Alexandersmap

    Category: reading

    • We Are a Spark

      “The universe has no timeless geography. The universe is a happening. The universe is an explosion. Galaxies continue to fly through the universe away from each other at colossal speeds…
      You and I also began with the Big Bang, because all substance in the universe is an organic unity. Once in a primeval age all matter was gathered in a clump so enormously massive that a pinhead weighed many billions of tons. This ‘primeval atom’ exploded because of the enormous gravitation. It was as if something disintegrated. When we look up at the sky, we are trying to find the way back to ourselves…
      But what is this earthly substance? What was it that exploded that time billions of years ago? Where did it come from?” “That is the big question.” “And a question that concerns us all very deeply. For we ourselves are of that substance. We are a spark from the great fire that was ignited many billions of years ago.” — Jostein Gaarder, Sophie’s World: A Novel About the History of Philosophy

      When you look at the stars, do you feel the connection? When you scan the horizon from a mountain summit or along the ocean shore, do you wonder at how big the world is or reflect on how small we are? When we look up to the stars, aren’t we reuniting with our kindred energy? For if the universe is a happening, so too each of us is happening right now. It’s our mission to meet this, our fragile moment.

      Each star, and our own sun, is a spark from the Big Bang burning in their time. So it is that we too are a spark from the great fire. These, friends, are our days. As we collectively begin another trip around the sun, it’s worth asking, what bold vision sparks our imagination? Feel how it stirs our embers. Can we realize it in our time?

      Life is a precious few moments before our stardust returns to the universe. This might horrify us, or light a bonfire. Choose fire.

    • Go For What You Wanted

      Look around me
      I can see my life before me
      Running rings around the way it used to be
      I am older now
      I have more than what I wanted
      But I wish that I had started long before I did
      And there’s so much time to make up everywhere you turn
      Time we have wasted on the way
      So much water moving underneath the bridge
      Let the water come and carry us away
      Oh, when you were young
      Did you question all the answers?
      Did you envy all the dancers who had all the nerve?
      Look around you now
      You must go for what you wanted
      Look at all my friends who did and got what they deserved
      — Crosby, Stills & Nash, Wasted on the Way

      I once heard a DJ dismiss Graham Nash as the least talented of the trio of Crosby, Stills & Nash. I think he missed the point, looking at individual songs added to the catalog instead of the overall contribution to the whole. Thinking of this group absent any of them leaves a void, for the magic was in the harmonies. Oddly enough, that DJ’s comment reminded me of a man who once greatly influenced me who wore a shirt that said “If you aren’t the lead dog the view never changes”. It may be funny, it may even be technically true, but that sled ain’t moving without the contribution of every dog. For me, those harmonies and a song like Wasted on the Way is contribution enough for Nash.

      The twin analogies of growth (rings on a tree in good years and bad) and that water under the bridge, are familiar themes of looking back. But this is not a song about where we’ve been or that water under the bridge, it’s a song about now: the way, and the life before us. Life will always be about now, with a nod to what brought us here, but we must bring our attention to the way.

      For each of us, what comes next is far more important than what happened before. We can’t linger on what’s wasted, for this business of living will continue until the end. We must embrace our chosen way and have the nerve to dance with it. Decide what to be and go be it. For we have another season of growth ahead of us. What kind of ring will it be?

    • The Day After Twain’s Birthday

      “Annihilation has no terrors for me, because I have already tried it before I was born -a hundred million years -and I have suffered more in an hour, in this life, than I remember to have suffered in the whole hundred million years put together. There was a peace, a serenity, an absence of all sense of responsibility, an absence of worry, an absence of care, grief, perplexity; and the presence of a deep content and unbroken satisfaction in that hundred million years of holiday which I look back upon with a tender longing and with a grateful desire to resume, when the opportunity comes.” ― Mark Twain, The Autobiography of Mark Twain

      Since I completely missed Mark Twain’s birthday yesterday (surely he didn’t mind), I thought a short post on the day after would be appropriate. We all ought to spend more time with clever people—people who don’t just say clever things but people who look at the world in a certain way that help us see what was right in front of us all along. Twain was certainly clever in that way.

