Alexandersmap

    Category: Travel

    • Finding Soulfulness in Inefficient Places

      “Everything that feels soulful in life is inefficient. All the vacations that we find very soulful are inefficient places. The food that we really, really like and find soulful are inefficient to cook… maybe soulfulness is a function of chaos and inefficiency... It is impossible to imagine scaling in life without standardizing. And standardizing is the enemy of soulfulness.” — Kunal Shah, Interviewed on The Knowledge Project

      Don’t you feel the weight of truth in Shah’s words? Don’t we feel the lack of soulfulness in a “corporate” vacation destination versus the times we march to our own beat? Who seeks out a national restaurant chain for soulfulness and individual expression by the chef? No, we go to places like Disney World and Applebees for the predictability—good product delivered as expected. No need for translation or a Google search, it’s. just. as. expected. <yawn>.

      We all seek predictable when we can. Heck, I stayed at a Hilton in Vienna instead of a boutique hotel because I could use points and I knew there would be an iron and ironing board in the closet—because there is always an iron and ironing board in the closet of every Hilton property I’ve ever stayed in anywhere in the world. Sometimes you don’t need soulfulness, you just need to iron a damned shirt yourself.

      Contrast this my hotel in Castelrotto, Italy, where our room didn’t have a window but a skylight, no air conditioning or fan, uneven floors and a reception desk in another building down the street. The bell in the tower right above our heads through that open skylight would begin ringing at 06:00 sharp. And you know what? I loved it. The building was older than the United States, that bell was ringing long before I entered this world and the breakfast was a lovely spread of soulful local expression I’d never have found in a hotel chain. There’s something to be said for inefficiency too.

      So how do we create soulfulness in our own work? We don’t do it by parroting whatever business book we just read in our next meeting with coworkers or customers. And we don’t do it by following the corporate handbook to the letter (but don’t you dare stray a step too far). No, we create soulfulness when we find our unique voice in the process of turning chaos into order and eliminating inefficiencies. Ironic, isn’t it? But meaningful work isn’t chaotic, it’s expressive yet contributive. We don’t add to the Great Conversation by shouting over the crowd, nor do we help a company meet its quarterly objectives without following an informed policy or two.

      Here’s the twist: we find soulfulness in our work through routine. This isn’t standardization, this is disciplined dues-paying to reach a place where we might transcend the average. We write a million average phrases to turn one clever, soulful phrase that resonates. We refine widgets over and over again until something perfect emerges. Soulfulness is developed through routine but released through individual, and thus inefficient, expression.

    • Stepping Into a Larger Life

      “Only in those moments when we take life on, when we move through the archaic field of anxiety, when we drive through the blockage, do we get a larger life and get unstuck. Ironically, we will then have to face a new anxiety, the anxiety of stepping into a life larger than has been comfortable for us in the past.” — James Hollis, Living an Examined Life

      Many of us chase vibrant experience through state change. Early this morning I plunged into a pool to completely change my state from groggy to vibrantly aware of the world around me. As you might expect it did the trick immediately. But we don’t need a pool to change our state, any plunge into the unknown should get us there eventually.

      Many of us avoid change at all costs. There’s a reason that early morning plunges into a pool seems so unreasonable to so many—the majority would rather hit the snooze button and slowly reconcile themselves to another day of whatever it is that dictates their lives. People who deliberately and regularly challenge their comfort zone seem a bit… unusual. When you’ve got a good thing going why rock the boat? But isn’t it fair to ask: Why the heck not? When we consider the worst possible outcome to any given action, most of the time we’d come out okay in the end. We ought to take more examined leaps in this lifetime.

      What makes us unique out of the billions of people who have ever lived is our individual experiences and the perspective that is derived from them. That thought process cranking away behind those eyes that see (or don’t see) the world around them is the core to our identity. Call me crazy if you will, but I’d rather have the jambalaya version of life than the tomato soup. Throw as much as you can in the bowl and heat it up. We’ve only got this one meal together.

