Alexandersmap

    Category: Stoicism

    • Thin Walls

      Contemplating the snoring of the person in the room next to mine, I appreciate the consistently good hotels I usually stay in. Not expensive, mind you, but clean, friendly and generally built with thicker walls and floors. This one is old school independent, built economically – I’m guessing – in the 1980’s. The comforter I peeled off looked to be an original. The television, which shall remain dark, doesn’t owe them anything. Yeah, this place was new when Huey Lewis was cranking out hits.

      I’ve stayed in some dive hotels and motels before; from the run down to the truly gross. This isn’t one of those. The owners keep it clean, it just shows it’s age a bit. In this era of Airbnb and chain hotels it’s a throwback to another time. Yelp and other such online review sites has made it less of a mystery what you’re walking into, but I’ve found most people who write negative reviews need to be filtered out. Find the average and go with it. For me, if a room is clean, I received a warm welcome when checking in and the environment is safe you’re already at 3 1/2 stars.

      Ultimately we’re spoiled by the relative luxury we live in. Who am I to complain about the choice of bread in a free continental breakfast? I’m trying to cut down on carbs anyway. I’m well aware of how lucky I am to live here, at this time, with a great job and good health. Most of us have more than enough. I will eat today; that’s more than many can say. Thin walls just remind you that there’s other traveling souls out there, and I learned many years ago to always bring ear plugs.

      “Choose not to be harmed — and you won’t feel harmed. Don’t feel harmed — and you haven’t been.” – Marcus Aurelius

    • Viewing Hedonism Through a Stoic Lens

      I was making coffee with the AeroPress this morning. I’ve quickly grown to love this coffee press for its ease of use, quick cleanup and the great cup of coffee it produces. It got me thinking about this concept of hedonic adaptation I’d been reading about, where we quickly become accustomed to new things that once excited us. Every iPhone owner has experienced this the day a new iPhone was introduced. The trick is to not to allow stuff to dictate your mood. Easier said than done, but there’s value in trying. Will I eventually take the AeroPress for granted? Probably, but Stoicism offers a path.

      “Regularly reminding yourself that you might lose any of the things you currently enjoy–indeed, that you will definitely lose them all, in the end, when death catches up with you–would reverse the adaptation effect.” – Oliver Burkeman, The Antidote: Happiness for People Who Can’t Stand Positive Thinking

      There you go: Memento mori. Stoicism taps me on the shoulder once again telling me not to worry about all that stuff, you’ll lose it all in the end anyway. Your happiness can’t be dependent on the newest shiny toy you buy. None of that stuff matters. Does that mean I can’t enjoy that AeroPress? Not at all, just don’t depend on an object for happiness. That’s a fools game, and expensive to boot.

      According to Wikipedia, “The hedonic treadmill, also known as hedonic adaptation, is the observed tendency of humans to quickly return to a relatively stable level of happiness despite major positive or negative events or life changes. According to this theory, as a person makes more money, expectations and desires rise in tandem, which results in no permanent gain in happiness.”

      I’m watching Sunday football as I finish writing this, tolerating the endless stream of commercials promising me happiness if I buy this car or that, order pizza from that delivery place, or buy that latest iPhone with the cool-ass camera(s). All designed to trigger desire for what you don’t currently have. And all nonsense when you view it through a stoic lens.

    • It’s Just a Bird

      “Perfectionism is a mean, frozen form of idealism, while messes are the artist’s true friend. What people somehow (inadvertently, I’m sure) forgot to mention when we were children was that we need to make messes in order to find out who we are and why we are here – and, by extension, what we are supposed to be writing.” – Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

      Yesterday afternoon I re-read my blog post from the morning and noticed an ugly spelling error. Things like that used to horrify me, now I just laughed at my mistake and clicked on the edit button to make it go away forever. If every blog post had to be perfect I’d never get anything done. Which is why Lamott’s quote above resonates with me. I’d read Bird by Bird years ago and it didn’t stick. I didn’t write then, I just thought about writing.

