Alexandersmap

    Category: Philosophy

    • Bridge Building

      “Agency is a divine gift to you. You are free to choose what you will be and what you will do.” — Russell M. Nelson

      “Francisco, what’s the most depraved type of human being?”
      “The man without a purpose.”
      — Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged

      Agency is the essential difference between going through life a serf or carving out a life of self-actualization. It’s the combustion in our engine on this locomotive we call identity. Otherwise what are we but freight cars being towed by someone else’s dream?

      This year has already brought challenges beyond our control, just as every other year in our lives has. We should help those in need where we can, but we must remember not to focus on the chasms we cannot close. Doing so leads to feelings of hopelessness and indifference. These aren’t the tools of agency, they’re given to those who would take them to break their spirit and put out any fire burning inside, that they too may be towed along with all the rest.

      Those with high agency focus on what they can control and take measurable steps to build bridges to realize their dreams. This internal drive is within all of us, but it must be coaxed back out to be realized. Step away from the chasm of indifference the world suggests is our lot in life and move towards bridge building. If we are to do anything in this life, we must begin now. There is no other right time than this one.

    • In the Ripple

      “Men see God in the ripple but not in miles of still water. Of all the two-thousand miles that the St. Lawrence flows—pilgrims go only to Niagara.” — Henry David Thoreau, The Journal of Henry David Thoreau

      As a pilgrim to many a waterfall, including Niagara, I know the call of white water. Isn’t it thrilling to experience the power of water channeled into a plummet? Yet Niagara herself is only a fraction of what she was before most of her water was redirected to hydroelectric power. It turns out that I’m keen on productivity too, and appreciate the clean energy even as I wonder what those falls felt like before they were diminished.

      We focus so much on the ripple we’re making that we forget that a pond was beautiful before the splash is made at all. Deep down we know that those still waters may still be here for what feels like eternity, but humans don’t have that kind of timeline. We feel a compulsion to do something in our time. If it any wonder we’re attracted to the ripple?

      Action is thus our call. Sometimes it’s in service of the harvest; productive and purposeful. Often it’s merely busyness for its own sake, as if churning the waters enough will make up for direction. The thing is, it’s no secret that water that’s been churned up is often murky. To bring clarity we must also have stillness. All this busyness in our lives doesn’t lend itself to insight or revelation.

      I grew up in New England, where great mill cities were built with the power of channeled water. In the spring when the waters are flowing quickly it’s not difficult to maintain momentum in the mills. But after the waters recede, the mills have difficulty getting enough power. So the mill engineers built giant reservoirs to help regulate the flow of water for optimal performance.

      We run ourselves dry if we don’t pause now and then and gather ourselves. We must learn to settle into our stillness and see what it brings. We may find our creativity flows far better when we fill our own reservoir. Seeking out balance in this way brings us to sustained productivity and the ripple we wish to make, and also to revelation and purpose, that we may find the right channel for our power.

    • Realizing Growth

      “You are under no obligation to be the same person you were five minutes ago.” — Alan Watts

      “The purpose of learning is growth, and our minds, unlike our bodies, can continue growing as we continue to live.”— Mortimer Adler

      I finished a second book this year, a good pace if you look at how early in the year we are, but these were stubborn books that didn’t want to finish with me in the prior year. Everything has it’s time, and certainly this rings true with books. Looking at my highlights and notes from each, I’ve made a couple of incremental steps forward this year. Let’s call that a win in a year that has otherwise started out in concerning ways.

      We know that we’re all (sometimes reluctantly) connected, but we must remain focused on our own development over the trends of humanity, and then use our growth as a catalyst for change. Knowledge isn’t something to hoard like a greedy billionaire’s money, it’s something we share with others as we navigate the world together. This blog is written to share what I pick up along the way, but so is a conversation with a random stranger sharing the same space in a café. We never really know how far our ripple will carry, only that this is our time to turn our accumulated experience and learning into a bigger splash.

      The aim isn’t to be an influencer, but to be influenced by the experiences and knowledge we gather along the way. Shouldn’t we all calculate our lives, not by time alive on this planet, but by our accumulation of experience in our living years? As a tree with it’s rings marking seasons, some years are growth years and some are survival years, but there’s a ring either way.