      The thing is, we’re all prone to both tendencies. For all my chasing of experience in this world, I live a relatively stable, some might say boring, life. But chasing state change doesn’t mean we have to throw ourselves into chaos daily. It simply means opening ourselves up to new experiences. Try to learn a new language, walk around the block the opposite way, have tea instead of coffee, write about something [eclectically] different every day, do something completely out of the norm this weekend… whatever makes the back of your neck tingle when you even dare to think about it.

      To step into a larger life, we’ve got to get used to treading into the unknown. When we dance with a bit of mystery we release magic into our lives. That measure of magic might just make us bold enough to go bigger next time, and the time after that. So it is that we grow into our lives one incrementally bolder step at a time.

    • A Swim in the Broth

      “Consider the ordinary barnacle, the rock barnacle. Inside every one of those millions of hard white cones on the rocks—the kind that bruises your heel as you bruise its head—is of course a creature as alive as you or I. Its business in life is this: when a wave washes over it, it sticks out twelve feathery feeding appendages and filters the plankton for food. As it grows, it sheds its skin like a lobster, enlarges its shell, and reproduces itself without end. The larvae “hatch into the sea in milky clouds.” The barnacles encrusting a single half mile of shore can leak into the water a million million larvae. How many is that to a human mouthful? In sea water they grow, molt, change shape wildly, and eventually, after several months, settle on the rocks, turn into adults, and build shells. Inside the shells they have to shed their skins… My point about rock barnacles is those million million larvae “in milky clouds” and those shed flecks of skin. Sea water seems suddenly to be but a broth of barnacle bits.” — Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

      I confess to briefly recalling this tidbit from Dillard while reacquainting myself with Buzzards Bay, but mostly I considered the front paws of my canine swimming partner enthusiastically paddling in my direction, and equally pressing, the rumble of morning thunder close enough to keep the swim brief. We don’t think about barnacle bits when we swim in salt water any more than we think about the vapor particles we breathe in in a crowded room (at least until the pandemic). These are simply part of the deal. We embrace the universe as it snuggles in close or we curl up in terror under the covers.

      The point is, we’re meant to be out there living in the world. So dip a toe in the broth, or better yet, plunge right in. For we are very much a part of the stew of life and ought to celebrate our brief moment together. But appreciate that outdoor shower afterwards just a little more.

    • A Snapshot of Modern Domestic Air Travel

      Those not residing in or actively flying domestically in the United States may be unaware of just how challenging air travel can be at the moment. There are simply not enough active pilots or flight crews to meet demand. This is partially because of the pandemic, when everything dried up and many active pilots and crew retired or moved on to other careers, and partly because the airline industry didn’t keep up with training new pilots to replace those who were retiring. In any case, there is a severe shortage of crews, making delays and cancellations more and more common. Throw in a general public eager to travel and you’ve got a formula for fun.

      Consider my most recent flight, from Nashville to Boston:
      — Flight delayed by 50 minutes before I even arrived at the airport.
      — After finally boarding the plane, they determined they needed to reboot the plane’s Operating System, which involves shutting down the plane for 5-10 minutes (did I mention it was 100 degrees Fahrenheit in Nashville at the time?)
      — Upon departing the gate and taxiing towards the the runway, the plane was pulled out of line by air traffic control minutes before takeoff because of air traffic roulette in the northeast.
      — Waited on tarmac for two hours, which meant a mandatory return to a gate so passengers could get off for relief or food. While an option, they encouraged everyone to stay on board so they could leave sooner.
      — Finally took off 3 1/2 hours late and arrived in Boston after midnight. Flight attendant mentioned she’d just had a 16 hour day. Who am I to complain after hearing that?

      Does flying the friendly skies sound glamorous yet? Let me add another tidbit:
      Since I’d transferred from another flight, I was in a middle seat at the very back of the plane, seated next to a toxic lump of evaporating booze and churning empty calories throwing up in his mouth and exhaling for the rest of us to enjoy. He kept nodding off and bouncing his head into the seat in front of him like he was head-butting a villain in a Diehard movie. I write this fondly, and find myself missing him already. Almost as much as I miss that middle seat when the plane was being rebooted on a hot day in Music City.

