Alexandersmap

    Category: Travel

    • Do Hard Things

      “All great and precious things are lonely.” — John Steinbeck

      Do hard things. This must be our mindset if we are to move forward on our journey to personal excellence (Arete). Opting for easy is a path to average. We’ve all been on that path enough already and know where it leads. It may be comfortable for a long time, but it doesn’t satiate a restless soul. We must learn and grow and become what we decided to be in the time we have while managing the circumstances we’re allotted. There is always a reason not to be bold.

      What is great and precious? We know it when we imagine it for ourselves. Finishing a marathon or writing a novel may be great and precious, but each comes with a heavy price in time and effort (writing anything using an AI hack is not great nor precious, it’s inherently average). We must learn to do the work, and learn to be lonely in the work. It’s the price of greatness that must be paid out every day.

      This summer I’ve had many excuses to just stay the course on my previous fitness lifestyle. Walk a bit, row occasionally, ease off of the carbohydrates and drink in moderation. Those lifestyle choices brought me to where I was back in June when I pivoted into a mental toughness program to blow up the old routine and begin anew. Today is the last day of that program, but not really. Once we strengthen our resolve to do hard things, we begin to look for more hard things to do beyond where we’ve arrived.

      What is lonely about pursing personal excellence? It’s the jabs from friends and family when we say no to what we once said yes to. It’s setting off on a workout or stepping away to write or read or otherwise do the work that must be done instead of having a beer and talking about the state of the world. Early on, when our new habits are young and fragile, it takes an “F you” attitude to overcome the doubts and casual pressure to just make an exception this one time. Mental toughness is developed in the trenches of mind games within our trusted and well-meaning circle of influence.

      The thing is, 75 hard was never a fitness program, even as it leads to greater physical fitness. It’s about eliminating the excuse cycle from our mindset and developing a bias towards action in all audacious and meaningful things. 75 days later, I’m neither great nor precious, but I’m closer to arete than I was before I started. Lifestyle choices don’t really end, they simply evolve in time. We begin to ask ourselves, if we can finish this, just what can we do next? Decide what to be next and go be it.

    • The Restless Surge

      Little one, you have been buzzing in the books,
      Flittering in the newspapers and drinking beer with lawyers
      And amid the educated men of the clubs you have been getting an earful of speech from trained tongues.
      Take an earful from me once, go with me on a hike
      Along sand stretches on the great inland sea here
      And while the eastern breeze blows on us and the restless surge
      Of the lake waves on the breakwater breaks with an ever fresh monotone,
      Let us ask ourselves: What is truth? what do you or I know?
      How much do the wisest of the world’s men know about where the massed human procession is going?

      You have heard the mob laughed at?
      I ask you: Is not the mob rough as the mountains are rough?
      And all things human rise from the mob and relapse and rise again as rain to the sea?
      — Carl Sandburg, On the Way

      These days I see more clearly, and I chafe at certain things that used to wash over me. We learn and grow and become someone hopefully better than the character we were before. Each step is revelatory, each step confronts others with the changes within us. That confrontation is sometimes reflected back towards us in subtle ways. Pokes and prods—just to see if the illusion shatters or if there is a new truth to the story of who we are now.

      We rise, relapse and rise again in a lifetime of growth and stumbles, but our story is always set in the present. What has become of us? Where is this going? And just who will join us on our way, and do we dare to wonder—who won’t?

      “I am”… I said
      To no one there
      And no one heard at all
      Not even the chair
      — Neil Diamond, I Am… I Said

      This restless surge of change relentlessly washes away the sandcastles of fragile identity. We are obliged to rebuild them every day, or we are swept away into something entirely different. Made up of the same substance—nothing but grains of sand in our time, yet no longer the same. Only we know the truth of who we are, only we may hear the call. If we dare to listen.

    • Seeing It

      “The world is full of wonderful things you haven’t seen yet. Don’t ever give up on the chance of seeing them.” ― J.K. Rowling

      Here on the home front, the acorns and crickets signal the last days of summer are closing in on us. And once again, we seem to have an abundance of each. Whether we like it or not, the clock is ticking on summer days, and that old back to school feeling is all around us (along with Halloween candy displays—why?!). The Final Countdown is playing in my head, and to be honest, I’ve never liked that song. Someone make it stop!

