Alexandersmap

    Category: Writing

    • Instead

      This weekend the bluebirds came back. I needed that more than I realized.  It’s a small sign of brighter days ahead in the ebb and flow world of New England in March, like early crocuses or the green spear tips of daffodils breaking the ground.  We could use more signs of hope in this particularly stark news cycle we’re living in.  This too shall pass.

      “What can we do that matters instead?” – Seth Godin

      Godin posed this question in his blog today, and it lingers in my mind. Not the “What can we do that matters” part, but the “instead” part. Because that’s the real challenge in this question, isn’t it? We can all list the things that matter in life. But what are we doing instead of those things? Binge-watching Netflix or re-watching The Office again? What can we do that matters instead? Reading the bot or troll (aren’t they one and the same?) comments on somebody’s Twitter post? What can we do that matters instead? You get the idea.

      I read and write in the early morning because I have the focus to pluck a word like instead out of a question and linger with it for awhile. Soon the day will erupt into work and the new world order hustle of Zoom and conference calls. But the in between spaces offer an opportunity to build more meaningful connection with people that matter, to offer my own sign of brighter days ahead. My mind is turning over what matters instead. What a way to start a Monday.

      So in the clutter of the day I find myself in, starting extra-early this fine Monday, I’m looking for exceptional.  Not on my news feed or in the heroic deeds of medical personnel everywhere, but in myself.  Demanding a little more from myself instead.  What can I do that matters instead?  It seems a fair question. And an opportunity to answer it well.

    • Words

      “Words are flowing out
      Like endless rain into a paper cup
      They slither while they pass
      They slip away across the universe”
      – The Beatles, Across The Universe

      I was listening to John Lennon sing this song early this morning, well before the light caught up with me, on the noise-cancelling headphones I’d normally wear on a plane traveling to drown out the roar and the chatter.  At home during the magic hour when nobody else is up but me there is no roar and chatter, making the headphones a bit of overkill, but they still have a way of bringing you into the room with the artist singing to you.  And this morning I hung out with Lennon for a bit.

      I suppose I was inspired to revisit The Beatles and John in particular after re-watching the movie Yesterday, well, yesterday. But it was inevitable that I’d come back to them. They always come back to me, or maybe I return to them. It doesn’t matter which, really, just that it happens.  And I came back to Across The Universe just as I’ve been thinking about something I said a few days ago about writing.  It’s not an original thought, mind you, but I always write with it in mind.  Writing this blog is a catch and release for me.  I catch the words that the muse offers me and release them to the universe the same day.  It’s my way of practicing the art of writing every day, on an admittedly eclectic and wide-ranging mix of topics, and publishing it soon thereafter.  And now a few of you are reading it, a few more will find it someday, and the words slip away across the universe.

      I’ve visited The Beatles Museum in Liverpool, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, and the Country Music Hall of Fame, Patsy Cline and Johnny Cash Museums in Nashville within the last six months.  Each offers their own bit of magic and nostalgia, but for me nothing resonates like seeing the handwritten lyrics on some old note paper that an artist jotted down while dancing with the muse.  What once were words coming to mind for the artist became a song the world knows by heart, and that paper forever marks the moment ink met paper and captured the words.

      I know the world isn’t going to know by heart some clever phrase I believe I may capture and release in this blog, but I capture the words and release them anyway.  Someday I’ll be gone – say a long, long time from now, and the blog puts a few words out there in the universe that came through me.  Well, as long as I pay the annual fee anyway. I believe I just bought my words another year. So universe; there’s still time.

    • How Rarely We Mount

      “Our winged thoughts are turned to poultry.” – Henry David Thoreau, Walking

      When you dig deep into Thoreau’s work you mine these little gems. It’s his reward for sticking with him as he crams his every thought onto the page. Every great book gets richer and more meaningful when re-read a second or third time. Lately I’ve been revisiting some old classics even as the stack of new calls to me, offended at my slight. Everything has its time, I say of the stack and of myself too. Be patient, work hard, reach higher… keep flapping those wings. The pace of my progress rarely reaches the level of the grandness of my plans. We aim to soar, but sometimes we find ourselves stuck on the ground with all the other turkeys and chickens, pecking away at the ground. Do they have aspirations too?

