Alexandersmap

    Category: Writing

    • Killing Gods

      “You must kill your god. If you are to advance, all fixed ideas must go.” — Joseph Campbell, A Joseph Campbell Companion: Reflections on the Art of Living

      “Do you want to change the world? How about beginning with yourself? How about being transformed yourself first? But how do you achieve that? Through observation. Through understanding. With no interference or judgment on your part. Because what you judge you cannot understand.” — Anthony de Mello, Awakening

      I was having a drink with an old friend this week when the conversation turned to transformative books. Anthony de Mello’s Awakening was the second book I recommended, but the one I said to read first. It’s foundational in that way, when we’re ready for it.

      Having recommended the book so strongly, I went back to it again myself while waiting out a flight delay. The quote above had been highlighted and most likely used in this blog a few years ago. Interestingly, the quote from Campbell was highlighted the same day. A sign that I’m on the right path? Perhaps. There’s no doubt that Campbell’s book stirs the soul similarly. When the student is ready, as they say.

      We must be open to everything to reach our potential in this lifetime. To move towards enlightenment (dare I say). And so it is that all fixed ideas must go. We must consume disparate thoughts and opinions and find the truth within ourselves. Make ourselves uncomfortable and birth new ideas. And maybe even write about it, that others may challenge us in our conclusions. To kill a god surely stirs others, as we ourselves have been stirred. In this way we may grow together.

    • To Follow the Call

      “When one thinks of some reason for not going or has fear and remains in society because it’s safe, the results are radically different from what happens when one follows the call. If you refuse to go, then you are someone else’s servant. When this refusal of the call happens, there is a kind of drying up, a sense of life lost. Everything in you knows that a required adventure has been refused. Anxieties build up. What you have refused to experience in a positive way, you will experience in a negative way…
      Your adventure has to be coming right out of your own interior. If you are ready for it, then doors will open where there were no doors before, and where there would not be doors for anyone else. And you must have courage. It’s the call to adventure, which means there is no security, no rules.” ― Joseph Campbell, A Joseph Campbell Companion: Reflections on the Art of Living

      We have people in our lives who would read that passage from Joseph Campbell and shudder at the very idea of answering the call. They’ll throw all kinds of logic at you about why this is not a good idea at all, not nearly as good an idea as staying the course and following through on the path chosen for us. It’s an attractive rut to stay in place, doing what is expected of us, with a promise of retirement and a few healthy years before we die. It’s a Siren’s song that has lured many a soul to the rocks.

      Thoreau said something unnervingly similar, didn’t he, when he observed that “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation”? We may either look inward and refute the observation or find it rings true, but we may never be fully the same having seen the truth within us. Still, every day is a new opportunity to step into who we really are. Every day we may follow the call or go on killing the dream. We must choose wisely which voice we follow, remembering that the rocks are closer than we might believe.

      Alone on a midnight passage
      I can count the falling stars
      While the Southern Cross and the satellites
      They remind me of where we are
      Spinning around in circles
      Living it day to day
      And still 24 hours may be 60 good years
      It’s really not that long a stay
      Jimmy Buffett, Cowboy in the Jungle

      Joseph Campbell is very much in the “follow your bliss” camp. He’s largely the originator of the term. There are many who mock this following your bliss strategy as impractical at best and self-deceptive folly at worst. The question is, if we may have our 60 good years doing something we absolutely love—that calls to us—or if we will forever shelve that for what the world wants of us. What will it be, for you and me?

      Perhaps the answer is to follow our call, instead of bliss. Sure, it’s the same thing, but the optics are better for the person who knows what they want and seizes the moment attempting to achieve it. What is the difference between a start-up entrepreneur in the garage and a poet writing in a cabin in the woods? The former have better marketing budgets. We glamorize the chase for a personal fortune but mock the chase for personal enlightenment.

      Whatever our path is, whatever our call, we ought to feel the urgency to follow it immediately. For the rocks are getting closer and there’s no time to waste. Decide what to be and go be it.

    • Grid Luck

      Yesterday, just as I was about to click publish on a blog post, the power flickered one last time and died completely. As it turned out, the Internet held out a little longer before it too finally passed into that deep night. After no winter at all during winter, winter had arrived in force for one last reminder of who’s boss.

      After a few storms like this, most people learn to build some resilience into their lives. Certainly, food, flashlights and candles are important, but so too are generators for those extended outages. As it turned out, our power was restored after 14 hours. Others in town aren’t as lucky and remain in the dark. The fact that I’m writing this now says something about the response of both the energy utility and the Internet provider and the courage of the crews working to fix everything in adverse conditions.