      It’s no coincidence that ripples from a stone dropped in a still pond resemble the rings of a tree (we might take this analogy all the way out to the universe itself—naturally we aren’t the center of it, no matter what our mother’s told us, but surely our energy and matter are an integral part of it). At the core of each of us is identity, focused either on growth or survival (holding on to what we have already). What will this year be for us? We must act on our intentions if we wish to realize growth.

    • The View of Here

      Gratitude—is not the mention
      Of a Tenderness,
      But its still appreciation
      Out of Plumb of Speech.

      When the Sea return no Answer
      By the Line and Lead
      Proves it there’s no Sea, or rather
      A remoter Bed?
      — Emily Dickinson

      As I write this, my daughter has moved twice to put some distance between herself and the wildfires raging in Los Angeles. She is now thankfully in a safer place, but it was a stark reminder of just how fragile our days are. I read about people losing everything but what they carry with them and I look around and wonder what I’d grab on my way out the door should it happen here. The answer is both everything and nothing at all but the souls who orbit my world.

      It’s no surprise that this blogger leans into productivity and improvement. The question we must always ask ourselves is, towards what? Where is all the hustle and effort bringing us? When we read a book, is it for the simple pleasure of reading that book or are we trying to glean something out of it to help move the chains down the field? We ought to remember the simply pleasures in our march, and learn to savor the view of here.

      The things we are grateful for generally outweigh the things we find lacking in our lives, but humans have a way of focusing on the latter anyway. Constant, never-ending improvement is a blessing and a curse, for this march to personal excellence means we’re rarely satisfied with where we are. Simply taking stock of all that we have already clarifies exactly how deep our blessings run. We don’t need a crisis to clarify, we simply need to stop forever chasing the promise of potential to swim in the abundant depth of here and now.

    • Silence, Exile, and Cunning

      “I will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe, whether it calls itself my home, my fatherland, or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defense the only arms I allow myself to use—silence, exile, and cunning.” ― James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

      We’re in a strange new world, full of people believing unbelievable things. Or maybe the world has always been strange and unbelievable, and I’ve just risen above the din to finally see it all myself. These are days we’ll remember, at least if we survive long enough and the victors are on the right side of history.

      Belief is a funny thing, carrying us to places we may never have imagined we’d go to, simply because we believed the story that pulled us there. This can serve us well, when used for snuffing out imposter syndrome and such things for productive work. The day I stepped away from anonymous blogging to having friends and family fully aware of what I’m writing (if at all inclined) was a notable moment in my development as a writer. There are other notable moments to come this year on the writing front (I believe this to be true).

      Belief can also be used to control the masses. The world is a far more dangerous place because of shared beliefs of “us versus them”. It leads to mass indifference at the separation of families at borders and the bombing of hospitals and schools, all to keep them from threatening us. We all know the world is a complicated place with no easy answers, but when someone loudly starts pointing their fat finger at another group and screaming “Them!” it’s usually time to back slowly away to look for the real story. But who tells real stories anymore?

      There is no them
      There’s only us
      — U2, Invisible

      The thing I tell people who dare to ask me what I think is that we must build resilience into our lives. Some people believe resilience is hoarding guns, food and toilet paper. There’s a whole economy built around those folks. My own form of resilience lies in creating more diversity in my diet. Better nutrition for the mind and body through selective consumption. More books, poetry and song, less curated social media and billionaire-run mass media. And, as James Joyce suggested, the use of silence, exile and cunning to build a mote between the zealots and all that I know to be true in this world.

      There’s nothing silent about a blog post. It’s a stamp of stated beliefs marking this moment in time. A betrayal that I’m still trying to change the world for the better. We may choose to be a voice for reason and acceptance, after all. At least until things really go to hell and they ship us all to Greenland to mine precious metals for the next generation of self-driving cars, weaponized drones and phones that tell us what to believe next (I digress).

      We may be selectively silent when it suits our purposes, just as we may exile ourselves from the zealots who would have us fall in line. Both tools have limitations in a small world with big reach. That leaves us with cunning. We must be smarter than the average bear, to stay one step ahead of what they want to tell us is true. This is the ultimate resilience, and it begins and ends with our audacity to think differently.

