Alexandersmap

    Category: Travel

    • An Expansive Life

      What do you want from life
      To get cable TV
      and watch it every night
      There you sit
      a lump in your chair
      — The Tubes, What Do You Want From Life?

      I was talking to someone I’ve known a long time at a family event last week, and mentioned that I’d be visiting Paris later this summer. His response surprised me. He looked at me earnestly, and asked, “But what about the rioters?” And with that, he reminded me that underneath his gruff exterior, he was a fearful boy who watches too much television “news”.

      I’m not here to judge the person I was talking to (I like him very much), or to berate the entertainment vehicle he watches that calls itself a news program (I would rather have my nails extracted than watch news programs), but I think it’s fair to ask ourselves, what exactly do we want from life? To be spun up in a fearful ball afraid to venture across borders real and imagined, or to reach beyond our comfort zone to try something new? We will live a life as expansive as we wish it to be.

      We have agency in how our lives go. We may be street smart and still venture into unfamiliar places far beyond our locked doors. Be bold! Life will end either way. ’tis better to wear out than to rust away. The world awaits our next move.

    • Old Men Ought to be Explorers

      Old men ought to be explorers
      Here or there does not matter
      We must be still and still moving
      Into another intensity
      — T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets: East Coker

      Not old. Not yet anyway. But oh my, we’re getting there. And so there is a calling to do more with the time available. To become more in the process of doing. Old men ought to be explorers.

      I’m publishing less often these days. Consider it a sabbatical of sorts, with an abundance of other things to focus on. I enjoy the process enough to suggest that I’ll be back again. With the level of surety of one who knows the fragility of promises.

      To return means to first venture somewhere. To be and see and do that which transforms us in meaningful ways into a greater version of our selves. Returns, like tomorrows, are never promised, but they’re suggested. I would suggest that this blog, founded on the idea of travel and history, poetry and song, will return again with something more to say.

      But first, there’s this matter of moving into another intensity.

    • Pinus Strobus

      “How much of this invisible dust must be floating in the atmosphere, and be inhaled and drunk by us at this season! Who knows but the pollen of some plants may be unwholesome to inhale, and produce the diseases of the season?” — Henry David Thoreau

      For all my love of the outdoors, there are a few weeks a years that tax the soul. We’re in the thick of it now: pollen season. Specifically, the pollen of the white pine tree, which expels clouds of pollen that coats everything vomit green with a tinge of phlegm yellow.

      Now I know that statement has a negative connotation, because it’s absolutely meant to, but that doesn’t mean I hold a grudge against the trees. They were here first. I think that I should go instead. Buy a boat and sail away from green clouds to experience blue water.

      Trees are rooted to place. Humans are built to move. Preferably somewhere beyond the reach of Pinus Strobus.

    • Full of Firsts

      We shall not cease from exploration
      And the end of all our exploring
      Will be to arrive where we started
      And know the place for the first time.
      — T.S. Eliot, “Little Gidding      “, Four Quartets

      There’s something in the air again (besides pollen). It stirs about and stirs within. The inclination to wander and discover what has not been experienced before grows. Spring is leading us to summer. Summer leads us to look beyond the familiar garden to the world beyond.

      This time of year has long carried the feeling of change in the air. School years are ending. University students are wrapping up finals and fleeing for faraway places schemed up in study halls. We may never pass this way again, but we surely won’t pass those other ways until we go there. Do go there—while we are young… or young enough.

      Looking back on previous adventures, we know we returned transformed. Go to Vienna or Rome or Edinburgh you cannot help but change. I listen to family and friends talk of adventures they’ve had on their own travels and see the place bubble up in their memories, energizing and provoking passion. I feel it within myself when I reflect on places I’ve been. The world is out there, ready to dance with us in our time. If we crawl out of our shell and get moving.

      Just what are we going to do with this opportunity to roam? Just what are we waiting for anyway? The world is full of firsts awaiting our arrival. This season, be bold and go to meet them.

    • Difference Awaits

      “Normality is a paved road: it’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.” — Vincent Van Gogh

      What do you dream about? Who knows? Some people seem to remember all of their dreams. For some of us, the world of dreams is slammed shut upon waking. Is there a metaphor in there somewhere about waking up to finally begin living one’s dreams? Wouldn’t that be the obvious path to take right about now?

      My own dreams, such that they are, usually end with me waking up trying to figure a way out of some maze I’d wandered into, or to find a solution to some problem that doesn’t exist in reality. Ah, you dream interpreters, there’s nothing to see here! We’re all figuring things out as we go. Every day is a winding road.

