Alexandersmap

    Tag: Memento Mori

    • Small and Transitory Grapes

      How the clock moves on, relentlessly,
      with such assurance that it eats the years.
      The days are small and transitory grapes,
      the months grow faded, taken out of time.

      It fades, it falls away, the moment, fired
      by that implacable artillery—
      and suddenly, only a year is left of us,
      a month, a day, and death turns up in the diary.

      No one could ever stop the water’s flowing;
      nor thought nor love has ever held it back.
      It has run on through suns and other beings,
      its passing rhythm signifying our death.

      Until, in the end, we fall in time, exhausted,
      and it takes us, and that’s it. Then we are dead,
      dragged off with no being left, no life, no darkness,
      no dust, no words. That is what it comes to;
      and in the city where we’ll live no more,
      all is left empty; our clothing and our pride.
      — Pablo Neruda, And the City Now Has Gone

      Life, dear reader! We must live in our time, while there is time. That’s always been the message: Tempus fugit. Memento mori. Carpe diem. Time flies. Remember we all must die. Seize the day.

      We must remember our days are short and use the highlighter with abandon. Sprinkle these moments zestfully with awareness and joyful intent. Do what must be done immediately! For tomorrow is not our day. We believe it to be so at our peril.

      This blog will one day end. That it continues at all is an indication of the stubborn persistence of the writer. It’s merely bread crumbs placed gently in line, one after the other, marking the hour or two of who I was in the moment. These moments pass, and what is left are some memories, maybe a photograph, and some words published for all to see if they somehow stumble upon this impossibly hard to find jumble of words. But we bloggers know that the universe isn’t shifting its attention to see what our thoughts were today. The ego thus shattered, we shift our own purpose to growth, where it should have been all along.

      Words flow through us like days in a lifetime. These small and transitory grapes have found you today. But where will the writer be on this occasion? Somewhere further along, or fallen by the wayside—who’s to know? We can hope for a better place of awareness and refinement, but we know the score. It’s best to simply release these words of who we were today and not worry about tomorrows. We must each do what we can with this time, for we all know the score.

    • Perfectly Reasonable Reasons

      “Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?” — Mary Oliver

      It’s always the poets and the artists who draw our attention away from the straight and narrow path. And if we ever need a poem to call us out and force us to reassess what we’re focused on, reading Mary Oliver’s Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches in the quiet time before the world awakens to demand we fall in line will do the trick. We listen at our peril, for to do so is to shatter the illusion that this life we’ve wrapped around ourselves in this protective shell is enough.

      How long will you continue to listen to those dark shouters, caution and prudence?
      Fall in! Fall in!

      What are we doing with our time? Have we noticed, even as we’ve entered the height of summer, that the days are growing shorter? We must venture to the tingly work now. What is bold and a little scary? What are we truly working on but clever excuses and perfectly reasonable reasons for not leaping? Do we really believe the audacious life will sit in the corner awaiting our approval?

      What do we see? What do we seek? Go to it. For our time grows ever shorter. May this day leave us breathless with wonder at what we’ve done with the time.

    • Knowing the Score

      Well the sun is surely sinking down
      But the moon is slowly rising
      And this old world must still be spinning ’round
      And I still love you
      So close your eyes
      You can close your eyes, it’s all right
      I don’t know no love songs
      And I can’t sing the blues anymore
      But I can sing this song
      And you can sing this song
      When I’m gone
      — James Taylor, You Can Close Your Eyes

      I’ve been busier and more focused lately. This offers the potential for productive days at the very moment when I’m less inclined to be productive. But I power through because to do otherwise would be to do dishonor to the work. Work is transactional, with both parties doing their part to honor the agreement. Employee at will, as the lawyers say. Today I will work, because life goes on and there’s just so much to do before I’m done.

      Life can end abruptly for any of us, but those who enter hospice do so knowing the score. Or sometimes it’s their loved ones who know the score while they quietly slip away. Perhaps we’ll know what they experience when we get there ourselves one day. One day they’re fully with us, the next they’re not fully there, and one day they’re gone. Yes, we know the score.

      I’ve been saving this song, anticipating my father’s passing one day soon. What a thing to do, holding a song for someone’s passing! But what I mean is it’s been on my mind while he’s been slipping away, and to share the lyrics before he passed seems to rush his passing along. I decided to use it today, because it feels like holding on isn’t fair to him. And maybe not fair to me either.

      So what does being an employee at will have to do with watching my father slip away from us? Maybe nothing more than perspective. Life offers many opportunities to honor agreements that we’ve entered into. We are born into a family, but we stay with them by choice. Dad and I have both been busy with other things the last few years of his awareness. We’ve come back together late in the game, but we’re still in the game. At least for a moment before it’s gone.

    • Returning to the Cascadilla Gorge Trail

      For a few years I found myself spending a lot of time in Ithaca, New York. If you love waterfalls and a relaxed college town vibe, it’s the place to be. I forgot how much I missed it until I returned.

