Alexandersmap

    Category: seasons

    • The Cover of October Skies

      Well, it’s a marvelous night for a moondance
      With the stars up above in your eyes
      A fantabulous night to make romance
      ‘Neath the cover of October skies
      And all the leaves on the trees are falling
      To the sound of the breezes that blow
      You know I’m tryin’ to please to the calling
      Of your heartstrings that play soft and low
      You know the night’s magic seems to whisper and hush
      You know the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush
      Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?
      — Van Morrison, Moondance

      It’s no coincidence that we are drawn outdoors in October. In New Hampshire, the foliage is strikingly beautiful on some trees this year, while others have barely begun to turn. Strange what a year of near-constant rain can do to a tree’s inclination to dress up for the party. But the show must go on nonetheless, stragglers will inevitably catch up in their time. For it’s all about the shrinking days now. If leaves are the flowers of autumn, then they’re more like the blossoms of a fruit tree, announcing their time in the sun is over with a brilliant dance in the breeze on their return to the earth. Don’t we owe it to them to bear witness?

      I dwell in such things. I have a photographers eye and a philosopher’s mind, and though perhaps neither may ever be fully realized in production each sneaks out now and again. We each aspire to mastery, don’t we? Mostly I hear the call to bring the beautiful to light. It falls on people like us to keep reminding the world that it’s worth paying attention to the magic now and then in our own shrinking days.

      To reach our potential we must be attentive to every detail, and we must put ourselves in the mix. On a crisp Sunday afternoon I spent time at a four-year-old’s birthday party, gingerly holding her infant second cousin like a football, to celebrate the next generation tasked with realizing a brighter future. I spent time at a quiet graveyard, reminding those who couldn’t quite realize a full life of their own that they aren’t forgotten. That they did enough. The two sides of the spectrum dancing under the cover of the same brilliant October sky. Some leaves shine golden in their time, some have arrived back to earth. We are the witnesses to each, biding our time on a quest for mastery.

    • Every Leaf is a Flower

      “Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.” ― Albert Camus

      Today is one of those foggy mornings I especially love in autumn, when the colors of the trees become mystical in their oranges and reds and yellows, muted by the mist but not to be denied. We could learn a thing or two from the autumn leaves about the urgency of the moment. Here we are at the peak of our brilliance: time to shine! Carpe diem indeed.

      For every valley there is a peak, but we forget sometimes that valleys are where forests and gardens thrive. Valleys are where the timeless rivers flow. Valleys can be beautiful too. To spend our days celebrating the beauty of the season we’re in seems the only way to navigate the changes a lifetime brings.

      The question of whether we have peaked ourselves sometimes crosses our minds, but the garden is a good reminder that there are many peaks in a lifetime. Simply persist through the decline of one and embrace the next ascent. A bit of fog now and then matters little in a lifetime of love and growth.

    • The Fullness of Time

      “The measure of a life is a measure of love and respect,
      So hard to earn so easily burned
      In the fullness of time,
      A garden to nurture and protect
      It’s a measure of a life
      The treasure of a life is a measure of love and respect,
      The way you live, the gifts that you give
      In the fullness of time,
      It’s the only return that you expect”
      ― Neil Peart

      I missed a few days in a row of my one line per day journal entry. What exactly did I do on Wednesday? Work from home? Take the dog for a walk? Write a blog and drink too much coffee? Yes to all of those things, but what was the essence of the day? That journal is my daily reckoning. When you go back to it after a few days to fill in what you’ve been up to you quickly realize that much of your days are pretty much the same, repeated over and over again.

      When I look at the year, it’s been full of wonder and adventure. Visits to stunningly beautiful places, big life events in the family, a new puppy. It would be hard to summarize the fullness of this year in a few short sentences. But what of the individual days? Individually, our days are feast or famine, with some jammed full of adventure and others rather bland by comparison. Every day can’t be a lifetime highlight. Some days are simply average.

      Sure, we ought to fill our time with more adventurous fare. Add more micro adventures and left turns to see what is out there in the world. We know intuitively that time is flying by, but what do we do to make each day uniquely special? If today was our last, will we make it an exclamation point or end it all with a simple period? I like to think I’ll go out with an ellipsis (…) just to make the world wonder what I was up to next.