      “We hug the earth—how rarely we mount! Methinks we might elevate ourselves a little more.” – Henry David Thoreau, Walking

      Writing every day, chipping away at it, means something to me. It’s the climb, the aspiration for higher ground, that both challenges and drives me. We all hug the earth – our daily routines and comfortable life and the assurance that this is enough. Nothing shakes up the normal like a global event, but shouldn’t we shake up our own snow globe once in a while just to see the magic that was just sitting there all along? How rarely we mount: Shouldn’t we use this tragic circumstance as a catalyst for more? Or shall we return, should this ever end, once again to poultry? Methinks we might elevate ourselves a little more.

    • Bigger Than the Current Small

      “You have treasures hidden within you—extraordinary treasures—and so do I, and so does everyone around us. And bringing those treasures to light takes work and faith and focus and courage and hours of devotion, and the clock is ticking, and the world is spinning, and we simply do not have time anymore to think so small.” – Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic

      I’m cranking away at my work, building as much momentum as I can to carry this ship as far as possible across the chasm of our current reality. The harder I work, the less I worry about pandemics and the economy and things out of my control. All we control is what we do today, how we react to the larger world swirling madly around us, and who and how we interact with others.  On the whole things are going okay at the moment.  We’ll see how the next moment goes when we get there.

      Still, there’s this underlying restlessness to get going already.  More to write than I’m writing.  I can’t travel far to see the world in its present state, but surely I can write more.  We can all create something bigger of ourselves, can’t we?  I believe it starts with thinking bigger than the current small, pushing beyond the borders around our day.  Holding yourself to a higher standard.  And so that’s where I’m focused.  I’m producing thousands of words every week in this blog, but I can do much more than this.  We all have these treasures that need to be brought to light, as Gilbert writes in her call to action.  I’m not at all unconvinced that there’s more there, my challenge is getting myself to bring it to light.

      “I wish I could show you,
      When you are lonely or in darkness,
      The Astonishing Light
      Of your own Being!”
      – Hafiz, My Brilliant Image

      I’ve been aware of the time going by, as Jackson Browne put it. And I’ve been too patient with my use of that time, certainly more than I should be.  There’s only now, so why are you waiting to use this time for anything else?  Well, because the home renovations need to get completed, and your customers need support, and your family needs your focus, and the cat just threw up on the carpet and it needs to be cleaned up, and on and on.  It’s not easy to bring your astonishing light out when you’re cleaning up cat puke.  But still, it’s there, bursting at the seams, frustrated and slowly dimming as you passed it over yesterday and maybe today and tomorrow too.  Light doesn’t need your excuses, it needs to get out and shine on the rest of the world.

      To be fair, that light in us comes out in the interactions with others, in our careers and parenting and even in those home renovations. Light has a way of shining through when you open yourself up to the world. I’m not diminishing that particular light, but you and I both know when we leave something on the table. There’s work left undone and it’s light fades with every moment. So I’m doubling down on the writing, the writing not yet seen by the world or in this blog, working to get it out. Shouldn’t we all make the most of our time?

      “In the long run men hit only what they aim at. Therefore, though they should fail immediately, they had better aim at something high.” – Henry David Thoreau, Walden

       

    • Touching Excellence?

      “In the absence of continual external reinforcement, we must be our own monitor, and quality of presence is often the best gauge. We cannot expect to touch excellence if “going through the motions” is the norm of our lives. On the other hand, if deep, fluid presence becomes second nature, then life, art, and learning take on a richness that will continually surprise and delight. Those who excel are those who maximize each moment’s creative potential—for these masters of living, presence to the day-to-day learning process is akin to that purity of focus others dream of achieving in rare climactic moments when everything is on the line… The secret is that everything is always on the line.” – Josh Waitzkin, The Art Of Learning

      I’m writing in the usual chair, with the cup of hot coffee well on its way down, with the cat over the shoulder in her usual way (excited tail swatting equals prey she’d burst through glass to catch) and I’ve run through the usual habit loop to get here. Routine is an essential part of productivity – no secret there – and the way you approach that routine matters as much as the routine itself – again, nothing revolutionary in that statement. So, knowing this, why don’t we all regularly touch excellence?

