Alexandersmap

    Tag: Philosophy

    • Thoughts on the Scramble

      “Only those who decline to scramble up the career ladder are interesting as human beings. Nothing is more boring than a man with a career.” — Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago

      A few days of sailing had the desired effect. The stress accumulated, overflowing and leaking out of my pores, revealed in comments and recent blog posts was finally released. That’s a symptom of too many active endeavors leading up to a boiling point, of sorts, without the necessary reprieve of time off. Why do we do this to ourselves? Because we’re seeking meaning in prestige, earning potential and perceived value others place on us. It’s nice to be wanted, and even needed, even as it sucks the very life out of us at times. So it goes.

      We ought to lean into our vocation, and less so into pursuits less worthy of our brief dance with vitality. But ought to’s are tricky things. There are things we must do and things we might do, and things that fall in between. Life is this navigation and this dance.

      To be a great navigator is to decide on a proper course based on the relevant data, while ignoring the frivolous tangential information. So do we question our active pursuits? Shouldn’t we? How else can we determine the essential from the tangential?

      What we fill our days with ought to matter a great deal. Even as I write this, I’m weighing the high of a few days off from my primary work, an admittedly lighter lift on blog posts and time with exceptional people against a keen desire to open up the work computer to set the table for a productive week. If time off is so fulfilling, why are we so eager to roll up our sleeves and get back to business? What gives?

      When we find meaningful ways to contribute, ways that offer value to others while speaking to something within us, we’ve reached a state of working bliss. This may sound ridiculous on the face of it, but there’s something to being productive in work that matters to us, even as there is also value in doing the essential things that aren’t that work. So if traveling to fascinating places, learning new languages and skills, sailing, hiking, reading great books and poetry and socializing with great friends makes a person more interesting, so too might dabbling in work that matters. The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive.

      This isn’t a contradiction, it’s a personal audit of what matters most, which we all ought to do from time to time. Work that matters carries us to places of joy, purpose and yes, usefulness. This makes us more than interesting, it makes us contributors in the game of life, raising the stakes for the lot of us. This calling is ours alone. For what are we here for but to be useful in our own unique way?

    • Sunrise, Tenants Harbor

      Tenants Harbor, a village in the town of St. George, Maine, was once full of schooners in various stages of construction. It retains that working harbor feel today, but today it’s lobster boats that fuel the economy. This is very obvious at sunrise, as the boats ply the waters to haul up traps to harvest any lobsters unlucky enough to have taken the bait. The lobsters will be gobbled up all over the world, and especially in restaurants and seafood shacks throughout coastal Maine. So it goes.

      Still, some of us seek a respite from work in places like this. I’ve gently placed my obligations and commitments to the side in favor of rest and relaxation for a few days. There are 4000 islands in Maine and they say 3,478 miles of tidal coastline. Along that coastline there are seals, dolphins, loons and whales. Other than writing a bit, this particular time bucket will lean into exploring some of that coastline.

      Anchors aweigh.

    • Commitment vs. Obligation

      Commitment is seeing things through despite all the obstacles, stress and BS thrown our way. Commitment is being fully present in the moment even when being elsewhere seems so damned appealing in the moment. It’s an unsaid line in the sand that you’ll do what you tell yourself you’re going to do.

      Obligation isn’t commitment. It’s a feeling that you have to do something, either because you’re required to or honor-bound to get it done. We tend to take pride in our commitments and resent our obligations. That ought to tell us all we need to know about the differences between the two.

      When commitment butts up against an obligation it can cause stress and consternation. We desire to serve our commitments but sometimes obligations get in the way. The trick is to minimize obligations while focusing on our commitments. Easier said than done, but so it must be. Life is complex, no doubt, but the recipe for happiness is leaning into the commitments we wish to serve while separating ourselves whenever possible from the obligations.

    • Catching Days

      “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, The Writing Life

      The days fly by, don’t they? We fill our hours with chaos and whim or reason and order, and so goes our life. Structure thus becomes a means to a more fulfilling lifespan. That doesn’t infer rigidly-defined productivity at the expense of joyful experience, but rather using our time strategically to make the most of the what’s available to us.

      Just imagine: Imagine what we can do with our lives should we add a bit of informed structure to our driving purpose. Imagine the places we might see, the people we might influence. Imagine the ripple set across time with just a bit more focus on catching days. Imagine following through on that quiet commitment you made to yourself to do the work that speaks to you.

      We know that focusing means saying no to the parade of other options that flood our senses. No to watching that amazing episode of The Office for the nth time, no to diving into that trendy new hobby that friends are doing, no to all kinds of potential fun that we may say yes to this other thing. But that’s the rub: to do anything well we must do most everything else less well, or not at all.