      “The day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking towards me, without hurrying.” — Jean Cocteau

      Cocteau reminds us of our impermanence. It’s a lovely vision of life and death coming closer by the day, until one day we meet the infinite once again. Our lives are a singular entry in the vastness of time: here today, gone tomorrow. Knowing this, we ought to raise the average in our average days, we ought to sprinkle in more adventure and mystery and love, we ought to “live like we were dying” as that song goes. Life shouldn’t be a nihilistic series of meaningless days, it ought to be a gift we give back when we’ve done something meaningful with it. We know that our days will pass, but will they be filled with substance? We each have the opportunity to answer in our own…

    • The Choice of Attention

      “If you cannot find it here, you won’t find it anywhere. Don’t chase after your thoughts as a shadow follows its object. Don’t run after your thoughts. Find joy and peace in this very moment. This is your own time. This spot where you sit is your own spot. It is on this very spot and in this very moment that you can become enlightened. You don’t have to sit beneath a special tree in a distant land.” — Thich Nhat Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness

      I don’t dabble much in meditation in the classical sense, but lean deeply into awareness. So this very moment means a great deal to this particular time traveler. We dance in the now, or risk having the moment pass us by.

      Yet the time slips by so quickly anyway. This is as it should be, time being the creation of us frenzied humans. Wouldn’t it be better to think in terms of seasons or the natural cycle of a lifetime? Probably, but dinner reservations would be chaotic.

      Awareness of the moment is simply being present and engaged as best we can in this time and place that we live in. I’m quite aware that I have some things to do, and have a mosquito flying annoyingly nearby, and there’s a puppy underfoot restless in her desire to do anything but watch me type. I don’t have to look around to be aware of these things, I just have to be open to receiving them as they roll in like waves, one at a time, and wash across this broad beach of here and now.

      The trade-off, of course, is that awareness of everything around us makes us completely focused on none of them. There is a paradox here, in that we must be fully aware to be fully alive, yet raptly focused on our most important thing in the moment to ensure that thing gets done. We are constantly toeing the line between order and chaos within our brain.

      “Choice of attention—to pay attention to this and ignore that—is to the inner life what choice of action is to the outer. In both cases, a man is responsible for his choice and must accept the consequences, whatever they may be.” — W. H. Auden

      Chaos is all around us, it’s up to us to make sense of it in our own minds. There’s something to the idea of meditation and quieting your mind to receive enlightenment, I’m just not particularly good at sitting still with my breath. Yet I can sit quietly for hours writing, and can walk or row completely focused on the task at hand, aware only of the next step or stroke. Awareness seems to be more essential than enlightenment. One could make a case that they’re one and the same.

      So another day greets us with the choice of where to place our attention. The difference between a meaningful and fulfilling life and a chaotic, empty life is quite literally in our own head. Awareness, applied focus and a sense of purpose or direction are the recipe for a successful life. We choose what to be and have the opportunity to go be it.

    • Incendat Magica

      Don’t lose the wonder in your eyes
      I can see it right now when you smile
      We gotta go back, for a while
      Gotta go back, into that magic time
      — Van Morrison, Magic Time

      I often associate Van Morrison with autumn, thanks in part to the shift in my own soundtrack from summer music to autumn music, which leans more into jazz and soulful introspection. When the jeans replace the shorts it’s time for Van Morrison on my playlist. Some people put up plastic skeletons and black and orange decorations. Some of us stick to music. It’s all part of weaving our own brand of magic.

      I write about magic and wonder quite often in this blog, for it’s the stuff of life. When we create magic we are locking memories into place, like a snapshot we’ll remember forever. At least our forever. We do things that bring joy to our lives, and magic ensues. But let’s face it: Some people in our lives simply aren’t joyful. We may have fun with them, we may even find them interesting or even fascinating to be around, but there’s no joy. No joy, no magic. Simply peaceful coexistence. There’s very little wonder to be found in coexistence. Strike a spark.

