Tag: Elvis Presley

  • Limitations and Openings

    Any framework, method, or label
    you impose on yourself
    is just as likely to be a limitation
    as an opening.
    — Rick Ruben, The Creative Act: A Way of Being

    Every morning I wake up and start to think about what I’m going to write about. Routine has brought me to this place, and even if the entire day turns to crap, even if I’m distracted and frustrated by the world around me, even if it feels like this will be the last blog I ever write because I’m just done with the entire process, my mind settles into the rhythm of writing just as soon as my fingers begin to keep up with where my mind is taking them. And here we are again.

    This blog is not taking the world by storm. I’m under no illusion of grandeur about my place in the lives of its readers, or the number of ripples these thoughts and words will carry across space and time. I write because I fancy myself both a thinker and a writer, and it follows that one ought to jot down what one is thinking about, if only to see where it takes us.

    The question is, does the process take us to a breakthrough, or are we simply going around in circles? Is the very act of blogging a limitation on other writing that isn’t being done because the mind is satiated every morning at around this time? And what other habits and routines would take the place of writing, should it be relegated to later in the day? Would the writing slip like workouts slip?

    We’re caught in a trap
    I can’t walk out
    Because I love you too much, baby
    — Elvis Presley, Suspicious Minds

    We know when it’s time for a change. But how often does knowing lead to doing? Identity is built on the habits and routines we create our days with. And our days in turn become our lives. We ought to ask ourselves when we’ve finished writing and click publish, is this process a limitation for me or an opening? Just where are we going anyway?

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  • The Right Time

    “A man of knowledge lives by acting, not by thinking about acting.” — Carlos Castaneda

    I spent a lifetime
    Waiting for the right time
    — Elvis Presley, Its Now or Never

    It’s been bitter cold the last few days. The kind of cold that stings bare skin. These are the days when building a roaring fire to warm ourselves was exactly what we envisioned when we were busy chopping and stacking firewood. Indeed, all that chopping and stacking led us here; so make use of that spark we jealousy hold onto and light the damned fire already!

    All that planning and goal setting to start the year is useful, but now we must get straight to the business of executing on that plan. Start the streak of productive days, or keep the streak alive if we’re fortunate to be on the right path already. The trap is to keep on planning for a bold life, instead of living it.

    There is no right time for anything, there’s only now. Do what must be done in the time we have. We all want to be the hero in our own epic journey—so what are we waiting for? It’s now or never, friend. There comes a time when chopping and stacking firewood is no longer the best use of our precious time.

  • The Right Time

    I spent a lifetime
    Waiting for the right time
    Now that you’re near
    The time is here, at last
    It’s now or never
    Come hold me tight
    Kiss me my darling
    Be mine tonight
    — Elvis Presley, It’s Now or Never

    What is your five year plan? Do you have one? Or should we simply live in the moment? Is there purpose in the moment or only intent? Intent can cause all kinds of problems if it conflicts with purpose. Some say that five years is too long a period of time, entire cultures (looking at you, Japan) may think it too limited a scope. A long view is seeing the forest for the trees and setting the compass heading, while a short view is the immediacy of successfully executing this next step. It’s equally fair to say that we must know our general direction or we’ll walk in circles as it is to say it doesn’t matter where we were heading if we stumble and fall off the cliff.

    The lens of a lifetime is simply too broad a focus because there are only so many things we can focus on at any given time. Given this, it’s better to set auto-pilot whenever possible so we can get back to the business of now. 401(k) plans are helpful because you set it and forget it. We can say the same about healthy lifetime habits like exercise and flossing. Such tasks are best left to auto-pilot, but we can’t very well live our life on auto-pilot, for one day we’ll look around and find we’ve missed everything that mattered.

    Using the lens of time buckets becomes a way of understanding what our priorities ought to be in this particular phase of our lives. We only have so many years to do physical things, only so many years to be a parent, only so many primary earning years… it all adds up to a lifetime of only so many years. Within that lens of time buckets, our reason for being, raison d’etre, becomes more focused. Asking big questions about the entirety of our lives is impossible to answer, because we change so much over our lifetime. My raison d’etre at 20 was entirely different from my raison d’etre at 40. Looking ahead to someday 60 or 80 (if we’re so bold as to believe we’ll reach it), you see the reason changing dramatically over and over again. Sure, family and friendships will matter at any age, but a purposeful hike of the Appalachian Trail is rapidly shrinking down in relevance. It’s fair to say it’s now or never for such a life goal.

    Waiting for the right time seems counterintuitive when we become hyper aware of our own mortality. Memento mori naturally leads to carpe diem, doesn’t it? It turns out it mostly doesn’t. Most people just live their lives as best they can. We can’t do everything, but we can surely try to do the most important things within the context of the time bucket we’re currently residing in. The time is always here for something. Prioritizing the really essential things for this time lends focus and urgency to the moment, enabling us to seize the day.

  • Look at That Sky, Life’s Begun

    Don’t let me hear you say life’s taking you nowhere
    Angel
    Come get up, my baby
    Look at that sky, life’s begun
    Nights are warm and the days are young
    Come get up, my baby

    — David Bowie, Golden Years

    Attitude is everything in life, and at some point you’ve got to shake yourself loose from whatever holds you back and get going already. Even during the pandemic, a dark time for modern humanity, we hear of plenty of people who got out in the world and did something amazing. So why not now?

    If you believe the stories, David Bowie wrote Golden Years for Elvis to sing. Admittedly, that would have been a fascinating take on the song. There’s an element of sadness in the lyrics, and I can see Bowie having someone like Elvis in mind when he wrote it. I think about the Elvis of 1975, only a couple of years before he died. He felt like old news and a bit used up in the world, but he was only 42 when he died. He was dragged down by drugs and distraction, not by age.

    There’s a lesson there. Don’t get bogged down in the muck life throws at you. Focus intensely on the things you want to do in your life. For all the celebration of those who rise up, this world would rather have you consume than produce. Consumption will be the death of us all. Instead, get up and produce something of consequence.

    Lean into your dreams. Look up at that sky. Life’s just begun, Angel.