Alexandersmap

    Category: Travel

    • The Different Angles of Experience

      “Our state of mind is never precisely the same. Every thought we have of a given fact is, strictly speaking, unique, and only bears a resemblance of kind with our other thoughts of the same fact. When the identical fact recurs, we must think of it in a fresh manner, see it under a somewhat different angle, apprehend it in different relations from those in which it last appeared…
      Experience is remoulding us every moment, and our mental reaction on every given thing is really a resultant of our experience of the whole world up to that date.” — William James

      The experience of being on a full domestic flight down the coast is different every time I take it. This is obvious as the people, service and weather conditions make every flight different. What we sometimes forget is that we too have changed, and with these changes our reaction to the next flight changes in kind.

      Some flights, like some days, are better than others. Some planes and seats and expectations of service are better than others. We too are either more prepared to roll with the changes or worse. Developing a keen sense of awareness is helpful, but not nearly as essential as having a fully developed sense of self awareness.

      I used to travel for business far more frequently. Flights all over the continent honed my travel acumen. Each flight offered both opportunity and a cost, but in all cases a new entry in the chronicles of life experience. The hope is to learn and adapt to each, that we may be better for the next day.

      Travel is just living in a different way than we live when we aren’t traveling. Life will throw its curveballs at you in either case. Experience teaches us to anticipate some of those curveballs, but more often than not something new will upset the apple cart. Such is life. Change happens and will happen again. Appreciate the journey is the most important thing we can ever realize.

    • Processing Time

      “Wash the dishes relaxingly, as though each bowl is an object of contemplation. Consider each bowl as sacred. Follow your breath to prevent your mind from straying. Do not try to hurry to get the job over with. Consider washing the dishes the most important thing in life. Washing the dishes is meditation. If you cannot wash the dishes in mindfulness, neither can you meditate while sitting in silence.” — Thich Nhat Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness: A Manual on Meditation

      The writing of the blog post started late this morning, with fresh snow to clear from the driveway a priority, and a relatively subdued morning to follow. The words will come, as they always do, and they’re often better for having changed up the routine. I know I was the better for having done a small bit of exercise in the cold air with a pink and orange kaleidoscope of dancing clouds greeting me through the bare trees.

      The driveway and I have an understanding. If the snow is heavy and wet and more than two inches, I use the snowblower. If light and fluffy and less than four inches, I alway shovel. All other conditions fall somewhere in between, but I default to the shovel when it’s a reasonable ask of myself. I do this because so little in our lives is analog or manual anymore. We’ve got engines and batteries and computers for everything nowadays. These things do the work for us, but rob us of time to process anything in our minds. How many drive to the gym to walk on a treadmill, watching the screen in front of them take them to another place? How does that stir the imagination? I have a friend who walks through the woods to work every day and consider him the luckiest commuter I know.

      We must design a lifestyle that allows us to contemplate things, and to dream and discover things about the world and ourselves. There must be time in our daily lives for us to reflect on the world and our place in it, or we will remain nothing but distracted souls like all the rest. That’s not us, friend. Carve out and protect that processing time. As a bonus, we’ll be greeted with a job well done and a wee bit more clarity.

    • Countdown Days

      I dabble in spreadsheets. It began (and continues) as a necessary skill in my career, but really I love the story that numbers tell you. Not too long ago I mapped out the next five years on a spreadsheet, just to see what I was working with. Using a specific date of relevance as a target date for zero, I created a countdown to that date. It turned out to be a nice round number: 1900. That became my five year plan number, and so a countdown began.

      A countdown to what? Why, the person I want to be at that number. What I want to be doing and where I want to be doing it. All sorts of things come into play then: fitness level, financial goals, career accomplishments, places to be visited, books to be read or written, and yes: daily blog posts (who’s up for 1900 more?!).

      You can fit a lot into 1900 lines on a spreadsheet if you try hard enough. I have many goals in my life, and I started plugging in events and trips and milestones onto that spreadsheet. It turns out there’s a lot to do in 1900 days, and one can’t very well waste them. But 1900 is a big number, best broken down into bite-sized bits. 90 days is something many of us can relate to. It’s a quarter of a year, three months, one trimester. 90 days is a number we can grasp and work with. Divide 1900 by 90 and you get 21 and change. It turns out 1900 wasn’t optimal after all, but it’s the number and loose change be damned. That loose change is full of days of ripe experience, or at least they ought to be, and who’s going to complain about a few extra days as a buffer against the curveballs of life?

      90 days offer countdowns within countdowns. We can break it down to 30 days and weeks and single days, and do what we can with them in their time. Life is a countdown, and we all know the score. The end game isn’t the zero we reach on our expiration but the blank spaces we fill up along the way. Putting things in black and white offers a clear imperative. Do something with today lest it slip away. Tempus fugit.

