Alexandersmap

    Category: Writing

    • The Right Direction

      “A man’s rootage is more important than his leafage.” — Woodrow Wilson

      At some point in life that is hard to pinpoint, filling gaps became more important than reaching upward and outward. Is that a sign of wisdom, or a desire for it? Personally, there are still too many gaps to fill before I’d be considered wise. I should think being curious is enough at this stage of the game.

      Wisdom is not the same thing as being knowledgeable. I know many extremely intelligent people who have no common sense whatsoever. They’re charming and particularly useful on trivia night, but not people you’d seek counsel from if you needed advice on a career move or relationship. For that we seek those who have been there before and lived to tell the tale. And more, are willing to lend an ear or a shoulder as needed.

      How does wisdom develop? Not in leafage—forever blown about in the winds of change, fashion and trendiness. It takes roots to grow wisdom. Stillness of mind, steady in ritual, and deliberate with thought, reading and deeper conversation with those who have seen a few things themselves. The wise are continuously growing more deeply rooted and anchored in first principles.

      The thing is, the less one dwells on the leafage, the more one may look deeper within. This all leads us somewhere. We are all here to solve that greatest of questions, why are we here, in this place and time? It’s far less scary to stay above the surface on such things than it is to dig deeper. But isn’t that a shallow existence?

      So it is that this writer strives to go deeper still. That may make this blog more interesting or less so. But it remains a sincere quest for wisdom and insight. It’s no longer striving for success (whatever that is), it’s seeking deeper meaning. And that, friend, requires growth in the right direction.

    • Flowing Towards the Next

      I would love to live
      like a river flows,
      carried by the surprise
      of its own unfolding.
      — John O’Donohue, Fluent

      This river is unfolding rapidly lately. We think of rivers as quietly predictable. We forget about the rapids and the plunges off of cliffs. Waterfalls are simply rivers with an abrupt change of state. And so it is that life can be exhilarating some days, and utterly exhausting other days. That’s life though, isn’t it? It will level out again one day. We learn to take it as it comes.

      To paraphrase my favorite Navy pilot, I have seen the future, and I don’t have to like it. But we can work to influence that which we can control. It’s our life, such that it is, and we are the only ones who will ever have the front row seat on this journey.

      A confession: I’ve quoted O’Donohue’s poem incorrectly. The original had capitalized the first letter of each line. My inclination to correct that is a weakness in my own way of thinking. He wrote what he wrote, and I ought to leave it well enough alone. So here you go:

      I would love to live
      Like a river flows,
      Carried by the surprise
      Of its own unfolding.

      It doesn’t matter how the poem was written. What mattered was the wisdom captured in a few words placed just so. We get so caught up in the trivial details that we drown ourselves instead of accepting everything as our unique, enthralling story. Here we are, moving through time from here to somewhere. We ought to look around and acknowledge what is.

      Still, those waterfalls. It’s not the fall that kills you, it’s the landing. We want to make a splash in our brief time before infinity, but it isn’t always what we expected it to be. It helps in such moments to remember the Serenity Prayer:

      God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

      We learn that wisdom is only useful when it is acquired. We go through life stumbling across bits of wisdom along the way. It’s up to us whether we pick it up or leave it forgotten on the banks of missed opportunity. We are the sum of our parts, and in the end everything we accumulate will carry us somewhere, soon enough.

      Here’s the thing about that poem we might have missed as we (I) focused on the way it was written: O’Donohue wasn’t telling us to live as he lives, he was telling us he’d love to live thusly. We are all figuring it out, forever surprised by life in all its stillness and turbulent moments. Be here, now. That is flow, and it will carry us from this moment onwards towards the next.

    • To Do at Last

      I bless the night that nourished my heart
      To set the ghosts of longing free
      Into the flow and figure of dream
      That went to harvest from the dark
      Bread for the hunger no one sees.

      All that is eternal in me
      Welcome the wonder of this day,
      The field of brightness it creates
      Offering time for each thing
      To arise and illuminate.

      I place on the altar of dawn:
      The quiet loyalty of breath,
      The tent of thought where I shelter,
      Wave of desire I am shore to
      And all beauty drawn to the eye.

