Alexandersmap

    Category: Writing

    • Loving the Art

      “Love the art in yourself, not yourself in the art” — Konstantin Stanislavski

      I’m a creature of habit. I try to write at the same time every morning, I make a point of reading something that stretches the stubborn, immovable part of me every day, and I walk every night for as long as my energy level allows (the pup insists I maintain this habit). There are other habits that make up a day, but these are the cornerstones. And I’ve grown to love this routine, even on days when I don’t feel up to the task.

      When the task is interrupted by life, I’ve begun to learn to accept that the living of life is the whole point anyway. Rigidly sticking with routine is restrictive and closed, even as it gets things done. And so I do my best to stick with the routine without getting too spun up when it goes south. Life happens, persistently: Just pick back up where we left off and everything will be fine.

      Writing is a path I choose to explore every day. When it becomes self-indulgent or egocentric I’ll know it’s time to stop blogging and shift to journaling or some other form of discovery and reflection. Wrestling down ego and focusing on what the work is telling us is the whole point. To love the process of creating art keeps the self at bay and opens us up to what the universe is telling us.

    • The Total of Our Doing

      we are always asked
      to understand the other person’s
      viewpoint
      no matter how
      out-dated
      foolish or
      obnoxious.
      one is asked
      to view
      their total error
      their life-waste
      with
      kindliness,
      especially if they are
      aged.
      but age
      is the total of
      our doing.
      they have aged
      badly
      because they have
      lived
      out of focus,
      they have refused to
      see.
      not their fault?
      whose fault?
      mine?
      I am asked to hide
      my viewpoint
      from them
      or fear of their
      fear.
      age is no crime
      but the shame
      of a deliberately
      wasted
      life
      among so many
      deliberately
      wasted
      lives
      is.
      — Charles Bukowski, Be Kind

      We have all lived out of focus at times. Sometimes the good days make up for the bad. Sometimes. Like pulling an all-nighter to finish a paper we’ve procrastinated on, sometimes we pull focus out just in the nick of time to move the chains forward in our lives. But sometimes we wait a beat too long and the opportunity is lost forever. The lesson of course is to focus, but instead we blame it on fate or bad luck or the immigrants who moved in down the street who got straight to work.

      The answer has always been in focus. What kind of a life do we want to have? Why are we distracting ourselves with all of these things that pull us away from focusing on achieving that? What small, measurable step might we take right now to move us closer to the dream?

      The total of our doing keeps pace with wherever we are in this moment. How does it look so far? Stop being so outraged at the state of the world and do the things in our control. Look around and focus on the essential. To do otherwise is to waste more of this life that is already flying by so very quickly.

    • Calibrating for Greatness

      “If you make the choice of reading classic literature every day for a year, rather than reading the news, by the end of that time period you’ll have a more honed sensitivity for recognizing greatness from the books than from the media.
      This applies to every choice we make. Not just with art, but with the friends we choose, the conversations we have, even the thoughts we reflect on. All of these aspects affect our ability to distinguish good from very good, very good from great. They help us determine what’s worthy of our time and attention…
      The objective is not to learn to mimic greatness, but to calibrate our internal meter for greatness. So we can better make the thousands of choices that might ultimately lead to our own great work.” — Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being

      We have the opportunity to do something with our lives. We may reach closer to personal excellence (arete) and achieve that which we’d only imagined. Arete looks different for each of us, but we know when we see a glimmer of it in those who rise to meet it. And it stands to reason that if we wish to get closer to personal excellence ourselves, we must also rise to meet greatness where it resides. We must climb beyond where we’ve been and work towards it.

      I have some exceptional people in my life who are currently outraged by the things happening in the United States. I grow quiet when they talk about it, not because I’m not also outraged, but because focusing on the worst in others takes our focus away from our own climb to greater things. It recalibrates us for outrage.

      The point isn’t to ignore it all and just let it fester, it’s to grow into one’s own potential. We are what we focus on the most. We mustn’t be dragged down by putrefaction and the strategic dismantling of our higher collective vision. We are builders of greatness—don’t ever lose sight of that. We must take to the heights, now more than ever.

