Alexandersmap

    Category: Travel

    • Our Few Things

      “Convenience culture seduces us into imagining that we might find room for everything important by eliminating only life’s tedious tasks. But it’s a lie. You have to choose a few things, sacrifice everything else, and deal with the inevitable sense of loss that results.”
      — Oliver Burkeman, Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals

      We believe we have all the time in the world, and with that belief, take on more than we should. The most effective people are those who say no to most everything thrown at them, and yes to a precious few. We are thus as effective as we choose to be.

      This blog post began early, lingered in the back of my mind during a long, full day, and awaited me when I returned. By all accounts, I should have simply let it go today to focus on the crush of other things that want my attention today. But the thing is, writing is one of those precious few for me, and so deserves the measure of time I have available to give it. We must know what our non-negotiables are, along with the bit players who fill the gaps. We shouldn’t ever confuse our precious few with a gap filler.

      So what are we okay with seeing slip away today? If we can’t be exceptional at everything, what thing is truly an exception? Focus on the few lest we see them lost in the many.

    • A More Available Life

      “The more you move, the more available you are to chance and little wonders.” — Douglas Westerbeke, A Short Walk Through A Wide World

      To be open to experience is risky. Openness requires more of us than to simply stay in place, doing what we’ve always done, in this familiar way that we’ve always done it. That sentence either sounds like comfort to us or a death sentence, depending on who we have grown to be.

      Westerbeke’s novel is a page-turning wonder itself, as its hero moves through the world. For those of us with travel lust, it stirs those familiar feelings. To leave all of this and go find out more about that, whatever and wherever that is. In experiencing that, we learn a lot about who we are in the process. We are moving beyond the self in such moments. We are living a more available life.

      It sounds wonderful to be forever traveling, forever moving from place to place, as if we’d die if we stayed too long in any one place. In reality, we need a safe harbor to return to now and then, to catch up with old friends and family, to tend a garden and to be there for the harvest, to know the way and what to order at certain restaurants. Familiar has its place in our lives too.

      To weave oneself back into a community is a lovely thing indeed. My barber knows my face and exactly how to cut my hair the moment I walk in the door, even if he hasn’t learned my name in the twenty years I’ve been going there. Honestly, I don’t need him to know my name, only that I’ll be back again in a few weeks to do it all over again. The stories I tell him about where I’ve been since the last time he cut my hair carry him away from that barber shop even as I settle into the familiarity of it.

      As we begin this year, as we venture into an uncertain future, what are we inclined to chance upon? What will we wonder at? Sometimes it’s right in front of us, or within the pages of a book. But often it’s beyond our current experience, simply waiting for us to venture to it. To add venturing to our lives naturally lends itself to more adventure. To go and be and do and yes, to return again forever changed, in the time we have available to us.

      Tempus fugit: Time flies. Every moment of now is rapidly receding into then. How we use now isn’t always up to us, but sometimes—more often that we believe, it is ours alone to spend. Will this day, this year and the balance of our lives be full of familiar routines and comforting safe bets or will we dare to venture beyond?

    • Places You’ll Go

      “The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.” — Dr. Seuss

      Where will we go in the New Year? It begins with a spark of imagination, a wee bit of boldness and the inclination to follow through on the things we promised ourselves we would do one day. But just when is one day? It’s the day we step towards it.

      Having made the decision, booked the flights, reserved a room, and blocked off the calendar, the wait begins until the day of departure. But really, the trip has already begun. We anticipate, add to our itinerary, brush up on the local language, and (for some of us) read some history of the place to better understand what we’re walking into.

      We grow into travel, just as we grow into our careers, relationships and parental responsibilities. Each trip offers lessons, each lesson leads to more adventurous travel. We stretch, learn and grow some more. And our lives become larger before our eyes.

      So as we take stock of where we’ve been this year, it’s natural to imagine what’s next for us. Just where will we go next? What will we see and do? Just who will we be on this next trip around the sun? The answers begin within.

    • Plans and Adages

      “It is easy to make plans in this world; even a cat can do it; and when one is out in those remote oceans it is noticeable that a cat’s plans and a man’s are worth about the same.”
      ― Mark Twain, Following the Equator: A Journey Around the World

      I planned to do a few things this week that simply didn’t happen because of other things that were more pressing in the moment. Perhaps this has happened to you? Naturally. We’re all human, we make our plans and God laughs. We all have heard this adage and accept it even as some question the laugher, because plans have a way of changing no matter how stubborn we are about sticking with them.

      Mark Twain, bobbing around in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, was likely wondering what went wrong with his own plans that brought him there. He’d accepted a lecture circuit around the British Empire because he’d lost most of his fortune in bad investments. Through adversity we find opportunity. Finding the silver lining is a path to resilience. We are built to transcend obstacles and challenges, even if we don’t always realize it at the time.