      Upcoming events become countdowns within a countdown too. Some trips I’m looking forward to are counting down as I write this, and I calculate the things that must happen between now and then, adding to-do items to a growing list and get to it. There’s growing excitement in a countdown, and I feel the stir of faraway places and future goals and tasks accomplished in each entry on the spreadsheet.

      The key to a blank spreadsheet is filling in what we’re measuring. We aren’t just counting down to nothing after all: we’re creating a lifetime of memories, filled with all the things that make up our days. A countdown merely brings focus to an otherwise ambiguous stack. Like any great salesperson, we must sell the vision. In this case, we’re selling ourselves on the vision, that we might take the necessary steps to get from here to there. When we finish, we can see all the things we did to get there, and celebrate the journey all the more.

      But why five years and change? Haven’t we got so much more left in the tank than that? We must set a fixed date in our future that we might strive for more in that timeframe. Sure, we all anticipate many more days. If we’re lucky enough we can add a few more countdowns after this one is done. But that’s a much longer spreadsheet, isn’t it? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

    • Maps

      “A map is not the territory it represents, but, if correct, it has a similar structure to the territory, which accounts for its usefulness.” — Alfred Korzybski, Science and Sanity

      “A map is the greatest of all epic poems. Its lines and colors show the realization of great dreams.” – Gilbert Grosvenor

      I was having a conversation with a friend the other day. I’d asked him when was the last time someone had pulled up asking for directions? It just doesn’t happen now—there’s a phone app for that. That same app takes us to parties and work appointments and the Grand Canyon. Maps are relegated to the wall or the imagination. GPS rules the road now.

      Grosvenor, the founder of National Geographic, had it right when he compared a map to poetry. It stirs the imagination similarly. When you look at a great map of a place, how can you not be stirred to explore that place? Maps whisper to me like Sean O’Connell beckoned to Walter Mitty: Go!

      The name of this blog is Alexander’s map for a reason, it’s based on William Alexander’s pamphlet Encouragement to Colonies and my own wanderings around the northeast corner of North America. I saw a replica of the map Alexander commissioned in a conference room in Newfoundland and it sparked my imagination, which is exactly why he had it commissioned in the first place. I just came into the picture a bit later than he’d planned. That one map completely changed the person who viewed it that day.

      If maps are no longer needed for everyday use, they still have a place in our lives. Maps give us the big picture, while a GPS just tells you where to go. We must always reference the big picture when determining where we want to go in our lives, while remembering always that the map is not the territory. The world is more complicated than that.

      What sparks our imagination? Where do we want to go in our lives, and what tools are we using to get there? The answers to these questions are more important than we might believe.

    • Shared Experience

      Calling California or new to New York
      It don’t matter where you wanna roam
      It don’t matter high or low or the clothes you wanna wear
      We’re making good time with your hand fitting into mine
      Every mile you’re where my story goes
      It don’t matter fast or slow we’re gettin’ there
      — Graham Colton, Gettin’ There

      It’s still very much winter in New England (snow is flying even as I write this), but spring fever is beginning to creep up within me. The desire to get out in the world and meet it is always present, balanced by an underlying sense of place appreciating right where I am already. Life is full of choices, and with choice comes opportunity cost. We can’t do it all, but we can build a life that allows us to optimize some experiences we value more than others.

      I write this knowing I’m traveling a lot in the coming months. Travel doesn’t feel real until you’re doing it, and the paradox of travel is it doesn’t always feel real when you’re actually doing it either. That is unless you travel frequently and become conditioned to living out of a bag. Having lived both sides of this lifestyle, I know the opportunity cost of both.

      The best travel is done with people you want to share experiences with. In the end, our experiences together are the most rewarding. When we think about our favorite memories, most of them involve being around others. My solo hikes and visits to incredible places around the world were wonderful, but would have been that much better as a shared experience. If I ever seem to be in a hurry to get to any next phase of my life, it’s mostly so that I might share more experiences with the people who mean the most to me.

      We can’t rush through life. Experience means nothing if we aren’t immersed in it. Yes, there is a cost, but also an underlying opportunity in being “here, now” that we can’t miss out on. The trick is to be aware and present for all of it, even as we structure our lives to maximize that time together. We’re writing a story of a lifetime, after all, and every great story is better shared with others.