      The heights by great men reached and kept
      Were not attained by sudden flight,
      But they, while their companions slept,
      Were toiling upward in the night.
      — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Ladder of St. Augustine

      This is a time in our lives when we may achieve greatly, whatever that means for us. The world is more frustrating than ever, but it’s always been so. In our darkest days of human history, those who would reach for personal excellence found a way to climb. And so too must we in our time.

      Climbing requires energy and a level of focus that comes from inspiration. We are what we repeatedly do, and surely we are also what we repeatedly consume. To actualize excellence, to bring it into existence within ourselves and our work, we must develop a taste for it. Nurture a deep hunger to do more with our brief time before it all goes away. We may find excellence throughout human history, including today. There it all is, hiding in plain sight: we must simply lift our gaze to find it. Having seen it in others and in their contribution, we may then climb to meet it ourselves.

    • Tiny Robots

      “Some years ago, there was a lovely philosopher of science and journalist in Italy named Giulio Giorello, and he did an interview with me. And I don’t know if he wrote it or not, but the headline in Corriere della Sera when it was published was “Sì, abbiamo un’anima. Ma è fatta di tanti piccoli robot – “Yes, we have a soul, but it’s made of lots of tiny robots.” And I thought, exactly. That’s the view. Yes, we have a soul, but in what sense? In the sense that our brains, unlike the brains even of dogs and cats and chimpanzees and dolphins, our brains have functional structures that give our brains powers that no other brains have – powers of look-ahead, primarily. We can understand our position in the world, we can see the future, we can understand where we came from. We know that we’re here. No buffalo knows it’s a buffalo, but we jolly well know that we’re members of Homo sapiens, and it’s the knowledge that we have and the can-do, our capacity to think ahead and to reflect and to evaluate and to evaluate our evaluations, and evaluate the grounds for our evaluations.

      It’s this expandable capacity to represent reasons that we have that gives us a soul. But what’s it made of? It’s made of neurons. It’s made of lots of tiny robots. And we can actually explain the structure and operation of that kind of soul, whereas an eternal, immortal, immaterial soul is just a metaphysical rug under which you sweep your embarrassment for not having any explanation.”
      ― Daniel C. Dennett

      I finally deleted some social media from my phone. I’ve tried hard to simply ignore it altogether, to be the one who posts pictures of family and friends, to wish people a happy birthday or sorry for your loss. To generally be that supportive, trusted associate that I try to be in real life. I felt like the social media version of Sisyphus, forever pushing that rock up the hill only to have it roll back down again to start over. Why push against advertisements and zealots? Move on to living life one blessed day at a time.

      I believe what is wrong with the world right now is that there are millions of people who are getting excited without direction. It’s like a petri dish with electric wires zapping the inhabitants now and then, just to see them get excited and bump into each other. That’s media and politics and some so-called religious organizations, all zapping the masses. But it’s also us, stirred up and zapping each other. Why stay in that mosh pit of despair and anger? The only answer is to climb out of the petri dish and see the world for ourselves.

      The thing is, when we step away from the noise, we may read more, or catch up with people we’d like to see more of. We may phone a friend, just to surprise them when they see our name pop up out of the blue. We may take a walk or row 5000 meters without distraction, listening instead to our bodies, even if we may not love what it has to tell us. Read a little poetry, dance and sing along to a naughty song from our youth, plant some seeds in hopes of a better tomorrow. There’s so much more to do than to forever push a rock uphill.

      Our daily lives are a series of habits and routines channeling us from one day to the next. We may love who we are and where we’re going, but it stands to reason that we ought to question everything anyway, just to affirm that this is in fact what we ought to be doing with this one precious life. This whole game is our miracle, and we ignore the fact that it’s a miracle and it’s our one go at the game at our peril. We may be made up of tiny robots, but the sum of us may choose to think and act towards a higher vision of itself, should we steer the ship in a direction that genuinely excites us.

    • The Beautiful Path

      No matter what tools you use to create,
      the true instrument is you.
      And through you,
      the universe that surrounds us
      all comes into focus.
      — Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being

      I’m a blogger. That part may be obvious to those reading this. I’m drawn to writing and inclined to seeing where it brings me. We all find ways to express ourselves, and in choosing a path of expression, we become aware of all that surrounds us. With that awareness, we discover how others are using their form of expression to bring the universe to us in their own way. Like the Great Conversation for writers, all art is iterative. We build off of the work of others and find our own verse to contribute.

