Alexandersmap

    Category: Travel

    • The Audacity to Give It a Go

      I want a life measured
      in first steps on foreign soils
      and deep breaths
      in brand new seas
      I want a life measured
      in Welcome Signs,
      each stamped
      with a different name,
      borders marked with metal and paint.
      Show me the streets
      that don’t know the music
      of my meandering feet,
      and I will play their song
      upon them.
      Perfume me please
      in the smells of far away,
      I will never wash my hair
      if it promises to stay.
      I want a life measured
      in the places I haven’t gone,
      short sleeps on long flights,
      strange voices teaching me
      new words to
      describe the dawn.
      — Tyler Knott Gregson, I Want a Life Measured

      I’ve gotten out of the habit of traveling on a whim to whatever comes of the search, “waterfall near me” and “historical site near me”. Lately I’ve been tied to the desk more, with the puppy guarding me awaiting any indication that it’s time to go out and play. The thing is, shouldn’t it always be time to go out and play? We ought to build more adventures into our days.

      Yesterday, I had the beginnings of such an adventure, finding a trailhead near a meeting I was attending. Near a place I’d been a hundred times and never heard the whisper for the din of highway traffic and places to go. A trailhead that promised waterfalls and crisp, slippery December walking. I wore the appropriate footwear and got myself to the trailhead hoping to see at least one of the two waterfalls on the trail. I ran out of time and saw neither, but got a quick hike in anyway. I’ll consider it recon for the next time I’m in the area. Adventures partially fulfilled are better than no adventure at all. The audacity to give it a go is itself a measure of a larger life.

      What stirs us? Reaching the waterfall or the act of reaching out for it? Surely both, but any adventure begins with beginning. When we seek out more adventure in our lives, we generally find it. Every step out into it is an invitation to go further still. And even on those days when we have to turn back towards what is expected of us, the conspiracy of the adventurous spirit remains, whispering “try again another day”.

    • So Much to Admire

      I know, you never intended to be in this world.
      But you’re in it all the same.

      So why not get started immediately.

      I mean, belonging to it.
      There is so much to admire, to weep over.

      And to write music or poems about.

      Bless the feet that take you to and fro.
      Bless the eyes and the listening ears.
      Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.
      Bless touching.

      You could live a hundred years, it’s happened.
      Or not.
      I am speaking from the fortunate platform
      of many years,
      none of which, I think, I ever wasted.
      Do you need a prod?
      Do you need a little darkness to get you going?
      Let me be as urgent as a knife, then,
      and remind you of Keats,
      so single of purpose and thinking, for a while,
      he had a lifetime.
      — Mary Oliver, The Fourth Sign of the Zodiac

      Whispers from a poet, reminding us of the urgency of the moment. Tempus fugit… time flies. Go out and live boldly. Observe and be stirred—get right in the mix. And create something meaningful that might stand on it’s own. It’s a formula for living often repeated here, in this blog about doing all of these things. My daily reminder to not waste a second on the trivial, shared with those who wish to go along for the ride.

      The thing is, when we read the stoics, when we immerse ourselves in poetry and philosophy, in nature and travel, and most of all in the audacious act of heightened awareness, we too begin to live. Less of our own time is wasted. We become hungry for more and more experience, with a burning desire to share it with all who will listen and see for themselves. By opening the senses we let the magic in.

      “Ignorance is not bliss; it’s a missed opportunity.“ — Adam Nicolson, Sea Room

      There’s a price for ignorance paid in unfulfilled wonder and delight. There’s so much to do still. So much to admire. Like that of a poet no longer with us, it’s a whisper (or a shout) to make now count. We’re just part of the choir, singing our part, reminding the congregation to dance with the miracle of life with all the enthusiasm we can muster.

    • Adding Treasure

      “Why be saddled with this thing called life expectancy? Of what relevance to an individual is such a statistic? Am I to concern myself with an allotment of days I never had and was never promised? Must I check off each day of my life as if I am subtracting from this imaginary hoard? No, on the contrary, I will add each day of my life to my treasure of days lived. And with each day, my treasure will grow, not diminish.” ― Robert Brault

      I took a walk with the pup late last night, hoping to see the Geminid meteor shower. Most magic in the sky is inevitably obscured by cloud cover, so when we’re lucky enough to have a crisp, clear sky and a meteor shower we ought to get out the witness it. It proved to be a walk filled with exclamation points punctuating the celestial dance. Like days, every walk is different. A few are special.