      Lamott’s title is derived from a story about her brother and father, who basically told his son to just chip away at a project one part (birds, of course) at a time instead of being overwhelmed by the whole. It reminds me of something my daughter and I say to each other… “It’s just a bird”, or “no big deal”… at any rate the bird analogy stands. Take things one step at a time, chip away at things and don’t worry about making it perfect on the first draft (there’s no such thing anyway). Just do it as Nike would tell you.

      That chipping away at it concept applies to any project. Just stop thinking about applying it and do it already. Isn’t that the root of every motivational mantra ever written? And every kick-starter campaign? And every sales meeting? But knowing the trick and doing the trick aren’t the same thing, are they? Planning to do something feels like you’re doing something. But we know better.

      I’m reading six books at once right now, and for the life of me I don’t know why I picked up Bird by Bird to read again. But a little bird was calling me and here we are. And in reading it again it resonates as it hadn’t before.

      “When the student is ready the teacher will appear”

      There’s more to do. My day job calls and I know there’s more to say. There’s always more to say. Every great book I’ve ever read left me satisfied but wanting more. This clunky little blog is bouncing between history, gardening, birds, travel, music and a hundred other passing fancies. But the heart of it is the journey towards better writing. The ritual, practiced daily. Bird by bird.

    • Opting In

      “A man is worked upon by what he works on.” – Frederick Douglass

      I’m not a photographer by profession, but I fill Instagram with pictures.

      I’m not an author by profession, but this will be my 416th blog post.

      I’m not a horticulturist. but I’ve spent hundreds of hours painting vibrant portraits with amended soil and pruning shears.

      And so on…

      We aren’t what we want to be, we’re what we do. Theodore Roosevelt’s Man in the Arena comes to mind. There are too many cavalier critics in the world. Too many armchair quarterbacks. Get out there and do something already! Opt in and act. Memento mori; remember we all must die, so do something meaningful while you’re here!

      “People get the mind and quality of brain that they deserve through their actions in life… people who are passive create a mental landscape that is rather barren. Because of their limited experiences and action, all kinds of connections in the brain die off from lack of use. Pushing against the passive trend of these times, you must work to see how far you can extend control of your circumstances and create the kind of mind you desire.” – Robert Greene, Mastery

      The more you do, the more you become. And the more interesting you become. Being interesting is a byproduct of being interested. Being interesting to others of course isn’t the objective, but being interesting with others should be. Engagement offers enlightenment. The curious mind is alive, vibrant and accretive, the disinterested mind is on life support, dull and diminishing.

      Hobbies like gardening and photography aren’t going to get me invited to do a TED talk mind you, but they do make the world a little better, move some electrons around in the brain, and hopefully give me something more to contribute than someone less interested in opting in. If you’re still talking about your conquests in college when you’re over 50 or freeze up when the conversation goes beyond last week’s game you aren’t really growing, are you? Writing for me is no longer a hobby, but not [yet] a profession. Blogging, fueled by travel, reading and curiosity, is my apprenticeship; Teaching consistency, discipline and the art of putting words together from the mind to the screen. I’ll never use this blog to make money, but hope to enrich myself in other ways in the process of daily, consistent writing. I owe that to myself.

    • Now… or Never

      Reading has a way of pulling material out for us.  I fully intended to write about the Battle of Lake Erie today, but it will have to wait just a bit longer.  Instead I came across this poem last night while thinning out the bookshelves.  I have books stacked on books, and it’s time to clean out a bunch of them.  Fall yard sale or donate to a library or sell to a used bookstore?  Their fate is to be determined.  But back to that poem.  It speaks of young lust to be sure, but also calls out across the centuries, warning us to get on with it already (so to speak), for time is short:

      “Had we but world enough, and time,
      This coyness, lady, were no crime.
      We would sit down and think which way
      To walk, and pass our long love’s day…

      But at my back I always hear
      Time’s winged chariot hurrying near;
      And yonder all before us lie
      Deserts of vast eternity.
      Thy beauty shall no more be found,
      Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
      My echoing song; then worms shall try
      That long preserv’d virginity,
      And your quaint honour turn to dust,
      And into ashes all my lust.
      The grave’s a fine and private place,
      But none I think do there embrace.”