      Speaking of challenges, trying to eat well and to drink in moderation (or not at all) during the holidays is just about as challenging as trying to fit in a solid workout when the days feel so short and frenzied. It’s easier to simply give in and eat the cookies and chocolate that people seem to throw at you this time of year (why does everyone bake so much in December?). What’s one more cookie anyway? The truth shall set you free, and when you find yourself in a hole, stop digging. Or at least stop eating and go take a walk. The dog would like that, and so would the waistline. After all, a rolling stone gathers no moss.

      If I’ve learned anything from having a few of these holidays under my belt, it’s to celebrate the season, but maybe temper that enthusiasm for treats with a bit more active lifestyle. Nothing ventured, nothing gained may be true, but don’t venture into too many treats and too few steps!

      Earlier this week I met with a couple of industry friends at a brewery. It became apparent that I’ve (thankfully) lost my ability to keep pace downing pints, and I opted out of the latter rounds in favor of staying under the legal limit for my commute home. All things in moderation, we tell ourselves. Just remember that moderation for some is excess for others. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.

      It may be true that we are never too old to learn, but it’s also true that we aren’t getting any younger. So sure, we ought to do things now that will be impossible to do later, but maybe lean into the healthier choices that build a stronger foundation for that future version of us that we hope is strong and vibrant and maybe even a little scandalously adventurous for the age we are at the time. At least, that’s the plan.

    • Tickled By Audacity

      “Il faut vivre et créer. Vivre à pleurer”
      (Men must live and create. Live to the point of tears)
      ― Albert Camus

      I’ve moved away from apps that teach me to read other languages, because they never really brought me to conversational French or German or Spanish. They aren’t immersive enough for that. Perhaps some of the AI-driven apps will deliver on the promise of multilingual proclivity, but as with most things, we learn by immersing ourselves in proximity to others doing that which we aspire to do. Which is another way to say we ought to challenge ourselves to go and do and be that person who is beyond where we currently are.

      French, for me, is the language I’ve dabbled with too long without mastering. We are all students of something, aren’t we? We may dabble in some things and attempt to master one, maybe two things in a lifetime. Conversational French is as good a skill to aspire to as anything. But skills are merely acquired to bring us to something else. Perhaps reading Camus in the language he wrote in, or perhaps holding one’s own in a local café where the tourists rarely go. We reach places we would never get to through the knowledge and skills we acquire and use.

      To live—vivre—is more than simply going through the motions. We can make a case that going through motions is not living at all. Going through anything is mere existence. To be alive we must do and dare, create and share. Embrace living by turning away from existing, towards something bolder and a little tingly. Those tingles are the nervous system expressing being tickled by audacity.

      Well, to live’s to fly
      All low and high
      So shake the dust off of your wings
      And the sleep out of your eyes
      — Townes Van Zandt, To Live Is to Fly

      How many ways must we say it? Be bold today. Live an expansive life. Try new things with frequency. Wings should never accumulate dust and skills should never be allowed to rust. We’re here to fly and strut our stuff. What is a day but another chance to make something memorable of it? What will we embark on next? What will we finally complete before we run out of time? Immerse yourself. Live and be bold! Vivre à pleurer.

    • Surfacing

      “You drown not by falling into a river, but by staying submerged in it.” — Paulo Coelho, Manual of the Warrior of Light

      It’s easy to get submerged in our routines. Buried in our work. Wrapped up in our frantic days. The obvious question is, when do we come up for air? The less obvious questions might be, what have we immersed ourselves in and should we get out immediately?

      “There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, ‘Morning, boys, how’s the water?’ And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, ‘What the hell is water?”
      — David Foster Wallace, This is Water (Kenyon College commencement speech, 2005

      If each day is structured by belief and ritual, when is it appropriate to question what those beliefs and rituals are? I should think, always. But then life gets a little messy, doesn’t it? When we’re always questioning what we’re doing with our days, we’re not moving through life smoothly. We’re bumping into truth at every turn, switching direction, bumping into something else, and it feels like we’re being constantly jostled. If you loved riding on the bumper cars as a kid, then question everything. If you prefer to charge through life picking up as many experiences as possible until the ride ends, it’s best not to slow down and linger with questions at all. Maybe a roller coaster was your ride. Simply buckle up, put away those loose items and don’t eat the chili dog beforehand.

      The thing is, we need to settle into some form of ritual and routine in our lives, that we may gain a sense of place and time—that we may actually do something while we’re in this place and time. For it will all float away soon enough like all the rest. What the hell is water? It’s all this stuff floating around us friend. Whether we dove into it headfirst or quietly sank in doesn’t matter so much as what we choose to do now. Remember if you lose your bearings that bubbles float up (so exhale a bit now and then). Immersion has its benefits, but surfacing offers perspective and maybe even survival.