      “Living life to the fullest requires settling. You must settle, in a relatively enduring way, upon something that will be the object of your striving, in order for that striving to count as striving.” — Oliver Burkeman, Four Thousand Weeks

      So are we striving for something or simply going through the motions? We choose how we react to the world as it’s presented to us, and in that reaction is our opportunity to fill our moments with something more meaningful than the other options on the table. In the heat of the moment life can feel frenzied and limited. We can’t possibly do everything.

      When we think of life in terms of time buckets or seasons, it can help bring clarity to what is essential now, versus then, and allow us to prioritize accordingly. What is most essential right now? Life would be boring with blinders on the entire time—to live fully we must open ourselves up to the world around us—but that doesn’t let us off the hook. We must carve out time for what is essential lest the time slip away forever.

    • Then Agains

      “Mortality makes it impossible to ignore the absurdity of living solely for the future.”
      ― Oliver Burkeman, Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals

      “We’ve been granted the mental capacities to make almost infinitely ambitious plans, yet practically no time at all to put them into action.”
      ― Oliver Burkeman, Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals

      “We all have at least the potential to make more money in the future, we can never go back and recapture time that is now gone. So it makes no sense to let opportunities pass us by for fear of squandering our money. Squandering our lives should be a much greater worry.”
      ― Bill Perkins, Die with Zero: Getting All You Can from Your Money and Your Life

      This blog may feel like a one hit wonder, dancing around the twin themes of memento mori and carpe diem. This is a reminder to myself, blogging steadily along through the living years, to “not squander Time; for that’s the Stuff Life is made of” (as Ben Franklin put it). Stuffing a blog post chock full of quotes is no way to write though, is it? ChatGBT could probably summarize all of my posts into one grand idea, and perhaps one day soon I’ll accept that challenge. But for now you’ve got the single content of a guy finding his way in the world, just as you are and everyone else is, even those people who say they have it all figured out (don’t ever believe them).

      I’m pondering that elusive re-design of the blog, finally implementing the things I’d envisioned all along, finally re-introducing email subscriptions and a more elegant reader experience. Then again, I’m pondering finally pulling that novel out of forever draft form and doing something with it (the Muse gave up on this project long ago). Then again, I’m thinking about doubling down on work and really making the next five years something special. And then again, I’m thinking about just renting a cabin in a remote corner of Labrador and watching the Northern Lights all winter (at least until the polar bears eat me). Such is the thing with then agains: they keep on coming up.

      Then again, and at the very least, fill this particular time bucket with the stuff that makes the most sense for now. Make something special out of the work that resonates for you, or get off your complacent behind and go find work that feels special. Then again, go use the body your blessed with in this moment for all that you can get out of it. If we’re lucky our minds will be with us until the end, but our health could go at any time.

      Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
      Tell me, what is it you plan to do
      with your one wild and precious life?
      —Mary Oliver, The Summer Day

      This is the season. It’s not or never for some of those essential experiences. Go dance with life, and make it a song you really love. I’ll do the same. Carpe diem and all that. Let me remind myself and you if you care to listen: some day we’ll run out of thens, so once again, seize the day.

    • To Be Open

      “Few people know how to take a walk. The qualifications are endurance, plain clothes, old shoes, an eye for nature, good humor, vast curiosity, good speech, good silence and nothing too much.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

      I set out on an early morning walk fully prepared to listen to a podcast through noise-cancelling headphones for the bulk of the five miles I’d planned to traverse. Walking down the driveway, I heard the distinct song of a cardinal greeting the morning. Listening more carefully, I heard almost nothing else beyond the cardinal. With such clear guidance, I stuffed the earbuds in my pocket and opted to take in the world instead of block it out.

      A proper walk ought to be simplified. Without earbuds I could hear the approach of cars, industrious squirrels harvesting acorns high above, and feel the world around me in a way not possible when you’re focused on a podcast or your favorite playlist. There’s a place for multi-tasking with earbuds, but there are times when bringing your ears to the walk offers a greater overall experience.

      All of this seems obvious on a hike or a walk through a place we’re visiting for the first time. Could you imagine walking through Edinburgh or Amsterdam or across a stunning ridgeline for the very first time wearing earbuds? Neither can I. We tend to save the addition of media for the mundane. But what if we sought out something new in each step? This is only possible when we’re fully present.

      The thing is, it’s not just walking, is it? Within each moment we have the choice to block out the world or let it in. What we do in that moment influences our now and our accumulation of experiences. We don’t just learn how to live, we learn how to live optimally. To be open to the world allows us to receive more than we otherwise might have.

    • The Way of Rain

      You have been forced to enter empty time.
      The desire that drove you has relinquished.
      There is nothing else to do now but rest
      And patiently learn to receive the self
      You have forsaken for the race of days.

      At first your thinking will darken
      And sadness take over like listless weather.
      The flow of unwept tears will frighten you.

      You have traveled too fast over false ground;
      Now your soul has come to take you back.

      Take refuge in your senses, open up
      To all the small miracles you rushed through.