      – Andrew Marvell, To His Coy Mistress

      Who doesn’t smile at the game old Andrew was playing here?  That the game was played in the 1650’s, but published posthumously, as if our hero were reaching out from the grave to remind us that time is short, and to do what we must do….  now.  Carpe Diem.  Marvell was apparently a real player, and I spent some time getting acquainted with a few of his poems this morning before writing.  I may revisit his work sometime, but I can’t ignore the call.  I dance with a lot of ghosts after all, and so should everyone.  They know things we don’t yet know.  History speaks, and so does literature.

      Interestingly, the first time I read the first and last two lines of the poem wasn’t in some English class, but in a business book written by Felix Dennis called How to Get Rich.  I’d picked up his book back in 2006 at the height of my lust for business success.  Back when I read it the first time I ignored the urgency of his call.  I’m less inclined to do so now.  Dennis died in 2014, joining Marvell in calling out from the grave.  Seize the day!

      The grave’s a fine and private place,
      But none I think do there embrace.”

       

    • Raising the Average

      “Perfection is the enemy of action.” – Ryan Holiday, The Daily Stoic

      Somehow I haven’t found the time to walk five miles every day this week. Busy with stuff. Like finding excuses to not get some exercise. But somehow I’ve managed to knock off a dozen burpees every day. Granted, it’s a small token of daily fitness, but I haven’t broken the streak yet. I’ve established a cadence with burpees. It’s a form of daily ritual, a small gesture towards fitness. It won’t close the gap on its own but it gives me some measure of achievement.

      Seth Godin mentioned in an interview that he writes multiple blog posts every day, essentially building a library of possibilities to post. I have no such library. Instead I write as inspiration strikes, usually in the morning but sometimes late in the day. But I post daily to keep the streak alive, typos and all. I’m not writing a masterpiece, though I surely try. The cadence is what I’m focused on. Hopefully the content meets expectations on occasion.

      Every morning this week I’ve gotten up for the sunrise, alone to catch the sun break the horizon. There’s a feeling of hope for this new day, as there was yesterday and hopefully tomorrow. I haven’t had a perfect day yet this week, but I’ve had good days nonetheless. Perfect days are evasive creatures; I’ll take great days or even average days. Average is still pretty good when you look at how dark the world can be. I woke up today (bonus!), saw a sunrise, sipped some coffee and read a bit of meaningful prose. I’ll take that kind of start any day. Chasing perfection leads you down a path of never good enough, which leads to the darkness. I choose the light, errors and all.

      There’s a great article about Dalilah Muhammad’s world record 400 meter hurdle run in Sports Illustrated this week. She ran an imperfect race, but she didn’t need perfection to get the WR because she’d worked so hard to be at a level of performance where an average race was still far ahead of the perfect race for someone else was. There’s a lesson there for all of us. We can’t reach perfection but by continually raising the bar in our own lives we can reach levels of greatness in our pursuits. Steady improvement over time moves us closer. That seems healthier than never good enough.

    • Expected Storms

      Flights all around me are being cancelled preemptively with severe thunderstorms expected this evening. I’m driving so I’m not worried about flight cancellations this trip, but do the mental math of the impact severe storms might have on my drive time. When you drive you control your destiny more than the flyers can, but also bear more of the mental burden of getting from here to there. Still, it’s a good trade-off.

      Weather forecasting has reached a point of accuracy where anticipated storms dictate flight cancellations more than actual storms seem to. There’s value in this of course, tempered with a dose of frustration when things get cancelled and the predicted apocalypse doesn’t appear. Those are the days meteorologists earn their money as people forget the overall accuracy and dial in on the inconvenience of the moment.