      When I take stock of what I’ve done this year thus far, I have no right to complain about not traveling more. But end of summer always makes me think about the places I haven’t reached just yet. Once a vagabond, always a vagabond. At least in spirit. We may be grateful for the places we’ve reached in our life while still aspiring for more. A mindset of kaizen (constant, never-ending improvement) includes never being truly satisfied. But there’s still time for a little more exploration and discovery.

      This blog began as a vehicle to write about what I saw in an active regional travel routine. Through deliberate lifestyle design, I’ve gone from 80% travel to 0% in my work. Work travel may satisfy the mind’s desire to see something new each day, but let’s face it, most Hilton hotel rooms are about the same. Travel is not the accumulation of points or the “free” bottles of water, it’s the revelatory experience of stumbling upon wonderful and taking the time to learn something about it.

      The thing is, we can discover wonder anywhere, in any season. We just have to be open and curious and willing to experience what is right in front of us. I can wonder at the explosive production of cucumbers growing in pots on the patio just as easily as I can about some roadside historical sign. Why did it take me so many years to give that a try? Just as the garden is where you grow it, gratitude is where you nurture it.

      This was a season when being home was more essential than ever. The end of life journey of my father, a brief summer reunion with old friends, and the time with our children as they each making significant pivots in their own lives, is time I would never have had if I’d been off checking bucket list destinations off the list. There is a season for everything in life. When we are forever looking for the next, we miss so much of the now. Being here, now, and seeing what is right in front of us all along is the true journey of discovery. Do we see it?

    • The Chain of Understanding

      “A man receives only what he is ready to receive, whether physically or intellectually or morally, as animals conceive at certain seasons their kind only. We hear and apprehend only what we already half know. If there is something which does not concern me, which is out of my line, which by experience or by genius my attention is not drawn to, however novel and remarkable it may be, if it is spoken, we hear it not, if it is written, we read it not, or if we read it, it does not detain us. Every man thus tracks himself through life, in all his hearing and reading and observation and travelling. His observations make a chain. The phenomenon or fact that cannot in any wise be linked with the rest which he has observed, he does not observe. By and by we may be ready to receive what we cannot receive now.” — Henry David Thoreau, The Journal of Henry David Thoreau

      We are conditioned to see by what we’ve seen. When I think about half of the country believing the current direction of our leadership is great, while the other half are horrified and angry, I can only understand it by conditioning. Those who are conditioned by fear and a scarcity mentality believe one thing. Those who are conditioned to be empathetic and develop a growth mindset in their education, spiritual, career, health and financial life believe another thing.

      Knowing this, I see that the answer lies in education and diversity. Unfortunately, the other side knows this too, and so books are banned, late night talk show hosts are cancelled, and even satellites that give us information about climate change are targeted for destruction. Ignorance is bliss. And humanity takes two steps back.

      So what do we do in a world that is so infuriating? We continue listening, reading, observing and traveling. We keep finding the truth and share it with others. We counter the momentum of ignorance with insight and mutual understanding. We are the ambassadors of truth and compassion, and we aren’t going away any time soon.

      There is no them
      There’s only us
      — U2, Invisible

      So stay the course—learn and grow and share. There is no them, there’s only us. When we stop thinking of them as different from us and simply less aware, something opens up within our own minds. We are ready to build bridges—to help them see, not simply them, but all of us. The solution has always been right in front of us, waiting for enough of us to finally receive it. We are all links in the human chain. That chain connects to an anchor of truth or shackles of mistrust. What we connect to is up to us.

    • Perfectly Reasonable Reasons

      “Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?” — Mary Oliver

      It’s always the poets and the artists who draw our attention away from the straight and narrow path. And if we ever need a poem to call us out and force us to reassess what we’re focused on, reading Mary Oliver’s Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches in the quiet time before the world awakens to demand we fall in line will do the trick. We listen at our peril, for to do so is to shatter the illusion that this life we’ve wrapped around ourselves in this protective shell is enough.