      They say we make our own luck in this world, which is another way of saying we may take steps to mitigate the impact of bad luck while maximizing the potential of good luck. This is applicable in every part of our lives: health, wealth, education, relationships and our overall safety and security. Having redundant systems in place should the primary system fail is a good practice in every part of our lives. Knowing how to use them is an obvious next step on the path to resiliency.

      If we’re driving an automobile, we ought to know how to change a tire. While we’re at it, we ought to make sure we have a usable spare tire. This same logic should be applied to other areas of our lives where resiliency and a bit of know-how can make the difference between getting on with our day or having a very long one. Amor fati is the starting point for resiliency (we must accept the cards we’re dealt), but it’s a lot easier to love our fate when we’re prepared for it.

      All of this got me thinking about this blogging thing. I’m set up to write it wherever I am, with whatever device I happen to have in front of me, with or without connectivity to the rest of the world. The trick is in publishing without an Internet connection. WordPress offers tools for this too, that we may write ahead of time and simply set the date and time of publication. Personally, I like to live on the edge a bit and publish when I complete the blog. The blog, to me, is evidence of daily contemplation followed by the immediacy of shipping the work come hell or high water the same day. That may come back to bite me when I travel internationally again soon. We measure risk in such ways and determine whether it’s worth changing our routine to mitigate the impact of the worst case scenario. In publishing the blog when it’s completed, I’m essentially saying I’m still here—somewhere. Lucky me.

    • Stay the Course

      “Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one.” ― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

      I’d been saving this quote for the day I finished writing the blog. It seemed as good as any way to close it out. Perhaps this will be the last—since I’m using it and all that. Perhaps.

      It seems I share a birthday with my old friend Marcus Aurelius. Not too far away now, really. He has a few years on me, of course, but reading Meditations was a catalyst for making some changes to my routine of the time, including writing this blog every day. Blogging sometimes feels like shaving for me: I don’t always want to do it, but I feel better after having done it so I keep on doing it. Then the next morning there I am staring at myself in the mirror once again.

      The answer, Marcus suggests, is to stop worrying about process and routine and obligations and just be what you aspire to be. Just do the things that make us good people. The things that make the world less good will be there either way, so we are the counterbalance to all that we wish were different. Our answer all along has been to stay the course, friend. And so it shall be.

    • To Give Light

      “What are we here for if not to enjoy life eternal, solve what problems we can, give light, peace and joy to our fellow-man, and leave this dear fucked-up planet a little healthier than when we were born.
      Who knows what other planets we will be visiting and what new wonders there will unfold? We certainly live more than once. Do we ever die—that is the question. In any case, thank God we are alive and of the stars—into all eternity. Amen!” — Henry Miller

      The thing about stars that may interest only me is that they give light to the eternal darkness of the universe for however long they exist. They aren’t relying on other stars for their energy—perhaps a little gravitation pull now and then, perhaps a bit of orbital spin, but their energy is all their own. Stars shine light into the vacuum of space with no expectation that anyone will receive it someday. That’s of no concern to the star—all their energy is put into giving light while they dance in their orbit to infinity and beyond.

      And here we are, stardust ourselves, receiving that light and mixing it with our own. We too are here to shine; we mustn’t ever worry where our own light goes, just that we give it freely to the universe in our time. The question is never whether to give light, but what our light should be. Perhaps, as Miller suggests, the answer is simply to enjoy this life eternal in our time and solve more problems than we create. Maybe it’s enough for us to put positive energy into the universe that illuminates others in their darkness, that they too might shine.

      Sometimes I wonder if I’m spinning in the right orbit or perhaps even burning out. There are days when I don’t want to do much of anything but find when I stop focusing on the void and begin the process something worthwhile eventually arrives to greet me. Something like the little note to himself Miller wrote in 1918 find their way to me and now to you, to serve as a reminder: Who are we to keep the light to ourselves?

    • Easter Eggs

      “No one knows the future, but the present offers clues and hints on its direction.” — Innocent Mwatsikesimbe

      “An Easter egg is a message, image, or feature hidden in software, a video game, a film, or another — usually electronic — medium. The term used in this manner was coined around 1979 by Steve Wright, the then-Director of Software Development in the Atari Consumer Division, to describe a hidden message in the Atari video game Adventure, in reference to an Easter egg hunt.” — Wikipedia

      I’ve never been so hip in my life, or maybe excelled enough at video games, to have been fully aware of the existence of Easter Eggs in games and software. Like most people, it was a growing cultural awareness of such things. The thing is, you’ve got to be invested in that particular form in which the Easter egg is hidden to ever be aware of it, let alone understand what it might mean. In this way, Easter eggs are gifts to the loyal fans from the creators.

      When Game of Thrones was peaking 6 or 7 years ago, many people went back and watched it from the beginning, just to get caught up on all the things that were referenced in later episodes. It’s here that the term really took off for those of us not quite invested in video games or coding. A well-written show will hint at the future. These hints will be obvious, “ah ha!” moments for the invested audience. To get the joke, as it were, is part of the mass appeal of such shows.

