Alexandersmap

    Category: Philosophy

    • Knowing the Score

      Well the sun is surely sinking down
      But the moon is slowly rising
      And this old world must still be spinning ’round
      And I still love you
      So close your eyes
      You can close your eyes, it’s all right
      I don’t know no love songs
      And I can’t sing the blues anymore
      But I can sing this song
      And you can sing this song
      When I’m gone
      — James Taylor, You Can Close Your Eyes

      I’ve been busier and more focused lately. This offers the potential for productive days at the very moment when I’m less inclined to be productive. But I power through because to do otherwise would be to do dishonor to the work. Work is transactional, with both parties doing their part to honor the agreement. Employee at will, as the lawyers say. Today I will work, because life goes on and there’s just so much to do before I’m done.

      Life can end abruptly for any of us, but those who enter hospice do so knowing the score. Or sometimes it’s their loved ones who know the score while they quietly slip away. Perhaps we’ll know what they experience when we get there ourselves one day. One day they’re fully with us, the next they’re not fully there, and one day they’re gone. Yes, we know the score.

      I’ve been saving this song, anticipating my father’s passing one day soon. What a thing to do, holding a song for someone’s passing! But what I mean is it’s been on my mind while he’s been slipping away, and to share the lyrics before he passed seems to rush his passing along. I decided to use it today, because it feels like holding on isn’t fair to him. And maybe not fair to me either.

      So what does being an employee at will have to do with watching my father slip away from us? Maybe nothing more than perspective. Life offers many opportunities to honor agreements that we’ve entered into. We are born into a family, but we stay with them by choice. Dad and I have both been busy with other things the last few years of his awareness. We’ve come back together late in the game, but we’re still in the game. At least for a moment before it’s gone.

    • All Politics Are Local

      It occurred to me while walking just last night that the neighborhood had snuck back up on me again. For a few years there it felt isolated and suspicious, and angry at the state of the world. Or maybe that was always me, reacting to the trend in national politics, the trend towards oligarchs, the trend toward meanness and selfishness and isolationism.

      The world is a complicated mess—surely it is, but our world, the one that we live in every day, need not be. Community is the people who surround us. The people who knew us ten or twenty years ago and still choose to ask how we’re doing now. It occurred to me that the neighborhood is full of people who are just trying to make a go at this one precious life just like I am.

      It took a lot of walks with the pup to lift the fog of perception away. A dog is an invitation to shatter the cone of silence that hovers over people in this strange new world we live in. Polite nods become long conversations, which in turn flip the script from divisiveness to connectedness. And soon it feels like the place we were meant to be at this time in our lives.

      They say all politics are local. We all just want to be heard. We all just want to be accepted for who we are. Well, that requires a reciprocal investment in hearing others out, and accepting them for who they are too. The pendulum swings abruptly one direction to the next and back again over time. And all the while, we still have to live with one another. We might as well enjoy each other’s company.

    • Being Mad in a Prudent World

      “Run from what’s comfortable. Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious. I have tried prudent planning long enough. From now on I’ll be mad.” — Rumi

      We are too often prudent. We like to think ourselves mad, but we gradually move back to doing what is expected of us, what is logical, what will pay the bills and such. When all along our wild side cries for release. Do you still hear the cry, or has it been smothered to death?

      I’m not suggesting we each take the sum of our 401(k)’s and put it all in at the craps table, merely that we stray off the straight and narrow more often. Do what nobody ever expected of us now and then, just to keep them from believing they have us figured out. We are more than the expectations others that have of us—at least we ought to be.

      We stack our experiences neatly in a line, one day to the next. Towards the middle, we start to see a trend as our collection of experiences become our identity. This is who I am is as powerful an anchor as any. To slip that anchor in favor of this is who I will be is a scary proposition. And this is why most people never sail beyond that safe harbor. They reach the end of their days wondering where they might have gone but for a little courage to weigh that anchor and set the sails for adventure.

      I see my light come shining
      From the west unto the east.
      Any day now, any day now,
      I shall be released.
      — Bob Dylan, I Shall Be Released

      A blog is a form of expression. Perhaps it’s a way to let the cries have their say, or to document the gradual release of this writer from the anchors that once held him firmly in place. There’s far more to say and do, and following the heading of who we will be is easier said than done. But Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither are we, friend. The voyage begins with each step away from prudent, towards what once seemed quite mad. We find that what was prudent at anchor is mad when we’ve sailed beyond who we once were.

    • This is Not Enough

      “There are some days when I think I’m going to die from an overdose of satisfaction.” ― Salvador Dalí

      This summer, I’ve changed.
      A lot.
      Some people have noticed the changes,
      most have not…
      Ahh, but I have.