      Looking out the window I see sunny skies, but it can change at any time. If there’s a lesson a road warrior may offer, it’s to prepare as best you can, pivot quickly when possible, and take the rest as it comes. Stoicism in practice, you might say.

    • Part of the Eternal

      “Putting things off is the biggest waste of life: it snatches away each day as it comes, and denies us the present by promising the future. The greatest obstacle to living is expectancy, which hangs upon tomorrow and loses today. You are arranging what lies in Fortune’s control, and abandoning what lies in yours. What are you looking at? To what goal are you straining? The whole future lies in uncertainty: live immediately.” – Seneca. On The Shortness of Life

      I was listening to a podcast interview with Elizabeth Gilbert where she discussed the death of a woman she had a relationship with, and the words she heard from another writer friend, Ann Patchett, who told her:

      “[Your loved one] belongs to the eternal now, and someday soon you will too.  And that’s true for all of us.  You have an infinite amount of time to belong to the eternal with her.  But you only have this tiny bit of time to have this experience as a human being on Earth.  Don’t lose it by trying to merge with her now.  Merge with this, what’s here, the people who are here, what’s in front of you.  The weird, strange, heartbreaking thing of being mortal.  Do that….  This moment of being human is not to be wasted.” – Elizabeth Gilbert/Ann Patchett

      I write about death.  Not because I’m in a hurry to get there, mind you, but because it’s a reality for all of us, and embracing stoicism means embracing the concept of Memento Mori; remembering that we all must die.  By acknowledging that you set yourself up to make the most of the time you have here.  The alternative is to deny that it will ever happen and not make the most of your time.  Seems a waste, really, to not get every bit of marrow out of the bone.  Take the highlighter out and brighten up the daily pages.

      “We ought to hear at least one little song everyday, read a poem, see a first-rate painting, and if possible speak a few sensible words.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

      Being part of the eternal, the infinite other that we’re all heading towards, makes me focus more on living.  I think I’d like to make a run to 100 and put that eternity thing off as long as possible.  I have a lot of people to reconnect with whenever I get there. Then too, if this side offers a brief window of time to experience living, isn’t it essential to play your cards with some enthusiasm?  It’s Friday once again.  Another string of days has passed.  Surely we owe it to our eternal selves to make the most of this day ahead.  The infinite might just nod its approval.

    • 37 Miles

      I’m currently 37 miles from my first appointment in Boston. At the moment Waze tells me it will take me 69 minutes to reach my destination. In reality it’ll be closer to 90 minutes because it makes little sense to arrive at an appointment 90 minutes early, but it’s unacceptable to arrive 5 minutes late. Such is the mental math of a commuter to Boston. If there’s a benefit to my career it’s not having to do this every day. No such mental math occurs in a trip to Maine or Vermont. But Boston, well, that’s a different story. I choose to avoid peak traffic times whenever possible. Today it’s not possible.

      “… the few that make it to the top of their ambition through a thousand indignities realize at the end it’s only for an inscription on their tombstone” – Seneca

      As I write the predicted commute has inched up another ten minutes. Best to get on my way soon… but then I hear a couple of hot air balloons flying nearby and walked out to see where they’re heading. They often land on our street because the power lines are underground here. But it looks like they’re heading to another neighborhood this time. The brief interruption was welcome as it broke my focus on incremental time units for a 37 mile drive. It’s funny what we focus on, and how unimportant most of it turns out to be in the end. But we also have means to an end to consider, and so it’s time to get moving once again.

    • No World for the Penitent and Regretful

      When I was in college we used to hang out at The Old Worthen in Lowell, drinking pitchers of cheap beer and playing tunes on the juke box.  Inevitably we’d play My Way by Frank Sinatra (written by Paul Anka) and sing the lyrics together in the most world-weary, seasoned way you can muster up when you’re only 21 or so and haven’t been knocked down a few times.