      May my mind come alive today
      To the invisible geography
      That invites me to new frontiers,
      To break the dead shell of yesterdays,
      To risk being disturbed and changed.

      May I have the courage today
      To live the life that I would love,
      To postpone my dream no longer
      But do at last what I came here for
      And waste my heart on fear no more.
      — John O’Donohue, A Morning Offering

      For Saint Patrick’s Day, a morning offering from a revered Irish writer. And what a poem it is! Go on and read it once again, I don’t mind at all. I’ve read it a few times more myself, considered what to go with and in the end quoted the poem in its entirety.

      Patrick chased the snakes out of Ireland. George Washington and Henry Knox chased the British out of Boston Harbor. We note the history of this day but ought to remember to make a little history ourselves. Forget drowning in pint or dram—find your stride today instead. A wee bit of poetry, a soundtrack of favorite Irish music, a brisk walk, and some writing of our own. Perhaps a splash of green to mark the occasion. The 17th of March is a day for action, not simply commemoration.

      The truth is, we get worn down by life and need to be provoked back on track. To break the dead shell of yesterdays and regain that courage to do at last what we came here for. There’s nothing to be done about all that’s happened before today, save to learn from it. Use this time to chase away our own snakes and move onward towards a brighter future. To welcome the wonder of this day by doing it justice.

    • Inconceivably Done

      “We would accomplish many more things if we did not think of them as impossible.” — Vince Lombardi

      Catching up with old friends we don’t see so much anymore, we talked about life and its lessons. We’ve learned some things in the years since we were kids figuring things out as we went. Mostly we’ve learned that we’re always going to be figuring things out. That was the lesson all along.

      One of our party has just completed what many would consider inconceivable or maybe insane. She noted the level of indifference she’s experienced by many who simply don’t understand just how hard it’s been to reach her goal or the why behind it. That’s what happens when people do things that are far beyond the imagination of everyone else. Indifference. And there’s a lesson there too.

      Our life goals are our own and nobody else’s. When we attach expectations about how others will react to our life story, we become dependent on those indifferent others for joy. The thing is, when we accomplish something beyond average, it becomes part of our identity forever. Nobody else’s. Those who know, know. And in the end that’s more than enough.

      Writing this blog post every day feels necessary most mornings, but the ritual is mine alone. Whether anyone reads it, or bothers to navigate the archives to see what else I might have to say, is not something I can control. If I start writing blog posts with titles like, “The seven must-see hidden gems in New England” or “10 Proven Shortcuts to the Top” then you’ll know I’ve succumbed to some burning desire for clicks and views. Otherwise it’s simply one day at a time, doing my thing while you do yours. Thanks for reading this far.

      There’s another lesson that comes with experience, whether large or small. We learn what’s possible. If we can do this, just imagine what else we might do next? For life is always built on the previous step. Leaps forward are rare. We mostly just build on who we were towards who we become next. It’s not inconceivable, it’s simply taking one step at a time towards our goals.

      [Congratulations Sue: Doing the inconceivable is truly amazing.]

    • Learning to See

      How you learn to see
      The hope eternally
      When you’re sure to leave
      Oh, leave at last
      — The Avett Brothers, Morning Song

      This blog post is being written exactly one hour later than normal, and yet at the same time as yesterday. Someone’s idea of daylight savings time flips the clock forward or backward in their respective seasons, and we all wonder why. Like most foolish rituals, it sticks because some people don’t like change. So here we are once again, changing the clocks and the morning ritual of writing before the madness of the day. What time is it really? It’s time to let go of what was.

      Lately the house has experienced changes. As the days grow longer, the communal vibe felt around the holidays fades further from memory. We often don’t stop our own scramble through the days long enough to feel the changes. Work and family commitments, a relentless winter and the rapidity of a finite life hold our attention. The day-to-day routine feels the same, but there are subtle changes.

