Alexandersmap

    Category: Productivity

    • The Next Essential Thing

      I’m not going to lie to you, the last month has been a whirlwind of change, travel and starting all over again. We collectively face massive cultural changes in this new world that we’re all sorting sorting out in our own way. I’ve got plenty on my mind already, so the national election will have to be stacked in the corner to percolate for awhile.

      In medias res (“into the midst of things”) is the phrase that exemplifies the state I’m in. I’m jumping right into the next after a busy and productive month. For all that I’ve accomplished over the last month, I ought to pause and reflect, but there’s no time for it. I see the swirling current in front of me and I’m focused on staying afloat.

      And that’s the key word when we’re in the midst of things: focus. Focus on the essential next thing that will keep us from drowning in the current of change. Put one foot in front of the other, and keep moving across that floor. To get swept away in any emotion doesn’t serve us well, it pulls us under. The next essential thing is the only thing that matters right now. So let’s get to it.

    • An Iterative Process

      Across the evening sky
      All the birds are leaving
      But how can they know
      It’s time for them to go?
      Before the winter fire
      I will still be dreaming
      I have no thought of time
      For who knows where the time goes?
      Who knows where the time goes?
      — Fairport Convention, Who Knows Where the Time Goes      ?

      Here we go again. October has flown just like the other months, and we find ourselves in November once again. The oak leaves have completely coated the lawn, just a few days after I picked up the first round of leaves. So it must be, autumn cleanup is an iterative process, not ever one and done unless you wait for Thanksgiving weekend, and there are other chores reserved for that timeframe. I wonder at people who choose a lifestyle with no chores, for the sheer amount of available time they must fill. I suppose I’d just read more or play pickle ball or something. But that’s not for me. There’s beauty in the labor we opt into.

      October was one of my most productive and transformative months of the year in many ways, but it’s all last month’s news now. We must begin again today with whatever momentum yesterday gave to us. Each day brings an opportunity to be fully alive and present, whatever that means to us. My day begins with the keyboard—the first of several habits that steer me towards purposeful and productive living. Today will fly by like all the rest, the only question is what will we remember of it? What will carry us into tomorrow a little better than we arrived at today?

      I’ve been told I dwell on productivity too much, and that may be an ongoing theme of this blog, but productivity means something different to each of us. Productivity to me isn’t giving my life to a job, it’s doing something with my life. Productivity is simply building a system for living that brings positive momentum to our lives. Those grains of sand will keep falling through the hourglass far too quickly for our liking (tempus fugit). We can accept that time is flying by and with our awareness begin to realize our place in eternity. Discovering our purpose is an iterative process too. We may do something meaningful in our given time, built one step at a time.

    • Productive Change

      “Should you find yourself in a chronically leaking boat, energy devoted to changing vessels is likely to be more productive than energy devoted to patching leaks.” ― Warren Buffett

      Some of us are inclined towards change, and force ourselves to stick with things longer than we might otherwise to see them through. Sometimes (as with a great marriage) the journey is worth the ebb and flow of a life together. Other times, as with a job or a house or an acquaintance, you find that the return on investment isn’t working out. Change can be the most productive energy we can spend in such moments.

      It’s possible to stay in a house too long. Neighborhoods change as the neighbors do. The stairs and furniture we’ve easily navigated our whole lives can become impossible obstacles when we grow old and frail. My own neighborhood is full of the same people that were here when I built this house years ago, and I’m seeing it all play out as it did for my in-laws, where they all grew too old to navigate the familiar but did it for too long anyway.

      I recently left a job I’d been in for years when flat year-over-year growth turned into a down year. There was no exit interview, which indicates they feel they have it all figured out. So their chronic leaks will probably continue. My own energy can be put into a better vessel. It turns out my timing was good with a receptive market ready for my skillset. It was never the company brand I was bringing to the market, but my own.

      A sound vessel with a good crew can weather almost any storm. It remains sound through maintenance and awareness of the forces bringing change. The same can be said for the crew. Together they can travel through time and place, picking up tales of adventure along the way. But time conquers all, and eventually the vessel or the crew need to change. Houses can be homes for generations of owners. Companies can grow with a new crew. And people can find a better way though this world on a different vessel.

      Change for its own sake is frivolous and wasteful. Change must be strategic and ultimately productive. But the same can be said for sticking with something instead of changing. It does us no good to forever bail a ship that is clearly sinking. Our habits, systems and routines, alliances with others, organizations we join, companies we represent in the market, the places we live and the vehicles that carry us to them—are all vessels that are either carrying us somewhere or sinking into the abyss. The question we ought to be asking ourselves is, is our energy being put into the right place or is it time for a change?

    • Leaning Into Constraints

      “When everything is possible, nothing is possible. But when we lean into external and internal constraints by choice, the possibilities, ironically, open up to us.” — Chase Jarvis, Never Play It Safe

      “The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts.” — Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

      I have a trip coming up in the near future. There’s no winging it when it comes to which airport I’m driving to, which airline I’m boarding, when the doors close or which seat I’ve been assigned. Likewise, I’m pretty sure I’m on the same page with the pilot about which city we’re flying to. When I arrive I know I’ll have a room waiting for me, a few reservations already made and so on. Constraints can be helpful guardrails for an otherwise unconstrained weekend. Too many constraints can feel confining, too few chaotic. We feel when we’ve arrived at our comfortable medium.

