Alexandersmap

    Category: Stoicism

    • Rejoice In This Moment

      “Rejoice in the things that are present; all else is beyond thee.” – Michel de Montaigne

      “My formula for greatness in a human being is amor fati: that one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity. Not merely bear what is necessary, still less conceal it . . . but love it.” – Friedrich Nietzsche (borrowed from Ryan Holiday)

      “Be still my heart; thou hast known worse than this.” – Homer, The Odyssey

      One thing that’s impressed me over the last three months is the resilience and grace of so many people facing adversity.  Is the world unfair?  Yes, of course it is, but that doesn’t mean we have to be bitter about where we are in this moment.  Embrace the suck, love the moment and learn from it.  And really, it doesn’t all suck, does it?  There’s so much good happening in every moment – change the focus of your internal lens and you’ll see it more clearly.

      The Homer quote above has stuck in my head since I read The Odyssey at the age of 19.  It’s sitting on a shelf waiting patiently for me to come back to read again like Penelope waiting for Odysseus to stop pissing off the gods and get home already.  Anyway, it’s come in handy over the years, right up there with “this too shall pass” on my list of phrases I say to myself when things get challenging.  And let’s face it, things are challenging at the moment.  But how we react to it is more important than what we’re reacting to.  Amor fati: love of fate, seems to have worked for the stoics, for George Washington, Friedrich Nietzsche and countless others over the centuries, and it will work for us too.

      I’ve been guilty of complaining about things a bit too much, and I’m working to change that little character flaw.  If I’ve learned anything, it’s that complaining just fuels the suck.  It all ends badly for all of us, or it all ends as it should for all of us; it’s all a state of mind either way.  Rejoice in what you can control, forget what is beyond you, and love the moment you’re in.  For this moment, even if it’s not what we might want, is the only moment we have.  This, and we, too shall pass.  Rejoice in this moment.

    • The Forest For The Trees

      “Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.” – Hermann Hess

      This is the time of year when I slightly resent the trees around me.  I recognize the love/hate relationship I have and let it be.  The trees that surround me offer shade and shelter and song.  For these things I’m most grateful.  But they also offer a level of constant maintenance that wears me down at times.  The trees want to reproduce, and so they cast thousands of seeds and clouds of pollen at the time when I’m most eager to just be at ease for awhile.  And then just when I grow fond of them again we do it all over again in the fall with leaves and acorns and hickory tree nuts.  Nobody said it would be easy.  But I’ve chosen this place by the edge of the woods to live.  The trees were here first and I learn from them while they tolerate me.

      Those farmboys Hess writes about were cutting down that hardest and noblest wood to build sturdy ships and homes and barns and furniture.  Walk into an old Colonial-era home built three hundred years ago and look at the wood that makes up the structure of that building.  Look at the floors.  This was old growth lumber, not the young fir and pine forested today.  Today’s lumber is from relative teenagers by comparison.  And we know how teenagers can be: mind of their own, and they appear strong but are a bit fragile inside.  Nothing toughens you like enduring time and hardship, as Hess points out.  And we’re all enduring a bit of that now, aren’t we?  But it’s nothing compared to what our ancestors went through, and its good to look back on history and the hardships that our grandparents and grandparent’s grandparents endured.

      Still, we’re being tested nonetheless.  And like the tight rings that mark challenges that tree endured, we’ve slowed down in 2020, turned inward and are weathering the storm as best we can.  The collective memory of this will mark a generation, just as those trees clustered on a mountaintop somewhere collectively endured.  But when you’re in the middle of it its hard to see the forest for the trees, isn’t it?  Those tree rings offer another lesson though, for after enduring hardship for a season or several seasons the trees experience a period of rapid growth and the rings widen again.  This too shall pass, and we’ll once again begin a period of sustained growth and recovery.  Everything has its season.

       

    • Making a Splash

      “Let us also produce some bold act of our own – and join the ranks of the most emulated.”
      – Seneca

      I felt the sting immediately.  Cold skin, chilled by the steady wind and the unusually cold temperatures, meeting warm air as I came back inside to start the coffee ritual.  Hands stiffly assembled the AeroPress and scooped coffee.  The price of another sunrise?  I could have watched the sunrise from the warmth of the house.  No, the sting comes from putting yourself out there, and receiving whatever comes back at you afterwards.  So be it.  I decided long ago to put myself out there, and to hell with the stings.

