Alexandersmap

    Tag: Annie Dillard

    • Beacons

      “The books I read are like the stone men built by the Eskimos of the great desolate tundras west of Hudson’s Bay. They still build them today, according to Farley Mowat. An Eskimo traveling alone in flat barrens will heap round stones to the height of a man, travel till he can no longer see the beacon, and build another. So I travel mute among these books, these eyeless men and women that people the empty plain. I wake up thinking: What am I reading? What will I read next? I’m terrified that I’ll run out, that I will read through all I want to, and be forced to learn wildflowers at last, to keep awake.” — Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

      These stone beacons, called Inuksuk by the Inuit, are like cairns for hikers above tree line. Dillard’s description, borrowed from Mowat, stirred my imagination. I’ve used a similar analogy of stepping stones across a stream in this blog before but I love this concept of books guiding you across a barren landscape. Each of us moves through our days, finding beacons that show us the way, or, if we need it, how to get back to where we started.

      It made me wonder, reading Dillard’s words, what are my own beacons? They come readily to mind. And I smile at the recollection. For they’ve been guiding me all along through the starkest and stormiest of days. Reliable and ringing truth in my most uncertain moments. Beacons save us when all hope seems lost.

      And then, I wondered, what beacons am I building?

    • Snow Storms and Omicron

      “It snowed. It snowed all yesterday and never emptied the sky, although the clouds looked so low and heavy they might drop all at once with a thud.” — Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

      And then the snows came. If yesterday’s post was about the distinct lack of snow in the region, this morning brings the heavy accumulation of snow. Expected, hoped for, and now here. The timing could be better (it can usually be better), but the blanketing of snow is a blessing for those of us who embrace winter.

      During those first winter storms, people who know a thing or two about snow are hyper-focused on preparation, stocking food, filling gasoline tanks and cannisters, and changing plans to adjust for the new reality of a storm on the way. As winter progresses, and one storm leads to another, we tend to get hardened. It’s just snow, just like the last storm and the one before that. They all blend together and winter fatigue sets in. Around here there’s nothing worse than an April snowstorm, just when everyone is sick and tired of snow.

      In this place and time in the pandemic, every conversation I hear is related to COVID. We’re all sick and tired of it, but, like an April snowstorm, everyone is dealing with it yet again. What do we do about it? Prepare as best you can, shelter when you ought to, and venture back out when it’s safe to do so. And that, friends, sounds a lot like a snowstorm during the morning commute. We recognize the logic in taking measures to stay safe, or we don’t. This pandemic once again feels like it might drop down on all of us with a thud.

      Here we go again. We all want normal, whatever that means now. Just remember that spring will come. For better or worse, these are days you’ll remember.

    • The In Between Time

      Once, while hiking the Hundred Mile Wilderness in Maine, I woke up to the sound of splashing in the small pond our tent overlooked. Rising to observe, I watched a moose swim across the pond, climb out the other side, shake himself off and disappear over the hill on the opposite shore. I never saw that moose again, but see it clearly almost three decades later. I’ve chased mornings like that ever since.

      Re-discovering Vagabonding has offered new perspective on many of the quotes Rolf Potts sprinkled throughout the book.  Today I’m borrowing two from his collection.  First, the extraordinary Joseph Campbell, of “Follow your Bliss” and “Hero With a Thousand Faces” fame:

      “People say that what we are all seeking is a meaning for life. I don’t think this is what we’re really seeking. I think what we’re really seeking is an experience of being alive.” – Joseph Campbell, The Power of Myth

      There’s a lot of stoicism in that quote.  The experience of being alive.  I feel most alive on the edges of the day.  The early morning, when I’m often alone with the world, and after sunset, when the light show continues well past the sun disappearing.  The morning offers possibility, reflection on what came before and that rare moose sighting.  I’ve documented plenty of early morning observations on this blog less grand than that moose swimming, but exclamation points on a moment just the same.  The early morning is when you hear the call to follow your bliss.

      I smelled our dog Bodhi last week. He’s passed but still with us; in random wisps of hair found under the sofa, in the dog infrastructure – bowls, food bins and the like – built up to support our canine habit, and especially in the smell of that dog that comes out on a rainy day in the harness and collar hanging in the garage waiting for a final walk that will never come. He stays with us still, Carpet Fresh be damned.

