Alexandersmap

    Category: Writing

    • Resonance and Depth

      “It goes without saying that a fine short poem can have the resonance and depth of an entire novel.” — James Wright

      Poems are like friends: find the right one and it will change your life. And like people we encounter throughout our lives, they serve as stepping stones between who we were prior to landing on one and who we become as we launch towards some other insightful plateau.

      So what is reading a great novel, if not more time with something of substance? Like a marriage that carries us on a journey of discovery? We may find a resounding truth in a few words, or one that unfolds over the course of a lifetime. A resolve towards discovery is the thing.

      I started reading The Count of Monte Cristo again. And in reading it, I came across a business card from a decade ago that I’d stuck between the pages as a placeholder marking the last time I’d passed this way. Have I mentioned that I’ve started and stopped reading this novel a few times over the years? Perhaps this time I’ll finish it. Twenty pages a day and it will be wrapped up by Thanksgiving. I can surely outpace that metric, given enough time… and the inclination.

      We are the sum of all that we layer atop the foundation we venture out into the world with. No doubt a solid foundation helps a great deal in reaching a higher potential. Isn’t that why we strive to put our children in the best neighborhoods and schools we can afford? But a solid base means nothing if we don’t grow from it. We may shore up our own foundation, and fill gaps through a regimen of lifetime education. This is our duty to ourselves, to reach for that elusive arete in our time. Or we could simply coast into a lesser version of who we might have been. The choice is ours.

    • The Forever Regimen

      “21 days? 30 days? 66 days?
      The honest answer is: forever. Because once you stop doing it, it is no longer a habit.
      A habit is a lifestyle to be lived, not a finish line to be crossed. Make small, sustainable changes you can stick with.” — James Clear

      James Clear had it right; the answer is forever. At least when the question is about how long we should do something for it to be deeply-engrained in our identity. This applies equally well to fitness and nutrition, writing, reading, disciplined action at work or any other habit we wish to sustain for the rest of our lives.

      Nothing affirms this more than taking a break from our routine for more than a few days. Suddenly what was simply who we were and what we did becomes a task we must add back into our day. Nature abhors a void, and the time we spent doing a weight circuit or writing a blog post is seized for reading a book or watching Schitt’s Creek. The new habit dominates our muscle memory and we have to force ourselves back on track.

      The regimen is who we are, forever. Until we stop, and then we are this other person who used to be more consistent with that positive habit we’ll one day we wish to get back to. Begin again today, if we must. But stick with it this time. We’ll thank ourselves later.

    • Passing, and Preserving (RIP Annie)

      ‘Evolution loves death more than it loves you or me. This is easy to write, easy to read, and hard to believe. The words are simple, the concept clear—but you don’t believe it, do you? Nor do I. How could I, when we’re both so lovable? Are my values then so diametrically opposed to those that nature preserves?” — Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

      I woke up to the news that Annie Dillard passed away yesterday. That triggered me to look back on her most famous book, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, for which she won the Pulitzer in 1974. Having read it, I’ll never think of creeks or barnacles the same. In that way, she will live on forever in my mind, and in the minds of countless others who read her books. Creating something is to dance with infinity, or at least for the duration of recorded memory.

      Writing is one form of creative output. Apparently Dillard grew weary of the life of a writer and turned to painting in her retirement. The output isn’t the real point, it’s honing awareness through listening and observation, and interpreting those encounters into something tangible that we might share with others. We will all pass from this earth one day. What will be preserved of us? The creation of something beautiful, in whatever form it takes, is a whisper of who we are, and one day too soon, who we once were.

      I’ve quoted Dillard in this blog several times over the years, but her quote that resonates the most with me serves to shake me from complacency and force me to focus now. We all need someone to remind us that today matters a great deal in the big scheme of things. Because the scheme is the thing. Structure and productivity matter, when we have something we want to do with our time here. It’s the most stoic of reminders:

      “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order—willed, faked, and so brought into being; it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time; it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living.” — Annie Dillard, The Writing Life: The Classic Essay Collection on the Creative Process

      Thanks Annie.

    • Following Your Own Way

      If you want, then start to laugh
      If you must, then start to cry
      Be yourself, don’t hide
      Just believe in destiny
      Don’t care what people say
      Just follow your own way
      Don’t give up and use the chance
      To return to innocence
      — Enigma, Return to Innocence

      This blog is inching along again. Inching towards what, exactly? Proficiency in writing? Show up and create something every day and see where it takes you. If nothing else, we become better at shipping the work, and there’s a lot to be said for doing what we tell ourselves we’re going to do. Keeping promises to oneself matters a great deal in a world of broken promises and shattered dreams. We may not be able to rely on everyone, but we can learn to rely on ourself. The trick is to up the ante with those promises. What got us here is great, but it won’t get us there—and there is where we’re trying to get to.

      Enigma is on my life soundtrack, and when I hear a song like Return to Innocence, I remember exactly where and who I was at the time. It turns out I’ve come a long way since then. We don’t generally leap from untapped potential to arete, we show up every day and incrementally drag ourselves through the good days and the bad, until one day we look around and realize we’ve done what we’d told ourselves we wanted to do and then some. Suddenly, that song means something completely different than it did then. Or maybe it’s us that’s completely different.

      So have we arrived at the place we aimed for when we started? Are we even aiming for the same thing? More likely, we’re still a work in progress, with different goals now than we had then. We are likely better from where we were but with some work still to do towards where we are going. We humans are always moving the goal posts as we grow.