      The dog, normally walking effervescent joy, has a look in her eyes that says something is off. Her appetite is off, her walks are more distracted. Something has changed in her mind. And then there’s the cat, normally a little ball of hate around the dog anyway, she’s gone out of her way to express it lately. Is the dog being bullied by the cat? Are they both feeling scarcity of attention and expressing it through their interaction with each other? When exactly did I become a pet psychiatrist? Pets react to change just as we humans do. They’re usually at least one paw ahead of us.

      There are forces larger than ourselves at work in the universe. Take that to mean whatever you want it to mean in your own march to infinity, but to me, some measure of hope begins with stepping away from the self and connecting with others. We are here on this brief dance through time together. Tell me, what do we really see? The changes are within us, seeking expression in the time we are given. Life goes on, and so to must we. One subtle step towards the infinite after the other.

    • But Not Today

      “When you feel like quitting,
      just do five more:
      5 more minutes, 5 more pages,
      5 more steps. Then repeat. Sometimes
      you can break through and keep going,
      but even if you can’t, you ended five ahead.
      Tell yourself that you will quit tomorrow,
      but not today.”
      — Kevin Kelly, Excellent Advice for Living

      This blog continues because I subscribe to the theory of quitting tomorrow, but not today. I’ll write just one more post, and one more again, and soon there’s a streak worthy of consideration when I really don’t feel like it anymore. Those moments are rare, but they happen. Simply kick to tomorrow what ought to be kicked. Today be alive with the task at hand.

      Kelly’s book is a collection of tweetable nuggets like the one above, if one were still to tweet. More to the point, it’s shared wisdom from one cat to the rest of us. We all ought to learn a thing or two and then share it with those who are rising to take our place on the line. We all ought to be aware of our place as a linchpin in the lives of so many who quietly go on with their lives, meaning to tell us one day what we mean to them, but not today. The trick is to not be the one who puts off the important stuff to tomorrow. No regrets—simply do it now.

      We each have work to do. I know I ought to work on being more fluent in French before I go to France. Perhaps today I’ll resume those lessons. I ought to do all of the exercises in my physical therapy program if I hope to see improvement on my gimpy ankle. We know what has to be done. We just put off the wrong thing. Instead of doom-scrolling or binge-watching, do something that we may repeat again tomorrow. Then do it again. It’s simple really. So why hasn’t it caught on more?

    • What Will That Be?

      “I write to find out what I didn’t know I knew.”— Robert Frost

      Lately I’ve been playing with writing style just to see where it takes me. I’m not sure I want to dive too deeply into writing poetry, but I aspire to write as elegantly concise as a great poet does. As you can see from my first two sentences compared to the quote from Robert Frost, I still have work to do. And perhaps that should be the blog post today: Aspires for great, sentenced to better. No?

      Then again, this isn’t meant to be a diary or journal. It’s a ship’s log without the ship. Here is where the journey has taken me. Have a look around and note the state of things. What one line will mark this day uniquely on this passage? How does the first day of a new month feel compared to the last day of last month? Are we one day closer to knowing? Knowing what? Every day is learning and discovery and marking the changes.

      I stray onto social media less frequently now. We all feel it’s changed. We were collectively violated by bots and billionaires enough to be deeply suspicious of each platform. These blog posts are shared on three platforms that felt less icky when I linked to them. Is less icky enough of a reason to share content with people I don’t know? Is it all AI scanning now? I don’t do the like-for-a-like thing very well at all (sorry). Does that make me anti-social or simply selective with my precious time? Are we slowly shrinking from open to closed while we debate such things?

      We’re on the road to find out. My road happens to involve an hour or sometimes two of quiet contemplation and moving words around to make things flow better. I’m under no illusions that this blog will change the world—only its writer’s world. For that hour or two compounded over thousands of days adds up to something better than we started with. The world may be more icky, more divided, more collectively stupid than it could have been with better choices, but all we control is what we contribute to the conversation. And just what will that be?

    • Something

      “I have finally concluded, maybe that’s what life is about: there’s a lot of despair, but also the odd moment of beauty, where time is no longer the same. It’s as if those strains of music created a sort of interlude in time, something suspended, an elsewhere that had come to us, an always within never. Yes, that’s it, an always within never.” ― Muriel Barbery, The Elegance of the Hedgehog

      How so we seize what flees?
      Beyond an awareness
      of time passing by
      ritual captures
      something
      of each day.

