Alexandersmap

    Category: Writing

    • The Produce of Our Season

      “Work while you have the light. You are responsible for the talent that has been entrusted to you.” ― Henri Frédéric Amiel

      I went to a local farm stand to find some fresh produce. The woman at the register asked me how my winter had been. We know each other through produce transactions from mid-summer to early autumn, and little more than that. So winter in this instance meant the time from October to the 4th of July. Every conversation I’ve ever had with this woman has revolved around the variability of the growing season, the way to deal with groundhogs who snack on your tomatoes (with extreme violence, she suggests helpfully), and when they expect to have certain vegetables that aren’t yet available. Transactional, but pleasant conversation—but of course, I’m not a groundhog.

      A farm functions with the seasons. You must do the work to sustain the farm, grinding out the days with productivity. There’s no time to waste on a farm if you have any expectation of making a living from it. A farmer manages urgency and purpose with every waking moment. There is nothing unclear about the days on a farm. Grind it out again and again until the harvest, take a deep breath and start all over again… and again still.

      Would we only have this level of clarity in our own creative work. We know that there is work to be done, for there is still a fire within. Of this there is no question. The question has always been, what will stoke the fire and warm the soul? Do we dabble in uninspiring work, merely to make ends meet? Or do we dive deeply into finding the light within, wrestling demons to bring it to the surface? What are we producing that adds value?

      We are each entrusted with a unique combination of talent and perspective. We must learn to make the most of these gifts in the growing season we have before us. Like the farmer, we must feel the urgency of the day at hand, we must wrestle with our purpose and push through the challenges that each day presents. When we look at the farm stand that is our own work, what have we produced? There lies the truth of our season. There lies the answer for what we must do next.

    • Being Mad in a Prudent World

      “Run from what’s comfortable. Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious. I have tried prudent planning long enough. From now on I’ll be mad.” — Rumi

      We are too often prudent. We like to think ourselves mad, but we gradually move back to doing what is expected of us, what is logical, what will pay the bills and such. When all along our wild side cries for release. Do you still hear the cry, or has it been smothered to death?

      I’m not suggesting we each take the sum of our 401(k)’s and put it all in at the craps table, merely that we stray off the straight and narrow more often. Do what nobody ever expected of us now and then, just to keep them from believing they have us figured out. We are more than the expectations others that have of us—at least we ought to be.

      We stack our experiences neatly in a line, one day to the next. Towards the middle, we start to see a trend as our collection of experiences become our identity. This is who I am is as powerful an anchor as any. To slip that anchor in favor of this is who I will be is a scary proposition. And this is why most people never sail beyond that safe harbor. They reach the end of their days wondering where they might have gone but for a little courage to weigh that anchor and set the sails for adventure.

      I see my light come shining
      From the west unto the east.
      Any day now, any day now,
      I shall be released.
      — Bob Dylan, I Shall Be Released

      A blog is a form of expression. Perhaps it’s a way to let the cries have their say, or to document the gradual release of this writer from the anchors that once held him firmly in place. There’s far more to say and do, and following the heading of who we will be is easier said than done. But Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither are we, friend. The voyage begins with each step away from prudent, towards what once seemed quite mad. We find that what was prudent at anchor is mad when we’ve sailed beyond who we once were.

    • This is Not Enough

      “There are some days when I think I’m going to die from an overdose of satisfaction.” ― Salvador Dalí

      This summer, I’ve changed.
      A lot.
      Some people have noticed the changes,
      most have not…
      Ahh, but I have.

      Whatever leaps forward we make ought to be celebrated, but not lingered on. For we must reach further still. We must seize what flees, as Seneca warned us. To be complacent is to wither in place. To be satisfied is to leave our best on the table, conceding that we weren’t all that after all. Screw that! We must keep moving. We must keep changing and growing and discovering more of that untapped potential lying dormant under years of apathy and bliss, For this—this is not nearly enough.

      Some days this blog is just behind where I’ve landed. Some days it deceives the reader, for I’ve already crossed a chasm to another place. Today’s blog is just where I am—hitting some milestones, hungry for more and not nearly satisfied, poised to leap into the unknown again and again. We all must feel this way to become who we were meant to be. We all must put aside who we once were for something more compelling. That is our mission each day we rise to face the challenges change brings to us.

      “Non est ad astra mollis e terris via (There is no easy way from the earth to the stars)” ― Seneca

      A Seneca-heavy post today, but when the philosopher fits, wear it. The thing is, quotes and poems and our own words are nothing but affirmation until we do the work to close the gaps. It’s easy to say we’ll do something, harder to actually do it. Action, not words, are all that count in the end. Dissatisfaction is a trigger for the work that must follow to be all that we can be in this short go with a vibrant life. Being infers action. It is the creative act of climbing to possibility. For there is no easy way from the earth to the stars. We must go to them.

    • Making Magic

      “But all the magic I have known
      I’ve had to make myself.”
      — Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends

      We all find our way in this world. The question is, our way to what? Some live a life of servitude framed in family expectations or social status. Some are brought up believing that nothing matters anyway, so why try? Some are so focused on transcending where they started that they are forever climbing, ignoring anything that doesn’t bring them ever-closer to the top. And some walk through life looking to capture the magic of the moment as they present themselves. We are what we focus on. Give me magic.