      Dead now longer than he was alive, I imagine he’s made the most of the opportunity for peace and serenity that comes from passing from this world. I’m not particularly ready to join him, but take his words to heart. We weren’t alive far longer that we have been, and so it will be on the other side. We ought to be at peace with that, while using this unique opportunity to live as boldly as we can. Happy belated Birthday, Mr. Twain.

    • The Payoff

      “The Muse does not count hours. She counts commitment. It is possible to be one hundred percent committed ten percent of the time. The goddess understands.” — Steven Pressfield, Put Your Ass Where Your Heart Wants to Be

      Every morning I write for an hour or two, publish this blog, store a few collected bits for another day, and mentally flip the switch back to active participant in the rest of my life. That blog, Alexandersmap.com, is admittedly clunky, heavy on WordPress coding that I don’t really want to understand, and probably the opposite of cool. It’s the equivalent of a DIY project at home, that professionals politely nod and smile at when you invite them over. I can only hope for retro vibes if I hold out long enough.

      I’ve been slowly slogging through three books of philosophy. They’re heavy because they aren’t page turners, not really, though each is filling in the blanks for me in a life mostly focused on not wrestling with philosophical questions. We get busy, don’t we? But some things are worth our time and effort. I read a few pages of each book each morning, and attempt the same at night. I’m locally famous for my night reading, and acknowledge that it’s not my most effective time to wrestle with heavy books. Still, I persist.

      The thing is, we know the small habits that make up our lives pay off in the end, but there are days when we wonder if it’s worth the effort at all. Incremental progress is hard to get excited about. We all want the big payoff when we do something important to us, but forget sometimes that the payoff is who we are gradually becoming in the process of doing the work.

    • What is Beautiful

      “The sea is not less beautiful in our eyes because we know that sometimes ships are wrecked by it.” ― Simone Weil, Waiting for God

      Two things I rarely write about are religion and love. The meaning of each is in the eye of the beholder, and the fastest way to divide a room is to carry on too much about either. Even writing that statement will turn off a true believer or two. So be it. We each wrestle with ourselves and our place in this world. Relationships, whether with God or science, your true love or platonic love, are complicated. We’re not on this earth long enough to know everything, but our journey isn’t about the finish, it’s about who we become each step along the way.

      Some people want certainty in their lives. So they only marry someone who believes in the same god, or goes to the same church, or no church. Or maybe it’s politics or nationality or favorite sports team that dictates who they choose to associate with. This is inherently limiting, of course, for it keeps us in a box of our own making. They might as well make it a casket.

      The thing is, we all have our core belief systems and tend to seek out that which reinforces that identity. Over the years I’ve wrestled with strong feelings about everything from musical genres to whether the house lights are left on at night. None of it matters in the long run, it’s just positioning of the self in an indifferent world. Writing every day is the miraculous clarifying tool which brings me closer to understanding it all. Perhaps it is for you too.

      When the year is over, barring some last-minute heroics, I will have read fewer books than last year. And yet the lift is heavier this year, with some significant philosophical works in the mix. This may be my What’s it all about Alfie stage of life, but I think not. I’ve always been this way; I just make better choices now. As you grow you tend to explore your openness to new influences a bit more.

      As sure as I believe there’s a heaven above
      Alfie, I know there’s something much more
      Something even non-believers can believe in
      I believe in love, Alfie
      Without true love we just exist, Alfie
      Until you find the love you’ve missed
      You’re nothing, Alfie
      — Burt Bacharach / Hod David, Alfie

      The world is wrestling with nihilism and division at the moment. It will eventually swing back towards unity, hopefully before too much damage is done. All we can do is be active ambassadors for openness and unity. What is beautiful in our lives may wreck us, but it might also be our salvation. What is life but a journey to discover that which resonates most for us? We reach awareness in our own time, and learn to cherish the experiences and influences that bring us there.