      To do the same few things
      offers an impression
      on our dizzying days.
      To manage
      something,
      as each flies.

      No, these days are not ours,
      only each ritual—
      odd moments of beauty.
      We seize
      something,
      always within never.

    • All Else Fades

      To find the stories that we sometimes need
      Listen close enough, all else fades
      Fades away
      — Jack Johnson, Constellations

      I’ve thought about taking a walk in the woods today. Strap on the snowshoes and break new trails in the deep drifts that others may follow. Or perhaps nobody will. It’s not for me to say who follows me. There are days when I don’t like the path I’m on myself. So why follow it? Ah, but then there are the other days…

      This blog similarly has followers. Several people I know well, but the vast majority are people I’ll never meet in a lifetime of wandering the world. Then again, maybe we’ve met and neither of us knew it in the moment. Life is full of such curious miracles. Like Anthony Hopkins finding George Feifer’s own copy of The Girl from Petrovka on a bench. The only thing certain in this world is that we’re all miracles of coincidence walking through life like it’s nothing at all. Always remember that you’re kind of a big deal. You just needed someone to tell you that.

      For all the noise, we have a hard time hearing our own story being told in real time. We’d like to skip ahead a few chapters to see how things play out, and try to influence such things by eating our leafy greens and giving up on deliciously bad habits. But really, we never know, do we? We can only influence tomorrow today, not determine it. Everything else is trend analysis and educated guesses. Who really knows what comes next?

      Developing greater awareness seems to me the way to catch more miracles in our lives. They’ll slip away undetected otherwise, unless we trip over them. I mean, we look in the mirror most every day and don’t even see the one looking back at us. Listen closely and all else fades. And sure, we might just find the stories that we need. We’ve been writing ours all along, like it or not. So why not add more “like it” chapters? The trail has been ours to blaze all along.

    • Opened at Last

      That day I saw beneath dark clouds
      the passing light over the water
      and I heard the voice of the world speak out,
      I knew then, as I had before
      life is no passing memory of what has been
      nor the remaining pages in a great book
      waiting to be read.

      It is the opening of eyes long closed.
      It is the vision of far off things
      seen for the silence they hold.
      It is the heart after years
      of secret conversing
      speaking out loud in the clear air.

      It is Moses in the desert
      fallen to his knees before the lit bush.
      It is the man throwing away his shoes
      as if to enter heaven
      and finding himself astonished,
      opened at last,
      fallen in love with solid ground.
      — David Whyte, The Opening of Eyes

      Lately I’ve been missing the owls. I walk at night with the dog, assessing the latest accumulation of snow and ice, and I wonder where the owls have gone. They haven’t gone anywhere, I know, for they’re non-migratory. And yet I don’t see them. I don’t hear them. They’re here, but invisible. A whisper in the dark, like so many hopes and dreams. No doubt they’re watching the pup and me, quietly assessing the seekers. We aren’t food or an existential threat, so why bother with us? The fascination is entirely one-sided. The thing is, one doesn’t walk around the neighborhood with a pair of binoculars and remain on good terms with the neighbors. They already think me a curiosity for all the walking the pup and I do. And so it goes that the owls remain hidden in plain sight.

      We move through life meaning well, but easily distracted by the immediate concerns of the day. We all have our owls that whisper to us, waiting to be found. But how hard are we really looking for them? What seismic shift needs to happen? What triggers action towards our grandest plans? After years of conversing, when do we finally hear those whispers loud and clear?

      The answer is sometimes a jolt to the routine. Glancing up at just the right place to catch an owl staring back at us, or stumbling into the right job. But usually it’s being present with the blank page writing, deleting and writing again until just the right words come to us. Whatever that version of writing is to each of us, the ritual of staying with it until we find it is the same. Serendipity aside, we don’t find what we’re looking for if we aren’t out in the proverbial woods with our nose up and our eyes open. Discovery is nothing but being out there in it, today and every day, aware that we may just find possibility yet.