      My connection to Ithaca runs deep. My favorite Navy pilot went to the big red school on the hill. My daughter went to the big blue school on the other hill. I have a long affinity with the Moosewood restaurant through the cookbooks and [not nearly enough] visits to eat there. There are other connections but you get the point.

      It’s those waterfalls that root deeply into your soul and never release you. My favorite Navy pilot used to tell me that Cascadilla Gorge was his favorite, and I feel the same way. It doesn’t have the jaw-dropping impact of Ithaca Falls or the height of Taughannock Falls, but it’s a more intimate experience—especially early in the morning when you have the place mostly to yourself.

      I was with my favorite Navy pilot last the last time he visited Ithaca, to see his granddaughter and see the campus again. We saw some waterfalls then too, but not Cascadilla Gorge. It was beyond his ability at that point in his life. I thought about him as I descended back down along the rushing waters. We are only here and healthy for such a brief time. Will I ever visit this gorge again myself? Who knows what the future brings? But I am here, now, when it matters most.

    • Purpose in the Flow

      Teachers told us the Romans built this place
      They built a wall and a temple
      And an edge of the empire garrison town
      They lived and they died
      They prayed to their gods
      But the stone gods did not make a sound
      And their empire crumbled till all that was left
      Were the stones the workmen found
      All this time
      The river flowed
      In the falling light
      Of a northern sun
      — Sting, All This Time

      Our empires will crumble one day: We learn to accept this even as we continue to gain momentum in the current of life, for this is our time and these are our days to do and be. To exist at all is a blessing worthy of a deliberate life. To move through our time deliberately is to honor the gift, even as we struggle to understand the meaning of it all.

      The river flows endlessly to the sea: At the point of their finally meeting is an estuary, with swirling whirlpools of confusion and the brackish mix of fresh and salt water exerting their will upon the other. The sea always wins in the end, but it never forgets that it is the river that gives it life. In return, it will give up it’s waters to begin the cycle again and again. So it is that life is a series of tolls paid for the privilege of being here, now. We ought to pay that toll with gratitude to our final breath.

      Progress hides in plain sight: We chip away at our goals—fitness, work, writing, books read, or maybe faraway ports of call, and with each small win we feel that sense of accomplishment for having made another step forward. Even the occasional stumble is okay, so long as we feel we’re moving in the right direction. We don’t really know where it all will take us, but collecting incremental wins feel like the right thing to stack up in a short dance with a vibrant health span. What else are we going to do with our time but grow and learn and find connection with other like-minded beings making their own way through the madness of life? Our purpose is found in the flow, not in the arrival.

    • Creating Outcomes

      “There is some risk involved in action, there always is. But there is far more risk in failure to act.” — Harry S. Truman

      The funny thing about taking action is that it often leads to more opportunities to act. We become action-oriented, and notice opportunities to act more often than someone who is sedentary and usually looking for opportunities to rest. Ultimately we go in the direction we set our compass to, seeing what we see while creating outcomes that lead to even more outcomes.

      That term, creating outcomes, is high agency stuff. It’s an action-oriented approach to living that suits us. We all know that we’re here for a short time (memento mori). If you read this blog with any regularity you’ve certainly heard me mention that with some frequency. This is not a death-focused mindset, it’s life-focused. Awareness leads to action. We only have so much time—don’t dare waste a moment of it!

      What is an outcome but a destination separated from us by a gap we close? We see the target, determine the action necessary to reach it, and do the work to bridge our here with our potential there. Having reached an outcome, we naturally look towards the next interesting destination, and so on. This is a growth mindset, and it’s a world apart from believing we have no control over our lives. Decide what to be and go be it.

      All that said, I see even as I’m actively bridging gaps that there are other gaps yet to bridge. The only thing to do is figure out how to create those outcomes too, then get after it with urgency. For the clock is ticking and time flies (tempus fugit) and we’re deep into our one precious life, so what are we waiting for?

    • A Change of Mugs

      “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” — Dr. Seuss

      My time with a favorite mug ended this morning when it slipped from my hand and broke into pieces. In the big scheme of things, a broken mug isn’t such a terrible thing, but it felt like it in the moment. I cleaned up the broken bits and went to another mug, as one might expect one to do, but with a sense of loss for something familiar and trusted now no longer part of my life. And sure, it was just a mug.

      We go through life accumulating things, and losing things, and then replacing them with something new. A new appliance becomes an old appliance, a new car quickly depreciates into an old car, and so on through this life we build for ourselves. Loss happens as surely as gain does, and all we may do is smile at the memories made while we had something or someone in our lives.

      We are in our own life cycle, moving through days as if there will always be another one. When something happens to break that illusion, we may use the lesson to apply more focus and urgency to the day, or maybe use that awareness to simply savor the time we have in the now. We’ll never get this one back again, and we can’t let that realization break us. We may instead be grateful for this opportunity to be more alive while there’s time for such things.