      I keep coming back to that Warren Buffett 5/25 strategy, and shake my head at the 25 things I’m currently doing. Working, writing, parenting and husband, home renovation projects (excellent timing on those), learning a language, trying to stay fit, and on and on. Josh Waitzkin wrote about touching excellence having focused completely on first chess and then Tai Chi. That’s a perfect strategy for touching excellence or achieving mastery at anything. Give up everything else in your life in pursuit of the one thing. And that’s why only a small percentage of people do it.

      It turns out sucking the marrow out of life requires a lot of work. Always “on” kind of work. You end up saying no to a lot of things you’d prefer to say yes to in that pursuit of excellence. So maybe pursuing pretty good will do? Personally, my priority list has shifted with the pandemic. I must complete the home renovations, I must keep my career objectives on track, and I must stay healthy. Everything else, including really important things (to me) like writing, learning a language and certainly travel have shifted into maintenance mode. Finish the home renovations and free up head space for one of those other 20 things. Simple, right?

      It really has to be that simple. I’m just not that good a juggler. Waitzkin’s perspective that “those who excel are those who maximize each moment’s creative potential” is certainly true, but it’s fair to also ask, what am I trying to excel in, and at what cost? The answer changes over time. Waitzkin wasn’t a National Chess Master while renovating a bathroom and balancing a career and family. I respect and am often awed at excellence, I just don’t find it a practical pursuit in my current situation. I’ll take excellence in balance, great at one or two other things and incremental improvement at the rest, thank you. Over time, maybe I’ll create an excellent body of work I can look back on (that’s surely a worthy goal), and celebrate the not-so-excellent-but-pretty-damned-good in my life too. Hopefully I’ll have that bathroom renovation project done first.

    • Dancing With Perhaps

      “I have a lot of edges called Perhaps and almost nothing you can call Certainty.” – Mary Oliver, Angels

      I’m a big believer in Perhaps, though I know Certainty has its place in this world. Certainty dances in the world of STEM. I’m grateful for Certainty and those who pursue it, but I like where Perhaps dances. Those who know me know that I use the word often, and likely too much. So be it, I find Certainty less… fascinating. So it was a delight to read Mary Oliver’s poem and read that line. Why did it take me so long to get around to it, I wonder? Dabbling too much in the world of Certainty I suppose.

      You want Certainty? Certainty is a kettle whistling when the water boils enough that steam trapped inside screams to get out, now! How many mornings have I been quietly lost in thought, reading or writing when that kettle calls for my immediate attention? Countless. And I appreciate Certainty knocking on my forehead now and then, prodding me back to reality. I don’t especially like to linger in Certainty but I find it comforting to visit once in awhile.

      Mary’s famous line from “Angels” is this:

      “I don’t care how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. It’s enough to know that for some people they exist, and that they dance.” – Mary Oliver, Angels

      I don’t think all that much of angels dancing on pins either, but do I think of ghosts whispering history when I arrive at places of significance and listen raptly as the oaks welcome me back to their woods. Places speak, if you’ll listen and observe. There is no better practitioner of observation than the poet. Sure, scientists do pretty well too, but I’d contend that they’re secretly poets with a formal education. But what of religion? Isn’t that Certain? Believers might tell you there’s Certainty in the Bible. I’d contend that there’s far more Perhaps in the Bible than Certainty. Zealots arrive at Certainty about their religious views or their political views or their social views and work to impose Certainty on others. We get in trouble when too many people arrive at a Certainty that conflicts with the other guy’s Certainty. Leave room for Perhaps.

      So we’ve entered a strange new world, stranger than the world we’ve been living in for some time now (and that was pretty strange indeed). It seems a good time to look inward, to turn off the panic news and read the works of those who came before us. The poets and Stoics and Transcendentalists and philosophers. They dealt with far more uncertainty and death than we have (they’re all dead after all). Shouldn’t we learn more from them?

      Whatever you believe, leave a little room for Perhaps. That’s where you’ll find me most of the time. Come visit now and then if you like. I’d certainly like that.