      We may choose to wander off the beaten path any time we want to, for it’s our story to write. That beaten path laying up ahead is beaten for a reason. It’s tried and true, and won’t make our mothers lie awake at night in worry. Taking the road less traveled makes all the difference, right? Ask a poet:

      Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
      I took the one less traveled by,
      And that has made all the difference.
      — Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken

      The thing is, most of us aren’t choosing poetry or painting as a career path. We’re figuring things out as we go, not wandering off into the wilderness. Maybe that means fewer flowers, but it also helps pay the mortgage. And so paths less traveled by remain in our dreams.

      Then again, we may opt to stray further and further from the beaten path each day, returning to pay the bills and such, but building those wandering muscles and stretching our inclinations in new directions. Our path is simply where we are heading at the moment. Perhaps it’s paved, perhaps it’s full of wildflowers or thistle or perilous beasts that make us break into a cold sweat for the terror of it all.

      Fear not! Our path is meant to be figured out. Like an Andy Weir novel, there’s always a way out of the maze. We just need to wake up to see it. And having seen it, to take that path to where difference awaits.

    • The Earthly Tiara

      “Every carbon atom in every living thing on the planet was produced in the heart of a dying star.” — Brian Cox

      Were you in awe at the images sent back to Earth from Artemis II? It was hard not to feel emotion in that moment. Glimpsing Mother Earth, in all her glory, from the other side of the moon. Think about the billions of people who have lived on this planet, never imagining that view, let alone seeing it. There are now 28 humans who have flown to the moon and back. We may never be amongst the astronauts voyaging through space, but were alive to share the miraculous moment when those pictures arrived for all to see. There are no borders in space.

      Earth Day came and went again without my commenting on it. It wasn’t from indifference (I am equally reverent), I simply felt that there was nothing to add to the conversation that hadn’t already been said. Mother Earth will one day shrug off humanity, as she shrugged off all sorts of life before us. We are stardust and billion-year-old carbon alive in the moment and will one day be recycled into some other matter. Whether science or religious in explanation, rejoice in the miracle of being alive, assembled just so, for the time being. For it’s all a wonder to behold.

      “We are the cosmos made conscious and life is the means by which the universe understands itself.” — Brian Cox

      Artemis, the twin sister of Apollo, both daughters of Zeus. Artemis, independent protector of nature and untamed forests, representative of chastity and childbirth, with her bow and arrow and crescent moon tiara. She is a badass Greek goddess who demands respect and more than a little awe. NASA chose a great name for this mission, this spaceship and its crew. Like Olympians, they inspire us through their actions. The world needed both examples this year, just to remind us that there is meaning to be found, and wonder to behold, beyond the grasp of the least imaginative among us.

      It’s easy to be jaded when it comes to human nature, but now and then some peoples reach just a little closer to the gods and show the rest of us what’s possible. What seemed miraculous becomes attainable. Artemis had a new tiara to show off, didn’t she? The crescent Earth, glittering in the black void of space, showing us once again that we are a miracle of cosmic carbon dancing in the light.

    • There and Aware

      “If there seems to be no communication between you and the people around you, try to draw close to those things that will not ever leave you. The nights are still there and the winds roam through the trees and over many lands.” — Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

      Walking the pup last the last few nights, quietly celebrating her birthday in our meandering walk of stargazing and lawn sniffing (we each have our ritual), I replayed some of the day in my head while the universe spun above like a kaleidoscope of wonder. The waxing crescent moon the last couple of night stuns and delights. Hints of auroras in the air, not reaching us but worthy of diligent glances nonetheless. Venus and Orion have shared the same sky, creating a sky that made the pup’s long investigative sniffs seem shorter.

      The pup appreciates my stargazing, for it gives her time for her own night’s work. Sometimes she’ll lead me off onto a lawn if I’m especially distracted by the sky. Just a reminder that she’s there and aware, so maybe I ought to get my head out of the clouds a bit more. That’s been the goal the entire time, of course. Awareness in the moment—away from all that isn’t here and now. No earbuds, no screens, no replaying the hits and misses of the day. Simply being present on our walks together, until it was time to head back in once again.

      Perhaps we’ll meet again tonight, to do it all over again? The sky will surely offer something completely different to wonder at as the day slowly fades into memory. How long have we been doing this? Three years with this pup, longer with our old friend that preceded her. How many dogs will we have in a lifetime? Such calculations aren’t worth considering. Not when we have this one, now, and such a beautiful sky above and lawns full of smells only a dog could love.

    • Possibility

      “Wanting things to be simple can become a kind of prison, it really can, because you end up staying trapped inside how you want things to be rather than embracing how they could be. You end up closed. You end up shutting doors to so many possibilities.”
      — Matt Haig, The Life Impossible

      There is a tendency to move towards simplicity as we get older and more settled in our ways. The young think in possibilities, the old embrace safety (let’s not age before our time, eh?). What is certain feels safe. Yet nothing in life is certain—certainly not our position in it. The only certainty is the end, and we shroud that in mystery and superstition too.

