Alexandersmap

    Category: Relationships

    • Solitude as a Path Forward

      “Society is the cave. The way out is solitude.” — Simone Weil

      We know, deep down, that our way is found in the quiet moments. It’s so easy to be caught up in the expectations and scandals of society, so easy to trap ourselves in the words so tightly shaped around the stories of our lives, that we might never really fly. Yet we must fly, whatever our flight path may be, if we are to get out of that cave. How many countless souls never fly?

      We grow up hearing we might be odd if we aren’t part of the group. As adults we hear that we’re either in the collective party of the righteous or there’s something suspicious and odd about us. To be a part of the tribe we must participate in the rituals of the tribe. And so we all fall in line, find our career path, work to strengthen our relationships, build our bridges, marry up and in, and then have kids and place them carefully into the right environments to maximize their own potential in society.

      There’s nothing inherently wrong with being a part of things. We learn and grow in society. We play our part and find meaning through our connection with others. We meet people who help transform us from what we were to what we might become. We rightfully celebrate our place in society and the people who are woven into the fabric of our lives.

      One might point to the social structure as the clearest way to find our place in this world. We get in the mix, bounce ideas off each other, collaborate, feed off the energy in the room, get a leg up with the help of others, and so on. And indeed, so it is that we thrive in a world built on maximizing the contribution of the individual for the benefit of our collective future together.

      But if there’s a shared secret we all know, it is the critical nature of solitude in finding our own path forward. It’s the voice inside your head saying, “And what of me?” We can’t really make out what that voice is saying until we step away from the din. What we find, if we are so audacious as to listen, is that that voice has a lot to say.

      Is it narcissistic to ask such questions? Parts of society would shout down such selfish ideas. The very idea of contemplation and individuality are reckless and dangerous in many corners of this world. But is it selfish to seek solitude, or selfless to find places to reflect? We don’t run away from society, we stride boldly towards ourselves. The boldest ideas are conceived in solitude.

    • Reaching Enough

      About suffering they were never wrong,
      The old Masters: how well they understood
      Its human position: how it takes place
      While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
      How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
      For the miraculous birth, there always must be
      Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
      On a pond at the edge of the wood:
      They never forgot
      That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
      Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
      Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer’s horse
      Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
      In Breughel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
      Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
      Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
      But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
      As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
      Water, and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
      Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
      Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
      — W. H. Auden, Musee des Beaux Arts

      The big things happen around us, things that are planet-changing, culture-changing, life-changing, yet most people go about their business in the most human of ways—intently focused on themselves. Walk into any scene playing out around us and chances are the actors are engaged in the mundane while largely ignoring the monumental. Wars, political scandals, climate change, images from deep space…. all are monumental but don’t quite make the cut when compared to that itchy nose or debate over what’s for dinner or who is taking the recycling out.

      It’s this we must understand in our attempts to influence and cajole the apathetic. It’s not about us, it always must be about them. To inspire, stir or instigate the story necessarily must reach into the souls of each member of the audience. Storytelling, selling, pandering for votes—each is a form of engaging the audience and making them feel the story is all about them. For even if it feels like it’s about something much larger, it never really is. It’s always been, and forever will be, how might I stir something in you?

      And even then, someone else will be walking past oblivious to the two of us. No matter, for we can’t reach everyone. We just have to reach enough.

    • Break the Chain

      “For you and your children hold a message: act so that the fruit of hatred, whose traces you have seen here, bears no new seeds, either tomorrow or forever after.” — Primo Levi

      This world offers a full sampling of good and evil. We sip from the fountain we choose to belly up to. It may be perplexing to see so many choose a path contrary to all that we believe to be true, but that doesn’t mean we should join them. We might instead offer a different path, one without hate.

      Despite it all, we each may choose what we perpetuate.

    • Wednesdays Reveal Our Roots

      Wednesday is called hump day because once you clear it you’re over the hump of the week and it’s all downhill to the weekend. When you’ve worked in a job that makes you count down the hours until the weekend, you appreciate the jobs where you forget which day it is altogether. But doesn’t that make you wonder, if we’re all here for such a short time, why exactly would we spend so much time doing work that make us wish the time away?

      There’s work that puts food on the table and work that is transformative. If we’re really lucky they’re one and the same. Most transformation is earned over time and hard to see while we’re doing it. Hindsight makes that job we hated seem more worthwhile when we see where it led us in our career, skills that proved more useful than we originally thought, and especially, who we met in the trenches who helped us later on. For the network is everything in a career, and the sooner we develop deep roots the faster we’ll grow.

      We learn that most roots aren’t all that deep. Most are shallow connections that don’t nurture us, just as we aren’t nurturing them. LinkedIn connections are 90% shallow connections and 10% deep and meaningful. We collect thousands of connections in our careers—how many know the names of our spouse and children, or what we did to stay sane during the pandemic?

      Still, even shallow roots help keep us upright most of the time. When times are good anyway. We play the game when the sun is shining and hunker down when it rains. It takes stormy days in our career to find where our deepest roots lie. When there’s a recession or a layoff and careers are being uprooted all around us, it’s the deep roots that keep us standing. They can also help us replant ourselves when everything goes badly in that one dark storm.

