright.

      Now I’m not especially religious, but I fancy myself a spiritual being on a quest for experience, knowledge and enlightenment. This blog is a ship’s log of sorts, showing where my journey has taken me thus far. I’d like to think I’ve come a long way. I’d like to think there are many pages left to write. ’tis not for us to know such things, only to do what we can with today’s entry.

      I’ve come to value the sands of time more than gold, and the wisdom of voices who have crossed the threshold. The young seek shortcuts to influence and wealth, the old seek solace in a life of connection and comfort. I’m somewhere in between, learning what I will, sharing what I feel s’éclairer. This is our age of discovery, friend, for we are here, now and alive. Picking up what we can in our time even as it falls away.

    • Never Mind

      For every ailment under the sun
      There is a remedy, or there is none;
      If there be one, try to find it;
      If there be none, never mind it.
      — W.W. Bartley

      Life piles on some days. Some things demand our full attention. Mostly though, we choose what to burden ourselves with and what to release from our shoulders. Developing a mind focused on what we can control is the path to some measure of serenity in a chaotic world.

      “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” — Reinhold Niebuhr, The Serenity Prayer

      I’m not the first to associate the Bartley poem with the Niebuhr sermon—you can find it right on Wikipedia if you like. I share them both here because they dance well together, and who doesn’t love a beautiful dance? Both offer timeless wisdom, yet each originated within the last hundred years.

      It helps to find something that will remind us that we must pause and assess all that washes over us, if only for a beat, and choose how to react. Some things we must endure. Some things we can work to change. But there are some things that we should never mind at all, for they aren’t ours to carry.

    • Aware and Alive

      “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” ― Albert Einstein

      Saying yes to more things is the opposite of a focused life. A focused life requires focus on one thing at the expense of all other things. That one thing may lead to mastery. Those many things may lead to diverse perspective and the ability to manage complexity, which in turn enables us to navigate a life full of its inevitable twists and turns. Which is a better way to live a full life?

      The answer is naturally ours to know. I believe it’s to work towards mastery in something, while striving to experience as much as possible each day. Awareness and an inclination to take the plunge into the next potential miracle are our ticket to the promise of the coming day.

      I’m no Jeremiah, saying a phrase like that. Miracles are ours to realize in how we live our lives each day. Our life may be modest or bold—each brings its own opportunity to encounter that which is beyond us. Are we aware of all that moves around us? It’s all a miracle, and so too are we. Our interaction with the world is ours alone, and never to be repeated in this dance with infinity.

      The question remains: What will we do with this miracle?

    • Expanding Circles

      “Travel is a fantastic self-development tool, because it extricates you from the values of your culture and shows you that another society can live with entirely different values and still function and not hate themselves. This exposure to different cultural values and metrics then forces you to reexamine what seems obvious in your own life and to consider that perhaps it’s not necessarily the best way to live.”
      ― Mark Manson, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck: A Counterintuitive Approach to Living a Good Life

      How comfortable are we, wrapped up in the stories we tell ourselves? Life either reinforces all that we hold to be true or it refutes it. We know that to get more physically fit we must break down our muscles through stress for them to grow. It’s the same with the mind. Diverse experience breaks down the stories we tell ourselves, that we may grow and learn to be something more than we were before. This all seems obvious, but it’s somehow controversial in certain circles.

      I’ve had a few conversations with people who don’t want to travel to places that they believe live by different stories than the ones they tell themselves. Herein lies the problem. We must first seek to understand, that we may be understood. We know already why we’re different. It’s our curated belief system—where we were born, the programming that sucked us in and has a hold on us, and that circle that we’re inclined to stay inside of for fear of what’s on the other side. Our life depends on escaping those circles that would imprison us in belief.

      The thing is, circles are useful too. They help define who we are and what we stand for. What is our identity? It’s right here in this circle of experience and learning, developed over a lifetime. We just can’t forget that we can grow the circle too. When we look at life as a series of discoveries that fill in the story of who we might be, we learn to be excited about the search for more experiences and challenges that test what we once believed, that we may fill in more of the circle and make it grow. What are we missing by staying within our current circle? Shouldn’t we go see for ourselves? A full life is expansive by nature.

    • Moving Through Us

      “Greatness is a transitory experience. It is never consistent. It depends in part upon the myth-making imagination of humankind. The person who experiences greatness must have a feeling for the myth he is in. He must reflect what is projected upon him. And he must have a strong sense of the sardonic. This is what uncouples him from belief in his own pretensions. The sardonic is all that permits him to move within himself. Without this quality, even occasional greatness will destroy a man.”
      — Frank Herbert, Dune

      You know when you’re in the midst of greatness. You can see it with your own eyes, feel it in your nervous system. There are so few who reach that level, and fewer still who can stay there for any amount of time, that it’s memorable when it washes over a moment. Tom Brady had a long dance with greatness. So did Michael Phelps. Sydney McLaughlin-Levrone is currently in the midst of greatness in the 400 meter hurdles and dash. Greatness is myth-like because it’s just so far beyond merely being good.

      To be sardonic is to be cynical, highly skeptical, and maybe a little sarcastic. Tom Brady had the perfect foil in Bill Belichick. We all need someone that keeps our ego in check and knock us down a notch when we begin to believe the hype. The alternative is to get too big for one’s britches. How many rise to greatness only to stumble back down to average when they succumb to the myth?

      People love the hero’s journey, but they learn to hate the person who is on top for too long. Maybe that’s because they keep the next hero from rising all the way to the top. It’s the rare few who are loved for their greatness because they exude something beyond the norm. Usain Bolt ran with a brash joyfulness that thrilled even the most casual observer.

      We may aspire to greatness but still be humble. Like a writer or artist who view themselves as a vehicle for the muse to bring art to the world, each of us are similarly bringing something beyond ourselves to whatever it is that we do. We ought to do it exceptionally well, that we may earn the right to do it again tomorrow. And maybe even better. We just can’t get so full of ourselves that the greatness has no room to move through us.