Alexandersmap

    Tag: Alan Watts

    • Realizing Growth

      “You are under no obligation to be the same person you were five minutes ago.” — Alan Watts

      “The purpose of learning is growth, and our minds, unlike our bodies, can continue growing as we continue to live.”— Mortimer Adler

      I finished a second book this year, a good pace if you look at how early in the year we are, but these were stubborn books that didn’t want to finish with me in the prior year. Everything has it’s time, and certainly this rings true with books. Looking at my highlights and notes from each, I’ve made a couple of incremental steps forward this year. Let’s call that a win in a year that has otherwise started out in concerning ways.

      We know that we’re all (sometimes reluctantly) connected, but we must remain focused on our own development over the trends of humanity, and then use our growth as a catalyst for change. Knowledge isn’t something to hoard like a greedy billionaire’s money, it’s something we share with others as we navigate the world together. This blog is written to share what I pick up along the way, but so is a conversation with a random stranger sharing the same space in a café. We never really know how far our ripple will carry, only that this is our time to turn our accumulated experience and learning into a bigger splash.

      The aim isn’t to be an influencer, but to be influenced by the experiences and knowledge we gather along the way. Shouldn’t we all calculate our lives, not by time alive on this planet, but by our accumulation of experience in our living years? As a tree with it’s rings marking seasons, some years are growth years and some are survival years, but there’s a ring either way.

      It’s no coincidence that ripples from a stone dropped in a still pond resemble the rings of a tree (we might take this analogy all the way out to the universe itself—naturally we aren’t the center of it, no matter what our mother’s told us, but surely our energy and matter are an integral part of it). At the core of each of us is identity, focused either on growth or survival (holding on to what we have already). What will this year be for us? We must act on our intentions if we wish to realize growth.

    • To Be Alive

      “The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple. And yet, everybody rushes around in a great panic as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond them.” — Alan Watts

      “The sound of the rain needs no translation. In music one doesn’t make the end of the composition the point of the composition. Same way in dancing, you don’t aim at one particular spot in the room… The whole point of dancing is the dance.” — Alan Watts

      If there were ever a counterargument to an overt focus on productivity and shipping our work every day, it would be these two quotes (and just about every Thoreau quote I draw upon). Life is about the dance, not about arriving at a place. To be alive is the whole point. Knowing that, how are we doing? Do we greet today as a new song to dance to, or as “Monday”? If every day is a new song, what do we hear when we wake up? Do we go immediately to our to-do list or simply begin to dance?

      Happy Monday.

    • Let It Rain

      “The sound of the rain needs no translation.” – Alan Watts

      A rainy weekend dashes the dreams of many. For me it provides an opportunity to refill the pool, water the garden and catch up on reading and favorite old songs from years ago. Songs that pair well with raindrops tapping on hard surfaces. Rainy days are a necessary chapter in the story, and I welcome the cool, soggy embrace. The world is changing, and collectively so are we.

      The timing of this rainy weekend is unfair for businesses deeply impacted by the pandemic. Imagine riding out the storm and circling this weekend to open up to full capacity and having it rain buckets. Imagine seeing things begin to brighten and suddenly the dark clouds open up again, washing away dreams of outdoor sports and al fresco dining. Have we learned empathy in the darkest of days? I hope so.

      We’re all living through the storm together, and some of us are, apparently, on the other side of it. But storms don’t hit us all the same. Some are going to be hit harder than others. Some will have it linger for years. And some will never see the other side of it. Let it rain if it must, but remember those who are weathering the worst of the storm.

      No, I have no business complaining about a rainy weekend. We’ve seen far worse than this. And we will again. Rain washes away old memories and feeds new growth. The world greens up in celebration. Shouldn’t we? Welcome the raindrops for what they offer. This too shall pass, and what will remain of us on the other side? What new possibilities are germinating even now in the soggy soil?

    • Present

      “No one imagines that a symphony is supposed to improve as it goes along, or that the whole object of playing is to reach the finale. The point of music is discovered in every moment of playing and listening to it. It is the same, I feel, with the greater part of our lives, and if we are unduly absorbed in improving them, we may forget altogether to live them.” – Alan Watts

      “For there is never anything but the present, and if one cannot live there, one cannot live anywhere.” – Alan Watts

      There’s no moment to reflect on the present quite like a Monday morning. It informs where you are in meeting the expectations you have for yourself. Looking ahead at the work that must be done, and looking back at where you’ve just been. So how does that symphony sound?

      The last two days flew right by as I worked on my garage doors. If spending your entire weekend in your garage sounds off-putting, I understand. It’s not Paris or a beach in the Caribbean, but mix the focused work of crafting something of lasting value with a greatest hits playlist and suddenly the garage wasn’t such a bad place to linger after all.

      A weekend of accomplishment meets the quiet reset of another week. When you come off the glow of building something of substance, what do you do the next morning? Hidden in that Monday morning to-do list is our purpose and direction (sometimes its really well-hidden).

      Weekends are great, but 72% of our lives is lived between Monday morning and Friday night. Life presents us with a succession of Monday mornings, all asking the same question: How do you like me now? Love the tune or not, it’s your move.