      How long will you continue to listen to those dark shouters, caution and prudence?
      Fall in! Fall in!

      What are we doing with our time? Have we noticed, even as we’ve entered the height of summer, that the days are growing shorter? We must venture to the tingly work now. What is bold and a little scary? What are we truly working on but clever excuses and perfectly reasonable reasons for not leaping? Do we really believe the audacious life will sit in the corner awaiting our approval?

      What do we see? What do we seek? Go to it. For our time grows ever shorter. May this day leave us breathless with wonder at what we’ve done with the time.

    • Being Mad in a Prudent World

      “Run from what’s comfortable. Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious. I have tried prudent planning long enough. From now on I’ll be mad.” — Rumi

      We are too often prudent. We like to think ourselves mad, but we gradually move back to doing what is expected of us, what is logical, what will pay the bills and such. When all along our wild side cries for release. Do you still hear the cry, or has it been smothered to death?

      I’m not suggesting we each take the sum of our 401(k)’s and put it all in at the craps table, merely that we stray off the straight and narrow more often. Do what nobody ever expected of us now and then, just to keep them from believing they have us figured out. We are more than the expectations others that have of us—at least we ought to be.

      We stack our experiences neatly in a line, one day to the next. Towards the middle, we start to see a trend as our collection of experiences become our identity. This is who I am is as powerful an anchor as any. To slip that anchor in favor of this is who I will be is a scary proposition. And this is why most people never sail beyond that safe harbor. They reach the end of their days wondering where they might have gone but for a little courage to weigh that anchor and set the sails for adventure.

      I see my light come shining
      From the west unto the east.
      Any day now, any day now,
      I shall be released.
      — Bob Dylan, I Shall Be Released

      A blog is a form of expression. Perhaps it’s a way to let the cries have their say, or to document the gradual release of this writer from the anchors that once held him firmly in place. There’s far more to say and do, and following the heading of who we will be is easier said than done. But Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither are we, friend. The voyage begins with each step away from prudent, towards what once seemed quite mad. We find that what was prudent at anchor is mad when we’ve sailed beyond who we once were.

    • The Waterfalls of Letchworth State Park

      If you love waterfalls (and who doesn’t love waterfalls?), Upstate New York is the place for you. Get beyond Niagara Falls and you find hundreds of waterfalls worth exploring (officially over 2000). I’ve written about many of the waterfalls of New York over the years as I’ve explored them, but circumstances had never gotten me to Letchworth State Park to see their beloved three on the Genesee. During a drive from Cleveland to Boston, we finally stopped to see what all the fuss was about.

      Once you get off I-90, the rule is single lane roads rolling up and over hills through the never-ending farmland and woodland of New York. This rule demands two things: a full fuel tank and an empty bladder. Obeying these rules will get you to your destination eventually. Letchworth State Park is a destination worthy of that drive.

      Rolling in on a hot summer day, we pulled up to pay the $10 day entry fee. The park official looked up at the bug-spattered roof bag and asked if we planned on camping. “Nope, just here for the afternoon”, we assured her, and followed her instructions that led us to the restrooms. We all must prioritize our time based on the urgency call of the moment.

      After getting our affairs in order, we drove back towards the southern entrance to the park to the impressive railroad bridge spanning the Genesee River (Portage Bridge). There was ample parking for a Sunday hike, and we quickly made our way to the trailhead at Portage Bridge. Being a New York State Park, you come to expect elaborate public works like staircases, walls and railings, and there they were to greet us as we made our descent.

      The three waterfalls in the southern section of the park are the Upper Falls, Middle Falls and Lower Falls. The Upper Falls, with the railroad bridge spanning the river above them, offer a beautiful view. The Middle Falls are the most impressive and are the falls you can get closest to. The Lower Falls are further away as you’re hiking, but on easy terrain for the average hiker. Once you’ve arrived at the Lower Falls you can either continue hiking through the canyon or turn to head back to where you started. We opted for the out and back, making a solid 5 mile round trip.