      Whatever leaps forward we make ought to be celebrated, but not lingered on. For we must reach further still. We must seize what flees, as Seneca warned us. To be complacent is to wither in place. To be satisfied is to leave our best on the table, conceding that we weren’t all that after all. Screw that! We must keep moving. We must keep changing and growing and discovering more of that untapped potential lying dormant under years of apathy and bliss, For this—this is not nearly enough.

      Some days this blog is just behind where I’ve landed. Some days it deceives the reader, for I’ve already crossed a chasm to another place. Today’s blog is just where I am—hitting some milestones, hungry for more and not nearly satisfied, poised to leap into the unknown again and again. We all must feel this way to become who we were meant to be. We all must put aside who we once were for something more compelling. That is our mission each day we rise to face the challenges change brings to us.

      “Non est ad astra mollis e terris via (There is no easy way from the earth to the stars)” ― Seneca

      A Seneca-heavy post today, but when the philosopher fits, wear it. The thing is, quotes and poems and our own words are nothing but affirmation until we do the work to close the gaps. It’s easy to say we’ll do something, harder to actually do it. Action, not words, are all that count in the end. Dissatisfaction is a trigger for the work that must follow to be all that we can be in this short go with a vibrant life. Being infers action. It is the creative act of climbing to possibility. For there is no easy way from the earth to the stars. We must go to them.

    • The Incredible Gift

      And under the trees, beyond time’s brittle drift,
      I stood like Adam in his lonely garden
      On that first morning, shaken out of sleep,
      Rubbing his eyes, listening, parting the leaves,
      Like tissue on some vast, incredible gift.
      — Mary Oliver, Morning in a New Land

      I’m nearing the end with my father, I can see that clearly now. In some ways our time ended years ago, back when we lost him to another life. And then we lost him again when his mind began to fail him, and you no longer recall the last time he said your name, because maybe your own memory betrays you in the recollection. Dementia is a bastard in this way, stealing the lives of people well before the heart stops beating. But eventually the heart will stop beating too. It won’t be long now.

      We may live in the present, but we still carry the past. Whatever it is that we carry is part of who we are, wherever it is that we are going. We may choose to release some things to lighten our load, or to hold on to memories that feel like someone else’s story the further we move away from them. Memories drift with the winds of time, offering glimpses of who we once were, like some movie that we watch again and again even though we know how it ends. When memory ends, does the story end with it? I think that those with dementia have had their burden released to those they leave behind—their memories are now only for others to carry.

      Life is this incredible gift, too often wasted on frivolous distractions, or perhaps we believe they are harnessed in relentless pursuit. But tell me, the pursuit of what? The gift is the present itself, whatever it’s wrapped up in. We must savor the days for what they bring. Even this. The long goodbye is its own gift, even if it doesn’t feel like it in the moment.

      Amor fati: love of fate. It’s easy to say these words, harder to live by them. We cannot control what fate brings us, we can only accept it and do the best we can on the test. For the sun will rise again, and we must carry on. The miracle remains that we were ever here at all.

    • To Live

      “To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.” — Oscar Wilde

      Do interesting things. Cross borders—real and imagined. Test the validity of advice from timid people. Discover the bridges that fill the gaps between who we are and who we aspire to become. For the clock is ticking and time grows short, even as we foolishly believe it may run on forever.

      There’s work to be done (surely there’s always work to be done), but make it work that explores limitations and offers a steep ascent in learning. Always remember that we may never pass this way again, so do what calls for attention while we are here—younger and more vibrant than we would be if we ever were to return.

      To live, and not to merely exist. This is our quest. Get to it already!

    • Making Magic

      “But all the magic I have known
      I’ve had to make myself.”
      — Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends

      We all find our way in this world. The question is, our way to what? Some live a life of servitude framed in family expectations or social status. Some are brought up believing that nothing matters anyway, so why try? Some are so focused on transcending where they started that they are forever climbing, ignoring anything that doesn’t bring them ever-closer to the top. And some walk through life looking to capture the magic of the moment as they present themselves. We are what we focus on. Give me magic.

      Living a life where we are forever collecting moments of magic may seem a frivolous waste of time to the climbers. The non-believers will wonder what the point of it all is when life is nothing but despair and worry to them. We can only work to help them see what was dancing in front of them all along.

      Magic is spun out of art and words arranged just so. Hope and love and beauty are spun of magic. Generosity and purpose are woven of magical fibers. Magic is in the interaction between fellow travelers on life’s journey. Magic is manufactured out of parts and pieces and collaboration. Magic is getting out of the way to watch our children grow into exceptional humans. Magic is daring to notice. Magic is daring to do, despite all the naysayers who believe that magic is childish nonsense.

      As with anything in this brief moment of consciousness, magic offers a spark of insight and wonder to illuminate the darkness and show others what is hiding in plain sight. To make magic is to help others to see beyond the anger and fear and misery that a singular focus on non-magical things brings to the world. This blog post may be nothing but a jumble of words, heavily sprinkled with the one, or a catalyst for awareness. It’s not for me to say which it might be.

