Alexandersmap

    Category: Writing

    • Slicing Out the Moment

      “All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s (or thing’s) mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt.” ― Susan Sontag

      There’s a cool feature in iPhone photos where you can view the map of where your thousands of photographs were taken, with thumbnails of the photos overlaying the spot it was geolocated. It’s a great reminder of where we’ve been and what we saw at the time we were there. It’s a momentary slice of our lives from the past, and we get to relive it with a virtual flyover as we zoom in on the place. And in doing so, the pictures from that place come back to us like a flood of memories.

      I’ve taken tens of thousands of photographs, mostly with my collection of iPhones since those became the technology that replaced a camera. But my Instagram feed is only at 1700 posts. We all save the best pictures to show others, don’t we? But that particular platform isn’t always friendly when formatting our favorite pictures, and so they fail to make the cut. Not so with our library, where with time and patience we can scroll through everything to find memories.

      I’m that person at parties and family gatherings taking all the pictures. I do it because I know the moment will soon be gone like all the rest but some fragment of it may live on. I’ve captured people no longer with us, full of hope and happiness or sometimes with a knowing look that this may be the last photo you’ll get of them. My favorite Navy pilot once observed this as I insisted on taking his picture with his grandchildren. It would be years before he passed, but his belief in my motivation for taking the picture stayed with me and does to this day.

      The thing is, all of our past moments are dead and gone. The people and places live on within us for as long as we are alive, and then we in turn live on in others for as long as they are. Beyond that is beyond all of us to know. Immortality isn’t ours to achieve, but our image may live on beyond the living memory of all who knew us. So too may our words, should we be so bold as to write them down for all to see.

      We all know the score. Tempus fugit (time flies), memento mori (remember we all must die) and so the only reasonable answer is carpe diem (seize the day). Capturing a few images along the way allows us to look back on a life well-lived and trigger memories that may have faded. Memories of places and people and moments that once were our entire life for an instant and now a layer of our identity, gently folded within us for the rest of our days.

    • Raising Our Voice of Reason

      Our little lives get complicated
      It’s a simple thing
      Simple as a flower
      And that’s a complicated thing
      — Love and Rockets, No New Tale to Tell

      Wrestling with what comes next with the generation ahead of mine is complicated. Offering guidance to the young adults we raised when they have good heads on their own shoulders is also complicated. We ought to let people find their own way as much as we can, while remembering that we’re in their life for a reason. Sometimes we have something to offer in such moments.

      The world is very complicated right now. Sometimes it seems like our only purpose is to be a voice of reason in a maddeningly confused time. It seems some people are outraged by the opening ceremonies at the Olympics. I’m more outraged by children dying on a soccer pitch in the Golan Heights for no reason but that they were born in a place and time that made them expendable to someone with the means and inclination to wipe their lives away. I’m more outraged that we’re pissing away time focusing on petty instead of looking at the bigger issues this planet is facing right now. And yes, I’m more outraged that people are outraged by things they’re told to be outraged about instead of following their own moral compass.

      “Frodo: I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.
      Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”
      ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

      I don’t particularly want to make this blog political, and choose to focus on finding common ground instead. I feel the world needs more people pointing out the things that link us together instead of people pulling us apart, and so I use my keyboard accordingly. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t point out when we go astray. The human race is staggeringly complicated and stupefyingly simple all at once. Art is finding the beauty in the madness and helping others see what was right in front of them all along.

      Our job, should we choose to embrace it, is to raise our voice and bring reason to the conversation. The world doesn’t need another person screaming, and it doesn’t need another person who chooses to stay silent, it needs thoughtful consideration about what comes next and a measured response. It needs people who rise up and do what’s right when it feels like rising up will get you knocked down. This is our time, after all. So what will we do with reason when it asks for a voice?