      Living a life where we are forever collecting moments of magic may seem a frivolous waste of time to the climbers. The non-believers will wonder what the point of it all is when life is nothing but despair and worry to them. We can only work to help them see what was dancing in front of them all along.

      Magic is spun out of art and words arranged just so. Hope and love and beauty are spun of magic. Generosity and purpose are woven of magical fibers. Magic is in the interaction between fellow travelers on life’s journey. Magic is manufactured out of parts and pieces and collaboration. Magic is getting out of the way to watch our children grow into exceptional humans. Magic is daring to notice. Magic is daring to do, despite all the naysayers who believe that magic is childish nonsense.

      As with anything in this brief moment of consciousness, magic offers a spark of insight and wonder to illuminate the darkness and show others what is hiding in plain sight. To make magic is to help others to see beyond the anger and fear and misery that a singular focus on non-magical things brings to the world. This blog post may be nothing but a jumble of words, heavily sprinkled with the one, or a catalyst for awareness. It’s not for me to say which it might be.

    • Work to Be Done

      “Allow yourself the opportunity to get uncomfortable.” — Alex Toussaint

      When we move into uncomfortable situations, we are making a choice to move away from our old identity into something decidedly new. That in and of itself is daunting. Throw in some well-meaning friends trying to gently pull you back to who you once were and it moves up to challenging. But stay the course and something switches within. It all becomes easier. Our identity has changed from someone who prefers the comfortably familiar to someone who stretches their limitations.

      Living in a constant state of getting uncomfortable requires a productive mindset. There is work to be done, we tell ourselves, because we aren’t done yet. One area of life blends with another, and another, and soon we’re finding we aren’t dwelling on excuses anymore, we’re just doing what needs to be done to make progress towards the higher standard we’ve set for ourselves. This applies to work, our health and fitness, our relationships with others, to what we read or the information we otherwise consume, and sure—to what we write. We haven’t reached personal excellence yet, but we’ve lived to fight another day. So fight for it.

      If progress is the goal, whatever the pursuit, then comfort is the enemy. We simply cannot progress when we’re holding tight to what was already comfortable for us. To climb away from that scenic vista into the unknown may make us question our sanity at times. What is sanity but behaving in a normal and rational way? Who decides what is normal or rational? The people who want things to stay just the way things have always been. What a sad, boring existence that would be. Identity is a foundation, not our final destination. Keep moving—there’s work to be done.

    • Capturing Perspective

      We should never aspire to be busy, we just become busy as our responsibilities accumulate. At some point something has to give. So what must we hold onto in that moment?

      To write daily amidst the big changes occurring in one’s life offers a unique opportunity to capture perspective. That perspective will surely change with the changes, but in that moment we are who we are. A blog is not a novel and it’s not a journal, it’s a daily exercise in capturing perspective before it changes yet again.

      Where are we now? What has happened to bring us here? And the question of questions, what comes next? What stands out in this post that marks who we were as we wrote it? Everything is different, everything is the same. We flow through our time grasping for a good anchorage that will hold us long enough to gain some perspective. We must be sure to log it before we’re on the move yet again.

      Writing for someone with a lot to say is a release. Writing for someone who isn’t in the mood to share is a chore. We each have moments with each. To write daily is akin to doing our chores. We know we must do our chores, even when we don’t feel like it, and we feel better for having done what we promised ourselves we’d do. The promise is to click publish having said something worthy of the time it takes to read it.

    • Reading Potential

      “I cannot remember the books I’ve read any more than the meals I have eaten; even so, they have made me.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

      I picked up three books that I’m excited to read: one work of fiction, two historical non-fiction. I imagine myself reading them all this summer, but then I look at the books pressed against them that I’ve also promised to get to and wonder at my ambition. A great book is a journey into the unknown that will change us in some way, but only if we actually follow through with it. Otherwise, it’s nothing but untapped potential. Haven’t we enough of that in a life?

      Every now and then I go to my bookshelves and seek council in an old favorite book I’d read some time ago, only to rediscover that it’s no longer there. Still, knowing this, I scan the shelves anyway, just to confirm that I hadn’t missed it the last time I looked. A great book no longer in our lives is like an old friend we have fond memories with but will never see again. We hope they’re doing well, and making memories with whomever is in their lives now. We are forever changed by our own experience with them.

      What are you reading right now? That’s a question that betrays a lot about where we’re going in our lives. To have a ready answer is a sign of an active student of life. But reading a book doesn’t change us unless we take some actionable step in our lives from what we’ve read. Some quote or nugget of wisdom gleaned from the pages and realized in our own lives is the best gift we can give ourselves from the very best books we’ve read. For me, many of those nuggets end up in the blog in some way, or end up being paraphrased in conversation. Some things are just too good not to share.