      Our path through uncertainty, I believe, lies in awareness and receptivity. When we are fully aware of where we are, of who we are and where we’re going, we begin to see everything as perfectly imperfect. We know that this little dance with life has its share of stubbed toes and slips. One answer is to get back up and start dancing again. Another answer is to find a new dance floor, or dance partner, a new soundtrack to dance to, or maybe a new dance altogether. Being receptive to change opens us up to possibility.

      What is possible for our lives is rarely aligned with what is probable. We must become pattern-breakers to reach possibilities. To explore the world we must leave that which we’ve grown comfortable with, if only for a little while. Having left, we won’t come back the same person. If we come back at all. So why complicate life by leaving at all? Keep it simple, the prison warden in our heads tells us. Simplicity is safe. But it makes everything beyond impossible. At least until we break free of that mind trap.

      This is not an inditement of simplicity (I’m rather fond of it myself), but an encouragement to finding more possibility in each day. Our routines save us by keeping us on track towards our goals, which are themselves possibilities. On that road to find out, it’s always worthwhile to ask ourselves if this is the path we want to be on in the first place. Often, the very next question tends to be, what else is possible? We reaffirm our direction or we refute our belief and move on to something else. Possibility is forever an open question leading us towards a more complete answer to our why.

    • Cats and Dogs

      There are people out there who love cats, and people who love dogs. I know some say that there are people who love cats and dogs equally, but they’re just saying that to be contrarians. That’s like saying you like all Girl Scout cookies the same when we all know there’s only one truly great cookie (Samoas, now known as Caramel deLites solely for the delight of the Girl Scouts marketing department).

      So why can’t we love both cats and dogs the same? Because they’re completely opposites. Dogs are ruled by affection first, and the stomach second. With cats, the stomach rules all. Any signs of affection are meant to cater favor for more food, and of course to lower our guard that they may gouge our eyes out. Never lower your guard with a cat. I believe it’s the only reason I still have my eyes to see just how manipulative these furry eating machines really are.

      We have a cat and a dog. The dog lives in constant fear of the cat, as cats are inclined to have it. The cat walks around knocking things over, scratching furniture and people, and looking for snacks (not necessarily in that order). The cat knows that I’m on to her trickery, and works to separate me from the herd, that I may be murdered in the night. She’s been working on the dog to be an accomplice, and angrily voices her displeasure that the pup would rather just snuggle with us, as a proper pet does.

      Since the cat hasn’t figured out how to take me out immediately, she’s doing it slowly by messing with my sleep score. Each night she waits until I slip into REM and then pounces on my feet to wake me up. Each morning she stealthily climbs atop the nightstand at eye level and begins meowing an hour before I generally get up. For those keeping score, that’s in the 4:30 AM range. We begin a ritual of pushing her off the nightstand, having her climb back up to be pushed away again, until sleep is no longer an option.

      My helpful bride, one of those people who says that they love dogs and cats the same, set up an automatic feeder to pour some dry cat food into a metal dish timed to release the food before the cat starts her morning wake up ritual. In theory this is a great idea. Right. Instead, the cat scrambles from her sleep position between us to get to that bowl in seconds. And that scrambling? You guessed it, it happens right across my, uh, midsection. Which does wonders for my sleep score.

      I mention all of this because I am not one of those people who say they love cats and dogs the same. I’m firmly on one side of this debate. In fairness to our two pets, I won’t mention which side I’m on. I do try very hard not to make it obvious. But seriously, they’re both a joy to have in our lives… in their own ways.

    • Leaving a Mark

      “Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind.” — Anthony Bourdain

      Some travel requires a day or two just to get from Point A to Point B and back again. It definitely isn’t always pretty. It’s a mistake to view travel as simply what you do at your destination. Travel is the whole bundle, from booking a trip to unpacking when we return. It took me years to fully realize this.

      I saw a t-shirt while navigating a gift shop a couple of days ago (some of our most treacherous travel). It said, “Scars are tattoos with better stories”. All travel leaves a mark, and maybe a few scars too. The trick is to find the great stories as they unfold.

      I write this a little sorer from my current travel (not yet concluded), both in the creaky parts and in the bank account, but that’s all part of travel too. Travel (to me) is part of living a full life. Perhaps one may live a more full life not traveling anywhere—plenty of people never leave the immediate vicinity of where they were born and eventually die—but that’s not fulfilling for the nomad. We must move to live, and acknowledge all that we encounter on the journey. It becomes part of our story, scars and all.