Alexandersmap

    Category: Writing

    • The Resonance of the Ritual

      I have dreamed
      of accomplishment.
      I have fed

      ambition.
      I have traded
      nights of sleep

      for a length of work.
      Lo, and I have discovered
      how soft bloom

      turns to green fruit
      which turns to sweet fruit.
      Lo, and I have discovered

      all winds blow cold
      at last,
      and the leaves,

      so pretty, so many,
      vanish
      in the great, black

      packet of time,
      in the great, black
      packet of ambition,

      and the ripeness
      of the apple
      is its downfall.
      — Mary Oliver, The Orchard

      I spoke with an old friend this week about sailing and song. As sailors in my circle of friends tend to do, he lectured me on working too long into life, and did the quick math on life after work. So many pretty leaves, vanished in our time. And what lesson does it offer for us? We ripen so quickly, don’t we?

      I’m writing less, which means I’m publishing fewer blogs. Yet I’m living a fully aware, active life. We reach a point where the length of work is less important than the resonance of the ritual. In a world that is upside down, we find meaning in the little things stacked together just so. The aim hasn’t always been awareness, but surely it is now.

      Consider what we will never do in a lifetime. The list is far longer than the things we will do. There’s a restlessness that stokes a fire in us, pushing us to do more and still more with the time we have. If we’re lucky and aware, we learn what to leave behind as not for us. People, jobs, projects and places all recede from possible to probably not. We are forever reconciling our probably nots.

      Rather than dwell on probably nots, there is joyfulness to be found in the ritual of what we’ve said yes to. Each day is a dance with yes. It becomes less about filling bucket lists and more about more of this, please. The time will still fly by relentlessly, but the hours are measured in what we bring to the world.

    • Participation

      This blog is on a sabbatical of sorts, with an occasional post to let you know I’m still around. I’m not sure when or if I will return to posting every day, but I can assure you that I still have much to see and do and to ponder and write about. The world demands only our brief presence with it, not our participation. Participation is a choice we make to dance with life in our time and place.

      For the last two weeks I’ve been in France, experiencing that country’s joie de vivre first-hand, and also the extreme heat that has made the news around the world. The heat modified a few plans, but it didn’t cancel any. We are changed for having been there, which is exactly what travel offers. Will it influence my daily rituals now that I’ve returned? Almost certainly. Just as assuredly, my perspective and writing will also be transformed for having been. With France, you never really leave it, it stays with you for as long as memories do.

      Rather than post a bunch of familiar pictures of the Eiffel Tower or the Mona Lisa or some such bucket list item, here are three pictures of the sun from uniquely beautiful locations. Each has their own story, as each day must. Like every great experience in a lifetime, we will linger on each memory with the hope of returning one day.

      The sun slowly dropping into the hazy English Channel as seen from the top of the hill at Arromanches-les-Baines in Normandy. 82 years ago this was the sight of “Port Winston”, the artificial port built here to create the essential supply chain that would decide the outcome of World War II. A visit reminds you not only of the sacrifice of so many, but the stunningly beautiful place that it had been before the German occupation and is once again.
      The sun rising above the mud flats and shifting sands of the Bay of Mont Saint-Michel. There is quicksand and a rapidly rising tide in the flats, making it treacherous for those who don’t heed the warnings. Mont Saint-Michel is a stunning destination worthy of the pilgrimage so many took to arrive here. We spent one night on the island, which gave me the opportunity to take this photo as the new day began.
      Sun setting over the Loire River from the banks of Amboise, France. Just behind me over my right shoulder is the Château Royal d’Amboise, where Francis I, former King of France, lived. Francis invited Leonardo da Vinci to spend his final years in Amboise, given a generous stipend and a home at Château du Clos Lucé just up the road. Leonardo da Vinci final resting place is in Amboise, supposedly in the Château Royal d’Amboise with a view similar to this sunset view. I can think of worse places to spend eternity.

    • Alive and… Well?

      To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.
      — Mary Oliver, Yes! No!