      Letchworth is a park full of campers and day-trippers. There are plenty of amenities situated along the route, from restrooms to a restaurant with gift store for those wanting perfume-fragranced candles and such. Closer to Upper Falls there’s even an ice cream stand. That proved a fortuitous opportunity for us to purchase some cold drinks to reinvigorate for the final climb back up to the trailhead.

      As we were rehydrating four girls with their grandmother were walking away from the ice cream stand with soft serve cones quickly melting in the sun. As they licked to keep up, one of the girls said, “Best day ever.” as they made their way to a picnic table. I thought to myself, you just might be right.

      Upper Falls
      Middle Falls
      Lower Falls
      Genesee River below Lower Falls
      Classic New York State Park stairs and railings

    • Returning to the Cascadilla Gorge Trail

      For a few years I found myself spending a lot of time in Ithaca, New York. If you love waterfalls and a relaxed college town vibe, it’s the place to be. I forgot how much I missed it until I returned.

      My connection to Ithaca runs deep. My favorite Navy pilot went to the big red school on the hill. My daughter went to the big blue school on the other hill. I have a long affinity with the Moosewood restaurant through the cookbooks and [not nearly enough] visits to eat there. There are other connections but you get the point.

      It’s those waterfalls that root deeply into your soul and never release you. My favorite Navy pilot used to tell me that Cascadilla Gorge was his favorite, and I feel the same way. It doesn’t have the jaw-dropping impact of Ithaca Falls or the height of Taughannock Falls, but it’s a more intimate experience—especially early in the morning when you have the place mostly to yourself.

      I was with my favorite Navy pilot last the last time he visited Ithaca, to see his granddaughter and see the campus again. We saw some waterfalls then too, but not Cascadilla Gorge. It was beyond his ability at that point in his life. I thought about him as I descended back down along the rushing waters. We are only here and healthy for such a brief time. Will I ever visit this gorge again myself? Who knows what the future brings? But I am here, now, when it matters most.

    • To Live

      “To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.” — Oscar Wilde

      Do interesting things. Cross borders—real and imagined. Test the validity of advice from timid people. Discover the bridges that fill the gaps between who we are and who we aspire to become. For the clock is ticking and time grows short, even as we foolishly believe it may run on forever.

      There’s work to be done (surely there’s always work to be done), but make it work that explores limitations and offers a steep ascent in learning. Always remember that we may never pass this way again, so do what calls for attention while we are here—younger and more vibrant than we would be if we ever were to return.

      To live, and not to merely exist. This is our quest. Get to it already!

    • The Loyalty Building

      In Milwaukee, Wisconsin there are plenty of fascinating things to see, ranging from the strikingly gorgeous Milwaukee Art Museum to the time machine Bronze Fonz statue to the exceptional German food and beer scene. But beyond all of that, there’s a gem hidden in the most unusual of places that most tourists would never see. Unless, of course, they stayed there.

      In the late 19th century, the Northwestern Mutual Life Insurance Co. had commissioned the construction of a Richardsonian Romanesque building designed by S.S. Beman. That building, known as the Loyalty Building was completed in 1886 and is now both a National Historic Landmark and the most beautiful and unique Hilton Garden Inn I’ve ever been in.

      The building was built of Maine and Indiana granite, with arches and modern features like dual-lighting (gas and electric!), heating and an innovative cooling system. A massive glass ceiling lets in tons of natural light, and the floors feature terra cotta and terrazzo tiles in intricate patterns. Honestly, you don’t know where to look there’s just so much to see!

      But then you see and know. The star of the show is the staircase, with cast iron balusters and bronze newels topped with tall copper inverted cone-shaped finials. It’s those finials that catch your attention—that’s a lot of copper sitting their marking time. Those cones made it through the Great Depression and two world wars. And it’s the story of their survival that is most interesting of all.

      During World War II, copper was in short supply and being scooped up and thrown into the war effort all over the country. The building’s owner at the time, not having the heart to see the copper finials melted down, painted them black to escape notice. They stayed that way, forgotten it seems, until the 1960’s when they were uncovered for the world to see once again. And all you have to do is step into the Hilton Garden Inn in Milwaukee.