    • We Are Stirred

      I don’t want to be demure or respectable.
      I was that way for years.
      That way, you forget too many important things.
      How the little stones, even if you can’t hear them,
      are singing.
      How the river can’t wait to get to the ocean and
      the sky, it’s been there before.
      What traveling is that!
      It is a joy to imagine such distances.
      — Mary Oliver, I Don’t Want to be Demure or Respectable

      When this blogger is finally done (perhaps when he begins to refer regularly to himself in the third person), it may be when the collection of Mary Oliver poems have all been quoted. It could just as easily have been Henry David Thoreau or Marcus Aurelius. Truly, I don’t mean to keep returning to each of them here, but then I re-read a poem like this one, in just the kind of mood I find myself in now, and well, here we are.

      We know when we’re ready for the next. To imagine such distances. Oh, the audacity to try to reach them! We all get tired of being demure and respectable. Don’t we? No, maybe not all of us. But some of us. The kindred fire is easy to feel when encountered. We are fellow schemers, some of us. We dream our dreams and chase some of them. We aren’t satiated by travel or poetry or encounters in the wild—we are stirred. Forever wanting just a bit more than this, please and thank you.

      To be demure is to concede that now is not entirely for us. Now is a time to be present and honorable and a sacrificer of time and energy and that special fire within that longs for oxygen and fuel. To do the right thing is honorable. Honor has its price, but truly, it also offers its beautiful dividend that cannot be ignored. A sense of place and connection keeps us alive and thriving too—just look at those Blue Zone folks for affirmation.

      As a friend recently phrased it, we have competing opportunities in our lives. The only wrong answer is to be a slave to someone else’s dream that robs us of our vitality. In time, we learn what is an empty pursuit and what feeds the flame. Having felt the heat within, how will we now feed it, so it doesn’t peter out like the vitality in so many others who have come before? It’s a joy to imagine such distances we may travel as we grow into our possibilities. Go! Do something with it while there is time.

    • A Day at The Met

      The first thing you learn when you spend a day at The Metropolitan Museum of Art is that a day is comically not nearly enough time to see everything. A year at The Met might do. And be sure to capitalize that T in “The” because the official name is what it is and details matter. In matters of affectionate familiarity, it’s perfectly fine to simply call it The Met.

      Comic or not, I had one random Thursday for a Met marathon. The only thing to do is to get to it—to meander through the maze of exhibits, to see, to linger on art that whispers for you to be with it for a moment, to eavesdrop on tour guides as they drop insight on what seemed randomness a moment before, to gawk at the famous and smile at the packs of teenagers giggling about the lack of fig leaves, and to move relentlessly through as much of the collection as time and mental capacity allows. As with all things, we hope to return again one day and pick up where we left off. Like that expression about the river, we will have changed in the interim, and everything we see will seem different with that new perspective.

