Alexandersmap

    Category: Poetry

    • Say the Word

      A word is dead
      When it is said,
      Some say.
      I say it just
      Begins to live
      That day.
      — Emily Dickinson

      Many years ago, when I was but a young college freshman, I would wander about in the library stacks, quietly looking at the book spines for hidden treasure. One of my best finds was Typee by Herman Melville. Years later, having purchased the book to reread after a couple of decades away from it, I loaned that book to a friend who loved it so much he named his sailboat after a character in the book. I will always remember Fayaway for leaping off the page to become a central character in the lives of a couple of friends.

      Most of what we write will die of neglect—ignored or forgotten by the masses. But now and then we find something magical hidden within a jumble of words and realize that our words haven’t died, they just haven’t been discovered yet. The trick is to create something worthy of discovery, that magic might ensue. Something that leaps off the page and becomes quite real and alive.

    • Life and Poetry

      All the things to which I give myself
      grow rich and spend me.
      — Rainer Maria Rilke, The Poet

      We are what we focus on, for we are spending our lives in the process. Wherever we go, whatever we do, we are doling out our grains of sand. The time will never return again. Awareness of the value of time is our curse and our saving grace. The only answer for tempus fugit is carpe diem.

      I read poetry to encounter verse like that above. I write to try to arrive at something approaching the feeling I get when I read it. Perhaps you read it the same way, or wonder what the fuss is about. We all bring our own lens to life and poetry. For me, Rilke demonstrates that we are timeless and fragile all at once.

      I’m delighted by the perfect crust on a sourdough. The aroma of fresh herbal bread made on a hot day when I had no business using the oven but eagerly pay the toll for the way the house smells as the bread bakes. Candles are nice, baking bread is nirvana. Should we not pursue with vigor all that makes us feel alive?

      Sourdough is a two-day event. One makes the dough today to bake tomorrow. That in itself is an act of faith that we’ll be around tomorrow to enjoy the bread, but life’s greatest rewards aren’t immediately gratified. One must earn tomorrow today.

      That which delights us offers a higher return on the minutes spent. It’s not nihilistic to seek a higher return on our time, it’s our duty to our one precious life to maximize our value. To derive meaning from minutes spent vigorously. The spend will happen on its own. ’tis the vigor we bring that makes all the difference, now and in that uncertain future awaiting us.

    • Something Gritty and Tangible

      Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,
      Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;
      So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another,
      Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.
      — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Theologian’s Tale; Elizabeth

      We modern time travelers are forever busy, distracted and hustling on to the next. We ought to remember that many encounters we have will be our one and only exchange with a fellow time-traveler. Or it may be the last of many. The lesson? Savor the time together, however fleeting it may be. For we will never pass this way again.

      Since his untimely passing last week, I’ve been on a Glen Hansard binge. This often happens when an artist passes—we are reminded of their work, and seek to know more about what they’ve left behind that we may have missed. And with Glen Hansard, there is a whole catalog of brilliant, stunning music and film to choose from. Dare I say, he was the Van Morrison of Gen X.

      One might say the deck is stacked against us reaching even a small percentage of our potential, let alone our potential time with others. We must prioritize, and hope that we encounter the right ships in the night along our way, and at just the right time. This requires our receptiveness, active awareness and diligence, before the opportunity slips away forever.

      We can’t possibly experience everything, or know everyone. Inevitably something slips right through our grasp. Like sand, we can’t grab hold of it too tightly or too much squeezes through. But we can grab our share and hold on just tightly enough to feel we’ve got something gritty and tangible on our hands even as the rest flows past us in a whir. Sometimes, maybe that’s enough.

    • Fully Alive

      We slip in and out of rituals and routines. Like most people, I’d become dissatisfied with some of the things that used to wrap around me and call themselves a part of me. And I’ve grown equally dissatisfied for having let some good habits slip away. As with everything, it all depends on where we’re heading.

      The right routine, the right ritual, brings us closer to Arete (personal excellence). The wrong routines and rituals slide us sideways into the abyss. In this way, habits, routines and rituals are a very serious thing indeed.

      We have this one life to live, wherever it’s taking us. We tell ourselves that we don’t have time to waste on laziness and lack of focus. But is it laziness to focus on something other than a relentless drive to a goal? Consider a favorite poem:

      Oh do you have time
      to linger
      for just a little while
      out of your busy

      and very important day
      for the goldfinches
      that have gathered
      in a field of thistles

      for a musical battle,
      to see who can sing
      the highest note,
      or the lowest,

      or the most expressive of mirth,
      or the most tender?
      Their strong, blunt beaks
      drink the air

      as they strive
      melodiously
      not for your sake
      and not for mine

      and not for the sake of winning
      but for sheer delight and gratitude—
      believe us, they say,
      it is a serious thing

      just to be alive
      on this fresh morning
      in the broken world.
      I beg of you,

      do not walk by
      without pausing
      to attend to this
      rather ridiculous performance.