      Vivere admirari: To live in wonder.

      Magic is associated with wonder. We often see this on display at big events, and certain places and times in a life. The trick is to dabble in a bit of magic every day, hidden in the joy we bring to moments as they unfold. As with anything joyful, magic works best when shared with others. A spark must have kindling just close enough together to create flame. Too close and you choke out the spark. Too far apart and the spark has nothing to catch hold of. We feel it when it’s just right.

      Incendat magica: To kindle magic

      Perhaps it’s frivolous to write about magic and wonder when the world is so dark and cold. But then again, maybe a spark is just what we need to kindle something warm and bright. We have magic for a reason, don’t we? It changes reality into something more.

    • Do What You Need to Do

      See the moon roll across the stars
      See the seasons turn like a heart
      Your father’s days are lost to you
      This is your time here to do what you will do
      Your life is now, your life is now, your life is now
      In this undiscovered moment
      Lift your head up above the crowd
      We could shake this world
      If you would only show us how
      Your life is now
      — John Mellencamp, Your Life Is Now

      I’m currently read a book set in Provence, and it’s having the expected effect of making me crave a trip there. YouTube videos of the place don’t help, as they only affirm just how beautiful it is there. I’ve had similar dalliances with beautiful places around the world. The world is out there, awaiting the adventurous and the bold. The rest may only dream.

      I do snap out of these moments and reset myself to the now. “Your father’s days are lost to you”, as Mellencamp sang; “This is your time to do what you will do”. It’s October in New Hampshire, with peak foliage and crisp air reminding us that we too live in a beautiful place. It’s high time to be present right here. We are human and sometimes want what we don’t have in our lives. We must consistently remind ourselves to skate our own lane.

      “Death may be close at hand; death may be far off. Transcend death with no-thought, no-idea. Do what you need to do, with no regret.” — Awa Kenzo, Zen Bow, Zen Arrow

      It’s easy to say we ought to transcend and do what we need to do, it’s harder to do it in a world that demands attention. I interrupted my writing flow state on this very blog to correct some puppy behavior and give the dog something else to chew on. Does this mean I’m not fully present in my work, or that I’m fully aware of the larger world around me? Puppies are great reminders that we aren’t fully in control of anything, but we can still fit our own work in. A mountain stream is constantly interrupted by obstacles in its flow, yet it still finds its way to the sea.

      The thing is, none of us is here forever, and all of us are faced with the will of the larger world around us. We may yet shake this world nonetheless if we dream big and persist with our purpose. But we must also remind ourselves to look up from it now and again and see just how beautiful this life actually is. If a puppy or autumn foliage or the mirror remind us of anything, it’s that now will soon be then. As Seneca once said, we must seize what flees: Feel the urgency to do what we need to do, and to do it with no regret.

    • As If We Had Wings

      Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,
      even in the leafless winter,
      even in the ashy city.
      I am thinking now
      of grief, and of getting past it;

      I feel my boots
      trying to leave the ground,
      I feel my heart
      pumping hard. I want

      to think again of dangerous and noble things.
      I want to be light and frolicsome.
      I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
      as though I had wings.
      — Mary Oliver, Starlings in Winter

      In between letting the puppy out for her morning relief and her post-breakfast exercise, the world lit up in orange. I would love to say I saw the whole thing, but really I only caught the tail end of it. To be in a place where the sky’s open all around you is the thing in such moments. Places like mountains and oceans and vast grasslands. The forest lends itself to its own wonder, but hides much of the sky. Sunrises and sunsets are missed with notable frequency, but we accept the trade-off nonetheless. Still, there are days I wish I could fly up to meet it.

      The world is full of wonder and beauty—far more than we’ll ever see in our lifetime. We simply can’t have it all. In fact, like the tail end of that sunrise, we witness precious little in our days. So seeking it out becomes the thing. Awareness and giving yourself permission to be awed by our insignificance offers a window to view and wonder. We know that we’ll never see everything, but perhaps we’ll see just enough to love our place in this universe.