      The term “Easter egg” is a bit trendy, but great writers have been dropping hints into their work for as long as there’s been works of fiction. Agatha Christie was masterful in setting the scene just so, that what is hidden in plain sight might reveal itself as perfectly obvious later in the story. The delight in her novels was trying to figure things out as you went through the story, knowing full well that she would place as many dead ends into the story (pun intended) as the hints that brought the culprit to justice in the end.

      “The impossible could not have happened, therefore the impossible must be possible in spite of appearances.” — Agatha Christie, Murder on the Orient Express

      All artists offers something of themselves in their work. Some artists literally create something of themselves within their art. Plenty of artists through the years have hidden their own face in their greatest works, that those in the know may delight in finding them. At St. Stephen’s Cathedral in Vienna, you can smile at the face of sculptor Anton Pilgram smiling back at you. Knowing that these Easter eggs exist, we may delight in seeing them again as if for the first time.

      Life is full of Easter eggs for us too. We have our symptoms, habits and associates that lead us into trouble or salvation. Sometimes the future is hiding right in plain sight, just like one of those Agatha Christie novels. We ought to be better at seeing the signs, that we may steer towards a safer course. Life isn’t a game, after all. But you saw that conclusion coming from the start, didn’t you?

    • An Expression of Yes

      “The price of greatness is responsibility over each of your thoughts.” ― Winston Churchill

      Yesterday, in a clear break from discipline, I took the dog to the beach for a long walk. I collected smooth stones until my coat pocket was full and stuffed a few more into my pants pockets. The pup—her tail wagging furiously—greeted other dog walkers and sniffed the salty foam. I might have been more productive pushing through some report or calling a few customers, but the pup and I agreed this was the most productive lunch meeting I’ve had in a long time.

      We know, deep down, when we’ve done our best. So many people go through the motions nowadays, not really finding the magic in the moment in their work. Not really feeling the power of contribution to something bigger than themselves. As if our days are infinite. As if staying within ourselves isn’t a betrayal of our potential.

      Betrayal of potential is doing work that doesn’t matter to us for a beat longer than absolutely necessary. I post this blog every day because it speaks to me, and I speak through it. Like flossing, when you diligently do it every day you get a positive outcome. Shouldn’t our primary work be the same?

      What does it matter to you?
      When you got a job to do
      You got to do it well
      You got to give the other fellow hell
      — Paul McCartney, Live and Let Die

      We have no time for trivial pursuits. We have no time for work that doesn’t resonate, that doesn’t make us feel something essential within ourselves. If today were our last day on earth, would the work we are doing mean a thing? To borrow from Derek Sivers, if the answer isn’t a hell yes, it’s a no. How many no’s do we want to stack in a row? Make today a yes and start a new kind of streak.

      Walking on the beach yesterday was an expression of yes. It was walking away from a no and making the most of a fragile moment. The work was still there when I got back, but it felt different than it did earlier in the day. It turned out the work wasn’t the problem, it was the worker all along.

    • Do Not Say, Do

      “It is a hard thing to leave any deeply routined life, even if you hate it.” — John Steinbeck

      “You are what you do, not what you say you’ll do.” — Carl Jung

      Both of these quotes appeared in my media feed recently. I’m not particularly happy with that media feed lately, but such is the state of the world and the Internet we once hoped would democratize it. That the quotes appeared to me through all the noise that is social media now is another example of that other expression about the student being ready. Spring is in the air, travel is more than just a distant whisper now, and what exactly have we been doing to prepare for all that suggests itself to us?

      The thing about writing a blog every day is that it’s very easy to say what we’re going to do, much harder to execute on that vision. It’s routines that make us or break us. Intentions are a fool’s game. Who wants to hear about the promises we make to ourselves that we break? Who wants to write about that?

      In sales there’s a term for reaching out to someone regularly just to check in and see if they’re ready to work with you. It’s called a drip campaign. When the student is ready the salesperson seemingly appears at just the right time. That can be viewed as either opportunistic or pragmatic, but the prospect will eventually leave a routine they’ve grown accustomed to whether they really want to or not. A diligent salesperson will be the one they nod to in that moment.

      Life is sales. We’re either selling ourselves on the idea of change or we’re being sold to by the rest of the universe. What the salesperson has to learn is that it’s dissatisfaction with the routine that drives change. At that moment, we flip from all talk to meaningful action. At that moment we begin to do. And doing is where the magic is.