      We ought to seek out that specialness in every day. It’s likely hiding in plain sight. As with everything life-amplifying, a bit of awareness surely helps. Knowing the Geminids were happening got me out of a warm house on a cold evening at a time when I’m usually fast asleep. Likewise, a bit of research before traveling to a new place nets all kinds of treasures worthy of a side trip, treasures that will whisper to us in the quiet moments until we experience them, and then whisper delightfully forever after: “We really got to experience that!”

      Awareness is essential, but so is engagement; we ought to talk to the people sitting next to us, we ought to find the local scenic vistas, we ought to dance when the music kicks up a notch. and yes, we ought to miss out on a bit of comfort now and then to try bold things. The time will flow right by either way—shouldn’t we do something more with it?

      “Rise free from care before the dawn, and seek adventures.” – Henry David Thoreau

      The mindset of steadily adding memories instead of subtracting days is a wonderful way to filter exactly what we’re going to do with this day at hand. We can’t possibly stop the flow of sand through the hourglass, so maybe taking a walk on the beach and forgetting about that hourglass altogether is our best move. When we steadily accumulate magic in our moments life becomes something memorable. Go be deliberate and adventurous—for that’s where the treasure is.

    • The Kindred Sky Spirits

      The puppy is growing up. She’s seven months old as I write this, and her shackles of timidity are finally being thrown off. We walk at night and she doesn’t shrink in fear at every trash barrel or shadow. It offers this star gazer the chance to dance with the constellations once again without alarming the neighbors. The odd neighbor walking the streets in the dark isn’t so very strange when he’s walking his dog. The dog is learning that this is our time together, but my head is often tilted upwards while her nose is down. We assure full coverage I suppose; the two of us walking with noses pointed in different directions.

      The pup has learned that I’m a sky spirit, temporarily grounded in this lifetime of servitude to the nest. Do I want to fly? Don’t you?? To fly is to soar! You bet I want to fly. I steal envious glances at the hawks and osprey gliding overhead. I marvel at the flocks of geese in formation. If they can do it why can’t we?! Alas, it’s not in our genes to flap our wings and soar. And yet we’ve learned how to fly anyway. How audacious of us.

      My favorite videos are flying videos. Give me drone footage over the perspective from the ground any day. There’s wonder in soaring above it all, and I’m immediately drawn into the world from the vantage point of a fellow spirit. That we are grounded doesn’t mean we can’t soar. There are opportunities all around us should we look for them.

      And there are people in my life who are kindred sky spirits. We don’t see each other often enough, but when the sky offers magic, we conspiratorially and usually virtually nod upwards—did you see that? Yes. Yes I did. And noted: so did you friend. Almost a shared secret hiding in plain sight, the sky. The masses are like the puppy: noses down. They’re looking at their phones or god knows what while the kindred glance upward, finding magic all around.

      Some of us instinctively know the phase of the moon, or which planets are visible at any given moment. We keep an eye on the possibility of an aurora and curse the inevitable cloud cover that occurs at seemingly every meteor shower or Northern Lights display. Not for us, not this time. We grow weary of such self-talk and scheme trips to faraway places where the weather seems to follow us mockingly. Some things aren’t meant to be, but we keep looking anyway.

      There’s no doubt the world is full of ugliness and misery if you look for it. Most of that resides in the world of humans, right at ground-level. We are forced to confront the worst in us on a regular basis. And yet there’s also wonder and magic in the world, just waiting for us to look up and find it. Don’t we owe it to ourselves to look beyond the broken surface and learn to soar above it?