      I also borrowed a bit of Annie Dillard wisdom from Rolf Potts:

      “This is our life, these are our seasons, and then we die. In the meantime, in between time, we can see.” – Annie Dillard

      The time after sunset is when the light show really begins.  If you’re lucky the sky offers you wispy clouds that reflect the fading light in brilliant hues from orange to purple.  When a moment, or a life, has passed, the lingering memory may offer brilliant reflection, staying with us well beyond their time, as the light dances above well after the sunset.  Moments like that moose return to me like the smell of Bodhi on his collar, whispering “I’m still with you”.

      I do think the edges of the day offer focus we may not have during the rest of the day.  Stillness brings awareness that might not be available during the frenzy of activity.  But whether we focus on them or not, each breath is a part of the sum of all of our breaths, and demand consideration. Here again, Annie Dillard reminds us:

      “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” – Annie Dillard

      So our days (and lives) begin with a call to follow our bliss, and end with memories and reflection.  It’s the in between time that is the bulk of our days, and savoring each moment, not just the Instagram moments, is essential. Writing, for me, offers the optics with which to focus on the everyday, and not just that occasional moose moment.

    • The Second Step is Easier

      “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step” – Chinese Proverb

      The first burpee is the worst one. More specifically, the first push-up on the first burpee is the worst one. Sure, they don’t get more pleasant later in the set, but then it’s just fatigue. On the first one you have to clear the hurdle too.

      I do these burpees at 6:15 AM, when the tightness in my shoulders stubbornly refuses to go quietly. Warming up on the erg helps, and some dynamic stretching gets the blood flowing in the old joints, but that first one is always a bear. Just getting on with it, fingers pointing slightly inward to relieve stress points, I shoot my legs back into plank position and slowly descend into the push-up. Creaking old guy complaints ensue and then recede; I’m on my way.

      The starting is the hard part. Always. But once you get going it becomes a lot easier.  The habit loop makes it easier to get some exercise in the morning, get some reading in, and to do some writing.  This morning was particularly foggy and the brain wasn’t completely wrapped around things until I started those burpees.  They have a way of focusing you quickly…  once you begin.

      And beginning is the theme of this morning.  Get started already, do what you’ve got to do to move forward.  Burpees, writing, work tasks…  whatever.  Carpe Diem isn’t just a clever quote in Dead Poets Society.  It’s a call to action not a poster on the wall.  Seize the day already!

      “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order—willed, faked, and so brought into being; it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time; it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living.” – Annie Dillard

      Dillard reminds us to structure our day to make the most of it.  And life is a series of days of course, though we don’t always see the forest for the trees…  I’ve been guilty of winging it over the years.  A scheduled day minimizes the downtime a restless mind carves out for you.  But not busywork; productive, planned tasks that move you forward.

      I’ve found the scheduled reading time immediately after exercise has been highly beneficial.  And starting with a little stoicism before reading whatever book I’m tackling is like finishing that first burpee – I’m focused and ready for what comes next.  The Daily Stoic is a good level set for me that I wish I’d discovered earlier in life.  Ryan Holiday boils down the wisdom of Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus, Seneca and other great Stoics into bite sized daily chunks.  I wish I’d thought to write this book, but since he did I’m thoroughly enjoying it.

      That habit loop got the heart rate up today, but also got the electrodes firing in the brain.  When the student is ready the teacher will appear….   and the messages keep piling up this morning.  James Clear Tweeted his own reminder to get on with it today:

      “Life is short.

      And if life is short, then moving quickly matters. Launch the product. Write the book. Ask the question. Take the chance.

      Be thoughtful, but get moving.”

      And on cue, Mookie starts whipping me with her tail as she murders the birds outside the window in her mind.  I haven’t done all the reading I wanted to do this morning, but I can’t ignore the messages.  Get to it.  I realized that I haven’t had a second cup of coffee this morning.  Somehow that fog I walked downstairs with has lifted without the need for much caffeine.  And the day is well underway now.  Best to focus on the next task at hand.