Alexandersmap

    Category: Philosophy

    • 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?

    • Becoming Better at Seeing

      I was talking to one of my in-law’s neighbors while walking the pup on their street. The neighbor has reached a place where you might call her elderly and frail, but was out shoveling her driveway because her grandson hadn’t shown up to do it. We’re all so busy this time of year… the grandson surely wouldn’t have let his grandmother shovel her driveway alone on a frigid day, but he wasn’t there to witness it and step in. My daughter and I were, and finished her driveway, cleared off her car and asked her if she wanted to come over to join us at the holiday party we were having. She politely declined and thanked us for the invitation.

      We become comfortable in our routines, even when those routines don’t make sense for us anymore. In a perfect world the tribe would revere and support the tribal elders. We live in a world where we’re tapped out and stretched thin, and sometimes we don’t get around to making the call or stopping by to see how those tribal elders are doing. Often they’re holding on by a thread, doing the best they can. A burst of snow quickly freezing into concrete has the potential to put someone over the edge without a lifeline.

      When we slow down a beat and stop rushing on to the next thing with our blinders on, our peripheral vision improves greatly. There are people moving through this world who easily see gaps and fill them with their full attention. I aspire to be more like them, while knowing I’m one of those people who are often too busy to have that situational awareness. We all want to help, don’t we? We just don’t always see. As we move down our path towards personal excellence, becoming better at seeing and solving is something to aspire to. We’re all in this tribe together, aren’t we?

    • Time Is Our Treasure

      If I could make days last forever
      If words could make wishes come true
      I’d save every day like a treasure and then
      Again, I would spend them with you
      — Jim Croce, Time in a Bottle

      When I was younger, I felt that time flew by. Now my kids talk about how quickly time flies. One day maybe I’ll have grandchildren making the observation. Humans have been making this observation since our brains developed to discern such things as time and our place in it. Tempus fugit.

      We’re told to treasure each day, for each is the most valuable thing we can spend. Time is our treasure. Some spend frivolously, some frugally. We ourselves work to maximize our days, but still see too much of our time slip away. We aren’t meant to have it all, maybe just enough. All we can do is the best we can with it.

      Awareness seems to be the magic ingredient for savoring. We develop a taste for living when we view it all as buried treasure in the sands of time. What lies hidden from us is revealed day-by-day, captured in photographs and memories. Our treasure is as substantial as we make it.

    • That Which Brings You Alive

      Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
      confinement of your aloneness
      to learn
      anything or anyone
      that does not bring you alive
      is too small for you.
      — David Whyte, Sweet Darkness

      I’ve been on the receiving end of a few calls in the last week. People who I’ve worked with, befriended and sometimes mentored. I tend to listen well when all someone wants is for someone to listen. We all need that now and then, don’t we? The world is full of people who call out in the darkness. I believe that it can always use more people who answer that call.

      We’re closing in on the darkest day of the year in the northern hemisphere. I don’t mind darkness so much. I wear it like an old flannel shirt that becomes a part of us over time. I view the seasons for what they are and the changes they bring, and work to be present in it. Still, the days are very short this time of year. And for a lot of people, all that time in the dark makes the absences feel more apparent. What is missing is as much a part of who we are as what we have.

      We make the most of our situations, hopeful that things will somehow change, looking for a spark in the darkness from which we may find our way. Sometimes we overstay our time in the dark, simply because we get used to living in it. We forget sometimes that this is our one go at things. If something or someone isn’t making us feel alive, surely it’s slowly killing us. That lesson is apparent when we escape the darkness, but hard to see when we’re in it.

      Just as a match requires friction to create a spark, choosing joyful connection over isolation is a path to the light. Like attracts like, the law of attraction insists, and we find that we aren’t so alone after all. That which brings us alive is our lifeline to enlightenment and fulfillment. We shouldn’t waste a second holding on to anything else.

    • The Noble Road

      “There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.” — Ernest Hemingway

      I was out for a walk on the local rail trail, looking at the ice formations developing on the ledge, when I noticed someone had tagged some of the rock face. My opinion of tagging isn’t positive. It’s someone spray-painting inane symbols of self importance on something that in many cases was more beautiful before the affront. And yet I’m a fan of street art. It’s the same paint, but in my opinion the intent is different. I value order over chaos, and tagging nature is chaos in my mind. Collectively, we must choose a better path.

      I’m a better technical writer than I once was if only because I think more about the semicolon in Hemingway’s quote and the em dash I used to credit him for the quote than I did when I began blogging. But being a technical writer was never the aspiration (no doubt my writing still makes an editor shudder). Being a person who has something interesting to write about is the true goal. Some days are full of growth in this regard, some days leave something to be desired. The road to better continues upward.

      Better in and of itself is useless unless we leverage it for growth and enlightenment. The noble road is a path of goodwill towards others, of mutual support for common goals and uncommon dreams. It’s Kaizen (constant and never-ending improvement of the self) with the aim of arete (that forever evasive personal excellence). We may never reach excellence, but the climb towards it has a nicer view.

      We know that art is highly subjective, and one person’s junk is another’s art. I may not understand or appreciate some art for all that it represents, but I generally find connection in the intent of the work. When an artist aspires towards excellence, it shines through in both their art and in how they move through the world. We can see when someone is on the noble road just as easily as we can see when they’re on the road to ruin. The trick is to rise above the distractions of life and see which road we ourselves are on.

    • A Path to Better

      “Don’t surrender your agency and revert to the numbing day-to-day grind of compliance. You can make things better.” — Seth Godin, This Is Strategy

      If you’ve ever been to the American Southwest you may have been warned about flash floods. It might be beautiful right where you are, but a downpour elsewhere upstream takes all that water that can’t seep gently into the hardened earth into a flow to the low. That in turn creates a rush of water into stream beds and rivers, which turn the clear water muddy and confused. And then the water begins to rapidly rise, sweeping anything or anyone caught in it into the confusion. The only thing to do in such an event is to climb up as high as possible and hold on to something solid.

      There are different kinds of grind. The positive grind is working hard at our craft with a healthy dose of hustle and focus. We know what needs to be done and we get after it. Writing this blog post is one expression of getting after it for me, hopefully the first of a string of positive expressions towards making the most of the day.

      The negative grind is often felt on Sunday night when you know you’ve got to go to a job you hate the next morning. We go through the motions, follow the rules and generally become conditioned to stop caring. The negative grind is a complete surrender of agency. There are millions of people suffering through their days right now—we must not let it be our fate.

      It’s not easy to tear ourselves away from a negative grind when we don’t have a clear path to something positive. The trick is to scramble out of it to something better. This isn’t always easy when we have bills to pay and a routine that locks us into place, but we’ll be swept away with all the rest if we don’t climb immediately. Grab a lifeline and hold on until we find our footing, then take another step and another until we reach higher ground.

      That lifeline is found in positive anchors like writing, taking a class and exercise. It’s a lifeline to agency, which leads to that foothold to higher ground. When the grind begins to feel less clear, when the stream begins to get muddy and confused, we must feel the urgency to take control of our own situation. Ignore the apathy of the compliant and find a path to better. Knowing that we must keep climbing or be swept into the abyss.