      To exemplify the very best thoughts and ideas we come across offers tribute to the author. To use them as a stepping stone in our own lives transforms the reader. Together, across space and time, we make magic. There is the untapped potential in books on a shelf, awaiting their moment in the sun on our journey together. If that’s not a great reason, not just to read, but to write, I’m not sure what is. The very best writing isn’t a vanity project or some task required for tenure, it’s in service to others in another space and time from our own. Surely, that’s something to aspire to?

    • Some Palpable Pursuit

      Jack London drinking his life away while
      writing of strange and heroic men.
      Eugene O’Neil drinking himself oblivious
      while writing his dark and poetic
      works.

      now our moderns
      lecture at universities
      in tie and suit,
      the little boys soberly studious
      the little girls with glazed eyes
      looking
      up,
      the lawns so green, the books so dull,
      the life so dying of
      thirst.
      —Charles Bukowski, the replacements

      Do interesting things. There’s no other way to quench a thirst for living. Do something interesting today that you hadn’t even considered when you woke up this morning. Leap into the unknown and see where it takes you.

      I haven’t had a drink in 16 days. Not for any reason but deciding that this was a good time to try something different. To abstain from something isn’t anything more than a decision acted upon. Decide what to be and go be it. I’ll likely have a drink again someday, because that habit doesn’t rule my life, it simply spritzes it with effervescence. It turns out ice water is a decent spritz in the moment. We learn as we grow into new experiences. To challenge everything we believe is necessary is to open our minds to new possibilities.

      Honestly, I get like this sometimes, where I’ll simply stop doing something just to see how it feels to not do it anymore. And replace it with something else. A year ago I was cycling like mad trying to meet one challenge I’d set for myself. This year the goal isn’t distance but duration. To simply turn my days upside down from what they were a couple of weeks ago. The healthier character I’m becoming is a nice side benefit, if still incomplete. Naturally, there’s still work to be done. And isn’t character development a joyful pursuit?

      Changes become habits, and habits become identity. Don’t like your identity? Change your habits. Life doesn’t have to be a tedious march to the end, and it doesn’t have to be a drunken stumble awash in distraction from the inevitable. We may choose to be alive and engaged in some palpable pursuit. Mine isn’t to stop drinking, and it’s not to exercise more, though both are occurring in the same timeframe. Mine is to quench a thirst for new experiences and to see who emerges on the other side. And sure, to reflect on it in words formed of this emerging identity.

    • Put It to Words

      “Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes. Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such” ― Henry Miller

      Some mornings I don’t do anything right away. Nothing but let the pup out, feed the h’angry cats, step outside and settle into silent appreciation for the day as it is. Busy will come soon enough. Productive sometimes joins busy to offer a leap forward. And that can be enough some days. Having done some things, we feel that familiar pull to do something even more still.

      The trick in all of this is observation. We must listen more than we speak (two ears, one mouth). And we must learn to see what is dancing right in front of us, for it is life in all its tragic, hilarious, glorious entirety. And Walt Whitman had it right all along: That you are here—that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

      That verse doesn’t write itself. I have some avid hiker friends who would do well to blog. To put their thoughts and feelings to words that would outlive their adventures traversing the granite and schist. Writing pulls something out of us that pictures don’t, even as they tell their thousand words. For those thousand words are mined from within, and brought to the surface to be shared.

      A woman I once worked with took a creative writing class and now every social media post is a beautiful postcard to the world of her early morning walks around the north shore of Massachusetts. The only reason to ever go on social media is to see what someone is doing with their brief go at things in this world—why not post something beautiful? Whatever our choice of expression, we do well by sharing our very best observations with others, that they may see what in that moment was only ours.

      These days I’m inclined to soak up everything for all it offers, yet I keep choosing that dance of busy and productive. One can have both, if each moment is approached with intent. These days will soon be over like all the rest before. What have we got to say about our encounter with it? Put it to words, friend. And share it with a world looking for something beautiful previously hidden from them.

    • To Be Filled

      When I am among the trees,

      especially the willows and the honey locust,

      equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,

      they give off such hints of gladness,

      I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

      I am so distant from the hope of myself,

      in which I have goodness, and discernment,

      and never hurry through the world

      but walk slowly, and bow often.

      Around me the trees stir in their leaves

      and call out, “Stay awhile.”

      The light flows from their branches.

      And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,

      “and you too have come

      into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
      with light, and to shine.”
      — Mary Oliver, When I Am Among the Trees

      This morning it’s raining again.

      For the thirteenth Saturday in a row, I might add.

      Breaking a record, I’m told, for consecutive weekends of rainy Saturdays.

      And even though I’d rather have the sun warm my face and draw my tomato vines to the sky, I don’t mind a rainy morning. If only for the sounds it brings to the forest. If only for the quiet it brings to an otherwise busy mind.

      We may choose how to face each day. My inclination to shine may seem out of step with the times, but it’s my day to face in whatever way I decide to face it. To bring light to darkness is a choice, just as it is a choice to bring darkness to light. How we bring balance back to the world is determined by the collective, but I’ll go on shining as best I can in my time.

      Filled with light, I’m inclined to share it.