      It could mean something.
      It could mean everything.
      It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
      You must change your life.
      — Mary Oliver, Invitation

      When this day ends, as it inevitably will, what will we have done with it? Pursuit of a clear objective is a worthy goal, but so too is the bold act of simply being alive and aware of the delightful moment we find ourselves in. The trick, I think, is to follow the path but to take off the blinders. Not to succumb to distraction but rather to savor more of the flavor of the day. We are here, this is it, do we see all that is possible in this pregnant moment? Be delighted, be grateful, and above all else, be fully alive.

    • A Ritual of Now

      If you’ll forgive the brag, the garden is looking good this year. A bit of good luck was (and is always) involved, with rain happening while traveling to mitigate the impact of irregular watering in my absence, followed by a well-timed return to tend to things when the heat rose. Whether luck or accumulated experience planting things that are happy in the microclimate I place them in, the garden is thriving. The outcome of our lives is a combination of luck and the steady influence of consistent action. We can debate the ratio, or simply accept what is and what will be.

      If you’re reading this, you’re bucking the trend in the United States to read less. I find myself writing a little less to read a little more. We give our time to what we want in the moment. I’d like to finish more books this year, even if it’s at the expense of a few more blog posts. We tend to become what we measure. Life is too short to do everything we want to do in our time. I’d like to devoir a few more books each year than my present pace.

      I’ve always been a contrarian, a maverick, a rebel. If only in my own mind. The truth is I generally follow the rules and chafe at those who don’t. That explains my overall dismay at the state of things in the country and the exuberance of those who celebrate the downward spiral. But I’m not here to preach and complain. Like you, friend, I’m here to make strides forward.

      I walk toward
      the kitchen
      door as if walking
      toward the
      door of a recognized
      heaven

      and see the
      simplicity
      of shelves and
      the blue dishes
      and the
      vaporing
      steam rising
      from the kettle
      that called me in.

      Not just this
      aromatic cup
      from which to drink
      but the flavor
      of a life made whole
      and lovely
      through the
      imagination
      seeking its way.
      — David Whyte, At Home

      The long, hot days of July are upon us. We ought to dance with each day while it remains our partner. Soon it will be but a summer fling with time gone by. We are here, now, living as we do. In the quest to become what’s next, we shouldn’t lose sight of what is. The way from here is worth contemplating, but never lose sight of the ritual of now. To celebrate and savor all of this is our bold act of presence. So be bold, and savor this day.

    • Love For the World

      “Imagine that you’re unwell and in a foul mood, and they’re taking you through some lovely countryside. The landscape is beautiful but you’re not in the mood to see anything. A few days later you pass the same place and you say, “Good heavens, where was I that I didn’t notice all of this?” Everything becomes beautiful when you change.” — Anthony De Mello, Awareness

      The world, such that it is, can be hard to take some days. As a glass half full operator, I work hard to skate my lane, leaving the pessimism and despair-at-everything to others. Life is short, after all, we must make of it what we may in our time. Still, it’s hard not to take note of the setbacks.

      Illegitimi non carborundum: Don’t let the bastards grind you down.

      Those bastards are on both sides of the political spectrum, dealing in despair and outrage and self-pity. They’re our worst enemies but sometimes also the people we love and trust the most, unloading their burden on us. But we don’t have to wear that fecal matter on our shoulders; we may choose to move ourselves away from the matter pilers altogether.

      I don’t say
      it’s easy, but
      what else will do
      if the love one claims to have for the world
      be true?
      — Mary Oliver, Lines Written in the Days of Growing Darkness

      It’s not easy to forgo outrage in an outrageous time, but it’s essential life force management for the aspiration of a beautiful soul. We don’t have to wear rose-colored glasses as we move through the world. Nor do we have to see it through a filter of pessimism, anger or misery. Simply see and be, with a bias towards beauty. When we add enough light the darkness retreats. Now how lovely is that?

    • A Birthday Wish

      Today is the 4th of July, which for America means a big shiny 250th celebration of sorts. Many of us celebrate with reservation, concerned as we are with the state of things. I won’t spend a moment longer than necessary debating with the other side on this one, any more than I’ll join a pity party. Keep calm and carry on, with a quiet resolve to see things through to a brighter future. We are where we are, doing what we can do, hopefully positioning ourselves for better than this.