    • On Discovery

      “Every day we slaughter our finest impulses. That is why we get a heartache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty. Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. there is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to discover what is already there.” ― Henry Miller

      The fun of travel is to go to unfamiliar places and discover a world wholly different from our own. A place where we may find the similarities or delight in the rituals and traditions that make a place unique. The sin of travel is to go and not meet the place halfway. How many people go to a place and never attempt the local language? How many stick to food they know and never indulge in the local cuisine? Discovery is getting outside of ourselves and meeting the world on its terms, and finding out something new, not just about that place, but about ourselves.

      The thing is, most of us recognize this about travel, but what of art? When we dive into the unknown in our creative work, are we going deeper with it or retreating back to familiar themes? I’ve heard the feedback: this blog dances on the same ground more often than not, and I’m straying further beyond the themes of memento mori, carpe diem, tempus fugit and amor fati to see what I may find within. Now familiarity with these themes are so central to a well-lived, productive life that they inevitably find themselves in the mix again and again, but who wants to be a one-trick pony?

      The routine changes slightly, adapted to circumstance and commitments, but the daily reckoning continues. Open up a blank page and see what comes out to greet the world. We must be creative and chase our impulses, or we cannot truly live the life we were meant to live. The question to ask ourselves is, are we settling for the familiar and comfortable so much that we aren’t challenging our perspective?

      How will today be different than yesterday? Go do the unusual: live and tell about it. There is so much untapped within. We ought to shake that tree and see what falls out.

    • Some Impulse Rose

      Wanly upon the panes
      The rain slides as have slid since morn my colourless thoughts; and
      yet
      Here, while Day’s presence wanes,
      And over him the sepulchre-lid is slowly lowered and set,
      He wakens my regret.
      Regret—though nothing dear
      That I wot of, was toward in the wide world at his prime,
      Or bloomed elsewhere than here,
      To die with his decease, and leave a memory sweet, sublime,
      Or mark him out in Time . . .
      —Yet, maybe, in some soul,
      In some spot undiscerned on sea or land, some impulse rose,
      Or some intent upstole
      Of that enkindling ardency from whose maturer glows
      The world’s amendment flows;
      But which, benumbed at birth
      By momentary chance or wile, has missed its hope to be
      Embodied on the earth;
      And undervoicings of this loss to man’s futurity
      May wake regret in me.
      — Thomas Hardy, A Commonplace Day

      Some of us are naturally adventurous of spirit, impulsive and keen to dive into bold things. We live our lives in a state of active temperance that we may be useful to others. Now and then the impulsive spirit bursts out of us, like a sudden flame in a fire we thought was dying out. Anyone who knows this writer has seen a burst of boldness now and then. Sometimes expressed as a leap into cold water or a crazy dance at a party, or simply a bit of mischievousness in the midst of an otherwise dignified conversation.

      In the last week, I’ve squashed plans schemed in audacious moments. Plans to hike in temperatures well below zero, fly to another country for the weekend, and quit my job and buy a boat. None of these impulsive moments rose to spark a fire, but they burn inside nonetheless. Will they become regrets for having not done them, or relief for having come to my senses? Only time will tell. In general, we are slaves to reason more than impulse.

      The counterpoint to reason is impulsiveness. It’s straying from the expectations the world places on people like us and boldly stepping outside the norm. What is more prudent than doing what people expect of us? What is perceived as more irrational than turning those expectations upside down?

      The most common way to temper impulsiveness is to defer those adventures to another time. To bow to practicality and prudence and shelve that crazy idea for another day. Those days never come, we know, but they make us feel better in the moment. Until one day we’re watching the rain bounce against the window pane realizing that those days are behind us. Enter regret.

      The battle within us rages on. To stay the course and be the steady and reliable anchor or to weigh anchor and see where the current takes us? There are hazards in each extreme: a boat forever anchored eventually rots away and sinks, while a rudderless boat eventually is dashed on the rocks. Somewhere in the middle is a life of adventure anchored in calculated risk. Be bold, but not reckless. Just don’t wait for regret.

    • The Quest for Better

      “Let me start with issuing you a challenge: Be better than you are. Set a goal that seems unattainable, and when you reach that goal, set another one even higher.” — Herb Brooks

      Wishes are nice. When my daughter asks me what my wish is on any given occasion for such things, my answer is always “world peace” because it’s as good a wish as any, and better than most. The short answer is, I don’t wish for things, I plan (too often over-plan) and I take steps towards them. Planning and deliberate action are better than wishes.

      Resolutions are nice. I don’t make them, because I would always break them. Instead I see the person I want to be, identify what that person would be doing every day to reach further than that point and I start adding those routines to my own calendar. As a streak hitter, I know streaks are made to be broken eventually. I try to string together as many days as possible on any desired trait and track it in a journal. Writing has surpassed five years every day and counting. Some other habits aren’t holding up as well. Each informs and I restart every day with the best intentions fueled by a desire for better than I currently am. How about you? What gets you beyond the resolution rut?