    • In the Grace of the World

      “When despair for the world grows in me
      and I wake in the night at the least sound
      in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
      I go and lie down where the wood drake
      rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
      I come into the peace of wild things
      who do not tax their lives with forethought
      of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
      And I feel above me the day-blind stars
      waiting with their light. For a time
      I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.”
      – Wendell Berry, The Peace of Wild Things

      The iPhone is a blessing and a curse, for all that it brings. Sometimes you want to be away from the made up frenzy of short traders and politicians and debates about which quarterback is best (long since answered).  Great for a picture and for safety in a pinch, but best left stowed away the rest of the time. I used to post pictures while I was still on the summit of a mountain, for that we’re here! moment. But the act of posting takes you out of the moment, and so I leave it be until later in the day locked in as a memory of what was. #saveitforlater

      Walks outside in quiet places serve the body, but mostly the mind. Free from the frenzy we create for ourselves. One notification at a time, relentlessly poking a hole in your soul. What have we done to ourselves with all of these pings and vibrations? Pavlov couldn’t have dreamed up a more diabolical experiment in self-torture.

      “To go out of your mind at least once a day is tremendously important. By going out of your mind, you come to your senses.” – Alan Watts

      The wind shakes the house and reminds me to bundle up. January days are short in New Hampshire, so you’ve got to get creative with your time in the grace of the world. The edges of the day work, and sometimes, dog-less as I am at the moment, late night star-gazing walks with a flashlight or headlamp to fill in the blanks and keep stray cars at bay.

      I’ve learned to pause longer. To fill the void with more silence. To quiet the mind and seek out small pockets of stillness. Time flies by anyway, but it feels like yours once again. Isn’t it, in the end? Step outside. Find the stillness. It’s out there waiting for you.

    • The Future is Implied

      “It takes time for an acorn to turn into an oak, but the oak is already implied in the acorn.” – Alan Watts

      January is a funny month. Plans for the year generally completed, we look at the climb ahead and take our first steps into the unknown. Where will it take us? What will we accomplish? How will the world change these grand plans we’ve wrestled with in our minds and on spreadsheets? How exactly are things going to play out?

      The future is implied by our actions today. We turn plans into action one step at a time, one toe in the water, one conversation after another, one moment to the next. And in each step, we discover the truth about the world.

      I look back a year and laugh at the plans dashed against the rocks in the COVID storm. We all had to bushwhack when the path washed away last year. Extreme, to be sure, but it demonstrated the nature of plans. They do change.

      Words we used too much in 2020 included adapt and pivot and new normal. What words will we use in 2021? 2022? What is implied by the trends we see in the world? What is implied by our daily habits? We might not see everything in the future but we can surely see the path we’ve set ourselves upon.

      I wonder sometimes at the future, but it isn’t mine to ponder. Plans are made and revised, such that they can be. Focus on the first step, small as it might seem in the moment. And go.

    • Achieving Something Beyond

      “The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple. And yet, everybody rushes around in a great panic as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond them.” – Alan Watts

      Enjoying being alive is surely a worthy pursuit, but even Watts, in pointing this out, was achieving something beyond himself. For otherwise, what are we contributing beyond a few laughs over drinks? Unsaid, I believe, is contributing joyful pursuits that create those ripples that live on beyond your lifetime.

      I’ve visited the graves of many notable names in history, and generally it’s a chunk of silent stone in a lonely plot. The best graves betray the personality of the person who resides there. A clever line about how they lived, or what they believed. Or maybe it’s the stone itself that signals the character of the person. Ralph Waldo Emerson lies below a chunk of rose quartz, which stands out amongst the weathered gray stones of his family and peers on Author’s Ridge. Whether you ever knew much about Emerson, you’d surely note the personality emanating from his gravestone.

      Of course, Emerson left a big ripple well beyond a rock on a hill through his contribution to the world. Did he enjoy writing and speaking? Certainly. Emerson wasn’t running around in a panic trying to achieve something beyond himself. He just did the work. And so did Watts. And so must we.

      “Men live in their fancy, like drunkards whose hands are too soft and tremulous for successful labor. It is a tempest of fancies, and the only ballast I know is a respect to the present hour.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature

      There’s a distinction between being alive and achieving something in your life, but they don’t have to be mutually exclusive. And usually the things that make us feel most alive offer more than just a momentary dopamine rush. They’re part of building something beyond ourselves. Family, meaningful work, friendships that transcend convenience, and community. These things aren’t achieved, they’re earned one moment at a time.

    • To the Best of My Ability

      “However much I may be impressed by the difference between a star and the dark space around it, I must not forget that I can see the two only in relation to each other, and that this relation is inseparable.” – Alan Watts

      In the United States, we have this peaceful transfer of power every four to eight years, depending on whether someone was re-elected or not. It seemed a rather ordinary thing until some folks spun up some other folks to attempt a violent overthrow. Most Americans recoiled when they saw that, knowing it isn’t who we are. A few celebrated it for the anarchy and division it created. Such are our differences.