      This morning I stood on the cold jetty awash in strong, biting winds awaiting that sunrise.  The approach of dawn is my favorite time, whether I’m being stung by biting winds or bitten by no-see-ums or some other such thing. It’s the price you pay for the moment at hand.  And this morning was particularly biting.  But I embraced it anyway.  The pandemic has kept me away from this place all year, and I’m not going to let a few minor irritants ruin it for me.  Before dawn the voices are my own, telling me to do more, and it’s when I’m most ready to hear the call.

      Sunrise was still some time away, and I found myself drawn to a rock just off the jetty, awash in chop as the waves pounded and swirled around it.  I found it more compelling than the approaching sunrise and watched the wave action pound the rock as the wind action pounded me.  The rock stoically holds ground as wave after swirling wave slap at it.  It seems timeless, and will surely outlast me in this world, but eventually the waves will win out.  Time washes over everything eventually.

      But isn’t that liberating in a way?  Time washes over us but still we must stand our ground and make something of ourselves, to share the light we see and produce something bold despite the wash and swirl and pounding.  We either stand up to the pounding or go with the flow, but where do we make our mark in this world?  The way to make a splash is to make a leap into the unknown or to hold your ground as the waves crash over you. Either way you’re paying a price.

      Today is another day in a long string of days.  Its the only one that matters, really.  Despite the frenzy and the swirl and the biting winds and general indifference of the world, there’s that choice to let it sweep over you or to make your splash.  I’m not ashamed to say I’ve often gone with the flow because it’s easier than taking the pounding.  But I’m standing now.  Trying to produce some bold act of my own. Trying to make a splash. Shining a bit of light on the world, and to hell with the swirl.

       

       

    • On Seizing the Day

      “Let us therefore set out whole-heartedly, leaving aside our many distractions and exert ourselves in this single purpose, before we realize too late the swift and unstoppable flight of time and are left behind. As each day arises, welcome it as the very best day of all, and make it your own possession. We must seize what flees.” Seneca, Moral Letters

      If nothing else comes of this time, I’ve had significantly more time with 2/3 of the family. Sure, I’ve knocked off many of the nagging renovation projects this house I live in needed, but more importantly the family time has been a net positive. Tim Ferriss throws out a statistic that says 90% of the time you spend with your parents is used by the time you finish high school. My experience is that he’s half right in that one. One parent has been an active participant, one has accumulated other priorities and drifted away. Such is life. And now as a parent yourself you fully understand the reality of parenthood. So how much of that math do you apply to your own children? They don’t fly if you hold them tight, but they may flounder if you don’t give them the time they need. Balance is the key, Grasshopper.

      I’ve visited the Seneca quote a few times before in this blog. It’s a recurring theme, if you will. Carpe Diem! Memento Mori! I should read the Seneca quote every day until it’s burned into my brain, for even though I try to live it, sometimes life stirs the pot enough that you forget that this moment is all we’ve got. How cliché… and how absolutely on point. If COVID-19 isn’t a reminder of that, what is? How many healthcare workers, seeing so much death in such a compressed amount of time, have reminded us to tell our loved ones how much they mean to us now, not tomorrow – as if that’s guaranteed to us? How many listen, I wonder?

      This week marked 50 years since the Apollo 13 mission went from routine to a stunning rescue mission. I watched the Tom Hanks film again to honor the moment. What struck me was how routine the miraculous had become. You’re flying to the moon in a ship made of foil? Who cares? We’ve seen that show already. Until it became a struggle for life and death anyway. Then it became must see TV. How quickly the extraordinary becomes routine. Waking up today was extraordinary. What a gift! Billions before us would give anything for another day above ground. And what do we do with it? Binge watch Netflix? The virus is horrific, the collective pause it offers is a gift. Just as this day is. Take it for granted or embrace the possibilities it offers? There’s our choice.