      Become inclined to watch the way of rain
      When it falls slow and free.
      — John O’Donohue, For One Who is Exhausted, A Blessing

      I might go weeks without reading poetry. I may feel victorious in my efficiency and productive use of time. I can sometimes grind through my days in hopeful work, forgetting to walk outside to greet the day. These are days of emptying the bucket while filling the ledger with checked tasks. Empty buckets make a hollow sound. They demand to be filled.

      It’s not lost on me that I’m posting about taking time to rest at the beginning of another work week. When we go, go go! for weeks at a time, sometimes things like weekends disappear in a flash. We forget to see the small miracles we rush through in our mad pursuit of getting things done.

      Slow down. Step away. Find that which is calling you from outside yourself. The work will always be there, awaiting your return. Or maybe it was never your work at all. How can you know if you never take the time to listen?

      The days and the seasons roll on by, like waves to the beach. We only have so many days. Only so many seasons. We must learn to slow down and celebrate the one we’re in.

    • Being Frugal With Sand

      When the goal is to seize the day—Carpe diem— then being busy is the natural state. To do everything we wish to do in a lifetime requires our full attention. But the thing about attention is it is quickly stolen away by all of life’s distractions. Focus is thus essential to prioritizing the most important things. We know when we’re being pulled away from the meaningful and important, and when we’re deeply immersed in it. What we lean into makes all the difference in how we feel about those grains of sand moving through the hourglass.

      There’s no doubt that one kind of “being busy” can be viewed as a distraction from other things we ought to be tackling. But there’s also a kind of “being busy” that is living an active, meaningful life. One key indicator is the phrase itself: When we say we’re very busy, it’s usually the distracted kind of busy. When we’re deeply engaged in meaningful activity, we don’t think of ourselves as being busy so much as making the most of our time.

      Taking stock of the year as we close in on the halfway point, we might be amazed by all we’ve done with the time. I hope so, for isn’t that the point? To augment our days with joyful activity at the expense of all of the trivial pursuits that the universe throws at us has always been our underlying mission.

      It’s one thing to be aware, it’s another to be absorbed by the trivial. How many grains of sand would we trade for things that don’t matter in the end? We must be frugal, even as we must be active. Our lives depend on it.

    • The Present

      “And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep.” — Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

      “It occurred to him that there must be some state institute, a kind of time bank, where he would be able to change at least some part of his shabby seconds.” — Rainer Maria Rilke, The Notes of Malte Laurids Brigge,

      Time is not ours to keep—more a wave we surf to the beach. We dabble in time, thinking about improving our productivity and efficiency and doing more with less, but really, we’re trying to avoid wasting the time we have. Making the most of the present is the only worthy goal as we surf this wave.

      Lately conversations about time have come up a lot in the circles I run amuck in. Talk of people taking more time off, people who feel they’re time hasn’t been used wisely, people quickly running out of time (I’ve had more conversations about hospice recently than at any time in my life). Everybody is going through something in their lives. The surfing isn’t always great in this complex world.

      This writing habit is one of the best things I’ve invested my time in. Writing isn’t passing the time, and it isn’t a celebration of one’s greatest exploits. It’s putting a spotlight on the hourglass and seeing each grain of sand and savoring the seconds. This is living in the present: good, bad and all that lies in between. The secret is to add depth and breadth to each moment of it. And maybe write the chapter in such a way that it lives on beyond the present.

    • The Traveling Stoic Meets a Flight Delay

      “Develop an interest in life as you see it; the people, things, literature, music – the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself.” — Henry Miller

      There’s no better time to practice stoicism than during business travel using the uniquely out-of-your-own-control limbo of domestic flights. Short delays become long delays, longer delays become cancellations, soon you begin to feel that creeping realization that we’re all just pawns on a chessboard. Who dreamed up this hellscape anyway?

      Amor fati. This is the moment when a deep breath and stepping outside ourselves clarifies. After all, enjoying life, even the grind of travel going badly, begins with knowing it’s all a game. If the why isn’t compelling enough to stay in this particular game, change the game. This applies equally well to the long term as the short. Life is altogether too brief to linger longer than absolutely necessary in the inconsequential.

      Walking helps more than visiting the bar. Seeing how many steps you can get in pulling your carry-on throughout the limits the airport sets for you is a more productive game than sampling the drink menu. Seeing how other people react to the same challenges you’re presented with is interesting, but who wants to live constantly comparing yourself to others? It’s better to take a walk, removing yourself entirely from that part of the chessboard to see how the game is going elsewhere. This offers an immediate change of state, both in what you pay attention to and the changes a bit of exercise offers.

      The things you see in an airport terminal when you have the time to wander can be fascinating…. Or at least interesting enough to make you forget where you could have been otherwise. The thing is, we are here, now, in whatever circumstances life throws at us. So buckle up and enjoy the ride.