Alexandersmap

    Tag: Philosophy

    • Going to Zero

      “You’re alive. You have one very short life. When your life ends, it goes to zero. To you its indistinguishable, from your perspective your death is indistinguishable from the end of the world. As far as you’re concerned the world has disappeared. Because when you came into existence the world appeared. When you go out of existence the world disappears. And that is so consequential that it makes the rest of your life inconsequential. And that is a form of freedom. And so you should enjoy yourself. You should not suffer in this life.” – Naval Ravikant, on The Tim Ferriss Show Episode #473

      There’s something very stoic about this Naval statement, in the recognition of Memento Mori. The stoics might have challenged him on the enjoy yourself/you should not suffer bit though. They would say that you should accept fate for whatever it brings you. Then again, they didn’t live in a democracy where all are created equal, but in an age of conquest and slavery and the unfair distribution of enjoying yourself and suffering in life (maybe we haven’t come as far as I initially thought). But ultimately I think he’s on point. Life is short, we all know that. So get on with enjoying it while you have it.

      “Think of the life you have lived until now as over and, as a dead man, see what’s left as a bonus and live it according to Nature. Love the hand that fate deals you and play it as your own, for what could be more fitting?”- Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

      On my own path to zero, I’m doing my best to live the Thoreau mantra to rise free from care before the dawn and seek adventure. And isn’t that the same thing, really? The question is, what do you subtract to add such adventure or freedom to your life? Relentless pursuit of status? What is status but the recognition of others for your accomplishments? There’s nothing wrong with accomplishments. There is something off about craving status for status’ sake. To be quietly satisfied with reaching your goal seems the most pure form of accomplishment. Accolades blow in the wind.

      Naval talks of reaching freedom through making enough money to not have to worry about anything. And there’s certainly freedom in that. But what is the cost of a walk in the woods watching the leaves rain down around you? What is the price of tracking the progress of Mars across the evening sky? The trick, I think, is to get to enough. For some that means being independently wealthy, for others, it means having enough to put food on the table with the time to burn those calories climbing personal mountains.

      “Watch the stars in their courses and imagine yourself running alongside them. Think constantly on the changes of the elements into each other, for such thoughts wash away the dust of earthly life.” – Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

      There’s a reason that boats, recreational vehicles, bicycles and hiking gear are selling out this year. People are seeking that freedom and enjoyment. Trying to book a campsite in Acadia, hiking jammed trails in the White Mountains and navigating the bike-clogged rail trail are glaring reminders of just how many people are looking for their freedom to enjoy life in a year when climbing the corporate ladder seems suddenly less relevant than holding on to things that are more essential.

      Since we’re all marching to zero, finding that which is essential and then making the most of our time seems the only logical goal. Not living in a chaotic frenzied orgy of mad pleasure-seeking, but in the pursuit of that which is worthy and towards purpose. To use Ryan Holiday’s words from The Daily Stoic; “too many successful people are prisoners in jails of their own making”. So freedom to fully realize your life is attainable for all if we would only unlock our own cages.

    • Questions

      “Said the monk, “All these mountains and
      rivers and the earth and stars—where do
      they come from?”
      Said the master, “Where does your
      question come from?”
      – Anthony De Mello, The Question

      One part of the writing process I value is that it fuels better questions. What’s the story behind that monument? How did this mountain I’m hiking get its name? Where do we go from here? What is the author really trying to say here? And of course, spiritual questions about creation and science and the place in the middle where they meet. And this morning, awake much sooner than I ought to be, I dove into another Anthony De Mello book, The Song Of The Bird, in search of better answers… or at least better questions.

      Today I seek a bit of adventure, even as I press on with my business trip in the middle of a pandemic. I found myself silently angrily at a couple of unmasked men getting off an elevator I was waiting for this morning. They’re supposed to be wearing masks as mandated by the Governor, with reminders on signs all over the hotel, but they opted out. My anger wasn’t with them – that was frustration at their disregard for others – but instead at myself for putting myself in a position to be concerned with their unmasked presence in the first place.