      Seizing the day means more than trying to create a highlight reel of moments, it’s being present in the moment. Moments as mundane as washing dishes, and feeling the tactile experience and wonder of hot water and soap flowing over your hands and disappearing down a drain. Walking outside barefoot and feeling the coolness or warmth of the earth radiating through your feet. Watching larger birds flap about on the bluebird feeder seeing the worms inside and trying to find a way inside. Noting the incremental progress of the sunrise (or sunset if you will) as the earth tilts. Listening to a loved one as they move about in a quiet house and the gratitude of their presence in your life this day. All miraculous parts of this incredible life we’re given. Don’t let the routine lull you to sleep again. Be awake and alive while you’re here! We must seize what flees. Carpe Diem.

    • Beliefs

      Today I’d planned to open the pool, if only to see water. Instead, it’s snowing again. The world mocks me my intentions once more. Life is a series of checks to our belief that we’re all that matters in the world. Most of us figure this out after a few knocks to the ego but you still feel betrayed at times. I debated putting on boots, but said the heck with it and walked out barefoot into the accumulating snow and lowered the umbrella before it broke under the weight of this latest reality check. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll raise it once again, but for now I need it to live to see another day.

      I mentioned I’d dipped a toe back into Facebook a week ago. It seems that the water is still a bit… funky for my swims into the turbulent waters of social media. I quickly re-discovered all the reasons why I’d left. The one that bothers me most was a post from a man I once worked with who’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, who spends his vacation time on missions to build homes for the poor in Haiti, who is deeply religious and strikingly kind. And he firmly believes exactly the opposite position on Trump. Surely I’ve disappointed him with my own beliefs over the years, as he disappoints me. I thought of leaving a comment on his most recent post but instead I’m going to step away. The world needs more unity and I’ll focus on the essence of this kind soul instead. We will surely agree to disagree on the rest. Beliefs are tricky things.

      Back inside, I see my footprints on the deck hold their form well after I’d walked there. The snow steadily falls but the footprints remain. I’ve seen this with thermal imaging where our heat trail remains after we’ve walked through a space. A bit of our heat and energy leaves us and marks where we’ve been, like the swirling wake behind a sailboat, softly marking where you once were for seemingly forever until the sea swallows these final traces long after you’ve sailed over the horizon. It seems we do matter, even if we don’t always believe it.

      I feel a bit less spun up about my friend’s beliefs after seeing the footprints. He’s not insulting me with his post, I’m the one choosing to react to it. I recognize the energy he leaves in his wake sometimes unsettles my own state, but it’s not malice that stirs me, just a different belief. We both stir the water in the way we each move through life, living to see another day and doing the best we can. The world needs more people like him, beliefs be damned.

    • Learning Anew

      “Spirituality is… unlearning all the rubbish they taught you.” – Anthony De Mello, Awakening

      I’ve pondered this De Mello quote since I read Awakening last year.  Admittedly I was late the game with De Mello as with many other writers, but then again, I don’t believe there are prizes for learning everything before a certain time in your life.  More to the point, we don’t really know much of anything until we live.  When you’ve lived words resonate differently.  Life lessons are a self-paced game, and I’m slowly climbing like the rest of the world.  I’ve become much more patient with some things people say and do, and much less tolerant with other things.  But I recognize the stoic challenges thrown out at me either way; choose how you react to the world for it’s the only thing we really control.  I can’t control what someone says or does, but I can control how I react to it.  Find the truth in all things, starting with ourselves.

      “Whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time.  The twining strands of fate wove both of them together: your own existence and the things that happen to you.” – Marcus Aurelius, Meditations  

      Reading Meditations was one of the more impactful things I’ve done over the last decade.  It’s a quick read if you want it to be, or a lifetime read if you let it be.  I chose the latter.  As with every writer I refer to here, the lessons mean more when you’ve taken a few hits in life.  We’ve all been entwined in the strands of fate in 2020.  We were quite literally born to live in this moment.  So how will we react to it?  Rise to the moment or crawl into the fetal position of self-pity or the life atrophy of absorbing the same inane rubbish they taught you over and over?  An open mind and a strong desire for the truth in this moment and in life.  What will you do with your time?  What has fate woven you into, and how will you react to it?  Worthy questions to ponder.  And I do ponder…  and hope to act appropriately in this time.