    • What Feeds Your Head

      “I would urge you to be as imprudent as you dare. BE BOLD, BE BOLD, BE BOLD. Keep on reading. (Poetry. And novels from 1700 to 1940.) Lay off the television. And, remember when you hear yourself saying one day that you don’t have time any more to read- or listen to music, or look at [a] painting, or go to the movies, or do whatever feeds you head now- then you’re getting old. That means they got to you, after all.” — Susan Sontag, from the 1983 Wellesley College commencement speech

      I’m far from the most productive productivity zealot out there, and I’ve always positioned myself as the late bloomer figuring things out as I go. One thing I figured out a long time ago was that I need to have a head start to keep up with that which I aspire to finish today. It’s no secret that I try to jamb as much as possible into the morning hours, that I may be ahead of the game as the world washes it’s nonsense over me. This morning? 11 mile ride, feed the pets, water the plants, read two chapters, responded to essential work emails and now writing this blog in hopes of publishing before 8 AM. Will my hours be as productive as the day progresses? Likely not, but at least I’ve done what I’d hoped to do when I woke up.

      We can’t run on empty forever. We’ve got to fuel the engine that keeps us running down the hours. Hydration and nutrition are a given, but we can’t forget to refill the mind’s battery. A good night’s sleep to keep the brain fog at bay, then seek to fill up with as much nutrient-rich experience as we can find. What feeds our head? We ought to be more creative and attentive to our choices. Garbage in, garbage out and all that.

      I’m pressing for more travel, more music, more art, more face time with interesting people, and more diverse experience than I’ve accumulated thus far. How much is enough? We’ll know it when we get there, and I’m a long way from there now. Sontag’s speech to young graduates was likely well received, but it’s their parents and grandparents who really knew the score. Life will constantly get in the way of feeding our mind and soul. We must carve out the time and jealously guard it, lest it disappear forever.

      So be bold today. It’s not the first time I’ve asked, and won’t be the last. I’m asking it of you and also of me. Today’s the day. Nice starts are great, but sprint to the finish this day. There’s just so much to see and do and only now to work with.

    • Getting Past Wobbly

      “You can, you should, and if you’re brave enough to start, you will.” — Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

      The thing about cycling (or anything, really) is that anyone can do it, but to get really good at it you’ve got to do it a lot. Do the 10,000 hours of paying your dues in sweat equity and your conditioning is sound, your creative use of gears makes hill climbs easier, and you stop thinking about the cars zipping past you at high speeds inches from your left shoulder (or you find better routes). In short, you learn the tricks of the trade and gain some muscle memory for having done the work. But there’s no getting around that wobbly start.

      The thing about writing every day is that you gain that same muscle memory, expressed through paragraphs of prose you didn’t know were in your head when you started. Is a blog enough when you look back on the content created? We know the answer when we begin to ask the question—there’s more to do for us. It’s not just this, friend, whatever our this may be. We should get to it already. It’s those wobbly starts that scare us. How can we possibly make it up that hill if we’re so wobbly on the flat? How can we finish a novel when we barely have time to finish a blog?

      The hill will be there when it’s time to climb the hill. For now just start peddling and gaining momentum and see where life can bring us. Starting is enough in the beginning, pretty soon we’re surprising ourselves with things like average speed and elevation gain in cycling, or word count, better phrasing and such in writing. We aspire to climb to greater heights in the things we wish to be great at and find joy in the process, that we may begin again tomorrow with even loftier goals.

      The trick is to get out of our own head and start. We really should. Who cares if we’re a bit wobbly in the beginning anyway? Soon we’ll find some momentum. The fact that we’re thinking about climbing that hill means we’re ready to attempt it. When we really think about it, the only thing wobbly is the excuse for not starting now. So what is your hill and what are you waiting for?

    • The Realized and the Wistful

      “If more information was the answer, then we’d all be billionaires with perfect abs.” ― Derek Sivers

      We know we’ve got to work the plan to meet our objectives. Plans without work are simply dreams that will eventually be wistful regrets. I write a lot about productivity to remind myself that becoming is an act of deliberate action. Everything else is talk.