      And so I decided I need to get myself outdoors. It’s raining out there. It’s raw. There’s a short window of time I have between where I am and where I have to be later. And yet I’m getting outdoors anyway. I have a few questions that need answering. There’s truth out there in the cold, wet outdoors.

    • You Do You

      “We see people and things not as they are, but as we are. That is why when two people look at something or someone, you get two different reactions.” – Anthony De Mello, Awareness

      I’ve been off of Facebook for 23 days, promising myself I wouldn’t go back on until after the election in the United States. For the most part I haven’t missed anything but birthday wishes for friends. Instead I text or call them with wishes. Seems old school to actually speak to someone on their birthday, but I like living on the edge a bit.

      So the Facebook fast has gone well, but I did cheat a couple of times and log on to see what I was missing. Two or three minutes of quick scanning to see if people are healthy and doing well. No likes or comments, in and out quickly. But then I read a post a friend made. He was wondering where all the coverage of the Hunter Biden story was and why everyone was burying “the truth”. That was almost the breaking point for me, I wanted to break my fast and reply educating him on what matters in this country and what may be merely crap that they’re slinging to see if it sticks. I took a breath, logged off and cleared the history of my browsing just to ensure I would have to physically log in again to get back on Facebook.

      I get a similar reaction when I see someone I know with a Trump sign on their car or in their yard. My perception of that person changes, even if they remain the same otherwise. And I realize that the issue isn’t them at all, but my reaction that matters. I wonder sometimes at the world, but recognize that I can’t change the world at all, only myself and the impact I have through my own actions.

      So I’ve begun using the phrase “you do you” in my head when I see or read something that annoys me. You do you, and I’ll do me. And maybe we’ll meet in the middle on a few things. Or maybe not. But offloading the stress of what other people think is liberating. My vote cancels out his vote, and I’ll rely on other cooler heads to prevail.

      Focusing on changing others by nature means we aren’t focused on changing ourselves. We have plenty of blank canvas left to paint in our own lives, and a few mistakes we’ve all made along the way that could use some painting over as well. The more we focus on our own path the further down that path we may go. There’s plenty to work on right here.

    • Calm

      “Real power is not in momentary desires, but in complete calmness.” – Leo Tolstoy

      I have a bit of nervous energy as I write this. I’m traveling tomorrow for the first time in seven months and there’s a vibrating exhilaration deep inside knowing that I’m getting on a plane again, going to another state and driving around to places new to me. Mind you, its not like I’m flying to Antarctica for an extended climate change study, I’m going to Cleveland. I’ve been to Cleveland at least a half dozen times that I can recall and maybe a time or two beyond that. But it’s travel in a time of no travel, and this year that alone creates a buzz.

      I got the same vibration hiking solo up Mount Tecumseh earlier this summer. Not because it was a particularly challenging hike, but because I was hiking it alone late in the day. Just enough risk to raise the level of uncertainty, but calculated risk. Hiking alone at night inherently offers risk to the hiker. You just don’t have people walking by you to offer assistance. So you take extra care or alternatively, you charge ahead brazenly challenging fate.

      Calmness in the face of potential stressors is a superpower. In an age of talking heads stirring the pot of anxiety for advantage, of a pandemic ramping up for killing season, of a time when we teeter on the brink of a deeper recession or a depression and irreversible climate change should we get this wrong, in this time the calm prevail. We can take the bait and react, or swim calmly in the present storm.

      “Do not be concerned too much with what will happen. Everything that happens will be good and useful for you.” – Epictetus

      The posters used early on during the Blitz, “Keep Calm and Carry On” naturally come to mind. Those posters weren’t successful at the time as people viewed them as patronizing, but the expression has exploded in popularity in the last twenty years. Whether you view it as patronizing or nostalgic now, the expression does carry weight as a stoic reminder to keep your head about you. For in calmness we find clarity.

      During that time when the British were facing down Nazi aggression, Viktor Frankl was living a nightmare in a succession of Nazi prison camps, ending at Auschwitz before finally being freed at the end of the war. He observed that state of mind had a lot to do with who survived and who didn’t as much as the whim of fate. Some people were in the wrong place at the wrong time, but others just gave up in the face of hopelessness and horror. Some people survived simply because they had a purpose for living. Based on this experience, he wrote the extraordinary book Man’s Search for Meaning after the war.