    • Purpose in the Flow

      Teachers told us the Romans built this place
      They built a wall and a temple
      And an edge of the empire garrison town
      They lived and they died
      They prayed to their gods
      But the stone gods did not make a sound
      And their empire crumbled till all that was left
      Were the stones the workmen found
      All this time
      The river flowed
      In the falling light
      Of a northern sun
      — Sting, All This Time

      Our empires will crumble one day: We learn to accept this even as we continue to gain momentum in the current of life, for this is our time and these are our days to do and be. To exist at all is a blessing worthy of a deliberate life. To move through our time deliberately is to honor the gift, even as we struggle to understand the meaning of it all.

      The river flows endlessly to the sea: At the point of their finally meeting is an estuary, with swirling whirlpools of confusion and the brackish mix of fresh and salt water exerting their will upon the other. The sea always wins in the end, but it never forgets that it is the river that gives it life. In return, it will give up it’s waters to begin the cycle again and again. So it is that life is a series of tolls paid for the privilege of being here, now. We ought to pay that toll with gratitude to our final breath.

      Progress hides in plain sight: We chip away at our goals—fitness, work, writing, books read, or maybe faraway ports of call, and with each small win we feel that sense of accomplishment for having made another step forward. Even the occasional stumble is okay, so long as we feel we’re moving in the right direction. We don’t really know where it all will take us, but collecting incremental wins feel like the right thing to stack up in a short dance with a vibrant health span. What else are we going to do with our time but grow and learn and find connection with other like-minded beings making their own way through the madness of life? Our purpose is found in the flow, not in the arrival.

    • Work to Be Done

      “Allow yourself the opportunity to get uncomfortable.” — Alex Toussaint

      When we move into uncomfortable situations, we are making a choice to move away from our old identity into something decidedly new. That in and of itself is daunting. Throw in some well-meaning friends trying to gently pull you back to who you once were and it moves up to challenging. But stay the course and something switches within. It all becomes easier. Our identity has changed from someone who prefers the comfortably familiar to someone who stretches their limitations.

      Living in a constant state of getting uncomfortable requires a productive mindset. There is work to be done, we tell ourselves, because we aren’t done yet. One area of life blends with another, and another, and soon we’re finding we aren’t dwelling on excuses anymore, we’re just doing what needs to be done to make progress towards the higher standard we’ve set for ourselves. This applies to work, our health and fitness, our relationships with others, to what we read or the information we otherwise consume, and sure—to what we write. We haven’t reached personal excellence yet, but we’ve lived to fight another day. So fight for it.

      If progress is the goal, whatever the pursuit, then comfort is the enemy. We simply cannot progress when we’re holding tight to what was already comfortable for us. To climb away from that scenic vista into the unknown may make us question our sanity at times. What is sanity but behaving in a normal and rational way? Who decides what is normal or rational? The people who want things to stay just the way things have always been. What a sad, boring existence that would be. Identity is a foundation, not our final destination. Keep moving—there’s work to be done.

    • Practicing Significance

      “No matter the self-conceited importance of our labors we are all compost for worlds we cannot yet imagine.” ― David Whyte

      To be progressing in one part of our lives is meaningful, but incomplete if we aren’t also making strides in the rest of our lives. Balance, as they say, is the key. Progress in fitness and nutrition bodes well, but we can’t ignore our intellectual development while we hone our body into shape. We cannot be a champion of personal excellence if we aren’t reaching beyond ourselves to help others reach theirs, for we are all in this together, even when we sometimes wish to simply go it alone. Some aspire to make a dent in the universe, some aspire to write their own verse. Each is a way to make our brief time dancing with life more meaningful and lasting (in the form of a legacy of contribution).

      There’s no denying that a career is a large and meaningful part of life. If I’ve had any success in business it was built on listening to the needs of others and finding answers. People want to feel they’re being listened to. The world is simply looking for someone to get back to them. We reach out to others, expect an answer or at the very least a timely response, and hope for resolution to whatever started the transaction. Those who follow through are quietly powerful agents of trust and belief. We learn who can be relied upon and follow them throughout their careers. That network of trusted alliances is the foundation, not just of a strong career but a life of significance.

      Each day is an opportunity for connection. Checking in with people just to see how they’re doing, working to solve problems that arise, lending an ear when it’s all that someone needed in that moment—these are how we maintain lifetime bonds with our fellow time travelers. Achievement looks nice on a resume but is shallow on its own. Significance has deeper roots, and allows for growth beyond the individual.

      What do we practice in our daily lives? Looking beyond ourselves is the path to significance and purpose. This may seem out of touch with the current vibe in the world, but what will we remember in the end of our time on earth? How will we be remembered by those who survive us?