    • Breaking Ropes

      “If you don’t break your ropes while you’re alive
      do you think
      ghosts will do it after?”
      – Kabir

      When the world is upside down and stress boils up inside you, how do you set it free? I release it slowly on long walks, or feel it melt away listening to immersive music like the album Beyond The Missouri Sky (Short Stories) by Charlie Haden and Pat Metheny, or reading some Mary Oliver poetry (Thanks, Mary for the Kabir quote). I don’t often get stressed out, but the world can creep up on you sometimes. Tonight after a day of work and a few home renovation hurdles I was about at my limit. So I made mine a double: poetry and music. I listened to Missouri Sky twice before I forgot what I was stressed about. Turns out it wasn’t anything all that important.

      So back to Kabir; Part of my stress is a desire to get out and see the world, but blocked by ropes of my own making and a few that fate threw at us all. Seeing the world shut down in profound, unprecedented ways is a bit of a curveball, isn’t it? London, Scotland and even Nashville seem a long time ago. But this is no time for casual travel. No, not right now. Now we collectively try to flatten the damned curve. But there are other ropes to break besides travel. And it turns out those ropes are best broken with time and effort and isolation and thought.

      Life is short and unpredictable, and who can’t see that now? Given that, when else are you going to step up and break a few ropes that are holding you back? Seems now is really the only time to do it. Those Northern Lights and the Southern Cross will have to wait for healthier days. And my God I hope they return soon, I won’t waste a moment getting to them given the opportunity. Until then, break those writing ropes. Break those learning ropes. And let yourself free.

    • That Which Is Around Us

      “I am what is around me.” – Wallace Stevens, Theory

      We build the world around us, surrounding ourselves with things and people that reinforce for us that image in our minds. Believe you’re a hiker? Go to the mountains and be one. Sailor? Get a boat or crew in someone else’s. Runner? Get some good running shoes and hit the pavement again and again until it becomes your identity. Writer? Write every day: immerse yourself in the Great Conversation, pull in all that is around you like a warm blanket on a cold night and share it with the world.

      I heard about the death of a friendly acquaintance last night. He was larger than life in some ways, but fragile from years of abusing his body. He would drink too much, love too many, drive too fast and talk even faster, but he had a good heart and it showed in how he treated those around him. He lived the work hard, play hard mantra more than anyone I’ve ever met. I learned not to keep up with him drinking, to drive separately when going to meetings, and to keep pace when it came to work. I was just in his town last week but decided not to call him, thinking I didn’t have the time. It turns out I only had that time.

      We are what is around us. Jimmy surrounded himself with a lifestyle that killed him young, but was as fully alive as anyone I’ve met. We don’t get to choose everything that happens in our lives, but in our daily habits we slowly build up and reinforce our image of ourselves and what we might become. Ultimately it’s all just a story in our mind, and like any story you can choose to send it in another direction at any time. But you can’t turn a tragic-comedy into an action-adventure or a romance novel easily. Sometimes you’ve got to scrap the entire first draft and start writing a new book.

      As a nod to Jimmy, I’ll work to be more alive in the moment, but with a lot less vodka. I’ll work hard in my career and play hard at healthier activities than he chose. Like Jimmy I’ll beam in pride at my kids, but will try to lead by example that the things you surround yourself with in this one precious life matter much more than you might think. Those things either hold you up or press you down, so choose wisely. Thanks for the reminder Jimmy.

    • The Sometimes Saucy Pedantic Wretch

      I was presenting a PowerPoint slide translated from German to English Tuesday, wrapped up our meeting and was discussing a few key points when a woman next to me quietly yet publicly slid a piece of paper across the table to me. It seems there was a typo on one of the slides and she was helping me out by pointing out the incorrectly spelled word next to the correctly spelled word underlining the misplaced “a” in “intuitive” and the correct “i”. Yup, I saw it immediately, laughed and thanked her. Sometimes you see things that bug you so much that you won’t hear anything else in the entire meeting, and that happened to her.

      I understand where she’s coming from. I fight pedantic tendencies myself and understood her need to fix something that clearly needed fixing. That she did it in front of the group in the meeting might have angered some, but for me it was a chance to laugh about it. I stopped worrying about such things years ago, and I was presenting other people’s material so how could I take it personally? But I immediately corrected the slide so it wouldn’t happen again (Never allow distractions to linger in your presentations).