       

    • We Are Stardust

      Serendipity lately seems to be taking me to the stars.  I dance with the stars often, as anyone who follows me can attest.  But the stars seem aligned (sorry) for me to write about them once again today.  It began with Ryan Holiday quoting the familiar phrase “we are stardust” in his exceptional book Stillness Is The Key.  That got me thinking about the Joni Mitchell song Woodstock (with apologies to Joni and CSNY, my favorite version is James Taylor singing it on the Howard Stern Show or if you prefer, in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony for Joni Mitchell)

      “We are stardust
      Billion year old carbon
      We are golden
      Caught in the devil’s bargain
      And we’ve got to get ourselves
      Back to the garden”
      – Joni Mitchell, Woodstock

      Heavy stuff when you think about it; we’re made up of stardust; billion year old carbon recycled into our present form.  Our bodies are made up of the timeless material of infinity.  And our thoughts are built on the timeless wisdom of the ages.  That makes us… timeless in a way, doesn’t it?  And one with the very universe around us.  Whoah.  But could this be true?  I believe so, but sought out validation with a Google search nonetheless (because isn’t that where the truth is?)  And I came across a Carl Sagan quote confirming that yes, we are indeed made up of star stuff:

      “We are a way for the universe to know itself. Some part of our being knows this is where we came from. We long to return. And we can, because the cosmos is also within us. We’re made of star stuff,” – Carl Sagan

      So this fascination with the stars is a longing to return? Maybe, but I think it’s more a feeling of solidarity with the infinite universe around me. A way for the universe to know itself… From the daffodils patiently biding their time in the sun to the stars I gaze up at light years away from that sun. To infinity and beyond, if you will. My reading finally brought me this morning to W.D. Auden (via Brain Pickings) and this stunning poem, included in its entirety because I just couldn’t help myself:

      “Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
      That, for all I care, I can go to hell,
      But on earth is the least
      We have to dread from man or beast.

      How should we like it were stars to burn
      With a passion for us, we could not return?
      If equal affection cannot be,
      Let the more loving one be me.

      Admirer as I think I am
      Of stars that do not give a damn,
      I cannot, now I see them, say
      I missed one terribly all day.

      Were all stars to disappear or die,
      I should learn to look at an empty sky
      And feel its total dark sublime,
      Though this may take me a little time.”
      – W.H. Auden, The More Loving One

      When the student is ready the teacher will appear.  I’m a ready student, looking up at the universe in wonder, and marveling at the bounty being returned to me by timeless teachers.  And isn’t that being truly alive, getting out of our own heads and dancing with this timeless wisdom?  We’re all stars dancing in the universe. Some brighter than others. Personally, I strive to be brighter still that I might offer more. If equal affection cannot be, Let the more loving one be me.

    • TGI… F?

      Friday’s feel a bit different when your entire week is spent working from home… And the weekend before that… And this coming weekend too. Indeed, Saturday and Sunday feel different, and so does Monday. There’s a cadence to a normal week that’s been disrupted for most everyone, but it’s all kind of lumped together now like jambalaya. Here we are in the new world.

      You could say TGI… Not On A Ventilator or TGI… Still Employed or TGI… Still Like My Family or TGI.. Still Have Toilet Paper right about now and mean it more than TGIF. So sure, the world is still upside down on this next Friday in March, but it could be worse. And someday we’ll all have a collective memory of this time that we’ll shake our head in wonder at. The world against the virus; our collective enemy.

      The work week, like perceived scarcity, can bring out the worst in some people. It’s not always easy living in a dog-eat-dog world, so it’s understandable when people celebrate the end of that crazy week and the chance to let loose a bit. But the bars are closed, the restaurants are doing take-out, every sport is shuttered and theaters sit dark and empty. So where do you let loose anyway, if you’re so inclined?