    • Eyes Open

      “There seemed to be endless obstacles preventing me from living with my eyes open, but as I gradually followed up clue after clue it seemed that the root cause of them all was fear.”
      ― Marion Milner, A Life of One’s Own

      When we think about it, most everything we imagine to be the worst case scenario is never going to come true. For every tragedy in the news, there’s a million ordinary days unfolding at the same time. For every unfortunate accident on the path to adventure there’s a thousand souls transcending their limiting beliefs. To live in fear is to handcuff ourselves to a previous version of ourself that will never experience everything the world could offer. Choose to be more audacious.

      The thing is, we all keep paying our dues, deferring the audacious for one more day of ordinary. The end game is we’ll run out of time if we don’t do it while we’re healthy and bold enough to try. In the end, that’s what we ought to fear: running out of time to finally live that un-lived life. While there’s still time. We must open our eyes and see the truth in those old Stoic guideposts: Tempus fugit. Memento mori… Carpe diem.

      There’s still plenty of ordinary in my days, and in moderation that’s okay too, but we ought to listen to that voice inside us calling for more and step to it more often. Friends and fellow bloggers Fayaway once posted an image that speaks to this wrestling match between the ears. I’ve kept this as a reminder to myself to push aside timidity more often in favor of boldness. To live a full life we must learn to fully live life:

    • Stepping Out of the Fog

      It’s a cool, damp and foggy morning in New Hampshire. The biting cold of the last few days now but a memory. Surely, the seasons are upside down nowadays, for all the reasons we already know. The lichen seem to appreciate the continuation of our soggy 2023 into December. It’s been a nonstop party for them. And what are we to do but dress appropriately and get out into it ourselves?

      Appropriate dress this time of year includes bright orange clothing. December 3rd is the last day of hunting season for those using firearms, and December 15th for those with crossbows. I don’t know these dates because I’m a hunter myself, but because I like to exit the forests as intact as I was when I entered them. One must be aware of the risk of wandering in the woods and dress appropriately to mitigate that risk. Or simply wait until hunting season is over—but what’s the fun in that? That’s like waiting for the rain to stop, which is exactly why my summit hiking has stalled indefinitely.

      The thing is, I was going to write about determinism and indeterminism today, but the woods seemed a better place to carry my mind. The world is either set in motion already or we have a chance to change the game by the choices we make. Most people believe the latter but how many actually take the leap? We aren’t just souls lost in the fog, rooted where we landed once upon a time. We have a real chance at changing the game. Is there luck in that landing? Of course there is, and perhaps that’s determinism set in motion, but it ignores the motion itself. We aren’t trees rooted in a foggy forest, we’re each walking through the wilderness in search of something more. Eventually the fog lifts and we might just find our way out.

    • Sharpening Awareness

      “In the marshes the buckbean has lifted its feathery mist of flower spikes above the bed of trefoil leaves. The fimbriated flowers are a miracle of workmanship and every blossom exhibits an exquisite disorder of ragged petals finer than lace. But one needs a lens to judge of their beauty: it lies hidden from the power of our eyes, and menyanthes must have bloomed and passed a million times before there came any to perceive and salute her loveliness. The universe is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.” ― Eden Phillpotts, A Shadow Passes

      Taking the train back from a business trip, I alternatively read voraciously and feasted on the scenery. Late afternoon light on water, the march of thousands of trees, the meandering salt grass and sea oat, the small towns and big cities announced on the approach and forgotten on the rush to next. The endless parade of hungry cafe car customers marching to and fro in wide-stance uncertainty as the train barreled along in its rock and roll rhythm. So very much to see in so brief a time. How can we not feel the urgency of awareness?

      The trick to sharpening our awareness is to exercise the muscle. Habitualize the senses. Put the phone back in your pocket and look for the most delightful thing in your field of view. Why are you drawn in? This is a deliberate act. This is active engagement with the universe. And it’s the beginning of creativity and magic, should we let ourselves dance with it. And shouldn’t we?

      We are aware of that which surrounds us or we simply pass through, but the magic all around us owes us nothing. It’s up to us to see it and be a part of it. To be actively engaged in living a bold life is a choice. Boldness and awareness go hand-in-hand. We must see what is out there in the world and consciously step to it. What are we waiting for anyway?

      Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it, as the saying goes. We must begin, without delay, to sharpen awareness, for this life is moving right along. To lift ourselves out of the fog and see what we can of this universe in our time.

    • A High Line Walk

      “Open your eyes and see what you can with them before they close forever.” — Anthony Doerr, All the Light We Cannot See

      Early morning walks are nothing new for me, but I rarely take them when I’m in Manhattan. Simply put, I don’t love walking in the city the way I love walking in other places. Blame it on the endless concrete, traffic noise and dog owners who don’t pick up their dogs crap. I can love the energy of the city while not enjoying the walking environment—I’m complicated in that way.

      There are exceptions to this rule. Central Park is one. The riverfront is another. And then there’s the High Line, that old elevated railway turned into a pedestrian walk. This delightful walkway doesn’t allow bicycles or skateboards or even dogs (for the record: I love dogs, it’s irresponsible owners I don’t love). This is to protect the fragile plants along the walkway, but it has the side benefit of protecting your footwear too.

      The High Line has proven to be a big hit with the public precisely because of the removal of all that I dislike about walking in the city. You feel like you’re in another world up on the High Line. A world of art and natural plantings and no cars. It’s the kind of environment that could make you love walking in Manhattan.

      Alas, my walk was abbreviated by construction. walking down the stairs back to street level reminded me that I’m a country mouse at heart. Still, a short walk on the High Line is better than nothing.

    • The Newport Cliff Walk

      Newport, Rhode Island is known its notable music scene with world-renowned folk and jazz festivals, as an epicenter of sailing culture (longtime home of the America’s Cup) and the party town any sailor would want in a home port, for the Tennis Hall of Fame, but mostly, Newport is famous for its mansions. Those mansions, built as summer “cottages” by wealthy families like the Vanderbilts, are massive and interesting to tour if you want to get a sense for how the wealthy lived in the Gilded Age of 1870 to 1910. Industrial titans and savvy global traders moved here to be where other wealthy people lived—to be amongst their peers in net worth.

      The phrase “The Gilded Age” was coined by Mark Twain, and not as a complement. He was pointing to the thin veneer of wealth that hid a lot of problems underneath it. It has taken on a romanticized connotation since then, but we ought to remember that these were just people with the same issues we all face in families and relationships, with the blessing and curse that money layers into the mix. I’m not a fan of wealth politics or keeping up with the Jones as a lifestyle choice, but I can appreciate the craftsmanship of the mansions and the wealth required to build and maintain them.

      The strip of land between this collection of Gilded Age and modern-day mansions and the sea is public domain. It’s here that you’ll find the Cliff Walk. Sections of the Cliff Walk are meant for everyone to traverse. You could easily walk or roll a wheelchair on most of the paved sections between Memorial Drive and 40 Steps, the staircase that descends to the ocean. The section between Salve Regina University and The Breakers is equally well-suited for accessibility. Beyond that the path becomes best for the sure-footed. If you don’t love hopping between boulders there are sections of the Cliff Walk that aren’t for you. But there’s something for everyone.

      For me, the magic of the Cliff Walk isn’t just the glimpses of manicured lawns and mansions, it’s the diversity of the walk itself. At times paved walkway, other times rock scramble or beach sand. Even a couple of tunnels to move the public quietly through the historic and high end real estate above. It’s a fascinating place to traverse, taking you from one beach to another past billions of dollars of American wealth.

      The Cliff Walk is officially 3 1/2 miles long, but we extended it to almost 6 miles, from Old Town to the Eaton’s Beach starting point, and from the end at Baily’s Beach along Bellevue Avenue to Rosecliff Mansion. On a crisp and sunny November day it wasn’t crowded but it was surely beautiful. From Rosecliff it’s an easy walk to The Breakers, the largest of the mansions and the flagship of Newport’s Gilded Age “cottages”. The fact that they called them cottages tells you all you need to know about the vast wealth of the families who visited Newport each summer.

      Ultimately, a stay in Newport is never quite long enough. I didn’t have a summer to mingle with the locals, but a mere weekend. The Cliff Walk was a great lynchpin stringing together an epic walking day in the Celestial City. It justified some of the great dining experiences we had, and have us thinking about a return trip sometime soon.

