Alexandersmap

    Category: Writing

    • The Magic of Following Through

      “I can give you a six-word formula for success: Think things through – then follow through.”— Eddie Rickenbacker

      The more time I spend on this planet, the more I feel the fulfillment of deliberate action. You build momentum in your life when you do what you say you’re going to do with enough people. There’s a tipping point where everyone in your life simply identifies you as someone they can count on. Following through is a beacon of hope and light in a world where so many quietly quit on others, and in doing so, on themselves as well.

      It wasn’t always so. I once mastered the art of excuses. Lazy and unfocused as a teenager, I would tell myself that it didn’t matter whether I did what I said I was going to do. It didn’t take long to realize the error of my ways. You hear a enough feedback from people in your life who you let down and you begin to feel the urgency to close the gap between who that person was and the person you aspire to be. Following through is the act of growing up and choosing to be the adult in the room.

      Much later in this lifetime, I tend to take on more than I ought to. Saying no becomes the challenge, not saying yes. But no is part of the commitment to yes. To follow through on anything meaningful, we have to subtract something else that might have been a yes. That might be people, or putting in extra time at work instead of being home with the family, or maybe it’s saying no to that donut with our morning coffee. We are what we repeatedly do, and we are also what we repeatedly choose not to do. Over time, many of us learn to choose wisely. Choice is a commitment to that one really essential thing over all other things.

      The unspoken rule here is that we must follow through on our promises to ourself as well. We must be the person we want to be. We must ship the work, as Seth Godin would say, when we say we’re going to ship it. Putting a blog post out in the world every day is just one of many small commitments I make to myself. Like those other small commitments, it pays dividends in profound and magical ways. For in following through over and over, you begin to believe in possibilities you might not have believed in otherwise. And others begin to believe in you for the consistency you’ve shown. We live the story we tell ourselves: this is evidence of who I am.

      There’s magic in following through on commitments we’ve made. We rise to a place of honor by doing what we said we’d do. This is our uncompromising vow to others, and to ourselves. We are showing respect for those whom we follow through with, and surely for ourselves. This leads directly to a better world for those we interact with, and a better night’s sleep for us. Who said we can’t be magicians? Follow through.

    • Maintaining a Steady State

      We each plot our beginnings in this lifetime, but what of our endings? When do the wheels come off? When will be the last time we do that thing we love to do? We ought to look this expiration date squarely in the eye and be aware that all good things must pass, thus cherishing the time we have with it. I may never again row a 2000 meter race for speed and it won’t break my heart, but I’ll happily row beyond that mark with far less intensity. The goal is no longer to be the fastest, but to sustain a base level of fitness from now until the last.

      When I run out of things to write about, I’ll simply stop writing. The words that resonate will be rephrased into the words of others, ideas will become turned over like compost and feed a new generation of seekers. It’s bold to think so, isn’t it? More likely the blog will quietly fade into the past, as we all must do some day. Each of us has our time to shine.

      Perhaps the point is to build and carry the very best of ourselves to our last days, that we may offer something meaningful for those who follow us on the path. More essential still is to lead by example now, that others have the courage to find their own verse. To be steady in a time of turbulence offers more value to others than being first across any proverbial finish line.

      Some aspire to be on top, and that’s great for them. Most of us aim to maintain a steady state, filled with the highs and lows of a lifetime, but generally predictable progression to something… better. Not dull, mind you, but sustainably predictable growth. As any financial advisor will tell us, there’s a lot to be said for predictable growth. Leave volatility for the young and restless.

      I write this having added a puppy to my life, which tends to turn a well-established routine upside down. This may signal the end of my blogging days, or perhaps a reason to reinvent that steady state with a burst of volatility and restless energy. Whatever the outcome, it won’t be the same old thing. But who says a fresh perspective isn’t welcome in an otherwise steady life?

    • The Choice of Attention

      “If you cannot find it here, you won’t find it anywhere. Don’t chase after your thoughts as a shadow follows its object. Don’t run after your thoughts. Find joy and peace in this very moment. This is your own time. This spot where you sit is your own spot. It is on this very spot and in this very moment that you can become enlightened. You don’t have to sit beneath a special tree in a distant land.” — Thich Nhat Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness

      I don’t dabble much in meditation in the classical sense, but lean deeply into awareness. So this very moment means a great deal to this particular time traveler. We dance in the now, or risk having the moment pass us by.

      Yet the time slips by so quickly anyway. This is as it should be, time being the creation of us frenzied humans. Wouldn’t it be better to think in terms of seasons or the natural cycle of a lifetime? Probably, but dinner reservations would be chaotic.