    • The Hollywood Bowl

      It’s the rise and the fall of the clocks on the wall
      And it’s the first and the last of your days flying past
      Oh what a beautiful world
      Oh what a beautiful world
      — Willie Nelson and Rodney Crowell, Oh What a Beautiful World

      The Hollywood Bowl is one of those venues that appears regularly on lists of the most beautiful concert venues in the United States, along with Red Rocks in Colorado and The Gorge in George (Washington, naturally). And it lives up to the hype. Set in the iconic Hollywood Hills with a view of the sign when you sit up high, you spend as much time looking around you as you do watching the concert. A venue this beautiful is a blessing for the community and a milestone for every artist touring the country.

      When my daughter asked me if I was interested in seeing Willie Nelson and Bob Dylan perform in Los Angeles , the answer was immediately yes. That was before I realized it would be at the Hollywood Bowl. For those keeping score, that’s three legends in one night. That’s a can’t-miss moment in a life that demands our active participation.

      The tricky part with a venue like the Hollywood Bowl is getting tens of thousands of people safely in and back out again. Parking isn’t great, and the traffic makes it prohibitive to simply have people drive right to the venue. The answer is an extensive shuttle bus system from different parts of the city. We took route 672 from the LA Zoo. Yes it rhymes, and they made a point of emphasizing that. How many tipsy concert attendees get on the wrong bus late in the evening? Enough for them to play the memory game. The whole thing could have gone very wrong, but it worked out perfectly. Not their first rodeo.

      Willie Nelson was wonderful. Everyone in the Hollywood Bowl knows he’s in his 90’s, especially him, but he plays to it so well, with two talented performers who alternate songs so Willie doesn’t have to carry the full load. Bob Dylan was subdued, but performed with a tight band who covered some rough ground. Unlike Willie he doesn’t play all his hits, choosing deeper cuts and newer music over the obvious opportunity to choose cuts from his “A Complete Unknown” career phase. That’s just so Bob Dylan of him.

      The revelation of the day was Billy Strings. He’s a brilliantly talented bluegrass musician with a band that meets the challenge themselves. They met their moment at the Hollywood Bowl and picked up a new fanbase along the way. An artist on the rise, playing a magical venue with two that have seen time flying past, on a night to remember for all of us.

      I run up and down the road making music as I go
      They say my pace would kill a normal man
      But I’ve never been accused of being normal anyway
      And I woke up still not dead again today
      — Willie Nelson & Buddy Cannon, Still Not Dead

      I write frequently about death (memento mori), not as an aspiration but as a reminder to get out and live. Nights like this at the Hollywood Bowl are just that—an opportunity to put our money where our mouth is and live. Because we ain’t dead yet, friend, and there’s just so much to see and do in this world.

      The Hollywood sign as seen from the back
      Earlier in the day we chanced on this lookout point with a view of the city beyond the Hollywood Bowl

    • Just the Start

      “Perfection of character is this: to live each day as if it were your last, without frenzy, without apathy, without pretence.” ― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

      Happy Birthday to Marcus Aurelius. April 26th is a heck of day to be born (has a nice ring to it I think). But birthdays are just the start: to have done something with one’s time afterwards is the thing. Aurelius did some things and we still talk of him. Not a bad run for him, and surely not all emperors were born to do things. The same for us common folk. Yet we too may rise above the norm.

      Productivity isn’t a call to work ourselves to the bone, but to do work that matters with each day we’re blessed with. To progress in our endeavors towards a higher aim. A successful life isn’t about any single accomplishment, it’s about the process of becoming something more with each day we’re blessed with.

      Indeed, the thing is the living each day. It could all end at any time. Momento mori. That expiration date will come one day, hopefully not today, and we must be aware of our eventual date with death and live fully today. Today is just the start of whatever we have in the balance. Make something of it.

    • Witnesses of a Lifetime

      “But no matter the medicinal virtues of being a true friend or sustaining a long close relationship with another, the ultimate touchstone of friendship is not improvement, neither of the self nor of the other, the ultimate touchstone is witness, the privilege of having been seen by someone and the equal privilege of being granted the sight of the essence of another, to have walked with them and to have believed in them, and sometimes just to have accompanied them for however brief a span, on a journey impossible to accomplish alone.” — David Whyte, Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words

      Some people come into our life and remain active participants in our journey. Some fade away with the release of the common interests that once held us together. There are friendships based on convenience and friendships based on choice. We learn in time who will walk beside us through the years.

      Recently I’ve heard from an old friend whom I thought was drifting away. It seems they were simply busy doing other things, just as I was. Friendships are different from marriages and the relationship we have with teammates in work or sport. Friendships cross the chasm of time and place like stepping stones we land upon on our journey—something solid and trustworthy with which to ground ourselves. And we in turn ground them. We all need something solid in a life so often fluid and uncertain.

      “One of us will see all the funerals, one of us will see none, and one will have none of us at theirs.” — Anonymous

      The thing is, lifetimes don’t last forever. Memento mori. We’ll all pass eventually, and too soon. We must train ourselves to put the troubles of the world aside and be present and aware in our time together. For each moment with true friends offers the blessing of companionship and memory. We are witnesses to each other’s lives, but also active participants in each other’s. So onward, together now and then through this maddening world, for as long as fate allows.