    • Like Wind Blowing

      “Things don’t have purposes, as if the universe were a machine, where every part has a useful function. What’s the function of a galaxy? I don’t know if our life has a purpose and I don’t see that it matters. What does matter is that we’re a part. Like a thread in a cloth or a grass-blade in a field. It is and we are. What we do is like wind blowing on the grass.” — Ursula K. Le Guin

      It is and we are. What matters is we’re a part. We need not make sense of it all, for who can possibly know? What matters is that we are playing our part in the universe in our time.

      This echoes of Walt Whitman’s famous answer in O Me! O Life! which will always be read with the voice of Robin Williams in my head:

      “That you are here—that life exists and identity,
      That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.”

      Some of us forever dwell on the why. Some descend into nihilism, as if a why matters a lick, for existence itself is folly. And some simply get straight to work, believing action creates a why. The only thing we control is our reaction to the world we find ourselves dropped into. What do we find when we break down the word reaction? Google AI to the podium:

      “The Latin word reāctiō is the origin of both the Old French and Middle English words, which comes from the verb reagō. Reagō is made up of the prefix re- meaning ‘again’ and the word agō meaning ‘to act’.”

      To act again. Like wind blowing through the grass, we stir meaning out of the inanimate and create a life for ourselves. This is what it means to be alive. To play a part infers action, for which we must boldly embrace our agency. Life has purpose or it’s meaningless—we play a part in determining which it will be. Who says we can’t make our part a thrilling page-turner?

    • ‘Tis Time for Action

      Action may not always bring happiness; but there is no happiness without action.” — Benjamin Disraeli

      Some of us are excellent planners. I pride myself on planning every detail of a trip, whether business or pleasure, to ensure I make the most of my time wherever I’m going to. There’s room built in for discovery, but the key building blocks of an impactful and successful trip are covered. The key to maximizing the return on that time and effort investment spent in planning is action. We must do the things we said we were going to do.

      We’ve turned the corner into a new year. All that planning must now be realized through action. The workouts, the calls we promised to make, the books we said we’d read and the waterfalls we said we’d go see are all lined up and waiting for us. We must keep our promises to ourselves and do something with the opportunity.

      Everyone wants to be happy, but what is happiness but a byproduct of action? What is a long term, happy marriage? Ask someone out on a date, find there’s a spark, build bridges out of common ground, and thirty years later find that we’ve built a hell of a life together. Happiness is the series of actions by each player in the relationship to keep it all together through all that life throws at us along the way.

      What is the opposite of happiness? Indifference. Which is manifested by inaction. Every day I play frisbee with the pup. The moment one of us becomes indifferent the game is over. One side is waiting for the other to be present again and momentum fizzles away. It’s not such a leap to see this applies to more than frisbee. When we go through the motions, skip steps, and drift away mentally or physically, the gap grows between the state we wanted and the reality of our life. We must invest ourselves daily in the work necessary to keep the game alive, whatever that game is for us.

      So here we are with all that planning just waiting to be executed on. We know the first step is going to be awkward, but still a bit thrilling. We know our inclination may one day—maybe tomorrow, maybe next week—lead to indifference. Just as indifference kills action, action kills indifference. Each day we show up builds momentum. So we must show up and honor all that planning with action.

    • Light the Signal Fire

      “Life is too short to be little. Man is never so manly as when he feels deeply, acts boldly, and expresses himself with frankness and with fervor.” — Benjamin Disraeli

      There were days this year that felt pretty small. Those days working from home with a few scheduled Teams meetings were pretty ordinary. Some days the farthest I ventured was the top of the street walking the dog. Let me assure you that this is not a criticism of being home, but of balance. Everything has its time. We can retreat to the comfort of our homes when we are older, more frail and less inclined towards adventure. One day too soon we will lack the stamina for vigorous living. While we are healthy and vibrant we owe it to ourselves to be bolder.