      As Jim Collins demonstrated to us with his analogy in Good to Great, pushing the flywheel establishes momentum. In theory it becomes easier and easier as we push and the flywheel’s momentum takes over. The opposite is true as well: stop pushing for awhile and all momentum is lost and the work becomes harder to get back on track. The lesson is to keep pushing. The underlying lesson is to make sure we’re pushing on the right flywheel in the first place.

      It’s essential to assess things as we go so we don’t arrive at the place we’ve been pushing towards only to find it wasn’t where we wanted to be in the first place. I had a few people question me when I stated I was assessing whether to keep writing this blog. I think it’s fair to ask that question of ourselves, but maybe not fair to put it out there in writing for all to see. Perhaps I overshared. Still, I keep pushing.

      The root of the Sivers quote above, and the conclusion I’m finally getting to, is that we’re all figuring it out as we go. We can’t stop pushing ahead to establish and sustain momentum, but we must pause long enough now and then to assess where we are and where we’re going. There are no do-overs in this game, and nothing is ever perfect. But when we get it right, we might maximize our realized dreams while minimizing those wistful regrets. Maybe that’s enough success for one lifetime.

    • Pressing the Essence

      “I would like to do whatever it is that presses the essence from the hour.” — Mary Oliver, Pen and Paper and a Breath of Air

      Grabbing the moment was the goal well before this blog began, but the writing emphatically reminds me to seize the bloody day already. Some hours are seized, others are burned frivolously and quickly forgotten like all the rest of our lost time. We ought to remind ourselves to look for the essence in every hour and give it our full attention before it slips away to the infinite.

      Paying attention helps. What are we experiencing right now? Where will it lead us next? How can we put an exclamation point on this moment? This level of curiosity and focus wrings joie de vivre out of ordinary. Whoever we will become surely begins right here and now, wherever we find ourselves. We may write a hell of a story launched from this hour or give it to the average like all the rest, the choice is ours. It always begins with where we focus our attention.

      Perhaps that’s my why for this blog. The thing that keeps it going instead of all the other things I might do instead of this with this particular hour. Then again, maybe there’s something more hiding just below the surface in this hour that is even more essential for you and I to discover. We won’t know if we don’t seek it out.

    • Before the Noise

      Well, those drifters days are past me now
      I’ve got so much more to think about
      Deadlines and commitments
      What to leave in
      What to leave out
      — Bob Seger, Against the Wind

      Count me in as a proponent of productive mornings. I get far more done in the first three hours of the day than I do the rest of the day. We all have our time of peak energy and focus, and for me it’s between the moment I wake up and the moment the world throws its first curveball my way. Every day offers new twists and turns, and all we can truly count on is that short amount of time that is ours before the noise.

      Before is the trick, I think. Before everyone else’s agenda becomes ours. Before the distraction machine between our ears has robbed us of our focus and mental energy to do anything of consequence this day. Before is everything for the early bird.

      This post is out late because I prioritized a long mileage workout over writing. Normally I do it the other way around, but alas, the workouts don’t always survive intact after the noise. With deadlines and commitments, we’re always weighing what to leave in and what to leave out in our lives. A song like Against the Wind is more meaningful with a few miles on the soul than it was as a kid.

      Priorities change as we do. And we aren’t drifting at this point in our lives, are we? No, we’re living with purpose and trying to fit as much in as a day will give us. The lesson always seems to come back to starting early and not beating ourselves up for leaving a few things out.

    • Building Blocks

      “Life’s like a movie, write your own ending. Keep believing, keep pretending.” ― Jim Henson

      I’m thinking a lot about blocks lately. Probably because I’ve encountered a few more than usual recently in my life. Nothing extraordinary, just life’s jumble of obstacles stacking up between where I am and where I’d like to be. Still, they’re clearly blocks to be dealt with.

