Alexandersmap

    Category: Writing

    • On Writing and Ritual

      This morning the blues were running into shore again, hundreds of thousands of silvery fry swam in unison to escape the feeding frenzy, growing swirls of terns cried out in ecstatic approval as the desperate columns of fry rose to the surface. Individual fry break for the sky, betraying their unspoken vow of safety in numbers only to prove the point as they’re plucked from the air by the terns hovering for just such a moment. Removed from this frenetic dance of life and death by my place on shore and the couple of notches up the food chain humans are offered, I contemplate the cooler, autumn-like air and the changes to come in the next few weeks.

      “When we take our time and focus in depth, when we trust that going through a process of months or years will bring us mastery, we work with the grain of this marvelous instrument that developed over millions of years. We move infallibly to higher and higher levels of intelligence. We practice and make things with skill. We learn to think for ourselves. We become capable of handling complex situations without being overwhelmed. In following this path we become Homo magister, man or woman the Master. – Robert Greene, Mastery

      I’m a long way from mastery in writing, but I enjoy the pursuit. The daily ritual of observation, contemplation and expression offers me the opportunity to improve my skill set, and perhaps live up to the declaration made by Mr. Harding in that high school English class when he handed back our papers, looked at me and announced to all that would hear, “You will be a writer someday”. 35 years of active avoidance later, I’m finally getting around to it. Or more accurately, putting it out there. Robert Greene writes of focus in depth, and I sense that in the ritual. It bears fruit in productivity, and is its own reward in transformation. Shame that I waited, but I’m writing now and will do so every day that I’m given.

      “If you wait for inspiration to write you’re not a writer, you’re a waiter.” – Dan Poynter

      “I like myself better when I’m writing regularly.” – Willie Nelson

      The sunrise was lovely this morning, but not spectacular. No clouds in the sky, just a brightening orange sky and an eruption of flame as the sun rose up once again. Cape Cod offers a different perspective than New Hampshire, there’s nothing shocking in that statement but the obviousness of it. The last week was a change of scenery as I save vacation time for big travel to come. So the mornings offered me the state change that the rest of the day couldn’t. Even in this there’s nothing new, save for the ritual that documents it. Daily writing offers the opportunity to discover the spectacular. Like the sunrise often it doesn’t reach that level but it can still be pretty good, and I’m better for having done it.

    • Raising the Average

      “Perfection is the enemy of action.” – Ryan Holiday, The Daily Stoic

      Somehow I haven’t found the time to walk five miles every day this week. Busy with stuff. Like finding excuses to not get some exercise. But somehow I’ve managed to knock off a dozen burpees every day. Granted, it’s a small token of daily fitness, but I haven’t broken the streak yet. I’ve established a cadence with burpees. It’s a form of daily ritual, a small gesture towards fitness. It won’t close the gap on its own but it gives me some measure of achievement.

      Seth Godin mentioned in an interview that he writes multiple blog posts every day, essentially building a library of possibilities to post. I have no such library. Instead I write as inspiration strikes, usually in the morning but sometimes late in the day. But I post daily to keep the streak alive, typos and all. I’m not writing a masterpiece, though I surely try. The cadence is what I’m focused on. Hopefully the content meets expectations on occasion.

      Every morning this week I’ve gotten up for the sunrise, alone to catch the sun break the horizon. There’s a feeling of hope for this new day, as there was yesterday and hopefully tomorrow. I haven’t had a perfect day yet this week, but I’ve had good days nonetheless. Perfect days are evasive creatures; I’ll take great days or even average days. Average is still pretty good when you look at how dark the world can be. I woke up today (bonus!), saw a sunrise, sipped some coffee and read a bit of meaningful prose. I’ll take that kind of start any day. Chasing perfection leads you down a path of never good enough, which leads to the darkness. I choose the light, errors and all.

      There’s a great article about Dalilah Muhammad’s world record 400 meter hurdle run in Sports Illustrated this week. She ran an imperfect race, but she didn’t need perfection to get the WR because she’d worked so hard to be at a level of performance where an average race was still far ahead of the perfect race for someone else was. There’s a lesson there for all of us. We can’t reach perfection but by continually raising the bar in our own lives we can reach levels of greatness in our pursuits. Steady improvement over time moves us closer. That seems healthier than never good enough.