      Focus comes from awareness, and awareness comes from pace of life. When we are creative we are choosing to meander down the beautiful path while the rest of the world zips past at reckless speeds. Walk through a forest and we see every mushroom and fern, we smell the earth and feel the trees come alive. Drive past it and what do we see but the road in front of us?

      The world feels a little reckless lately. We cannot control the world, but we can control what we choose to focus on. Focus on building bridges, even as others work to tear them down. Write books, even as others work to ban them. Create beauty in a world rushing from one indignant outrage to the next. The beautiful path isn’t exclusively ours, it opens up to anyone with the key of awareness. Our creative work may in turn help others find their own. The beautiful path isn’t exclusive to creatives, it opens up to anyone open to finding it. So help them see.

    • Something to Offer

      “You’re not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You’re by no means alone on that score. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You’ll learn from them—if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It’s a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn’t education. It’s history. It’s poetry.” — J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

      I’ve developed the patience to step away from the mass hysteria that media represents and focus instead on the big picture. This may very well be a time for hysteria, but I think it’s really a time for perspective—we’ve been here before. That’s not license for the rogues and bastards to tear down everything that means anything, rather to focus on what we may control and lead from the front.

      Keep a record, in whatever form resonates. We may each agree to love poetry or the lyrics to a great song without being inclined to write either ourselves. We may pour our heart and soul into a journal, but (by design) so few journals ever reach the masses (Anne Frank and Marcus Aurelius being notable exceptions). Many of us feel we’ve got a novel somewhere deep within us, but keep the muse at bay so long that they find a willing participant elsewhere. For many of us, blogging seems to fulfill that desire to write every day without fail. It’s all part of the Great Conversation following closely along the timeline of recorded human thought. Here is our verse, whatever its form.

      When we do write, we ought to have something to say. It takes many iterations of this blog to reach a point where I click publish, knowing that it’s not perfect but must ship anyway. Write for an hour or two and send it on its way, then on to the next. In this way, writing is so like a photograph: it’s where we were recently, not necessarily where we are right now. Which is why most commenters seem to bark up the wrong tree. They react to a moment that may have already sunsetted. But who doesn’t love a great sunset?

      This is one reason I don’t always take the bait when I read other blogs. It’s not that I haven’t got a reaction, it’s that the reaction doesn’t serve the current moment, let alone the future. We are all collectively too reactive, and the occasional “WTF” gets entirely too much traction. There are a lot of WTF’s floating around in the world right now. Maybe they should form a chorus, but to what end? Instead, focus on the trend and what brought us to there. What did that represent in the moment, and where do we go from here?

      We all ought to do something with our time. We only have this one go at things. What have we to say about this moment in our own lives? Whatever form of expression we choose to use, we must get busy expressing, before this moment is gone and we’re busy adjusting to whatever comes next. Sunsets come and go so quickly, don’t they? So what have we observed with this one?

    • The Artist Is Alive

      “When the artist is alive in any person, whatever his kind of work may be, he becomes an inventive, searching, daring, self-expressive creature. He becomes interesting to other people. He disturbs, upsets, enlightens, and opens ways for better understanding. Where those who are not artists are trying to close the book, he opens it and shows there are still more pages possible.” — Robert Henri

      Most of us take the path more traveled. We charge into marriages and mortgages and minions, motivated by money and the status of more. It takes an artist’s mind to look at the path least traveled and find it compelling, particularly when there are bills to pay and well-meaning parents suggesting you fall in line and start to climb.

      Given all that, some of us come alive later than Leonardo, who found himself a studio boy at 14. Some of us stumbled through our early days unaware of the creative forces dormant within. A sketch here and there, a well-received creative writing assignment, a teacher coaxing us to at least take a few steps down that other path to see what we find. Most of it placed aside awaiting a time when we weren’t so busy reconciling what the world wants for us over our true calling.

      But the artist is alive, hidden within, seeking expression in letters and playlists, gardening and crisply-painted walls, emails and Instagram posts. Finding a heartbeat, we begin to feed our inner artist, expanding further into expression. We’ve stumbled on the path we’ve ignored for years, wondering not where it will take us, but why it took us so long to find it.

