Alexandersmap

    Category: Travel

    • Learn to Reawaken

      “The millions are awake enough for physical labor; but only one in a million is awake enough for effective intellectual exertion, only one in a hundred millions to a poetic or divine life. To be awake is to be alive. I have never yet met a man who was quite awake. How could I have looked him in the face? We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn, which does not forsake us in our soundest sleep. I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by a conscious endeavor.” — Henry David Thoreau, Walden

      How rare is the poetic or divine life today? It’s hard to say. In talking to people, there is a distinct lack of engagement in the workforce. A lack of inspiration for putting yourself into things, no passion for the work, a going through of the motions that must be reconciled. If one in a hundred million souls were sparked by the poetic or divine in Thoreau’s time, I wonder what the ratio is now?

      Do we linger in a post-pandemic stupor? Is it a generational change as the kids raised with iPhones and social media and gaming become the primary fuel that powers economic and cultural life? Is it older generations, churned and manipulated, poked and prodded, finally having enough? Is it the relentlessly obvious climate change impacting everything while seemingly nothing is done about it? It makes you want to sail away sometimes, especially when you see how much fun those who did are having. But there’s inspired work to be done still, and clearly a need for more of us to lift others.

      We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake. We each have purpose in this lifetime that must be fulfilled. To do otherwise is to live in quiet desperation, as Henry would point out. But how do we keep ourselves awake in such a noisy, conflicted and demanding world? He showed the way, didn’t he? Walk away from the noise, find a quiet place to contemplate your place in the world and pay attention to what happens to you. He didn’t travel very far himself (his friends would take the short walk to visit him, and he them). Mostly, solitude is turning off the electronic babysitter and the insistent chatter of the uninspired and listening to yourself. Writing it all down surely helps.

      Thoreau has always been my grounding rod. When I become disenchanted or feel that quiet desperation stirring inside or have simply had enough of the loud talkers in my world I return to Thoreau’s work, or visit his grave, or take a pilgrimage to Walden. He remains a voice of reason in an unreasonable world, speaking universal truths like so many time travelers. Their spark forever awake, forever informing, forever a beacon to light the way even as their physical selves forever rest.

      From where do we derive hope and an infinite expectation of the dawn? Answers are inclined to find us. Don’t let its whisper be drowned out in the noise.

    • A Combination of States

      “Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.” — Anaïs Nin (with a nod to Marginarian)

      I might have said something about this process of becoming in this blog a few times, not having read the Nin quote before but somewhere along the way influenced by the thought. We all have similar ideas because the human condition is similar for most of us, generation-to-generation, even as we gradually, possibly, improve our lot. History rhymes, as they say.

      Maybe we’re in a state of bliss, or a state of dread, or a state of exhaustion. We might feel all these in one afternoon. Changes of state are a lifetime migration filled with big and small changes, like ripples dancing on larger ocean swells. We feel the cold splash of reality even as we’re lifted to another height, and drop down the other side. We can try to bob along in one place for awhile, thinking we can control change by treading water, but life drifts on without us if we don’t remain an active participant. Life is movement. Movement is change.

      The trick is accepting state change. Moving through it as it presents itself to us, influencing what we can and leaving the rest to fate. Amor fati. Love of fate. Where we are is where we are. Where we’ll be next is only partially our choice. Love it? Celebrate the moment. Hate it? This too shall pass.

      The distraction industry thrives because people want to remain in a state of bliss, or anger, or apathy. Distraction isn’t active participation in your own life, it’s chasing our tail around in circles thinking it’s progress. By contrast, becoming is an active word, full of hope and frustration, bliss and setbacks. That’s life in a nutshell. One crazy combination of states, experienced one after the other, to the end. We ought to view that with the adventurous spirit of an explorer, don’t you think?