      Sometimes your next
      halting step
      is more powerful
      than the grandest vision.

      All a leaf knows
      about building a tree
      is to turn towards the light.
      — James A. Pearson, How to Build a Tree

      My youngest celebrates her birthday today. We won’t see her on her birthday, but hope that she has a spectacular day full of people who care for her and quietly miss her when she’s not around, as we do. Life is better when we gather with those we love, but life isn’t that simple. In times like these, with the best and worst of us on display, all a father can do for a daughter on her birthday is point her towards the light and help her grow.

      Each day is a dance with our potential. May the best emerge in each of us today and always. That’s a birthday wish for all who celebrate today and every day. Happy Birthday Emily. And to America too.

    • The Resonance of the Ritual

      I have dreamed
      of accomplishment.
      I have fed

      ambition.
      I have traded
      nights of sleep

      for a length of work.
      Lo, and I have discovered
      how soft bloom

      turns to green fruit
      which turns to sweet fruit.
      Lo, and I have discovered

      all winds blow cold
      at last,
      and the leaves,

      so pretty, so many,
      vanish
      in the great, black

      packet of time,
      in the great, black
      packet of ambition,

      and the ripeness
      of the apple
      is its downfall.
      — Mary Oliver, The Orchard

      I spoke with an old friend this week about sailing and song. As sailors in my circle of friends tend to do, he lectured me on working too long into life, and did the quick math on life after work. So many pretty leaves, vanished in our time. And what lesson does it offer for us? We ripen so quickly, don’t we?

      I’m writing less, which means I’m publishing fewer blogs. Yet I’m living a fully aware, active life. We reach a point where the length of work is less important than the resonance of the ritual. In a world that is upside down, we find meaning in the little things stacked together just so. The aim hasn’t always been awareness, but surely it is now.

      Consider what we will never do in a lifetime. The list is far longer than the things we will do. There’s a restlessness that stokes a fire in us, pushing us to do more and still more with the time we have. If we’re lucky and aware, we learn what to leave behind as not for us. People, jobs, projects and places all recede from possible to probably not. We are forever reconciling our probably nots.

      Rather than dwell on probably nots, there is joyfulness to be found in the ritual of what we’ve said yes to. Each day is a dance with yes. It becomes less about filling bucket lists and more about more of this, please. The time will still fly by relentlessly, but the hours are measured in what we bring to the world.

    • Alive and… Well?

      To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.
      — Mary Oliver, Yes! No!

      What we pay attention to determines how we live, who we are and who we will become. To notice the little details is immersive, or it’s distracting—it all depends on what our attitude is on the matter. There’s just so much to pay attention to. There’s just so much to see and do and be.

      I’ve noticed that some people have receded from the conversation. Or maybe it was me all along. I’ve been sliding in the direction of less is more for some time now (even as I’m busier than ever: I’m a living contradiction). Shifting this blog from every day without fail to now and then when I have something to say is indicative of an inclination to step out of the noisy lane towards a quieter path. Perhaps one day I’ll get there.

      Alive and, well, less focused on rushing this moment along for the next dose of click bait or sound bite packaged just so. Social media, text streams, demands for our time, and good god, the news of the day. It’s all just so distracting and not us. We are here, now. We ought to be aware of it all, at the expense of all that we ought to ignore.

      “The essence of greatness is the perception that virtue is enough.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

      To be engaged with everything is to be focused on nothing. Slow down and have a look around. See the world as a poet or a philosopher observes it. This is the path to a deeper awareness than the fast track offers. Where is the fast track bringing us anyway? Life shouldn’t be a blur of forever next. It all flies by fast enough already. To be quietly virtuous, aware and fully alive: That feels worthy of our remaining time together. This is our great life, so have a look around.

    • Old Men Ought to be Explorers

      Old men ought to be explorers
      Here or there does not matter
      We must be still and still moving
      Into another intensity
      — T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets: East Coker

      Not old. Not yet anyway. But oh my, we’re getting there. And so there is a calling to do more with the time available. To become more in the process of doing. Old men ought to be explorers.

      I’m publishing less often these days. Consider it a sabbatical of sorts, with an abundance of other things to focus on. I enjoy the process enough to suggest that I’ll be back again. With the level of surety of one who knows the fragility of promises.

      To return means to first venture somewhere. To be and see and do that which transforms us in meaningful ways into a greater version of our selves. Returns, like tomorrows, are never promised, but they’re suggested. I would suggest that this blog, founded on the idea of travel and history, poetry and song, will return again with something more to say.

      But first, there’s this matter of moving into another intensity.