      The very best thing about establishing deep roots is being there to help anchor others during their growth spurts or in their own time of need. There’s natural reciprocation in deep roots, and the bond strengthen both ways. It’s always better to take the initiative in helping others, for roots intuitively know where to find nourishment just as they know where the dead ends are. How we feel about Wednesdays might be one indicator of the health of our root system.

      When we establish such deep roots, we don’t think about things like hump day much at all, we think about contribution and collaboration, and we think about growth. Our lives, and certainly our careers, will fly by before we know it. What will it mean in the end? Generally, through good jobs and bad, shallow roots and deep, it comes down to what we put into it.

    • Choices and Changes

      “Every breath I take is a new me.” — Gautama Buddha

      “Life happens between an inhale and an exhale.” – from a random Dove chocolate wrapper

      Each of us changes. We aren’t who we were yesterday, nor will we be the same person tomorrow that will surely react and adapt to the influences of today. We must own our actions, but we must also recognize that the person who did the things we once did isn’t who we are now. Simple, right?

      Not when those around you treat you as the character you once were. How many co-workers put you in a bucket based on the role you had when you walked in the door the first time? How many reunions turn into stories of things you did way back when, with scant focus on who you are now? How many family events center on old nicknames and stories of the past?

      Here’s the twist: What if we too are treating people based on the characters they used to be instead of who they are now? Doesn’t it seem more appropriate to learn who they are in this moment? The trick to engagement with any other soul is seeking first to understand, and then to be understood (Covey). Every moment counts, and progress requires our immediate attention!

      We aren’t who we once were, but who we once were helped form our current identity. Personally, I’m grateful I’m not who I was at 18 or 30. Sure, there were some redeeming qualities in that character, but I prefer the new me, even if I don’t showcase the abs I had at 22 (too much chocolate?). The moment-to-moment choices we made between then and now brought us here. The moment-to-moment choices we make from now into our unknown future will surely determine who we’ll be then. So make good choices in this breath and the next.

      Like the chocolate wrapper reminds, life is happening one way or the other now. Just look at how much we’ve changed already. Imagine where the next breath might take us should we use it wisely.

    • To Grow and Know

      “With each encounter with truth one draws nearer to reaching communion with it.” — Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

      What resonates? Doesn’t it change moment-to-moment as we ourselves change? As the world offers lessons, from subtle and brutal? Just what is our truth, our first principle?

      We try to arrive by sorting. We must process the world as it comes to us, and indeed, encounter the things that challenge our worldview. Assumptions and beliefs fall aside for the willing truth seeker. We must find and embrace each encounter for all that it offers us. Like the body adapting to exercise, the stronger mind is capable of handling even more challenges. Each challenge in turn makes us stronger (if we don’t let them destroy us).

      The truth is, we are alone on this journey. Surely friends and family offer support, mentors guidance, and those who came before us breadcrumbs to follow (or ignore), but this is our vision quest. We follow the winding path and see the changes in ourselves as we climb.

      She has seen me changing
      It ain’t easy rearranging
      And it gets harder as you get older
      Farther away as you get closer
      And I don’t know the answer
      Does it even matter?
      I’m wonderin’ how
      — Crosby, Stills & Nash, See the Changes

      We ought to leave our own breadcrumbs. For the conversation to continue with those we love, and those we’ll never meet, we must draw from ourselves and leave it for the world to accept or ignore. It’s not ours to choose, but when we suck the marrow out of life and gleen the wisdom of the ages our voice becomes more compelling.

      We won’t ever fully arrive at the truth. We might accomplish some noteworthy things, reach conclusions that resonate, grow closer than we ever thought possible to certain people while remaining dissatisfied and chagrined at the ones that got away… but we never will fully arrive. Still, we ought to be satisfied in the end that we gave it a go to grow and know. And to celebrate the journey wherever it leads us.

    • Finding the Safe Channel

      I once met with a boss I had great admiration for, a boss who dressed the part, had a witty remark for everyone, intelligent and clearly marked for future big shot roles in the corporation. He seemed to like me as well, encouraged my growing collection of ties and appreciated the early starts and late finishes to my work days. And then one day I walked in and told him that some employees were grumbling about some initiative or another, repeating their logic for why it wasn’t the right path for our company, relaying what I’d heard but didn’t feel strongly about in my soul. His face grew dark, he looked me squarely in the eye and told me that I should never aspire to be the messenger for other people, because it was the messengers who always got shot. Welcome to corporate America, kid.

      Fast-forward to today, I don’t wear ties much anymore. I work hard but don’t feel compelled to be the first one in or the last one out the door. And I’ve learned to always listen to but avoid repeating what other people say. But there are exceptions to this rule.

      In a recent management meeting, I lobbed a hand grenade on the assembled managers, repeating a statement from the employee of another manager who stated that he had to cover his ass with some tasks that had to be completed. When you hear something like this you might hold that card for a moment alone with that manager, or maybe bring it to the company President to discuss in private, or leave it for others to reveal. When you’re a small company and highly dependent on each other, you must identify potential problems. Without revealing the department where the trouble lay, I tossed it right on the virtual floor in front of the encircled management team and revealed it for the underlying problem it was. The thing is, there’s a time and a place and an audience for everything. This wasn’t an opportunity to undermine, it was an opportunity to mark the channel.