      Whatever the package it comes from, that which is derived from true love and honesty is beautiful. We may learn from it, or turn away from it, but the truth remains. Our obligation to ourselves and the world is to be open. What is beautiful will find its way to us.

    • Schemes and Dreams

      “A thousand Dreams within me softly burn:
      From time to time my heart is like some oak
      Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.”
      — Arthur Rimbaud, Complete Works

      We all dream of things beyond the scope of our present situation. It’s human nature to dream, and we tend to collect dreams like books waiting to be read. How many books can we read in a lifetime? When you think of your average, it’s a surprisingly short number. So it is with dreams: we may dream an unlimited number, but accomplish but a few. We ought to make them our favorites.

      Dreams are evasive distractions until we start working towards them. Dreaming is unproductive on its own, for we must scheme as well. Without a plan, we risk walking in circles. Or maybe we dance in circles, happy in our own little world, content to linger with our dream. But we humans like to scheme too, and soon we’re dreaming of the next mountain to climb.

      Schemes and dreams pair well together in this way. But we’ve all experienced moments where we’re forever planning our next big move, but never actually beginning the climb. Excessive planning is procrastination. Dreams and schemes are just a dance without action.

      We tend to think we’ll be productive and get things done in good time. But great ideas don’t transform themselves into completed work, the muse just chooses a different author willing to dance long enough to make it real. That trip of a lifetime likewise doesn’t happen on it’s own. We must do the work to realize our dreams, or they’ll simply dance with someone else.

    • Mastering Our Moments of Truth

      “Anybody can look at a pretty girl and see a pretty girl. An artist can look at a pretty girl and see the old woman she will become. A better artist can look at an old woman and see the pretty girl that she used to be. But a great artist-a master-and that is what Auguste Rodin was-can look at an old woman, protray her exactly as she is…and force the viewer to see the pretty girl she used to be…and more than that, he can make anyone with the sensitivity of an armadillo, or even you, see that this lovely young girl is still alive, not old and ugly at all, but simply prisoned inside her ruined body. He can make you feel the quiet, endless tragedy that there was never a girl born who ever grew older than eighteen in her heart…no matter what the merciless hours have done to her. Look at her, Ben. Growing old doesn’t matter to you and me; we were never meant to be admired-but it does to them.” ― Robert Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land

      We might never achieve the mastery of a Rodin in our art, but surely it’s something to aspire to. We might also aspire to it in this bold act of living. For living with and for others is itself an art, mastered by some, clumsily attempted by most. Everyone wants to be seen and heard and appreciated in the moment they encounter another person. How many disappoint in that moment of truth?

      I aspire to craft a sentence like Heinlein’s in each post. Maybe I will attain that level of craftsmanship on the next one, or the one after that. Time will inform the reader of such things, but making a go of it day-after-day is what matters most on our journey to becoming. Art isn’t the same as aging, for aging subtracts some vitality from the physical self, while days are accretive in art.

      At a party recently, I was reminiscing with a woman about her mother, who passed away a couple of years ago, shattering my belief that she would live forever. When she was alive she and I had a thing for each other, she being 40 years my senior, but young at heart. From the day I first met her I treated her as the vibrant woman I saw in her eyes, and she treated me as her would-be suitor, doomed to fail but welcome to try. This performance went on for almost three decades before she passed, and still makes me smile today.

      We may not become a Rodin or Heinlein in our art. But living offers other opportunities for mastery. Life is about the connections we make with people along the way, one after the other, in our time here. To master that is truly a gift.

    • Mechanics and Magicians

      Let wise men piece the world together with wisdom
      Or poets with holy magic.
      Hey-di-ho.
      — Wallace Stevens, Hieroglyphica       (via Rhys Tranter)

      I’ll admit to this: I need a bit of magic to begin some of my Mondays. Magic that goes beyond the second cuppa, beyond the brace of cold water on the skin, but something that acts upon me as caffeine works to clear early morning fog or cold water shocks the extremities to action. Poetry or great prose will do in such circumstances.