      Claude Monet, "Bouquet of Sunflowers", 1881
      Claude Monet, “Bouquet of Sunflowers”, 1881
      Marie Denise Villers, Marie Joséphine Charlotte du Val d'Ognes (1786-1868), 1801
      Marie Denise Villers, Marie Joséphine Charlotte du Val d’Ognes (1786-1868), 1801
      Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux, Why Born Enslaved!
      Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux, Why Born Enslaved!
      Claude Monet, "Bridge over a Pond of Water Lilies", 1899
      Claude Monet, “Bridge over a Pond of Water Lilies”, 1899
      August Rodin, "Beside the Sea", 1907
      August Rodin, “Beside the Sea”, 1907
      William Bouguereau, "Breton Brother and Sister", 1871
      William Bouguereau, “Breton Brother and Sister”, 1871
      Vincent van Gogh, "Wheat Field with Cypresses", 1889
      Vincent van Gogh, “Wheat Field with Cypresses”, 1889
      Bronze statuette of a satyr with a torch and wineskin
      Bronze statuette of a satyr with a torch and wineskin
      Foreground: Finial for a ceremonial house, Sawos artist; Kaimbiam village, Middle Sepik River, Papua New Guinea Background: Finials from Ambrym Island artists; Fanla village, Vanuatu
      Foreground: Finial for a ceremonial house, Sawos artist; Kaimbiam village, Middle Sepik River, Papua New Guinea
      Background: Finials from Ambrym Island artists; Fanla village, Vanuatu
      Drum Possibly Babungo/Vengo people Cameroon, ca. 1940
      Drum
      Possibly Babungo/Vengo people
      Cameroon, ca. 1940
      Arms and Armor Room from above
      Arms and Armor Room from above
      Frans Hals, "The Smoker", ca. 1623-1625
      Frans Hals, “The Smoker”, ca. 1623-1625
      Pablo Picasso, "The Blind Man's Meal", 1903
      Pablo Picasso, “The Blind Man’s Meal”, 1903
      Death German, mid-17th century Lindenwood with traces of pigment, spruce base
      Death
      German, mid-17th century
      Lindenwood with traces of pigment, spruce base
      Auguste Rodin, "The Burghers of Calais"
      Auguste Rodin, “The Burghers of Calais”
      Jean Antoine Houdon, "Winter", 1787
      Jean Antoine Houdon, “Winter”, 1787
      Fireplace Surround Attributed to Désiré Muller, ca. 1900
      Fireplace Surround
      Attributed to Désiré Muller, ca. 1900
      Harriet Whitney Frishmuth, "The Vine", 1921 (this cast 1924)
      Harriet Whitney Frishmuth, “The Vine”, 1921 (this cast 1924)
      Antonio Canova, "Perseus with the Head of Medusa", 1804-6
      Antonio Canova, “Perseus with the Head of Medusa”, 1804-6
      Camillo Pistrucci, "Mary Shelley", 1843
      Camillo Pistrucci, “Mary Shelley”, 1843
      Émile-Antoine Bourdelle, "Herakles the Archer", 1909
      Émile-Antoine Bourdelle, “Herakles the Archer”, 1909
      Body Mask Asmat artist; Ambisu, Ajip River, Casuarina Coast, West Papua
      Body Mask
      Asmat artist; Ambisu, Ajip River, Casuarina Coast, West Papua
      Bronze helmet of the Illyrian type Greek, late 6th-early 5th century, B.C.
      Bronze helmet of the Illyrian type
      Greek, late 6th-early 5th century, B.C.
      Mechanical Table Workshop of David Roentgen, ca. 1780-90
      Mechanical Table
      Workshop of David Roentgen, ca. 1780-90
      Jean-Basptiste Carpeaux, "Ugolino and His Sons", 1865-67
      Jean-Basptiste Carpeaux, “Ugolino and His Sons”, 1865-67
      Augustus Saint-Gaudens, "Hiawatha", 1874
      Augustus Saint-Gaudens, “Hiawatha”, 1874
      Asmat artist, Yamas village, West Papua Wuramon (spirit canoe)
      Asmat artist, Yamas village, West Papua
      Wuramon (spirit canoe)
      Bronze ornament from a chariot pole Head of Medusa Roman, 1st-2nd century A.D.
      Bronze ornament from a chariot pole
      Head of Medusa
      Roman, 1st-2nd century A.D.

    • Curious and Interested

      “Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking.” ― Marcus Aurelius

      I took a cab across Manhattan and found myself in a fascinating conversation with the driver. He was 70, clearly fit and handsome and very bright. He’s locally famous (showed me the newspaper articles) for offering stock market advice to his passengers. He’s done everything from real estate investing to being a Chippendales dancer to owner of two cabs. He reminded me of that most interesting man in the world character, and indeed he was as interesting to speak with as you might imagine.

      I’d spent the previous day running into people I’ve known for years at a trade show. We’d each built a life, formed relationships and grown as people. Tenure is a way to form long-standing professional relationships. Being honest and forthright and genuinely interested in the lives of others is an accelerant to forming deeper bonds that last a lifetime. If there was a lesson in my encounters with old friends, it’s that friendship transcends any single job or project.

      “Be curious, not judgmental.” — Walt Whitman

      Just how are we moving through our years? Surely we’ll have moments of boredom and drudgery along the way. But we ought to sprinkle in more things that fascinate us. When we are curious and interested, people in turn are more curious and interested in us. At least that’s my way of thinking about the matter.

    • Page-Turning

      “Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?”
      — Mary Oliver, Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches

      When Mary Oliver writes, in the poem quoted above, that there is still time left—fields everywhere invite you into them, I admit that I’ve received the invitation, and I’m stepping into the field. But as bold as I am in some moments, there are times when I breathe just a little. Isn’t it that way for all of us? We talk a good game, but then we do what must be done to keep the lights on and the puppy fed. Life is compromise, we tell ourselves. But sure, there is still time left.

      So if you’re tired of the same old story
      Oh, turn some pages
      — REO Speedwagon, Roll with the Changes

      There’s been some serious page-turning going on this year—enough that a scorecard might be appropriate. Global changes. Personal changes. Every day offers a transformation if we let ourselves step outside of our routine long enough to see it. And we ought to keep track of our lives in such a way, through journals and pictures and retrospect. Just see how far we’ve come! And always the question; just where are we going next?

      And still there is time left. Still it feels sometimes that we are breathing just a little, calling it a life. The thing to do, it seems, is to be bold right now: aware and alive, doing that thing that demands our attention in this small measure of time. The next step will take care of itself, if only we would change our story right now. To breathe deeply—while doing that which leaves us breathless, is where boldness lies awaiting action.