      Amplifying our differences became a nagging pursuit over the last five years of Trump. Biden is built differently. Built on empathy and unity and a healthy dose of humility. Strong leaders draw people of strong character to their circle. Weak leaders do the opposite. When you pull back the covers there’s really not much of substance there.

      Four years ago I’d hoped the guy I didn’t vote for would rise to the job. I hope for the same for the guy I voted for this time around. It turned out to be a particularly bad time to have a weak, divisive President in this country. But now we move on, with a guy that hopefully doesn’t pose in front of the heads on Mount Rushmore, but instead works to emulate their best attributes.

      We all have the best and worst attributes encoded within us, don’t we? With some only the venom reaches the surface. But some are better at drawing out the very best in themselves and others. And that’s where I hope we are now and for many years to come. We’ve seen the relation between our brightest tendencies and our darkest, and it was jolting. Now that we’ve finally all seen how fragile Democracy is, what will we do next?

      Ultimately, in the United States we give the new President a shot at leading to the best of their ability. And hope that they might reach beyond expectations. Every four years, usually on January 20th (unless a Sunday), they take the oath, not to lead, but to serve:

      “I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.” – Presidential Oath of Office, in accordance with Article II, Section I of the U.S. Constitution

      Many will note there’s nothing in that oath about being an ethical, decent human being. But it’s implied one ought to rise up to the responsibilities granted in the role. Some are satisfied with reaching the title and not doing the work necessary to unite and lead the country. But the thing is, something fills the void when character isn’t present. When you look at the stars, take a look at the dark space around them. And note the relationship between the two.

    • Living This Now Moment

      “We have somehow conned ourselves into the notion that this moment is ordinary. This now moment, in which I’m talking and you’re listening, is eternity.” – Alan Watts

      Well, we’ve reached it
      again.
      Now.
      Did you expect it to be more?

      Now.
      Such that it is.
      Our time; our only time.
      Make it shine.

      I thought about Sal and Dean and those other characters moving from coast-to-coast and back again chasing the next thing in Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. In some ways, that’s all of us, isn’t it? Chasing the next thing, always going somewhere else in the future.

      I’ve tried to turn that into making exceptional nows out of otherwise mundane nows. Visiting waterfalls is one way, but so is getting up early and watching the sky gradually brighten as the world wakes up anew. And so is walking out in the woods just to see what a winter with no snow smells and feels like out there. Eternity is watching a squirrel sort out how to get into a squirrel-proof feeder. And it’s the next wave swelling to meet the retreating salty foam undermining your feet in the surf. A poem stacked together just so.

      This is our little bit of eternity, living this now moment. We either spin it up with wonder and magic or we ignore it at our peril. For it won’t come this way again.

      Happy Monday.

    • Hummingbirds in Winter

      “For unless one is able to live fully in the present, the future is a hoax. There is no point whatever in making plans for a future which you will never be able to enjoy. When your plans mature, you will still be living for some other future beyond. You will never, never be able to sit back with full contentment and say, “Now, I’ve arrived!” Your entire education has deprived you of this capacity because it was preparing you for the future, instead of showing you how to be alive now.” – Alan Watts

      I was thinking about flowers. Specifically, Bee Balm (Monarda). The blooms of next summer are currently scheming in the frozen turf of the garden, awaiting the heat of late June and July to burst onto the scene. In that respect, I share more in common with the flower than the hummingbird, which ignores border restrictions altogether and zips down to Mexico and Central America for the winter. You think that snowbird expression invented itself? The hummingbird is one of many birds that bolts the limited prospects of survival in the north for the tropics.

      Still, I don’t mind winter, when we have it. This year is a confusion of rain and frigid temperatures, but no significant snow to speak of just yet. But that’s the world we live in now, with seasons shifted slightly askew, and some uninformed loud people thinking climate change is a hoax, like COVID and election results and any science that doesn’t jibe with their worldview.

      I imagine the hummingbirds I got to know last summer are doing the Macarina with friends from around North America in some tropical paradise right about now. And why shouldn’t they? They flew 3000 miles and straight across the Gulf of Mexico to arrive in the tropics. So go on: guzzle that nectar and dance to your heart’s content!

      Back here in the frozen north, we wonder when the snow might return again, and then the flowers, and finally the hummingbirds. But, as Watts points out, we can’t live in the future, we can only embrace what we have now. We keep things going here, the dormant flowers and their gardener, making the most of what we’ve got until warmer days and open borders.

      As a gardener, I know there’s merit in planning for the future that Watts doesn’t account for in the quote above. Amending the soil, sowing, weeding and generally seeing your crop through to harvest are inherently forward-looking activities that happen in the present. There’s nothing wrong with knowing where you’re going while living fully in the present. Watts knew this too of course, but you can’t wedge everything into one clever quote.

      Here in New Hampshire, I’m packing as much alive time as possible into each day as it presents itself. In six months time, should we be fortunate to arrive there together, I’ll get reacquainted with the hummingbirds, who like to hover at eye level and check out the character who tends the garden for them. They’ll have squeaky tales of perilous travel over open water and jungle reunions with cousins. What shall my own tales be for them? Don’t we owe it to them to make it interesting?