      We function within constraints all the time, often without thinking about it. We are constrained by laws, time, borders, finances… and on and on. But the most persistent constraints are internal. We have an identity that is boxing us into who we are and what we do. We reinforce this with the friends we accumulate around us. Skate your lane, friend, and I’ll skate mine. Together we’ll skate to some distant point in our frozen future.

      Constraints can be limiting. When we get too comfortable we miss out on everything possible that resides outside our current comfort zone. On that upcoming trip I’ve left far more open space in between than scheduled time. There’s a lot to be said for those skip the line tours at the Vatican, for example, but you realize immediately that most of them just put you in a different line, and within a different box than you might have been in otherwise. The lesson is to buy the tickets, but leave room for chance too.

      The thing is, constraints can be highly effective at focusing our attention. There’s nothing like a deadline to keep us on track with a project. When we build the right kind of restraints into our lives, we focus on productive use of our limited time on earth (the ultimate constraint). Being rigid with some things allows us to create the identity we aspire to. Decide what to be and go be it. I write and publish every day, no matter where I am in the world (or within my own head). This blog is surely meaningless in eternity, but it means something to me in the moment.

      What color are we dying our soul? Our habits and routines, our very beliefs in who we are and why we’re here today, will determine the next step on our journey (up, down or sideways). Some useful constraints put us in our place, but they can also move us to a new place. A better place, full of possibility.

    • Urgency Applies

      “The reason to finish is to start something new.” — Rick Rubin

      To finish what we started ought to be the goal for every project, but we know the truth isn’t so pretty. We bounce between projects, finishing some, but too often drag others along forever for want of attention. It’s all prioritization and focus, lest the forces conspiring against us wash over our lives and that project we were once so excited about gets flushed away like so many schemes and dreams. As with life itself, urgency applies to projects. Do it now.

      Starting something new is exciting. We dance with possibilities: discovering and enhancing and dancing with the light that shines through our eyes and lights up our work. Like a cold mountain stream, it’s invigorating and full of momentum. It’s only downstream, where things slow down and sometimes stagnate, where that project grows tedious. Momentum is everything, and we maintain it through focused attention. Deep channels flow relentlessly fast, shallow deltas slow and sometimes flow backwards with the whim of the tide.

      That new project ought to be a reward for having finished the previous project, not yet another distraction from it. Surely urgency applies to the things we wish to accomplish in this lifetime. We must finish what we’ve started, that we may begin again with the fresh perspective and skills developed from the last brought to the next.

    • Action is Identity

      “Creators create. Action is identity. You become what you do. You don’t need permission from anybody to call yourself a writer, entrepreneur, or musician. You just need to write, build a business, or make music. You’ve got to do the verb to be the noun.” ― Chase Jarvis, Creative Calling: Establish a Daily Practice, Infuse Your World with Meaning, and Succeed in Work + Life

      If action is identity, so too is inaction. What we say yes to and what we say no to are each a part of who we are. It’s inherently obvious, yet so easy to forget in the day-to-day demand for our time played to the soundtrack of the well-meaning who only want the best for us (thanks a bunch for that). We must pause a beat and get our bearings, then get back to the climb to our potential.

      If I could offer a bit of unsolicited advice to myself, to my children and anyone else paying attention, it’s to simply follow the call for as long as we can get away with it until we meet that person we envisioned. The only way forward is to do that thing. To write, to build, to make: action is our identity. It’s that vote for the person we wish to become that James Clear reminded us of.

      And so a bias towards action is the not-so-secret way to reach the promised land. Hitting the lottery is a fool’s game, hitting our stride by doing the things we know we need to do is how we live fully. We’ve been gifted with being born at a time and place where possibility flows. The people telling us that this is a time of scarcity are getting wealthy with words. There’s an audience for everything, even that thing that we’re telling ourselves to go be. Decide what to be and go be it, as the song goes.

      We ought to give ourselves a gift these last few months of the year. Do the creative work and put it out there for the world to see. Make a bold statement in who we will be today, and build on it in our following days should we blessed with enough of them. Tempus fugit: time flies. Do it now before it all slips away. If action is identity, just what will we think of ourselves if we don’t act now?

    • Developing a Voice

      “The voice which a poet forms is not any more something that a poet creates than it is something, over the years, that creates the poet. Throughout my life, unquestionably, I have made decisions one way or the other based on the influence of this inner voice—this authority with which I most intensely and willingly live.” —Mary Oliver, The Poet’s Voice

      Writing a blog is not the same as writing a novel, but it’s writing just the same. And as such, it ought to get one’s best effort. For otherwise, why do it at all? Isn’t life already too full of half-hearted pursuits? We can’t quiet-quit on our personal pursuits too and hope to have any reason to carry on in this world. We must do our best with the time and talent we have in the moment and allow it to carry us to the divine.