      Travel has never been easier, and yet never so challenging. Life is funny that way. If I was impressed with anything during that experience, it’s that everyone on that plane accepted the reality of a moment we couldn’t control. We all suffered that shared experience together in stride, without a single headline-making incident. Maybe there’s hope for society after all.

    • Breakfast of Champions

      There’s a classic Saturday Night Live sketch where John Belushi portrays a dominant track athletic at his peak. His secret? Little chocolate donuts. It spoofs every performance food ad of the time and really, since. And it raises the question—what exactly are we eating for optimal performance in our days?

      Travel opens our eyes to what constitutes breakfast from place-to-place, and forces us to examine what exactly we consume to start our day. What exactly fuels us as we begin our days? As we learn more about what is good for us and what simply fills us up, shouldn’t our expectations for what we consume is evolve?

      Eating breakfast in places around the world, you immediately pick up on the differences. Americans are heavy on portion size. We like our eggs and bacon and pancakes with a healthy pile of home fries or grits, depending on how you feel about snow. Austrians and Germans seem to favor cheese and cold cuts with a hard-boiled egg and bread. Other countries favor fish, olives, figs, dates and yogurt.

      Who’s right? We are what we eat, but the Mediterranean diet seems to be the consensus pick for healthiest. Still, it might be a tough transition from corn flakes or biscuits to smoked fish and a handful of figs. Ultimately, we have to decide what we’re going to eat. We ought to lean in on fuel and shy from fill. But who doesn’t love a chocolate donut now and then?

      I suppose the answer is to standardize on the healthy diet, and splurge occasionally on the things that taste good in the moment but aren’t especially good fuel for our bodies. It’s a pay me now or pay me later scenario, but the now is a very immediate rush of satisfaction and a fairly short window before the debt is owed. If we can resist the immediate temptation until we’re satiated on the good stuff, maybe we can avoid the bad stuff altogether.

      Part of the breakfast offering in Israel

    • On Place and the Tilt of the Earth

      “I am summer, come to lure you away from your computer… come dance on my fresh grass, dig your toes into my beaches.” — Oriana Green

      Maybe it was appropriate that today, June 21, the Summer Solstice, I awoke at 4 AM—just in time to mark the exact minute (4:13 AM CST) of the tip of the planet back towards shorter days. But let’s worry about that tomorrow, for today is the longest day of the year in the northern hemisphere. After bouncing from Vienna to Boston to Nashville, my body isn’t quite sure which time zone it currently resides in. Yet the mind is fully rested and ready to hit the day.

      By the time of the solstice it usually feels like summer has been with us awhile. This year feels different, like I’m running away from the season. Travel will do that. I spent a day at home assessing the neglected garden before flying off once again. Is that a tragedy or simply a new way of experiencing the season? The weeds seem to enjoy my absence, while the cats seem surprisingly annoyed when I packed a suitcase as soon as the laundry was done from the previous trip. Sorry felines, the world calls.

      Do you wonder why we heed the call at all? Isn’t summer a chance to slow down and relax for awhile? Tell that to a farmer. Europeans know how to take a proper holiday, Americans jump right into the next thing. Which is right? It depends on what you want your life to be.

      Ultimately summers, like life, are made by what we do with the time. Whether our longest day or our shortest matters little if we don’t make something of the moment. Experience begins with presence, the rest is just finding a place to land and the tilt of the earth.

    • Become a Holy Fire

      “And I have often noticed that even a few minutes of this self-forgetfulness is tremendously invigorating. I wonder if we do not waste most of our energy just by spending every waking minute saying hello to ourselves. Martin Buber quotes an old Hasid master who said, “When you walk across the fields with your mind pure and holy, then from all the stones, and all growing things, and all animals, the sparks of their soul come out and cling to you, and then they are purified and become a holy fire in you.” — Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

      Walking about the garden upon a return from two weeks in Europe, seeing the progress of some plants and the decline of others from neglect, it’s easy to become lost in self-forgetfulness. Minor tasks become meditative when we focus on the work. So it is with hiking in solitude, where every step matters and the mind is forced to quiet itself that you may land properly to take the next one.