      Seeing the first two lines of the Stevens poem on a social media feed, I received the desired jolt, but if we learn anything from social media, it’s to confirm the source before repeating (if only the world took such care!). These particular lines seem evasive, quoted either with or without the Hey-di-ho bit, but largely found as the simple nugget of bright insight you see above. What to do with it? Hold for another day or perpetuate the magic in the quote? I choose to perpetuate. Blame it on Monday, if you will.

      Most of us are skeptical of magic. When confronted with it we search for an answer. But should we wonder how the magician pulls off their sleight of hand or simply wonder in the act? No doubt, progress lies in wisdom, and it’s a very fine thing. There’s a time for knowing the mechanics happening just behind the curtain. For process is progress, quite necessary for us to make productive use of our lifetime of Mondays. The car isn’t going to fix itself, you know.

      But, conceding that, isn’t there also a time for leaving magic just so now and then, that we may sprinkle it over moments otherwise mundane?

    • Acquiring Different Frames

      “I think well-read, well-travelled is nothing but acquiring more lenses in life to see things. The word ‘unusual’ starts dying as you travel more, as you read more. You are less shocked. You are less surprised. Because nothing seems unusual. You’ve seen it all, and therefore you have acquired different frames. And therefore, most intolerant people who have neither read nor travelled… don’t know alternate realities… We have to be able to tap into multiple biases that coexist in us by creating all these multiple biases in our head.” — Kunal Shah, on The Knowledge Project

      We’re all frame collectors, collecting frames of reference that we use to determine how we act and react in and to the world around us. When our frame of reference bumps into someone with a contrary frame of reference it may create friction, but it ought to create a measure of curiosity as well. Why do they see things differently that we do on this topic? Are they viewing the world through limited frames, or are we missing that particular frame in our collection?

      I won’t defend the worst tendencies of humanity, but I can better understand why some people blindly fall into categorizing other people based on politics, religion, race, sex, and on and on. They have limited their frame of reference to something so narrow that they’re compelled to lash out at anything that contradicts that view. This is what makes burning books or dictating what is taught in schools so dangerous—it constricts frames of reference to only what the book burner or policy maker want it to be. Which perpetuates biases and extends the chain of willful ignorance.

      And here we all thought we’d transcended our biases.

      It’s never been easier to acquire information, and never easier to acquire misinformation. We all must sift through the garbage to find a measure of truth that resonates for us. Shah, in this same podcast, points out that our minds are so fatigued with the information overload that we’re actually more susceptible to following people who state things with conviction. This explains the feverish followers of politicians, Bible-bangers and toxic faux news personalities. If you sip enough of any one flavor of poison, you develop a taste for it and tend to order it again next time you belly up to the information bar. We may be stuck in a world where we have to wade through the bullshit, but we don’t have to consume it.

      Our world is full of alternate realities, so why do we keep ordering vanilla? We must deliberately expand our pallet. We must challenge ourselves to read diversely, travel broadly, and listen more intently when others are speaking for a grain of truth we might have missed otherwise. We’re all figuring this sh*t out as we skate through life. We don’t have to listen to those who would have us skate in circles.

    • Coffee Indebtedness

      How do you earn your first cup of coffee in the morning? Or do you set the table for your day with that first cuppa, creating a debt that must be paid back with sweat equity? I’ve always used the latter process with coffee, but lately I’ve been thinking that maybe it ought to be the former.

      Maybe that’s the trick, simply get a good workout in right off the bat, no wasting time. Get right to the tough stuff. Get all Jocco Willink about it and take a picture of my watch and sweaty workout gear. Not today, mind you, but someday when I don’t need this first cup quite so much as I do now.

      Habits are funny things. We begin our day with ritual, we end our day with ritual, and in between is a chaotic mix of reaction and routine. Where do you stick your workout? How about your writing? And what of that immersive reading? Just what makes a day successful for you anyway?

      All these questions come to mind with that first cup of coffee. By the second cup the day is underway, the writing is at least partially complete. The first boxes are checked on that to-do list. But there’s still that nagging question lingering in the back of your mind… have I paid back that debt to my coffee yet?