      When you’re out on the water, the ocean often looks tranquil and safe in all directions, but underneath the surface there are rocks and other hazards that can sink a boat if you blithely sail into them. When you identify threats, you must mark the channel, that others might continue on safely. There are some hostile environments where the channel isn’t marked, where you must fend for yourself. Progress slows dramatically in such places, and the bottom is littered with the broken hopes and dreams of those who foundered before.

      You know when you work in a culture that encourages open communication. These are clear channels that enable progress and growth. It’s an essential element in drawing out the potential in any team, and when it’s missing the team reverts to an every man for himself mentality. That tie-wearing, hard-charging kid I once was was thrown to the wolf by some men and women who didn’t dare confront the boss with objections themselves. It was no surprise that that company soon folded under the weight of competitive pressure they couldn’t adapt to. We must feel empowered to mark the hazards else we’ll surely find our ship foundering on the rocks someday. Clear channels of communication foster safe passage.

    • Laying Tracks for the Journey

      “Every man is the sum total of his reactions to experience. As your experiences differ and multiply, you become a different man, and hence your perspective changes. This goes on and on. Every reaction is a learning process; every significant experience alters your perspective.
      So it would seem foolish, would it not, to adjust our lives to the demands of a goal we see from a different angle every day? How could we ever hope to accomplish anything other than galloping neurosis?
      …beware of looking for goals: look for a way of life. Decide how you want to live and then see what you can do to make a living WITHIN that way of life.”       — Hunter S. Thompson, via Farnam Street

      “Freedom is the will to be responsible for ourselves.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols

      How do we want to live? Why don’t we ask ourselves this more often? We keep adding to our collection of more (experiences, relationships, stuff, distractions) in hopes that we’ll eventually find all the answers. If we look up from our own reflection long enough we might notice that everyone else is trying to figure it out too.

      There’s a gap that emerges between people as they each follow their own path. Sometimes the path intersects again, sometimes the path diverges and you grow further apart. And sometimes one or both parties decide to find a new path together, come what may. This itself is a decision. We can’t have it all, yet we have that nagging voice that whispers that we might. At some point, we’ve got to stake our claim on a way of life that feels right for us.

      We owe it to ourselves to seek as much experience as we can, that we might draw from each some nugget of how we might want to live. That collection of more isn’t so bad after all, so long as we’re collecting the things that determine our desired future state. More ought to be railroad ties to lay our tracks upon, not driftwood.

      It always comes back to how we want to live in this moment in our lives, but also (if we dare) in our next moment. With an optimistic eye towards the future, we might pivot towards something more, or pause in more of the same. Of course there is no stasis, the world will keep moving whatever we decide on. We can’t expect the train that just left the station to come back to get us. But maybe that wasn’t the track we were meant to go down anyway. While we don’t always know our destination, pointing ourselves in a direction that feels right is a way to break free of indecision towards discovery.

      It’s always been about the journey, hasn’t it?

    • Garden Blessings

      Ah, yet, ere I descend to the grave
      May I a small house and large garden have;
      And a few friends, and many books, both true,
      Both wise, and both delightful too!
      And since love ne’er will from me flee,
      A Mistress moderately fair,
      And good as guardian angels are,
      Only beloved and loving me.
      — Abraham Cowley, The Wish

      The air is filled with squeaky chirps and the buzzing sound of wings beating the warm morning air, announcing that the bluebirds of June were replaced by the hummingbirds of July. They remind me that the garden, despite early neglect, still dazzles, inspires and informs. The frenetic urgency of the hummingbirds to feed brings life to the midsummer garden, just when it most needs a lift.

      It’s sometimes easy to forget the things we build around us that attract nuance and substance. We build our lives on the four cornerstones of relationships, legacy, learning and action. Each in turn determines who we might become as we build our life atop this foundation. Like the birds flirting briefly with the garden, people come and go from our lives. Jobs and money and fashion come and go. We each note the changes, but how we react is determined by who we’ve grown to be.

      What is a garden but a foundation? We stake our place in this world to cultivate our hopes and dreams as life changes around us like the seasons. Each season brings enchantment, frustration, context and acceptance. We become what we cultivate, influenced by the seasons but not always determined by them. Everything has its time, and the blessings in our lives must be realized in their own season.

    • Memorable

      If it’s easy it’s not memorable. Sure, we remember things that just come to us, but remembering isn’t memorable. Memorable must be earned with effort and iteration over time.

      If you’re a parent you’ll never forget when your children were born, or when you figured out a car seat for the first time, or that first epically challenging diaper. Like scoring an Olympic gymnast, it was memorable because of the level of difficulty involved.

      We all have our lifetime and then its gone. What will make it memorable? Challenges accepted and overcome. Worthwhile relationships stuck with through thick and thin. Hard lessons and leaps of faith. A bias towards action and the will to see it through.

      We should never take the easy route, for it doesn’t lead to memorable.