      If the aim is to become more open to the spirit of the world around us, surely we must quiet the chatter in our own heads. Be still, learn to listen, observe and receive the energy that might otherwise bounce off our closed mind to find a more willing recipient. What do we lose in our closed-minded self-conversation but our chance to be one with the universe?

      The thing is, most of our self-talk is useless at best and detrimental to our progress at worst. Our Lizard Brain, as Seth Godin calls it, is our worst enemy, making us feel like we aren’t measuring up, that we should have done things differently, that we don’t deserve the moment we’re in now. It’s all crap, and not what we’d expect in a close friend. But who is closer to us than ourselves?

      This Hasidic concept of receptiveness is one way to push aside the self. If we are to become a holy fire today—and in our stack of days, we must tune our receiver and accept the positive fuel that stokes our furnace. We must throw aside the wet blanket of self and accept the world as it offers itself to us.

    • Mastery is a Beacon

      “Besides, isn’t it confoundedly easy to think you’re a great man if you aren’t burdened with the slightest idea that Rembrandt, Beethoven, Dante or Napoleon ever lived?“ — Stefan Zweig, Chess Story

      My mind is still in Vienna as I write this—a city that’s had its fair share of high achievers walk her streets and contribute to humanity’s Great Conversation in their life’s work. Big names roamed those same streets, and you might feel a need to raise your game when you walk with that level of ghosts—I surely did. And shouldn’t we feel this compulsion to close the gap between the masters and where we currently reside?

      The world offers precious few brilliant shining stars. Most of us burn less brilliantly. And yet we burn just the same, and cast our own light on the darkness in the world. We may recognize that we aren’t quite at the level of a master in our field yet still have something to offer anyway. And knowing that there are more brilliant lights in human history, we may choose to stoke our fire—feed it with the fuel necessary to one day burn more brilliantly still.

      What provokes us towards greatness but comparison? We may never reach those levels, few do, but knowing there are heights we haven’t reached yet ought to inspire more. For mastery is a beacon.

    • Vividly Awake

      “Time to leave now, get out of this room, go somewhere, anywhere; sharpen this feeling of happiness and freedom, stretch your limbs, fill your eyes, be awake, wider awake, vividly awake in every sense and every pore.” — Stefan Zweig

      There were so many days during the pandemic when we told ourselves some version of Zweig’s quote. Now that the world is opening up again, we ought to stretch our limbs a bit and see what we’ve been missing while we were sheltering in place. The trick is that when we stir that vitality it’s impossible to revert back to the box we once existed in.

      Travel literally carries us to other places. Figuratively too, naturally, but always with an eye on our previous self and an underlying awareness of what comes next. We become aware of the changes we put ourselves through, as they say, even as we plot the next step.

      Joie de Vivre! We should embrace this freedom to experience the world and make the most our opportunity to squeeze joy out of the marrow of each day. For life is a gift, and so is our chance to fly. If we become what we repeatedly do, shouldn’t we choose to be vividly awake? And save the rest for eternity.

    • Where Our Heart Takes Us

      “I am proud of my heart alone, it is the sole source of everything, all our strength, happiness and misery. All the knowledge I possess everyone else can acquire, but my heart is all my own.” — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther

      I was thinking about Goethe after my traveling companion asked me why I was so happy to come across a statue erected in his honor in Vienna. I suppose this quote offers some insight. Goethe distinguished himself as a deep thinker in a city jammed full of them. We all seek knowledge in our quest to become something more, but our heart points the way and determines how far we actually go. Our knowledge quest isn’t unique to us, many of us seek amelioration. The heart ultimately tips the scales for how rich and fulfilling our lives will be.

      Absorbing knowledge is helpful when we do something with it. The homeless man asking me for money in the park easily pivoted from German to English when I responded with my basic skills in his native language. Which of us has more knowledge? Which of us can read Goethe without translation? We are what we either seek or ignore. Knowledge is but a starting point for becoming what we might be.

      Traveling, reading, learning a language, and trying to capture experiences in words are each forms of seeking knowledge. Goethe’s hard stare and his translated words remind me that I have work to do. Do I have the heart to get it done?