    • To Be Witnesses

      “We’re only here for a short while. And I think it’s such a lucky accident, having been born, that we’re almost obliged to pay attention. In some ways, this is getting far afield. I mean, we are — as far as we know — the only part of the universe that’s self-conscious. We could even be the universe’s form of consciousness. We might have come along so that the universe could look at itself. I don’t know that, but we’re made of the same stuff that stars are made of, or that floats around in space. But we’re combined in such a way that we can describe what it’s like to be alive, to be witnesses. Most of our experience is that of being a witness. We see and hear and smell other things. I think being alive is responding.” — Mark Strand

      We are stardust, billion year old carbon, as Joni Mitchell put it. To be made up of the same stuff as the universe but with consciousness is a miracle, really. We ought to celebrate that miracle with each breath. More likely, we might at least wake up in the morning embracing the gift when we’ve been granted another day.

      There haven’t been as many mountain peaks or waterfalls in the blog this year, and I plan to remedy that in the near future. Our lives are as big or as small as we make them. Blessed with good health and a sound mind, we ought to make the most of the opportunity. This blog was never meant to be solely about what I’ve read recently. It was derived from a bias towards action and the desire to see as much of this world as possible while here. Stasis should never be the goal in a life so very brief, let alone for a blog designed to convey highlights of the journey.

      This is our time to experience and bear witness to what we encounter. More, we should be active participants in living a full life, for this billion year old carbon we each walk around in will someday return to the universe. It ought to have a few stories to tell.

    • Attention is Vitality

      “Do stuff. be clenched, curious. Not waiting for inspiration’s shove or society’s kiss on your forehead. Pay attention. It’s all about paying attention. attention is vitality. It connects you with others. It makes you eager. stay eager.” ― Susan Sontag

      Please take a moment and re-read the quote above, but in the voice of a close friend or loved one who’s a bit exacerbated with you for not doing this the last time they reminded you to be more vigorous with this business of living. Vigorous in a “lust for life” way. Vigorous in a “decide what to be and go be it” way. What we pay attention to matters. We must choose to rise above mundane.

      Each of us is wrestling with something, likely amplified by the madness in the world these last several years. What drowns out that voice in the back of our head more than action? We all know the fable of the frog and boiling water (Put a frog in a pot of boiling water and it will leap out. Put that frog in cold water gradually heated and it will boil to death). The moral of the story seems obvious, but what are we currently boiling in ourselves?

      We must shake ourselves loose from the belief that we’re unable to change our circumstances. We must pay attention and get to the living part of our story. Get out of the damned pot! Be clenched! Be curious! Be eager!

    • Stepping onto the Mastodon Path

      Admittedly, social media can be a dark place, pretending to be about community and connection, but really just an echo chamber of accusation, antagonism and positioning. It’s not a quiet conversation with friends sharing stories and pictures, yet that’s what we all signed up for. Or, if we’re being honest, was it to become an influencer? Being a voice of moderation doesn’t earn you followers, you must shout louder than the rest to get attention. And herein lies the problem.

      Alternatively, we might step away. Find a place that makes more sense. Wade into the waters of something new and see how it feels. To be fully alive means to experience change and make the most of it. Change isn’t so bad, it’s how we react to the possibility of change that scares people. We each ought to decide what to be and go be it.

      This blog is now linked to a Mastodon account. You can still find it on Twitter if you want to, at least until that platform implodes and sinks. That’s unlikely though, isn’t it? Too many people rely on doing the same easy thing every day. But diversifying the distribution of this blog seems logical to this writer. If nothing else, I’m calling my own bluff and embracing the unknown. And it was surely unfamiliar territory. At first glance, Mastodon was confusing. Blogging once felt confusing too. Going to a new job once felt confusing. There are plenty of blogs and YouTube videos to help make sense of it all.

      After lingering with it a few days, it seems a lonely place, comparatively, to Twitter or Facebook. Loneliness is also good for us, sometimes. It means we’re building something new, and eventually, together. Consider it an adventure. Isn’t it so? Like starting something new. That loneliness is a sign that we’ve stepped off the old block and are entering the wilderness. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of elbow room while we sort things out. The pioneers get all the streets named after them.