      What we pay attention to determines how we live, who we are and who we will become. To notice the little details is immersive, or it’s distracting—it all depends on what our attitude is on the matter. There’s just so much to pay attention to. There’s just so much to see and do and be.

      I’ve noticed that some people have receded from the conversation. Or maybe it was me all along. I’ve been sliding in the direction of less is more for some time now (even as I’m busier than ever: I’m a living contradiction). Shifting this blog from every day without fail to now and then when I have something to say is indicative of an inclination to step out of the noisy lane towards a quieter path. Perhaps one day I’ll get there.

      Alive and, well, less focused on rushing this moment along for the next dose of click bait or sound bite packaged just so. Social media, text streams, demands for our time, and good god, the news of the day. It’s all just so distracting and not us. We are here, now. We ought to be aware of it all, at the expense of all that we ought to ignore.

      “The essence of greatness is the perception that virtue is enough.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

      To be engaged with everything is to be focused on nothing. Slow down and have a look around. See the world as a poet or a philosopher observes it. This is the path to a deeper awareness than the fast track offers. Where is the fast track bringing us anyway? Life shouldn’t be a blur of forever next. It all flies by fast enough already. To be quietly virtuous, aware and fully alive: That feels worthy of our remaining time together. This is our great life, so have a look around.

    • Old Men Ought to be Explorers

      Old men ought to be explorers
      Here or there does not matter
      We must be still and still moving
      Into another intensity
      — T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets: East Coker

      Not old. Not yet anyway. But oh my, we’re getting there. And so there is a calling to do more with the time available. To become more in the process of doing. Old men ought to be explorers.

      I’m publishing less often these days. Consider it a sabbatical of sorts, with an abundance of other things to focus on. I enjoy the process enough to suggest that I’ll be back again. With the level of surety of one who knows the fragility of promises.

      To return means to first venture somewhere. To be and see and do that which transforms us in meaningful ways into a greater version of our selves. Returns, like tomorrows, are never promised, but they’re suggested. I would suggest that this blog, founded on the idea of travel and history, poetry and song, will return again with something more to say.

      But first, there’s this matter of moving into another intensity.

    • The Space Between

      Writing without the pressure to publish contradicts all that I’ve said about consistently shipping our work. But to choose to embrace the writing and not the streak of publishing every day for seven+ years liberated this writer from a feeling of obligation. To ramble on just to check a box felt a shallow victory. We aren’t put on this earth to check boxes, we’re put here to add our verse. Instead, I write because I have something to say.

      As with music, the space between often means far more than what initially draws our attention.

    • Stay in Touch

      I was talking with my bride about a close family member who is slipping into his final days. She wondered if, having outlived many of his friends, his funeral and wake would be well-attended. The most crowded funerals are for the young, aren’t they? Those who die too soon leave behind a mass of people who know who they were in that moment. But what of the old? Are we doomed to live a lonely “too long”, like a character in Eleanor Rigby?

      I don’t believe it to be so. We should keep refreshing our mass of people right to the end. Our ripple is a lifetime obligation of making and maintaining connection. Not for a crowded funeral, but for the ripple that carries on well after the ceremony is a memory. And more, for the ripple that courses through us for having known the people we form relationships with.

      When we lose touch with people, they slip away from our lives. Sometimes this is desired, sometimes life just gets in the way. It’s up to us to stay in touch. Of course, it’s up to them too. The phone works both ways, as they say. But I believe we each ought to lead the charge on such things. Instead of saying the phone works both ways, why not say, if not us, then who? We have agency. If that person we wish to stay connected with opts out, well, we honored our part. And life goes on.

      When I think about people I used to know who are no longer in my life, I think of them just the same whether that person is alive or has passed away. Our time together has ended, but the memories remain. Hopefully there’s enough joy in those memories that we are warmed in our recollection. It’s unfinished business that haunts us, not the good memories. Relationships aren’t meant to be transactional—’tis always best to finish our business before we say goodbye, perhaps for the last time.