      “I don’t want to feel as if my life were a sojourn any longer. That philosophy cannot be true which so paints it. It is time now that I begin to live.” — Henry David Thoreau, The Journal of Henry David Thoreau

      All of those creative forces within, bursting at the seams, seeking to be released. Creative expression isn’t a side hustle, it’s our life force trying to fly. That artist within us is alive, and strives to keep the rest of us alive too. Choose to follow the path where it leads. We may find it beautiful.

    • So Much Left to Know

      Well, in the end I’ll know, but on the way I wonder
      Through descending snow, and through the frost and thunder
      I listen to the wind come howl, telling me I have to hurry
      I listen to the robin’s song saying not to worry
      So on and on I go, the seconds tick the time out
      There’s so much left to know, and I’m on the road to find out
      — Yusuf/Cat Stevens, On The Road To Findout

      The writing comes easier at the moment, but I feel a need to step away from the routine and get back to exploring. Why do we write when we may do? We know the answer lies in the question. We write so that we may do. One feeds the other. And so we must venture outward and return inward, farther and farther, deeper and deeper, again and again.

      Discovery is the game. We’re all just souls marching through time, trying to figure it out as we go. Anyone who tells you they know all the answers is a fool or a charlatan. The rest of us must stay curious, focus on optimization within each day, and see what we may encounter along the way.

      Accumulate enough experience and we may dance with wisdom. That word itself is a trap, and those who have accumulated wisdom will be the first to tell you it’s still the beginning of their own journey. I’ve learned a lot in my time, but mostly that I don’t know nearly enough to ever believe I’m wise. More a wise guy trying to hide the fact that I’m still on the road to find out enough. The rest will reveal itself or it won’t. Who are we to rush discovery?

    • The Company We Keep

      “All we have experienced is so much gone within us, and there lies. It is the company we keep. One day, in health or sickness, it will come out and be remembered. Neither body nor soul forgets anything.” — Henry David Thoreau, The Journal of Henry David Thoreau

      We know that we are the sum of our experiences to this moment, so why do we short our experiences garnered today? We must live as if we were dying, as that song once suggested to the hungry masses. How many listen to a call like that? Maybe tomorrow, after we finish bing watching The Office again. Haven’t we learned yet that tomorrow’s never come? Memento mori...

      These are days we’ll remember—if we make it memorable. Those of us who write in a line per day journal know the coldness of not having much to write about on any given day. On days like that, as the evening gets dark and cold, I take the pup for a walk and look for planets amongst the stars, listen for owls and coyotes in the distance, inhale the crisp air and remember that I’m alive another day. So many of our days are there simply to connect the memorable ones together. But they all count just the same.

      Reading a journal entry from Thoreau written on this date in 1837, I thought of all that was to come for him. His own thoughts were on the sum of who he was to that point. We all write our future from the perspective of our experiences and observations thus far. Expanding the palate with progressively more adventurous moments that lead us to a shift in identity. We all have the kernel of our future within us, wrapped around our past. Our past life is the company we keep, whispering to us about all that we might discover if we just step beyond the sound of our own voice.

    • I Cannot Miss My Way

      The earth is all before me. With a heart
      Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty,
      I look about; and should the chosen guide
      Be nothing better than a wandering cloud,
      I cannot miss my way. I breathe again!
      ― William Wordsworth, The Prelude

      I aspire to be what Ayn Rand described as “a man with an immense capacity for the enjoyment of existence.” I’m long past apologizing for this aspiration, and I’ve learned not to tolerate those who would suggest that I grow up and be as miserable as the person suggesting it. We cannot have it all, but we must not miss our way in this lifetime, for it is nothing but fleeting.

      We scurry through our days with so much accumulated responsibility. We must ask ourselves, is this my burden to carry? When the day is done, how much of it will be given to the work that whispers to us in the quiet moments? What verse are we writing today that is ours alone to write?

      We must rise above the melancholy of the masses and find our own way through the fog. Too many choose a purposeless existence. Too many settle for a life of subservience to the dreams of others. Look around! We may be poets, should we be so bold. We must not be afraid of our own liberty.