      Follow me on Mastodon, if you’d like. Currently @nhcarmichael@universeodon.com unless another server or instance tempts me. See what I mean? Different. But who wants the same thing all the time anyway? Let’s jump in, shall we?

    • Opting for a Colorful Plate

      “The food you eat can be either the safest and most powerful form of medicine or the slowest form of poison.” ― Ann Wigmore

      A coworker recently brought up his frustration with the the “plateful of brown” options available for breakfast at a typical American hotel chain: eggs, bacon, sausage links, bread, potatoes or hash browns, coffee. If you’re lucky enough to have fruit options it’s usually bananas and pineapple or melon. Maybe some yogurt. In other words, a whole lotta brown.

      There’s a rule of thumb that we ought to include as many colors in our food as we can. A plate loaded full of brown foods isn’t especially good for you, and may indeed be a slow form of poison. If we are what we eat, why are we opting for processed junk and the same old same old? Add color! Add variety! Add flavor!

      Looking at the travel menu for dinners, there’s a lot of brown there too: pasta and bread, steak, chicken, rice and all sorts of not very colorful food. It doesn’t have to be this way. We can do as the Europeans do and swirl in a healthy mix of green, red, orange and yellow and feel more vibrant after eating. Or stick with browns and feel bloated and tired after eating. The choice is ours, one meal at a time. We ought to choose wisely. Choose deliciously. Choose colorfully.

    • Yes and No

      “It’s worth making time to find the things that really stir your soul. That’s what makes you really feel alive. You have to say ‘no’ to other things you’re used to, and do it with all your heart.“ — Roy T. Bennett

      Checking out the float plan for friends Fayaway as they resume their journey to the Caribbean, it’s easy to see the navigation points clearly charted. The trick is to stick to plan as the unexpected forces of wind, weather, current and fatigue influence that course over time. We can’t predict everything, we can only choose the course and decide when to take a leap into the unknown. Every day brings subsequent decisions that carry us to the next. So it is with life.

      It’s easy to see the series of decisions that brought us to where we are in hindsight. It’s more challenging to plot our course through life uncertain of the forces that will influence that course. Life is what we make of it, a series of yeses and no’s from start to finish. Sometimes what we’re most comfortable with needs to be a no to make progress. Staying in the cozy harbors of our life may feel like a yes when it ought to be a no.

      What we say yes to today will matter in our tomorrow. But so too does what we say no to. The future will judge what the right choice was. We can’t be paralyzed in indecision in such moments, we must decide what to be and go be it. As a rule, it’s probably best to say no to recklessness, and yes to moving away from comfort towards progress. Bon voyage.

    • Savoring Moderate Consumption

      “Thrift isn’t stinginess. It’s a cure for overconsumption.” — Stanley Tucci

      We are spiraling headfirst into the consumption holidays. In many ways it’s already begun with Halloween, didn’t it? Purchase one bag of candy more than we really need to, and suddenly the pants are a bit snugger than they were a few weeks ago. Autumn days are days to eat, drink and be merry. It’s a time to celebrate the harvest. Many of us take this a step too far—one “bite-sized” candy bar after another, washed down with a pumpkin spiced latte and the abandonment of all reason.

      Watching Stanley Tucci’s magnificent Searching for Italy, the episode that struck me most profoundly was Episode 8: Liguria in which he savors traditional Genoese pesto recipes and walks the barren cliffside olive plantations. This is not a place where you are burdened with such things as too many Thanksgiving pies to choose from, this is a place where you savor the ingredients you can muster up from the land and sea.