      Experiences are the currency now. Doing things I wouldn’t have done a few years ago. Even thinking to do things is a step beyond the more insular world I once inhabited. Each stage of life brings with it a new set of priorities. Prepare better meals. Speak a second or third language better than yesterday. Experience something entirely new each week. Pretty soon that calendar is full of interesting leaps forward. Pretty soon we’ve become that person we thought unattainable. And the quest for better begins anew.

    • Pick Your Moment

      “Pick your moment and the sea will do what it can for you, however small the boat and however unpracticed the helm. The wind was steady on the beam, and as it says in the old Gaelic song, it felt as if Freyja ‘would cut a thin oat straw with the excellence of her going.’

      This moment of ecstatic ease is the significant historical fact. Anywhere that can be reached on a calm day will be reached. What matters is the invitation, not the threat, and if there is an opening, people will take it…

      The peopling of the Shiants is only one fragment of an endless chain. That is why this crossing of a potentially alarming sea, at a moment which is picked because the weather is kind and the spring is coming, because the tide is running with you and the sun is out, when you can see where you are going and you have everything you need, is one of the deepest of all historical experiences. Don’t imagine the past as a place full of catastrophe and horror. This is its colour: a chance fairly taken, a sense of happiness in the light of spring. The Minch is laced with the wakes of ancestors and this wonderful, easy-limbed stirring of Freyja on the long Atlantic swell is a stirring of the past. I smile in the boat now and open my face to the warmth of the sun and the shining of the sky.” — Adam Nicolson, Sea Room

      “While you see a chance, take it.” — Steve Winwood

      When shall we leap? When is that moment when we look around and say, “It’s now or never” and go beyond our norm? We each have these moments in our lives when we see the gap and decide it’s not all that far of a leap after all. Perhaps we’ve closed it with growth. Perhaps we’ve built a strong enough foundation that it’s not so much a leap as it is a natural next step. Perhaps. But there’s still that gap… until finally we close it. Or perhaps we reach our limit, never to be closed. What will it be?

      The breathtaking beauty of Nicolson’s prose was masterfully set up in story-after-story of tragedy at sea. Of “the Stream of the Blue Men” that is the unpredictable and unforgiving Minch sinking boats and taking the lives of leapers for centuries before. We know of places like this—places that will take the lives of the unprepared and unlucky alike. Mountains and oceans, whole continents full of wild things. Flight and now space. Frontiers are meant to be conquered, as they say. The gap between who we are and what we’ll become are meant to be closed. What matters is the invitation, not the threat. This is the way we progress. Just pick your moment.

      But don’t wait forever. The gap is our game, but the clock is our nemesis. We aren’t getting any younger, friend. Tempus fugit: carpe diem. We ought to leap when the leaping looks good.

    • The Warm Glow

      You start dying slowly
      if you do not travel,
      if you do not read,
      If you do not listen to the sounds of life,
      If you do not appreciate yourself.
      You start dying slowly
      When you kill your self-esteem;
      When you do not let others help you.
      You start dying slowly
      If you become a slave of your habits,
      Walking everyday on the same paths…
      If you do not change your routine,
      If you do not wear different colours
      Or you do not speak to those you don’t know.
      You start dying slowly
      If you avoid to feel passion
      And their turbulent emotions;
      Those which make your eyes glisten
      And your heart beat fast.
      You start dying slowly
      If you do not change your life when you are not satisfied with your job, or with your love,
      If you do not risk what is safe for the uncertain,
      If you do not go after a dream,
      If you do not allow yourself,
      At least once in your lifetime,
      To run away from sensible advice.
      ― Martha Medeiros, A Morte Devagar

      One ought to drop the mic and walk away after a quote like this, but a blog isn’t simply leaving the words of others on a post and none of our own. We ought to contribute something in our time, especially when prompted so vibrantly. And it should be noted, we ought to live largely, that we might have something to say about the matter when prompted in such a way.

      Taking stock of the year, do we feel gratitude for the experiences we’ve had? Have we tried new recipes and dishes? Gone to performances that took our breath away? Visited places near and far just to see what all the fuss was about? Have we gathered with loved ones and laughed with friends? I hope so for you, and it surely has been so for me. May we all feel the warm glow of a life well-lived.

      They say that firewood warms us three times: when we cut it, when we split it and finally when we burn it. Life is similar, isn’t it? We are warmed by memories of a good life, warmed by how we live our life today, and warmed with a sense of hope for the future. So by all means, we must keep the journal and take the photographs, be bold in our choices today, and make those reservations for those experiences of tomorrow with the hope that we’ll arrive to dance with it.