      Writer’s block doesn’t just get in the way of writers and poets, it gets in the way of anyone trying to break away from the path more traveled on. Life can be a trap, setting us in the role we’ve become accustomed to and not letting us go off and do the crazy things we dreamed once of doing. At least that’s the way the block forms in our mind. The trick is to see this for what it is and just keep on writing the chapter we want for ourselves despite that internal dialogue.

      Blocks are best used as sprinters use them—as something solid from which to launch ourselves into full speed without slipping backwards. A sprinter has no momentum yet, and the block becomes a fixed point from which to begin again. Reinventing the blocks in our life to become something useful seems a better way to live a creative life. Thinking of blocks as something to launch from, or something to build upon, transforms the block from a barrier to our success to a key element of it.

      The thing is, we must continue to be provocative in our lives. Push boundaries beyond comfortable and see what a bit of discomfort does for our story. Every hero’s journey has blocks along the way, and so too must our journey. Each offers something to build on to reach our happily ever after.

    • Life’s Good Runs

      “Life is like skiing. Just like skiing, the goal is not to get to the bottom of the hill. It’s to have a bunch of good runs before the sun sets.” — Seth Godin

      We each go through distinct seasons in our lives, not just age-based but in what we are focused on. We look back on them fondly or maybe not so fondly, but we can see exactly who we were at the time and know it brought us to who we are today. School days, sports played, people encountered and cherished for awhile, books read and discussed, career rungs climbed, places visited that seep into our souls—these are all good runs that we remember for the rest of our days. A lifetime may itself be a good run, made up of a series of other runs played by the distinct characters we were at the time.

      I still identify as a rower even though my rowing days on water are far in my past. Millions of meters on a machine in my basement aren’t quite the same, but the feeling of the catch made perfectly resonates across time and place. How many great catches did I have? Who’s to say but we know one when we feel it. Either way, that stroke ends and we recover for the next. Like skiing and life phases the goal is to put together as many good ones as you can in the time allotted.

      At the moment, I’m on quite a run of blog posts, but just last week I was wondering if this particular run was over for me. Not quite yet, but we’ll see how life unfolds. We each have good days and bad days, and with each morning a chance to begin anew. There’s a certain thrill in publishing something just when I thought I’d had enough to say and found some new plot twist to unpack.

      We recognize when we’re in the midst of a good run, just as we feel when a good run is ending. We’ll look with trepidation at the next run wondering whether we’ll enjoy that part of the ride, knowing that there are some things we most definitely won’t enjoy at all. We can’t rush through the bad parts to get to the good parts to come any more than we can hold on to the good parts forever. Life unfolds and we adapt to it and grow. What comes next is important too, but let’s not forget the thrill of the run we’re currently on.

    • The Worthwhile Endeavors

      “Optimism makes you less likely to walk away while not actually increasing your chances of success. That means that being overly optimistic will make you stick to things longer that aren’t worthwhile. Better to be well calibrated. Life’s too short to spend your time on opportunities that are no longer worthwhile.” — Annie Duke, Quit: The Power of Knowing When to Walk Away

      In all honesty, last night I was planning to make this my last blog post. To end with a bang on the 4th of July seemed poetic. I’ve thought this before, but talked myself into sticking with it for a round number or a date with particular meaning for me. The 4th has particular meaning for me and so it felt appropriate to roll out the Annie Duke quote and wrap this thing up.

      Naturally, this is why I write in the morning, with a fresh mind not yet beaten down by the realities of the world. This is why I read poetry and listen to music with the ear of a philosopher. This is why I travel to places that leave me gobsmacked. And this is why I favor quiet conversation with the smallest of circles, that we may each be heard. The well was empty last night, it’s not quite so this morning.

      No, I’m not ready to stop writing just yet. But the thought was a red flag for me that I must pursue other worthwhile endeavors to ignite the kindling before it floats away in the winds of time. There’s a whole world out there awaiting our graceful experience with it. So frequently asking ourselves whether we should stick with things opens up the possibility that maybe we shouldn’t. Recalibrate. And in the absence of obligation to that thing other opportunities may open up before us.