      There’s no magic in a drive-thru, only convenience. And we may appreciate convenience, but do we savor it? Distracted eating serves our busy lifestyles, but is there any nuance in consumption when it’s lost in the moment of defensive driving or determined scrolling? There can be no savoring when multitasking. When we deliberately focus on the food we suddenly we realize just what we’re shoveling into our mouths. This moment may delight or horrify us.

      Savoring is the key to an extraordinary life. If overconsumption and gluttony are the antithesis of savoring, then it stands to reason that to live an exceptional life we ought to be more thrifty in our consumption. To savor life means to slow down and appreciate what the world offers to us in the moment. This is celebratory, but not overindulgent. It is a dance with life, one small and delightful bite at a time.

    • The Attractiveness of Adventure

      “The very basic core of a man’s living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.” — Christopher McCandless

      Watching the eclipse of the moon this morning, I thought about how beautiful it was, but also about who was actually seeing it with me. The adventurous are always attracted to others with the same gumption to do outrageous things. Those who seek to wring the most out of life are appealing to those who aspire to add vibrancy and sparkle to their days.

      Right on cue my bride stepped outside, groggy and unsteady, but willing to give it a go with the moon and binoculars. It’s not the first micro adventure I’ve coaxed her towards, and I appreciate her willingness to subtract sleep for experience. Box checked, she was back to her appointment with her pillow.

      Lingering with the moon a bit longer, I thought about the attractiveness of adventure. We seek adventure to feel most alive, and naturally feel the energy emanating from similar spirits. This is true in youth, but equally true as we age. Some of the most vibrant people I’ve known are most attractive because they live a full life. They live outside the norms of society, breaking the established “rules” for living a typical life in favor of adventure. You simply can’t live your own full life inside the box someone else built for you.

      A sustained, vibrant life builds upon itself, it doesn’t subtract years from our lives through poor choices. Aliveness and vitality are the opposite of self-destructiveness and living on borrowed time. Bad habits will choke the life right out of us, so we ought to choose wisely in our quest for adventure. By all means, listen to your mother and wear sunscreen, but don’t hide behind the shades your whole life.

      We never know what we’ll attract into our life until we step out of the cage. Joyful experience is indeed attractive, and we become more attractive in our aliveness. The living are most attracted to those who live a full, adventurous life. A richer life experience, engagement with others living on a higher plane, and deeper realization of our full potential await us when we live our lives with an adventurous spirit.

      I’ll see you out there.

    • Keep Thy State

      “To wish to escape from solitude is cowardice.” — Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace

      “At times the whole world seems to be in conspiracy to importune you with emphatic trifles. Friend, client, child, sickness, fear, want, charity, all knock at once at thy closet door and say,—’Come out unto us.’ But keep thy state; come not into their confusion. The power men possess to annoy me I give them by a weak curiosity. No man can come near me but through my act.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson

      Being an advocate for solitude doesn’t mean one is antisocial, it means embracing the potential of the moment. We ought to embrace our time alone, and stop reaching for distraction at any sign of discomfort with the practice. Solitude isn’t the same thing as loneliness, they’re quite the opposite of one another. We can be alone and be productive with the circumstance, or retreat into the comfortable friction of others. We aren’t bait fish, friends, there may be anonymity in numbers, but that isn’t safety, merely avoidance.

      Writing requires solitude—there’s no getting around it. We must wrestle with our thoughts without interruption if we hope to mine anything of consequence from ourselves. Most of us don’t have the luxury of a cabin in the woods in which to dream and scheme. We seek the edges of the day and make them ours. Some of us thrive early in the morning, others late at night. The time is inconsequential, it’s the willingness to tap into the moment that matters most.

      Solitude is a productive state of being in a world intent on drawing you back to the pack. Solitude isn’t retreating into our selves, it’s a deep conversation with an old friend, the one who knows all our traits and sticks with us anyway. We only have so many such moments in a day or in a lifetime, and ought to explore them fully. The best thing about writing is sharing a wee bit of that with a few interested collaborators. In that respect, we transcend aloneness completely.