      I rarely use the word “pedantic” in a sentence. And I certainly wouldn’t ever combine words like “saucy pedantic wretch” into a phrase, but when I saw the three linked together in a poem I smiled. I mean, who does that? See there? My own pedantic tendencies flaring up. Anyway, I plucked these words out of a John Donne poem called The Sun Rising because they leap off the screen in a magical swirl just as they likely did for Donne as he put pen to paper writing them.

      When someone uses the word “pedantic” or “wretch” they’re flagged in some circles as aloof. In this world of hipster speak who uses old dead guy words? Then again, the person lacing their sentence with clever words may well pity us our grasp of the English language. But a firm grasp of vocabulary can be either a gift or a verbal Heisman pushing people away: it’s all in how you use it. As I clumsily stumble along learning a bit of the French language I’m reminded to be more humble with the English language. It was clever for the muse to slip that Donne poem into my reading this morning. It got me thinking that, sure, sometimes I might be a saucy pedantic wretch too. But I have a healthy dose of self-deprecating humor about it. Ever since I read that poem I find myself swirling those words together like a tropical drink. And so I offer a toast to wretches everywhere.

    • The Abnormal Climb

      “You can’t be normal and expect abnormal results.” – Naval Ravikant

      There’s nothing wrong with normal; the pursuit of normal usually offers you an average, lovely life. But if you want to be ultra-wealthy or a washboard abs model or win the Olympics or be an astronaut or a Nobel Peace Prize winner, well, be abnormal. They don’t just give space suits to the guy ahead of you at Starbucks. Unless that guy is a Navy pilot with a Masters in Astrophysics anyway, and even then his odds aren’t great. Nope, be different than the billions of people marching through life…. or embrace the beauty of average. We all have that choice.

      I’ve dabbled in the pursuit of excellence in athletics, and frankly I opted out early. Pursue Olympic-level rowing? Thought I’d give it a try. Learned quickly that it was a very steep and long climb. I opted to be a big fish in a smaller pond. Regrets? I’ve had a few. Pursuing elite rowing isn’t one of them. I’ve known several Olympians over the years, one rowed out of the same boathouse as me. She won a silver medal! Olympians seem average on the surface, there’s an abnormal core there – a focus, that I deeply admire. But I knew it wasn’t me.

      We all want to be excellent at something, if we’re lucky we figure out quickly what we shouldn’t attempt to excel in. Sometimes great or pretty good still sets us up for an exceptional life. I was a pretty good rower back in my time, but not willing to do the “abnormal” work needed to be world class. I smile thinking about the lecture I heard from the National Team Coach emphatically telling a friend and me that the work needed was far beyond what we were doing at the time (and we were very fit). I appreciated his time and candor, assessed my willingness to execute on the plan and opted out. In a different pond I might have pushed through, but the pond I was in seemed good enough.

      “Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect.” – Mark Twain

      This quote on the surface is funny (or scary in this political climate), but peel back a layer and there’s truth in the message. In the context of pursuing the abnormal there’s magic in Mark’s clever quip. Find your unique path, work hard and be excellent at it. Don’t be the majority, be something more. I’ve long since hung up the oar, but hey, maybe the writing will take off. At the very least I owe it to myself to become a better writer. There’s honor in the pursuit of excellence, even if we never reach it. Somebody once said that “never” is a belief, it doesn’t have to be shackles. I saw that in rowers who accepted the same challenge I opted out of who eventually wore Olympic hardware.

      “Blah, blah, blah, blah. DO THE WORK.” – Jocko Willink

      At some point you get tired of regurgitating excuses and you find something to be singularly focused on pursuing. We’re all running out of time, get up and do something already. Balance is important but it’s also an excuse. Prioritize, focus and do the work. Want to be a writer? Do the work? Ab model? Do the work. Olympic athlete? Do. The. Work. We arrive at excellence by what we focus on, and by what we say no to along the way. The day offers the same opportunity for all of us living in a free society, so why exhaust that day coming up with excuses for why you didn’t do something? Get fit, work abnormally hard at your chosen craft, whether writing or astronaut or parent, be consistently, abnormally doing the work, and you’ll reach a level of excellence – or at the very least, be well above average. Seems a worthwhile climb after all.