      Awareness of the moment is simply being present and engaged as best we can in this time and place that we live in. I’m quite aware that I have some things to do, and have a mosquito flying annoyingly nearby, and there’s a puppy underfoot restless in her desire to do anything but watch me type. I don’t have to look around to be aware of these things, I just have to be open to receiving them as they roll in like waves, one at a time, and wash across this broad beach of here and now.

      The trade-off, of course, is that awareness of everything around us makes us completely focused on none of them. There is a paradox here, in that we must be fully aware to be fully alive, yet raptly focused on our most important thing in the moment to ensure that thing gets done. We are constantly toeing the line between order and chaos within our brain.

      “Choice of attention—to pay attention to this and ignore that—is to the inner life what choice of action is to the outer. In both cases, a man is responsible for his choice and must accept the consequences, whatever they may be.” — W. H. Auden

      Chaos is all around us, it’s up to us to make sense of it in our own minds. There’s something to the idea of meditation and quieting your mind to receive enlightenment, I’m just not particularly good at sitting still with my breath. Yet I can sit quietly for hours writing, and can walk or row completely focused on the task at hand, aware only of the next step or stroke. Awareness seems to be more essential than enlightenment. One could make a case that they’re one and the same.

      So another day greets us with the choice of where to place our attention. The difference between a meaningful and fulfilling life and a chaotic, empty life is quite literally in our own head. Awareness, applied focus and a sense of purpose or direction are the recipe for a successful life. We choose what to be and have the opportunity to go be it.

    • The Inner Necessity

      “We all have an essence, something inside of us that was uniquely assigned by the universe. This goes deeper than talent and skill. It’s a calling. An inner necessity.
      Your essence doesn’t care about power, promotions, or possessions. It only cares about one thing: expression.
      If essence is who you really are, then expression is how you show up in the world. Your essence is always calling for you—expression is how you take that call.
      There’s a saying in the Gospel of Thomas: If you bring forth what is within you, that thing will save you. If you don’t, it will destroy you. That’s the thing about your essence. It is an inner flame that either lights up the world around you or burns a hole inside of you.
      Each of us gets to choose between expression and emptiness. But no one escapes that choice.”
      — Suneel Gupta, Everyday Dharma

      I’ve been walking past this book, Everyday Dharma, since it arrived and set firmly on the kitchen counter, a gift from one of my bride’s company executives to the employees. It wasn’t meant to be my book to read, but I’d just finished one book and wasn’t feeling the vibes from three other books I’m in various stages of reading, so why not add one more? Sure, I generally try to finish what I start, and advocate for focusing on the task at hand, and yet when it comes to books I can’t seem to help myself. Everything in this world is timing.

      Lately I’ve seen the wheels fall of some people I know who were so focused on putting everything within themselves into their careers that they forgot to do the maintenance that keeps us all healthy. We all must choose how we express ourselves in this world. Sometimes the form of that expression rips us apart, either from outside forces eventually overwhelming us or from that inner flame burning a hole inside of us, saying more and more persistently, “this is not who I am”. We ought to listen more, but there’s just so much to do first.

      We’ve all asked ourselves the question, “What do I find most fulfilling?” as we navigate our lives. Rungs on the corporate ladder seem enticingly close, the pay a little better, the title a more soothing ego stroke, but when reached we find that it wasn’t the view we thought it would be. Our life’s purpose was never the next rung on the ladder, the degrees we acquire or the accolades of our biggest fans (thanks Mom). Our life’s purpose is that inner flame burning a hole inside of us, trying to find expression in the whirl of a busy life.

      The thing is, we generally know the answer already, we just push it off for another day in favor of what others want for us. As those people I know have learned as their wheels fall off, there are only so many other days. The question remains, as Mary Oliver asked so much more eloquently than I can in The Summer Day:

      “Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
      Tell me, what is it you plan to do
      with your one wild and precious life?”

      May our expression be grounded in our essence, fulfilling and centered. We are each here for so short a stay. Yes, everything in the world is timing, and this is our time friends. So for me, I write, and read one too many books, I contribute what I can in productive and meaningful ways, I dabble in uncomfortable things and venture to unfamiliar places, and most of all, I savor. Yikes, that’s a lot of “I’s” in one paragraph. So how about you? We may all bring light to the world from our inner flame, and mustn’t we? Before it ends all too soon. What is it you plan to do?

    • Incendat Magica

      Don’t lose the wonder in your eyes
      I can see it right now when you smile
      We gotta go back, for a while
      Gotta go back, into that magic time
      — Van Morrison, Magic Time

      I often associate Van Morrison with autumn, thanks in part to the shift in my own soundtrack from summer music to autumn music, which leans more into jazz and soulful introspection. When the jeans replace the shorts it’s time for Van Morrison on my playlist. Some people put up plastic skeletons and black and orange decorations. Some of us stick to music. It’s all part of weaving our own brand of magic.