      Whatever the world thinks about blogging doesn’t matter a lick to me. I write to develop my voice, and once developed, refine it over and over again until it flows out of me like a Boston accent in unguarded moments. When I ask myself why I begin each day this way instead of simply taking a walk with the dog like a normal person, it often comes down to knowing I have something to say and finding a way to express it consistently, if not always eloquently.

      But what do we then do with a voice, once developed? Write more blog posts? Make the shift to long form essays and Substack? Or something <gasp> more? We can’t very well stuff our voice into the back row of the choir with the mimers, can we? We must sing our verse with passion and the skill honed through those ten thousand hours of chipping away at the marble. What emerges may just be magical. But magic doesn’t just appear out of thin air, it only seems that way to the casual observer.

      An acquaintance of mine wrote a few novels and published them as e-books just to give his children an example of doing what he said he was going to do. He’s also an active and talented podcaster with a silky smooth voice and the insightful questions that betray active intelligence. His voice may have been there all along but the full package took time and effort to develop. Whatever his motive for writing the novels and doing the podcast, the point is that he’s doing it. And so are we, at least if we have the inclination to see what emerges from that once quiet voice whispering to us in the back row.

    • Crossing the Sea

      “You can’t cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water.” — Rabindranath Tagore

      I was thinking about some friends I won’t see this week, as they’re at a conference that I’m not at. They’re almost certainly going about their days with productivity in mind. I may choose how I feel about the matter. We may choose misery or acceptance when we aren’t a part of something. I’m approaching it like I’m looking at my hotel points that haven’t accumulated this year at the rate they normally would: I have far more important ways to spend my time. The trick is to invest our time savings into something with a great return on investment.

      This ought to be our marching order as we stare across the water wondering how we’re going to get to the other side: Be productive with the right things. Whatever those things are. Everything else is stalling. We have no time to waste on trivialities and busywork. We must do the things that must be done at the expense of all the rest. Nothing clarifies our lives like seeing where we want to go and knowing the steps that will get us there. The rest is simply having the courage to begin.

    • A Star In Our Hand

      “Begin doing what you want to do now. We are not living in eternity. We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand – and melting like a snowflake.” — Francis Bacon

      September, the seventh month, happens in the ninth month of the year. Rather than simply adding two months to the end of the calendar those Romans just dumped January and February on us up front, and we humans have been two months behind ever since. As if we had all the time in the world to work with, we’re also forever playing catchup. No wonder we all feel like life is flashing by before our eyes.

      We all want to feel that we’re ahead of the game, or at least keeping pace. If productivity is the lead indicator of progress towards a goal, we ought to be very clear about what that goal that we’re being productive towards actually is. Otherwise, why are we going there in the first place? Productivity without purpose is nothing more than busywork. Busywork is a crime against nature, for we all know we aren’t dabbling in eternity. Wasted time robs us of more vital pursuits.

      It follows that if our time is melting away at alarming speed, we ought to be doing more of what we want to be doing now. I may have written a version of that a few hundred times in the course of this blog’s existence, but repetition penetrates the dullest of minds, and my own action demonstrates a good sharpening is in order. So I risk repeating myself if only to remind myself that today, like the stack of yesterdays before it, is fragile and in want of attention. Make it sparkle like the star is wants to be.

    • Exhausting Our Present Capacity

      “A novel worth reading is an education of the heart. It enlarges your sense of human possibility, of what human nature is, of what happens in the world. It’s a creator of inwardness.” ― Susan Sontag

      As an active reader, I keep searching for the perfect book to read. Someone once said that the only perfect book for us is the one we write ourselves. I think the self-critic in me laughs at the very idea of creating perfection. Perfection is an excuse for not doing our best in the moment. It’s a way of saying we aren’t ready yet, before we even begin.

      There are always excuses. We must put them aside and follow the call. We may still tap into something unique within ourselves and draw it out for the world to see. But why put ourselves through the process of writing—the blank page mockery, the wrestling with the order of words, the feeling of not good enough rewrites—while precious moments of a brief life tick away? With so much to do in a lifetime, why write when there are so many unread books in the world already?

      I believe that the best writers are seeking enlightenment themselves, and the words written are merely the breadcrumbs of where they’ve been on the journey. Those breadcrumbs are a generous gift that show the way for those of us who would follow. Sometimes we find the path is not to our liking, sometimes we find it leads to a better climb altogether, but that path took us somewhere. Otherwise, we’re no better than those unread books, just gathering dust and waiting to be tossed aside in favor of the next generation.

      Perhaps even more than taking a path, each book read is filling up a void within us that we weren’t quite aware was there until we sensed fulfillment. The funny thing is, that substance isn’t subtracted in the process of sharing for the writer, it merely expands the capacity of the writer to share more. In this way it’s like exercise: the growth begins when we exhaust our present capacity. The more we do, the more we grow. And there lies our call to action, with no time to waste. Somewhere beyond our present capacity is possibility.