      I know I should write more, and better. I know I should rise to meet the day, to put myself in the way of beauty as Strayed’s mother used to say. We see the days passing by so quickly and feel the urgency. And we feel the commitment of place and time and love for one another. There is a season for everything in this lifetime. We must believe that, mustn’t we? But some things will never be seen in favor of other things. We aren’t gods, you and I. This is the trade-off of being human. We must prioritize what’s truly important over everything else.

      Life will take our breathe away in both it’s beauty and in beauty lost. We know this to be true. The only way forward is to breath again, and rise to meet the day. As if we had wings.

    • In September

      I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face
      And you were thinking ’bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace
      When the leaves come falling down
      In September when the leaves, come falling down
      — Van Morrison, When the Leaves Come Falling Down

      The puppy is having her first autumn, and in New Hampshire no less. She’s entered a place of magic and grace, playing for a short time only, beginning with the last of the harvest and ending with the chill of Halloween. These are the days. She spends them chasing squirrels and the falling leaves. I spend them seeing the world with a new perspective once again.

      Life is change. Autumn offers change in abundance. We dance with it or go about our business as always, but we ignore it at our peril. Blink and you miss it, as they say. That goes equally well for the years flying by as it does for the foliage. The peak in most of New Hampshire is in early October, before things brown out and the leaves come falling down. The season is over before we know it, so don’t blink: step out into the world fully aware of the gift.

      Our own seasons are playing out as well. We must celebrate the days as they greet us, forever embracing our place in the world. Puppies awaken with a zest for life, and shouldn’t we too? The leaves whisper their advice as they return to the earth: dance with our season of magic. Carpe diem.

    • A Few More Times

      So before we end
      And then begin
      We’ll drink a toast to how it’s been
      A few more hours to be complete
      A few more nights on satin sheets
      A few more times that I can say
      I’ve loved these days
      — Billy Joel, I’ve Loved These Days

      When we love the days we’re passing through, it becomes easy to believe that they’ll always be just as they have been. But we know this to be untrue. We see the changes in those around us, and in ourselves. Life is about the passing from these days to whatever will be next, and so on and on, until we too pass. This is our song, and the band will one day play on without us. So it goes.

      It occurred to me that I haven’t spoken to two people recently who were part of every waking moment of my life when they were growing up. A few text messages, a brief “hello, I’m thinking of you” now and again. We all get busy: our children move away to build their lives, our parents and siblings and closest friends move across the dance floor and out of sight, coworkers change jobs or retire, and even our favorite barista or waitress moves on to other things. Life is change.

      A puppy came into my life, changing my world for the better in most ways, but changing my days profoundly. There are things that must be done when you have a young one in the house. There are things you must consider when you go out for any amount of time. There are few things more disruptive than this, yet so fulfilling at the same time. Puppies, like children, fill empty spaces and time in chaotic and beautiful ways.

      This week we finished a bathroom renovation that took entirely too long to wrap up. It became an ongoing joke that the two-week project might become a two-year project. Other than adding a puppy or baby to your life, a home renovation project is one of the more disruptive ways to flip your routine upside down. This summer we managed to do two of those change agents at the same time. No wonder it feels at times like I’ve lost my bearings.

      But just like that, the puppy is settling in, the renovation is done, and summer is over. We blink and we miss it. So don’t blink if you can help it. Yes, I’ve loved these days, but don’t they just fly right by?

    • Rising to Meet the Stars

      This is the hour, O soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
      Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
      Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best:
      Night, sleep, death, and the stars.

      — Walt Whitman, A Clear Midnight

      We each must sacrifice something in our days. Some of us favor the dawn. If an early bird misses out on anything, it’s the stars. “Get up earlier,” I hear you say. Indeed, and so I do some days, greeting the sky in all its sparkling glory. We are stardust, after all, and part of the essence of the universe. We must rise to meet it.

      Whitman apparently favored the midnight hour. We are each different and yet the same. When you think of yourself as stardust and energy you find the link in the chain between people, no matter when they lived on this pale blue dot. Our time happens to be now.

      The days so quickly erased, we march ahead. We know this to be true, but hurry along anyway. We ought to linger in more moments. We ought to rise to meet the essence of who we are, and might be. This is the hour.