    • Honing a Curious Mind

      I’ve been trying to figure out who is singing in the neighborhood for the last six weeks. I make a point of being outdoors whenever possible in the early morning (New Hampshire summers are very short after all). Some singers are obvious, others are more evasively unfamiliar to me. I regret that my education never included identifying birdsong. But as with many things I’ve made it a point of my adult learning path. I’m currently in the 101 level birdsong classes.

      I tried an app that analyzes bird song, but the bluebirds always sing at the same time as this character and tend to confuse the analytics. It keeps think its a mockingbird when I can hear the differences clearly. Eventually I came to the conclusion that this was a Brown Thrasher. In the process of figuring that out I’ve come to learn the songs of another half dozen birds I’ve heard in the background music but never took the time to learn about. I’m far from an expert on any of this, but the path is more vibrant.

      In the last 18 months I’ve learned about or reacquainted myself with local and world history, stoicism, transcendentalism, world religions, the power of habits, physiology, native trees, horticulture, birds, bugs, the environment and other diverse (eclectic?) side paths on the route from here to, well, there. Side paths lead to other side paths and before you know it maybe you’ve accumulated something meaningful in the old brain. You can’t write about what you don’t know about, and this cajoles me from tangential interest to deeper learning about topics. As a side benefit I’ve become better at writing too… you’ll see it eventually.

      “The discipline of sharing something daily is priceless.” – Seth Godin

    • The Cure for Writer’s Block

      A friend asked me whether I ever had writer’s block last week. I can’t say that I have. Words flow easily out of me, but as with everything there’s timing and ritual involved… and one more thing. It’s the same thing that taught me humility.  Consuming nutrient-rich brain food. No, I’m not referring to eating more salmon and blueberries (but those count too), but the acquisition of rich daily experience. You’ve got to get out and in the world.  And out doesn’t have to be too far out.  Don’t just sit there in front of a computer screen or blank page in a journal; go for a walk around the block, or better, take a walk through a cemetery and read the history engraved on the tombstones.  Or a walk alone on a beach at dawn.  Ideas come from moving out and experiencing what the world offers.  If you don’t reach out to greet them someone else will.

      Ernest Hemingway was famous for living as large as he wrote. Henry David Thoreau walked and observed the world around him constantly. Cheryl Strayed hiked the PCT and wrote Wild based on that experience. I’m not any of those writers, but I follow their example.

      Jump in the ocean or a quiet pond.  Feel the current flow through your fingers as you tread water.  Weed the garden.  I get more ideas deadheading the flowers than I ever get staring at a screen.  And the ace in my pocket: read more consistently.  I get more ideas from reading great books than from any other source.  Stoicism, history, biographies, and even fiction spark the imagination.

      When I don’t read I listen and observe.  Living by the ratio of Two ears, one mouth has served me well over the years.  Seek solitude and blessed quiet when possible. I found joy in the quiet room at the car dealership today simply by walking in and closing the door on the negative stream of news on the televisions blaring in the waiting rooms. Nothing nutritious in that space.

      Some people meditate.  I wish I could slow my mind down enough to meditate.  Instead, I meditate through tasks.  Pulling weeds, painting, washing dishes, making the bed or mopping the floor have all become sources of quiet for my mind, and a quiet mind has time to sort out the stories you want to tell the world.  Rowing on the erg serves me well for processing information, so long as the music isn’t blaring.

      Getting out and experiencing the world through travel opens up your mind.  Travel is like a butterfly net for catching ideas. The stories write themselves from that point on.  My visit to Fort Niagara last month gave me another dozen stories to tell about the people who fought to hold that strategic point of land, and those who fought to take it away.  I have stories tucked away in the back of my mind from visits to places far and wide, and from visits to the garden in the backyard.

      This morning I spent 15 minutes deadheading the pansies.  That’s an insane amount of time that I’ll never get back deadheading a pot of pansies.  And that’s true; but it’s not about the pansies.  Like the Japanese kare-sansui, the dry landscaping where the concept is zero equals abundance, deadheading pansies provides me with an abundance of exactly what I need in that moment.  I don’t rake rocks and sand to get in touch with my Zen, I pluck maple seedlings from potted plants and the garden. I live in New Hampshire next to woods actively trying to expand into the garden. Inspiration is where you find it..