      I write about magic and wonder quite often in this blog, for it’s the stuff of life. When we create magic we are locking memories into place, like a snapshot we’ll remember forever. At least our forever. We do things that bring joy to our lives, and magic ensues. But let’s face it: Some people in our lives simply aren’t joyful. We may have fun with them, we may even find them interesting or even fascinating to be around, but there’s no joy. No joy, no magic. Simply peaceful coexistence. There’s very little wonder to be found in coexistence. Strike a spark.

      Vivere admirari: To live in wonder.

      Magic is associated with wonder. We often see this on display at big events, and certain places and times in a life. The trick is to dabble in a bit of magic every day, hidden in the joy we bring to moments as they unfold. As with anything joyful, magic works best when shared with others. A spark must have kindling just close enough together to create flame. Too close and you choke out the spark. Too far apart and the spark has nothing to catch hold of. We feel it when it’s just right.

      Incendat magica: To kindle magic

      Perhaps it’s frivolous to write about magic and wonder when the world is so dark and cold. But then again, maybe a spark is just what we need to kindle something warm and bright. We have magic for a reason, don’t we? It changes reality into something more.

    • Saluting the Ghost Ship

      “I’ll never know, and neither will you, of the life you don’t choose. We’ll only know that whatever that sister life was, it was important and beautiful and not ours. It was the ghost ship that didn’t carry us. There’s nothing to do but salute it from the shore.” ― Cheryl Strayed, Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar

      I sometimes dwell in the things that haven’t carried me. Places I might have gone, or lived in, surrounded by people I might have known, as the person I might have become. There’s nothing productive in what-might-have-been’s, unless we use them to set our current sail. This life is just fine, thank you, but the world will always whisper: “Vienna waits for you”, whatever your personal Vienna happens to be.

      Strayed puts this beautifully—these are but ghost ships that didn’t carry us. Sister lives we didn’t live. I know that I’ll never hike the Appalachian Trail or live on a sailboat in some remote fiord in Norway in winter, but that ghost of a me that will never be still drift into my mind in quiet moments now and then. Except they aren’t always quiet. Sometimes I’ll jokingly state that we’re selling everything and buying a boat, or a camper van, or just jetting off to the Vienna that haunts me that day. The people in my life know my ghost ships and roll their eyes, carrying on maintaining the ship we’re on in the real world. And so do I.

      I blame the artist in me. Creative types create alternative worlds all the time. Not Walter Mitty dreams, for we aren’t daydreamers in that way, but whispers of what may be just over the horizon of our current world, or an idealized version of ourselves as the protagonist. I ought to write more fiction, just to release these would-be characters into the world they crave to be in.

      Watching the crescent moon dance with Venus and Regulus in the early morning sky stirred up the ghost ship once again. Looking westward, Jupiter was dipping towards the west. It was magic time, when the universe whispers to the few cherished souls who awaken to be part of it that life is full of possibility. We may choose and love the ship we’re on for this passage while admiring the ones that slip away to the horizon. Some things will never be in this lifetime, but ’tis a beautiful life we’ve built for ourselves nonetheless, don’t you think?

    • Squeaky Toys

      You learn quickly that you simply cannot write as effectively when a puppy has a squeaky toy in close proximity to you (anywhere you can hear it counts). So you redirect that puppy towards another toy that doesn’t squeak, at least for that time when you’re writing. This process works equally well with mobile phones and television news. There’s always another notification, just as there’s always more breaking news. The most unproductive people in the world are those addicted to some form of squeaky toy.

      But not us friend. We sequester ourselves in solitude. We get up early for the quiet it brings. We seek calm for the deep thoughts it brings. And we await the combined rewards of inspired creativity and greater insight. If we so choose, squeaky toys may be the reward for having done the work, not the distraction from it.

      I write this knowing the world is far more complicated and enraged today than it was a few days ago (when it was pretty complicated and enraged already). We cannot control the universe, only how we process our place in it. In order to do this, we must find a quiet place within ourselves to think and do what must be contemplated and acted upon.

      The thing is, the world will still be there in all its madness, barely noticing that we missed anything at all. Think of it as the loud talker in the room that doesn’t give you a second to respond. It only wants to hear itself talk. Sometimes the only thing to do is leave the room for awhile. The question we must always ask ourselves is, what is our verse? Can that be found in a room full of squeaks?

    • Make it Poetry

      “The poet doesn’t invent. He listens.” — Jean Cocteau

      The thing about listening is we sometimes hear things contrary to the way we’ve always done things. Do we follow this path or stick with the tried and true? What’s so true about the tried anyway?