      Don’t care what people say, just follow your own way. We learn that following our own way is a tough grind. Well-meaning folks and more timid souls everywhere are quick to curb our enthusiasm for what they perceive as reckless behavior. Thank you for your concern; but I call BS. Nothing meaningful ever happens without risk. The lesson is always the same: be bold today to reap tomorrow’s rewards.

    • Delight Is in the Details

      “The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life.” — William Morris

      Our level of interest in the details of life dictates how much we get out of it, and yes, how much we are delighted in the living of it. Case in point, I am as interested in the proper capitalization of the title of this blog post as I am with the view out the window I find myself next to as I write this near a bay alive with choppy fetch, bouncing boats and hunting birds soaring above.

      Why should we care about every little detail? Because it’s the stuff of life! More precisely, the stuff of our life. This, friend, is it. And making something of it is our purpose. Indeed, the devil is in the details, so draw delight from the lot of them. That is the recipe for an expansive life.

      We are each collectors of days, with a stack of them making up our lifetime. Within each day in turn are a collection of moments and minutia that are the stuff of life. Paying more attention to that stuff allows us to appreciate all that we have or have held as uniquely ours. Gratitude and delight follow closely behind awareness of all that is.

    • The Impeded Stream (RIP Wendell)

      It may be that when we
      no longer know what to do
      we have come to our real work,
      and that when we no longer know
      which way to go
      we have come to our real journey.
      The mind that is not baffled
      is not employed.
      The impeded stream
      is the one that sings.
      — Wendell Berry, Our Real Work

      It’s been a rough year for poets and singers. It seems the beautiful souls slip away from this chaotic place where the ugliest thrive. Or is it that we just care more when the light goes out? And when a light goes out, who will carry the torch next? Why not us, friend?

      Which leads to the question, what will we do? For all the confusion and obstacles that life throughs at us, we work our way through it all, somehow. Persistence and belief in our direction are the keys to growth. A stream carves more deeply with persistence and time. So it is that we ought to keep the work flowing, despite all that is thrown at us along the way.

      Beauty doesn’t die, it simply finds another place to grow.

    • We Are What We Do

      “Our dreams betray us” — Anton Myrer, Once An Eagle

      What do our dreams actually say of us, but who we desire to be? For all my talk of productivity and purpose, I dream of boats and faraway places. Polar opposites, I can here the maternal characters in my life say. So which is me, and what is simply talk?

      We dream of being writers or pro athletes or travel lifestyle YouTube influencers. We dream of washboard abs and marathon finishes. None of that is who we are, it’s nothing but what we wish for until we pay the price of greatness; the daily, consistent, habitual work that lifts us up from our dreams and carries us to our destiny. Do or do not, there is no try, as Yoda put it.

      Dreams betray our aspirations and desires. They hint at a possible future, but simply hoping to hit the lottery leads to a life of dashed dreams and lingering regrets. Making the intangible tangible begins with doing the hard things that a dreamlike life demands. So wake up and get on with it.

    • Rigidity Will Be the Death of Us

      Here is an amazement—once I was twenty years old and in
      every motion of my body there was a delicious ease,
      and in every motion of the green earth there was
      a hint of paradise,
      and now I am sixty years old, and it is the same.
      — Mary Oliver, Am I Not Among the Early Risers

      Back-to-back posts quoting Mary Oliver? There’s no arguing that she is a frequent guest in my writing and in my mind. In fact, I quote her so often that I make it a point to avoid quoting her. The blog isn’t a fan page for a specific poet, it’s a series of observations put into words one day to the next.

      Earlier this summer I simply stopped writing. I’d had a writing streak of a couple of thousand posts and ended it deliberately. Even as I began writing again the inclination to publish every day became less essential. When I have something to say I’ll say it. I don’t expect the world will grind to a halt. The only thing we are assured of is an ending one day. Memento mori.

      Once I was twenty. Where does the time go? The trick is a healthy body and sharp mind, kicking bad health down the curb as long as possible. But more, it’s walking through life with a healthy sense of curiosity and wonder. Life is fluid, and we ought to be too. Rigidity will be the death of us. Endings are simply beginnings for something else. Stay open, keep moving, and be curious.

    • Discovered Deeper

      What is precious
      inside us does not
      care to be known
      by the mind
      in ways that diminish
      its presence.
      — David Whyte, The Winter of Listening

      I ought to write more, I tell myself. But what is this blog, written most every day, but writing? ‘tis not the same, I think. It is through the writing process that deeper discoveries are made.

      What I really mean is that I ought to carve out more time in my days for discovery. Writing does the trick, but so does a long walk amongst the whispering trees, so does listening to the right music, or seeing art that awes. We find something of ourselves when we venture beyond the self.

      We are constantly and forever finding out something about ourselves. Forever changing, evolving, becoming who we are to be. It’s the journey of our lifetime, revealed one day to the next. We ought to revel in the daily discovery, but we’re often too busy living to appreciate the incremental strides forward.

      When will we ever find the time , if not now?

    • Say the Word

      A word is dead
      When it is said,
      Some say.
      I say it just
      Begins to live
      That day.
      — Emily Dickinson

      Many years ago, when I was but a young college freshman, I would wander about in the library stacks, quietly looking at the book spines for hidden treasure. One of my best finds was Typee by Herman Melville. Years later, having purchased the book to reread after a couple of decades away from it, I loaned that book to a friend who loved it so much he named his sailboat after a character in the book. I will always remember Fayaway for leaping off the page to become a central character in the lives of a couple of friends.

      Most of what we write will die of neglect—ignored or forgotten by the masses. But now and then we find something magical hidden within a jumble of words and realize that our words haven’t died, they just haven’t been discovered yet. The trick is to create something worthy of discovery, that magic might ensue. Something that leaps off the page and becomes quite real and alive.