      The Breakers
      Beautiful gazebo tucked up tightly against the Cliff Walk
      The Tea House, shadowed by morning sun
      Tunnel under the Tea House
      Not all sections of the Cliff Walk are easy to traverse
      Rugged coastal beauty is everywhere between the Cliff Walk and the sea
      All kinds of terrain will greet you on your walk
      The finale of the Cliff Walk is a walk through beach sand to the road

    • Break Up the Habitual

      “We need habit to get through a day, to get to work, to feed our children. But habit is dangerous too. The act of seeing can quickly become unconscious and automatic. The eyes see something—gray-brown bark, say, fissured into broad, vertical plates—and the brain spits out tree trunk and the eye moves on. But did I really take the time to see the tree? I glimpse hazel hair, high cheekbones, a field of freckles and I think Shawna. But did I take the time to see my wife?
      ... The easier an experience, or the more entrenched, or the more familiar, the fainter our sensation of it becomes. This is true of chocolate and marriages and hometowns and narrative structures. Complexities wane, miracles become unremarkable, and if we’re not careful, pretty soon we’re gazing out at our lives as if through a burlap sack.
      … I open my journal and stare out at the trunk of the umbrella pine and do my best to fight off the atrophy that comes from seeing things too frequently. I try to shape a few sentences around this tiny corner of Rome; I try to force my eye to slow down. A good journal entry—like a good song, or sketch, or photograph—ought to break up the habitual and lift away the film that forms over the eye, the finger, the tongue, the heart. A good journal entry ought to be a love letter to the world.
      Leave home, leave the country, leave the familiar. Only then can routine experience—buying bread, eating vegetables, even saying hello—become new all over again.”
      — Anthony Doerr, Four Seasons in Rome

      A long quote, but honestly I could plug the entire chapter of this delightful book in here and call it a day. This is a song I know well. We are creatures of habit, and a good habit will save us as much as a bad habit may be our ruin, but this often puts us on autopilot with our senses. There’s a fine line between being fully aware and being overwhelmed. A bit of focus on the task at hand is just as essential as being aware of everything around us. Situation awareness can quite literally save the day for us, but awareness of every situation can make us completely useless.

      Still, so many of us miss the details for the routine. How much of a drive do we ever remember? What of the miracle of commercial flight? Most people simply resign themselves to the screen in front of them for the duration, never glancing out the window at the world of wonder just outside. What of home? Do we ever immerse ourselves in something we once gazed at lovingly, like that picture we once cherished and now barely see? How many marriages end in just such a way?

      We know the Latin phrase: “tempus fugit carpe diem” (time flies so seize the day). Seizing isn’t just an action statement to go out and do bold things, though surely that’s a big part of it. It also means being fully aware of the world around us while we’re living this day. Well before the Romans began creating such memorable phrases, that old Greek sage Seneca had his own take on this, saying “As each day arises, welcome it as the very best day of all, and make it your own possession. We must seize what flees.” Indeed we must.

      Doerr seized his day moving to Rome for a year, grabbing the opportunity of a lifetime just as he and his wife were navigating the challenge of raising newborn twins. That’s quite a one-two punch to anyone’s routine. His call to leave the familiar comes from his own experience in doing just so. But even under such extreme change in his and his wife’s lifestyle, he found routine he had to break through to find full awareness. What of us?

      “Rise free from care before the dawn, and seek adventures.” – Henry David Thoreau

      At a party of the weekend I was introduced to someone as “a blogger” and was asked what I write about. I write about everything, I explained, but didn’t go much deeper out of… habit. We rise to meet our moments or we simply go through them. Writing is a form of heightened awareness of the moment. So is photography, for that matter. I tend to be the unofficial photographer at family events and during travel because I see opportunities either to capture or create the moment. In the end, moments are all we have.

      This blog is a call to arms for myself as much as it is a collection of observations and thoughts. Tempus fugit, sir, so carpe diem. Pay attention to the moment, friend, but do note the days gone by on this journey too. We waste so much of it, don’t we? We must be aware, and be productive with our days while we have them. Make each day new all over again.