      Now don’t get me wrong, the past year had a healthy dose of adventure. I’m grateful for the places we’ve gone, the projects we’ve completed and the long string of bucket list experiences that made 2024 one for the ages. Truly, many of those experience will be once in our lifetime. We can savor who we’ve become while still aiming for more.

      The thing is, we get a taste for living a larger life, and those days we settle in to the every day routine can feel, well, routine. We must spend the currency we have in its season, be it health, wealth or time, because some things cannot be saved for a later date. We must know when we’ve chopped enough wood. There comes a time when we need to stop chopping and light that fire already! To allow it to burn brighter, as a signal fire to the world that we are here, and to warm ourselves in the glow of memories in our less vigorous days to come.

    • Forever Our Measure

      Forever – is composed of Nows –
      ‘Tis not a different time –
      Except for Infiniteness –
      And Latitude of Home –

      From this – experienced Here –
      Remove the Dates – to These –
      Let Months dissolve in further Months –
      And Years – exhale in Years –

      Without Debate – or Pause –
      Or Celebrated Days –
      No different Our Years would be
      From Anno Dominies –
      — Emily Dickinson, Forever

      The last few days of the year are upon us. Honestly I’ve felt the days a blur for months. Even now the rush to fit it all in before the year is over weighs on me. Another year almost in the books—doesn’t it all fly right by? We know that the calendar was created to organize our lives around our place in the heavens, with a trip around the sun marking the year, the turn of the planet marking the day, and so on. But I’m convinced it was really created to remind us that we can’t possibly fit everything we want to do in to the time allotted to us.

      Is it any wonder we turn our attention to time and our place in it as we approach the New Year? How did those resolutions turn out? I’m a couple of posts away from blogging every day of the year, but ten books short of a reading goal I’d set for myself. Is such scorekeeping necessary to live a life of purpose and excellence? Of course not. Like the calendar itself it’s merely a tool for keeping us on track. We all want to see progress for ourselves in whatever pursuit matters most for us.

      Knowing our place in history and our short shelf life available with which to work creates a burden to perform. As the year ends, we either like how we measure up or we don’t. The time has slipped away in any case. But we have this new calendar year just ahead, calling our attention. A new hope, if you will, to make things right. But we lucky humans don’t live a lifetime in a year—we bridge years. The way we keep score ought to be measured in progress across our entire lifespan. Personal excellence is always and forever our measure. Now is our time.

    • It’s the Zombies Who Burned the Witches

      “All empty souls tend to extreme opinion. It is only in those who have built up a rich world of memories and habits of thought that extreme opinions affront the sense of probability. Propositions, for instance, which set all the truth upon one side can only enter rich minds to dislocate and strain, if they can enter at all, and sooner or later the mind expels them by instinct.” — William Butler Yeats

      I stumbled upon the social media rantings of an old college friend recently. I was shocked by the conspiracy theories being spouted, and recoiled at the gap that has developed between her worldview and my own. I’d tried to debate her before on her accuracy, but alas, she wouldn’t budge. Another college friend reminded me of the line they use when logic isn’t working: If you only knew what I knew. Right. If only…

      I understand better how people once burned witches. They were simply too devoid of experience to understand the things happening to them. When we know how to prevent smallpox or the plague, or to mitigate infant mortality or crop failure, we stop blaming the neighbor’s daughter who looked at us funny. We’ve entered a time when extreme opinions are paralyzing our progress, and it’s a direct result of the poverty of experience in the daily diet of so many. We’re all in danger of being burned at the stake as we look at these people who once seemed normal spiral into conspiracy theories fueled by an over-reliance on “Internet facts”.

      Have you noticed that all of the people living in the world’s intellectual centers perish in the zombie apocalypse movies? The survivors all move to remote walled villages with high walls and guns that somehow kill already dead people. In the real world, the zombies are the people building walls that close out contrary opinions and buying guns to fend off those who would dare cross them. We all agree that we must not become zombies, we just don’t agree on what a zombie actually is.

      In truth, I am conspiring—to keep hope alive. To help people find informational nutrition, and with it, to form better opinions. To seek experience beyond the walls, where insight lives. That pendulum has to swing back to consensus and shared beliefs some day, right? The alternative is to build our own walls, and doesn’t the world have enough of those already?