      The muse isn’t the author, it’s the voice of countless generations of poets and writers, philosophers and gurus who precede the author, channeled into insight. We derive from the act of listening and act upon it. There’s a lot of action in that statement. A great artist creates something meaningful and profound from what they’ve observed, which requires action and a healthy dose of boldness. Listening is passive until it serves as a catalyst for something more.

      We must begin. Simply if necessary. A timid step forward is nonetheless a step forward. We must progress in our work. We must be out in the world to know the world. We must accumulate knowledge and experience and then do something with it, or it becomes trivial. I think back on the accumulated knowledge I picked up in school and laugh to myself at how much was actually utilized in real life. The real game in school was the human dynamic flowing around the structured learning. Doesn’t it remain so still?

      Of course, that Cocteau quote applies to so much more than poetry. Take a look around and listen to the world, for it’s telling us plenty. It too should be a catalyst for something more. The trick is to create something better out of that which we observe. Again, we must progress, or it’s trivial. Haven’t we had enough of trivial? Whatever our life’s work, we must make it poetry.

    • The Absolute Self

      “No matter what the art, the most important thing is to establish who you really are. That is, move from the ego-centered self to the absolute self.” — Awa Kenzo, Zen Bow, Zen Arrow

      When I was a teenager I tried my hand at welding in a class. I found it thrilling to take a torch and create something with it. As a novice, my work was pretty basic, but I felt the potential of the craft. Alas, I haven’t picked up a welding torch since then, choosing a pencil and eventually a keyboard for my artistic expression.

      Once, when I was in my mid-twenties, I visited the home of an artist who crafted large sculptures out of commonplace steel he’d acquire at a local junkyard. He used a torch very similar to that I’d tried out a decade before, and for a moment I was startled by the realization that I could tap into that ember of fascination with the craft to become a sculptor myself. And then I remembered all the reasons it was completely impractical at that stage of my life and I released it from my mind as something to pursue.

      Just this summer, I found myself on a small island on a lake talking to another artist who uses a torch (along with a paintbrush) to create his own unique and beautiful art. It reminded me once again of that moment as a young teen, and the choices I’ve made in my pursuits since then. I don’t mourn the choice not to pursue that particular craft, but I’m struck by how it pops up again and again in my life. It feels like unfinished business in a way. Perhaps something to take up one day when I retire (I’m sure that would go over well with my bride if I began hauling old auto parts into the garden to fully express myself).

      The thing is, at each stage of my life that I encountered the craft, my ego told me to take another direction, towards a career, towards respectable ladder-climbing, away from artistic expression. The art, whatever its form, remains incomplete. And so I write every day to put something of myself out there in the world. The portfolio is incomplete, as the artist is a work in progress.

      We are each pursuing our spark of light in this maddening and sometimes dark world. We tend to lean towards the ego-centered self, forgetting the absolute, and yet it keeps popping up in our lives, as if to remind us that there’s still time to establish who we really are. We are each sculpting our identity and who we are becoming. We ought to lean into the absolute, and away from the ego. If only to see where it leads us.

    • As If We Had Wings

      Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,
      even in the leafless winter,
      even in the ashy city.
      I am thinking now
      of grief, and of getting past it;

      I feel my boots
      trying to leave the ground,
      I feel my heart
      pumping hard. I want

      to think again of dangerous and noble things.
      I want to be light and frolicsome.
      I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
      as though I had wings.
      — Mary Oliver, Starlings in Winter

      In between letting the puppy out for her morning relief and her post-breakfast exercise, the world lit up in orange. I would love to say I saw the whole thing, but really I only caught the tail end of it. To be in a place where the sky’s open all around you is the thing in such moments. Places like mountains and oceans and vast grasslands. The forest lends itself to its own wonder, but hides much of the sky. Sunrises and sunsets are missed with notable frequency, but we accept the trade-off nonetheless. Still, there are days I wish I could fly up to meet it.

      The world is full of wonder and beauty—far more than we’ll ever see in our lifetime. We simply can’t have it all. In fact, like the tail end of that sunrise, we witness precious little in our days. So seeking it out becomes the thing. Awareness and giving yourself permission to be awed by our insignificance offers a window to view and wonder. We know that we’ll never see everything, but perhaps we’ll see just enough to love our place in this universe.

      I know I should write more, and better. I know I should rise to meet the day, to put myself in the way of beauty as Strayed’s mother used to say. We see the days passing by so quickly and feel the urgency. And we feel the commitment of place and time and love for one another. There is a season for everything in this lifetime. We must believe that, mustn’t we? But some things will never be seen in favor of other things. We aren’t gods, you and I. This is the trade-off of being human. We must prioritize what’s truly important over everything else.

      Life will take our breathe away in both it’s beauty and in beauty lost. We know this to be true. The only way forward is to breath again, and rise to meet the day. As if we had wings.