      The streak that was this blog being published every day ended earlier this week. Honestly, I didn’t expect to be back so soon with two posts this week. I’ve decided that the streak isn’t what matters to me anymore, it’s having something to say and writing it that matters to me. Like reaching out to an old friend, we have agency over how we approach everything that resonates in our lives. The blog is less a daily ritual to me now than it was when I paused it. Perhaps this and future posts are simply my way to stay in touch.

      We’ll have to see if it ripples.

    • Outcomes

      What fills the void when we remove a habit? We hope to fill the space with better habits. Perhaps our workouts will become better and more consistent. Perhaps we’ll read more than we did before. Perhaps we’ll use that time to be more alive in the world. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

      Then again, maybe it wasn’t the habit that was the problem. Maybe it was rest of the time around the habit that was lacking. Maybe it was the feeling of obligations—that something had to be done no matter what. We have enough obligations in our lives. Can’t we just enjoy ourselves? Life isn’t that easy, friend.

      I write for the writing’s sake. I ought to do more of it, but for the day job and the feeling that it isn’t my path to travel. Like so many options that turn into “not for me”, not every whim and desire arrives at an outcome. And maybe that’s as it should be.

      Should I publish this and arrive at one outcome, or is writing it enough? Save as draft or publish? The answer is in the click. Isn’t it interesting how one small action may change an outcome forever? As with all outcomes, it helps to know where it is that we wish to arrive before we act. That fact shouldn’t distract us from realizing that action towards something meaningful was all that ever mattered anyway.

    • The Optimism of a Future Hello

      And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
      —The Beatles, The End

      I’ve always been a streak hitter. I find something that works for me, do it as best I can, and repeat it the next day. Habits are formed, identity is voted upon with action, expectations are set that what was will always be. The world might fall apart, but hey, we are still here, doing this, as we’ve always done. Like lilacs blooming in May, some things are predictable, and surely comforting.

      Writing an average of 400 words per blog post, I push out my thoughts, quote a poem or ramble on about stoic philosophy or the state of the garden. The site itself is a hot mess of bad formatting, but the words are mine. Sometimes I tell myself to fix this thing and make it shine, but really, I like it fine the way it is.

      And every day I tell myself this will be the last post and I’ll take a break. No grand announcement that this is the end, simply an Irish goodbye. To say something meaningful (if only to me) and exit stage left. And perhaps this will be the end, or a pause, or maybe I’ll just pick up right where I left off once again tomorrow. Nomads don’t say goodbye, they say, “until we meet again”. That expression is not an ending, it’s the optimism of a future hello. And doesn’t that feel better than “goodbye”?

    • Do It

      “I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it.” — Pablo Picasso

      We grow into ourselves by stretches and the occasional leap. Now some people leap all the time, and become known as either bold or reckless, depending on how they land. Most of us test the waters a bit, see if it makes sense to move in this new direction, and work our way there gradually. A few never leave the nest at all, choosing familiarity and comfort over reaching for their own potential.

      So what do we do with habits that work for us, when we know that to grow we must break patterns and try new things? Delay? Dabble? Dive right in? We’re each unique in our willingness to try new things by letting familiar old things go.

      I think the moment we ask ourselves if we ought to try something new, we ought to take the first step towards that new. And then the next. Venturing more and more into the unknown to discover something about it and ourselves that we felt was possible all along. As that character Yoda put it, “Do or do not. There is no try.” Learn as we go. Do it.

    • More Hit Than Miss

      “Too much work, and no vacation, Deserves at least a small libation. So hail! my friends, and raise your glasses, Work’s the curse of the drinking classes.” — Oscar Wilde

      Have you been waiting for this blog to be published? I’m not so self-absorbed to believe it so. But I know there are a few folks who confirm I’m still among the living by registering when the blog is released. So here it is, better late than never.

      The day will end, that’s for sure
      I wonder, how do we keep score?
      through projects completed and bonuses racked
      or magic acquired in this time stacked?

      This blog leans more towards poetry the later in the day I begin writing it. Perhaps a sign to keep writing in the earliest hours of the day. Whatever the consensus, I’ve posted one more, such that it is. Perhaps tomorrow will be more hit than miss?

      Cheers.