    • Practiced Reasoning

      “While we naturally understand that writing is a good way to share ideas with others, we under-appreciate just how much good writing helps us think about an idea ourselves. Writing is not only a means of communication, it enables us to practice reasoning.
      Writing forces you to slow down, focus, and think deeply. In a world where attention is fragmented into seconds, thinking becomes more reactive than reasoned. Only when [we] take time to play with our ideas can we hope to think about them substantially. Writing requires sticking with something a little longer and developing a deeper understanding.
      Writing is the process by which we realize we do not understand and the process by which we come to understand.”
      — Shane Parrish, Unspoken Expectations, Brain Food – No. 569 – March 24, 2024

      Until I read Shane Parrish’s latest newsletter, I still had it in my mind—even after a couple of thousand blog posts—that I was writing for others. I had it partially correct. I’ve been writing for myself, to better understand that which I encounter on this dash through the decades, and then to share that processing with you; the reader. I’ve talked of breadcrumbs and the processing of ideas before myself, so the idea isn’t exactly revolutionary, but he hammered it home well enough that I thought I’d practice a bit more reasoning writing about it here.

      The thing about documenting your own reasoning in a blog is that when you publish, you’ve let the world in on a bit of a secret. Deep down, you know more about who I am and how I process information about the world and my experience in it. Sure, I filter out enough that people aren’t guessing my passwords (those simple passwords are long gone anyway) or otherwise hacking my identity, but the bottom line remains clear: unless you’re writing a blog yourself, you know far more about how I think than I know about how you think. Advantage reader?

      Perhaps. But we aren’t adversaries in this game of life, are we? My reasoning, should you choose to follow along, is simply my half of a conversation. And as a writer we ought to view it as such. Otherwise what is it but a dull college lecture or a dad speaking to a table full of people staring at their phones? There are some blog posts that fail to resonate with the world, and it feels a lot like that latter example in such moments of posting into the vacuum of the Internet, but that is exactly the moment to remind myself that this blog post is one human’s humble attempt to reason with the universe and to see what comes from it.

      In a way, writing this blog is similar to playing chess with the computer. The computer always wins, often in frustratingly devious ways (like a cat and the mouse with me always the mouse), but each game is a lesson in strategic thinking for me, even in the loss. When the game is over, was it a waste of time or an incremental step forward towards becoming a better chess player (ie: strategic thinker)? So it is with this blog post and all those that preceded it. Each is an incremental step towards better reasoning, and better writing. And perhaps that’s enough to make me a better human too.

    • Who I Am

      When I was young, it seemed that life was so wonderful
      A miracle, oh, it was beautiful, magical
      And all the birds in the trees, well they’d be singing so happily
      Oh, joyfully, oh, playfully watching me
      But then they sent me away to teach me how to be sensible
      Logical, oh, responsible, practical
      Then they showed me a world where I could be so dependable
      Oh, clinical, oh, intellectual, cynical
      There are times when all the world’s asleep
      The questions run too deep
      For such a simple man
      Won’t you please, please tell me what we’ve learned?
      I know it sounds absurd
      Please tell me who I am
      — Supertramp, The Logical Song

      The beautiful thing about moving through a few decades is rediscovering the soundtrack of your youth well after you rejected it for the waves of more current music that followed. Supertramp was one of those late 1970’s bands that I loved for a time, forgot all about, and delight in all over again when I hear one of their best songs now. How is it a band with as many hits as they had isn’t in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame yet? Because they were surfing the wave instead of creating the next one? Spare me. Music stirs feelings deep within us, and Supertramp created some timeless masterpieces that still ring true. But I digress…

      The other beautiful thing about moving through a few decades is that sense of momentum that comes from focused living. We learn what works for us and what we’re good at. We lean into mastering a few skills that make us uniquely positioned to do well in some niche of life. And if we’re lucky, we collect a few people around us who like us for who we are.

      Who we are…. That’s the real trick, isn’t it? We spend a lifetime figuring it out, finding our way, embracing change for change’s sake, just to keep marching onward and upward. Until one day we hear an old song that makes us remember that part of us that we left behind that still whispers to us in the quiet moments.

      The thing is, most people don’t want to wrestle with such things as who they are, let alone who I am. Generation X kept all this stuff to ourselves, leaving it to these generations that followed us to put it all out there for the world to deal with. I admire that about them even as I roll my eyes at the drama in it all. Be who you are, I’ll do the same, and we’ll both agree to respect each other’s differences. It’s the provocation that irritates. It asks that we not be who we are but to reach across that invisible threshold and become something more. And sure, sometimes we need to do that too. Just meet us halfway.

      I’m not much of a musician, for I was afraid to pursue it for where it might have brought me once. But I know it’s in me still, as untapped energy put into other places. Writing was once like that for me too, but now I regularly dabble in words. The beautiful thing about moving through a few decades is we have the time to let go of the things that were holding us back from ourselves. From who we really are. Less sensible, perhaps, but possibly more wonderful. Beautiful. Magical.