      “Regrets, I’ve had a few
      But then again, too few to mention
      I did what I had to do
      And saw it through without exemption”

      Regrets come with living life.  You make trade-offs along the way, like getting married and raising children instead of crewing on some sailboat in the Greek Isles with nothing but a copy of The Odyssey with you.  I may have thought of doing that once or twice around the time I was singing that song in that bar, and I’d blame it on the ghost of Jack Kerouac whispering in my ear.  On the whole I’ll take the trade-off and don’t look back, unless prompted to.  This morning I was prompted when two quotes in succession resonated for me.  First up was a Joan Didion quote pulled from today’s entry in The Daily Stoic.  Inspired, I drew more of it from a Brain Pickings blog after a quick search and offer some of it here:

      “The dismal fact is that self-respect has nothing to do with the approval of others — who are, after all, deceived easily enough; has nothing to do with reputation, which, as Rhett Butler told Scarlett O’Hara, is something people with courage can do without…  To do without self-respect, on the other hand, is to be an unwilling audience of one to an interminable documentary that deals with one’s failings, both real and imagined, with fresh footage spliced in for every screening. There’s the glass you broke in anger, there’s the hurt on X’s face; watch now, this next scene, the night Y came back from Houston, see how you muff this one. To live without self-respect is to lie awake some night, beyond the reach of warm milk, the Phenobarbital, and the sleeping hand on the coverlet, counting up the sins of commissions and omission, the trusts betrayed, the promises subtly broken, the gifts irrevocably wasted through sloth or cowardice, or carelessness. However long we postpone it, we eventually lie down alone in that notoriously uncomfortable bed, the one we make ourselves. Whether or not we sleep in it depends, of course, on whether or not we respect ourselves…  Character – the willingness to accept responsibility for one’s own life – is the source from which self-respect springs.” – Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem: Essays

      What jolted me was in Didion’s writing, besides the sheer brilliance of her prose, were two phrases in particular: counting up the sins of commissions and omission…  and …the gifts irrevocably wasted through sloth or cowardice, or carelessness.  Who of us, who’s lived a life of any tenure, not counted up the things we’ve done that we’d rather not have done, the things we didn’t do that we wish we had, and regret not taking the leap into some adventure out of laziness or fear?  The older I get the more I say to myself and anyone who asks, just do it.  If you aren’t betraying trust, breaking promises, or taking foolhardy risks, then just do it.  Live with self-respect, do the right thing, accept responsibility for [your] own life.

      And then minutes later I stumbled on this Thoreau quote, a portion of which I’d once posted in an old social media post from years ago, where he (not surprisingly) reminds himself similarly:

      “There is a season for everything, and we do not notice a given phenomenon except at that season, if, indeed, it can be called the same phenomenon at any other season. There is a time to watch the ripples on Ripple Lake, to look for arrowheads, to study the rocks and lichens, a time to walk on sandy deserts; and the observer of nature must improve these seasons as much as the farmer his. So boys fly kites and play ball or hawkie at particular times all over the State. A wise man will know what game to play to-day, and play it. We must not be governed by rigid rules, as by the almanac, but let the season rule us. The moods and thoughts of man are revolving just as steadily and incessantly as nature’s. Nothing must be postponed. Take time by the forelock. Now or never! You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this, or the like of this. Where the good husbandman is, there is the good soil. Take any other course, and life will be a succession of regrets. Let us see vessels sailing prosperously before the wind, and not simply stranded barks. There is no world for the penitent and regretful.” – Henry David Thoreau, from his journal on April 24, 1859

      “You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say and think.” – Marcus Aurelius

      Thoreau wrote that 160 years ago as a reminder to himself, just as Marcus Aurelius wrote his own reminder in Meditations. Didion weighs in with her own message.  By all means, live with character and self-respect, but do make the most of this opportunity you’ve been given. Living in the past is useless.  Living in the future is delusional.  There’s only now.  Today.