      Such is the state of the pandemic world. Society pauses to flatten the curve, the economy needs its own ventilator and Friday seems like Tuesday. But what of it? TGIF is a state of mind anyway, just like the Monday Blues is. Celebrate waking up to another day and don’t worry about the calendar. TGI… Alive And Healthy. Memento Mori and Carpe Diem.

    • Living Heartily

      “I’m not the river
      that powerful presence.
      And I’m not the black oak tree
      which is patience personified.
      And I’m not redbird
      who is a brief life heartily enjoyed.
      Nor am I mud nor rock nor sand
      which is holding everything together.
      No, I am none of these meaningful things, not yet.      ”
      – Mary Oliver, I’m Not The River

      I walked outside barefoot to a chorus of woodland song early this morning. Robins and cardinals and even those clever rascals the crows were all singing to each other at the edge of the woods where humans begin. Birds don’t give a thought to human worries about COVID-19 or mortgage payments or how many steps show up on your watch. No, they go on living heartily, not thinking about the briefness of the duration but working hard to ensure this particular moment isn’t their last.

      It’s Spring in New England. The world wakes up similarly to the way it woke up yesterday, but there’s a slight shift in attitude. The mild winter and a pandemic cancelling everything normal in life and Mookie Betts dumped for money and Tom Brady moving on all make this Spring feel different from any other in my memory, but walking out into the morning chorus you see it’s all the stories we tell ourselves. We’re all just living this brief moment and trying to live another day. Stoicism offers a guide to living more powerfully.  To accept fate (Amor Fati) and our ultimate fate (Memento Mori), and to apply this knowledge, this understanding of the world, to embrace every moment.

      “It’s time you realized that you have something in you more powerful and miraculous than the things that affect you and make you dance like a puppet.” – Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

      I’m working on things just as we all are. Holding things and people together, working to be patient with this world around me, working on small, daily improvement. Living heartily might seem a challenge right now, but it’s more important than ever. I’d think it was a lot more challenging a hundred or a thousand years ago. No, we live in relative comfort compared to those before us. They’d surely laugh at the things we call hardship. We can hold it all together and get beyond this too. Walking barefoot out to greet this first day of Spring and embrace the chorus seems a good first step. But there’s so much more to do with this day, isn’t there?

    • Carrying The Weight of a Black Swan

      It seems I don’t meet the criteria for high risk with COVID-19.  That’s a blessing isn’t it?  Or is it a curse?  Depends on how you feel I suppose.  Personally I feel fine, outside of some lung irritation that’s either allergies flaring up or the virus that dominates our lives.  Who knows?  Maybe if our country had taken the opportunity to stockpile tests I’d know.  Finger-pointing won’t help anything right now, but I’ll remember with my vote in November as those previously elected either step up or stumble through this.

      That said, beyond the tragedies that are unfolding around the world, I believe that in ways we won’t recognize for a long time this pandemic is going to strengthen us as a society. Collectively we become more resilient through adversity.  And boy, we’re wading deep into it now.  We collectively have an opportunity for growth.

      When the world feels a bit more challenging than usual, revisiting some old books seems appropriate. One book I’d recommend is The Obstacle Is The Way, by Ryan Holiday. I’ve re-read this a couple of times, and credit Holiday along with Tim Ferriss for pointing me towards the stoic philosophers. Stoicism, history and poetry have been the core of my reading for some time now, pushing fiction and business books further to the side. And this quote jumped out at me as I scanned previously highlighted insights from his book:

      “It’s almost a cliché at this point, but the observation that the way to strengthen an arch is to put weight on it—because it binds the stones together, and only with tension does it hold weight—is a great metaphor. The path of least resistance is a terrible teacher. We can’t afford to shy away from the things that intimidate us. We don’t need to take our weaknesses for granted.” – Ryan Holiday, The Obstacles Is The Way

       As a society we’ve had a massive viral weight dumped on us. This is the very definition of a black swan event. How shall we remember this time? With the vast majority of people rising to the occasion or for the toilet paper hoarders and people stocking up on ammunition should things reach a level of madness none of us are imagining now. I’m in the “rise to the occasion” camp, and I hope you are too. We get to choose how we react to the events around us. History will remember the hero’s, fanatics and fools. I know which group I aspire to be in.