      “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
      – Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning

      Today we live in a time when everything is hyper-scrutinized, everything is a perceived affront, everything is designed to invoke a spark of fear or outrage. But when we swim in our sea of calmness, we overcome the efforts of those who would inspire a follow or a like or another cycle of commercials before they tell you the rest of the story. A calm mind sees the truth in the world and in ourselves. It remains the best foundation for a life of purpose and happiness. Want to improve the state of world? Be calm. And yes; carry on.

    • Several Fires Left in the Pile

      I lit a Sunday evening fire outside on the brick patio last night. This is two Sundays in a row, almost a trend. Last week was bear in the woods fireside Sunday. This week no such excitement, just the observation that the days are getting shorter and colder. If I were a bear I’d be finding a nice place to hibernate deep in the woods. Hopefully someone else’s woods.

      Last night began with reading outside in the fading twilight. This time of year that’s earlier in the evening than I’d like it to be, but the side benefit is it gave me the inspiration to gather pine cones and fallen branches to start a fire. Living amongst the trees we have little reason to use fire starter blocks or crumpled up newspaper to start a fire, and yet I opt for the simple route too frequently. It was good to get reacquainted with starting a fire without assistance from manmade products. I conceded the lighter instead of flint. I mean, I’m not on Survivor here.

      With pine cones and kindling crackling and erupting into a small fire, I gathered firewood of various sizes, assessing the size of the wood pile and calculating how many more fires I’ve got in it before a refresh is required. My math tells me about 30 Sunday night’s worth. Unless Tom comes over and takes command of the fire stacking, in which case we may have half that number. Tom likes a big fire. And with the cold air creeping behind I see the benefits myself and stack this one a bit taller than normal as a nod to warmer glows and good friendships.

      Stacking firewood is an act of faith. You expect to be given the time to use all that wood and start a new stack. All we can do is prepare for the future, we aren’t guaranteed we’ll arrive at the party. But so far we have. Surely a cause for celebration. Since we’ve been given this opportunity, why not make the most of it? I add logs to the fire and watch it roar in appreciation. And I in turn appreciate the warming glow.

      Fire established, a dram of scotch poured, and playlist rolling, I read I few pages more and put the book aside. There was nothing more to do but contemplate the work accomplished over the weekend and the objectives that lie ahead for the coming week. What will the week bring? Tasks accomplished and boxes checked? Conversations with people of substance and depth? What can I control and what must I let wash over me? Such are the thoughts of a fireside chat with yourself.

      My son came out and joined me. We talked of his own plans for the week ahead. He brought a flashlight out, just in case that bear should crunch through the woods again. No such luck this day. Instead we tracked the planets pirouetting across the sky: Bright Jupiter and Saturn with a faint Pluto to the south, red Mars rising in the east. The cold descended on the backyard and I added two logs to the fire and a wool hat to my head. Soon my bride joined us and we talked until the pile burned down to glowing embers. Another Sunday evening, and several fires left in the pile.

    • The Cumulative Force

      “Insist on yourself; never imitate. Your own gift you can present every moment with the cumulative force of a whole life’s cultivation; but of the adopted talent of another, you have only an extemporaneous, half possession. That which each can do best, none but his Maker can teach him. No man yet knows what it is, nor can, till that person has exhibited it.”
      – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance

      Re-reading Self-Reliance is always a pep talk with the Master. Sometimes I wonder at (and have written before about) the conversations Emerson and Thoreau must have had taking a walk about Concord, Massachusetts back in the day. Emerson, a dozen years older than Thoreau, might have offered more insight early on, but Thoreau measured up over time, diving deep into Transcendentalism and immersion in Nature (with a capital N). Thoreau was undoubtedly influenced by Emerson, and Emerson by Thoreau, yet each brought their own gift to the world.

      I’ve wondered at the writing lately. The content is a collection of many topics jumbled together, and much of that is by design. The scattered thoughts of one person marching through time. I’ve debated a shift to a once a week newsletter, which inherently would be more refined, more substantial and less clutter in the inbox of those who follow. But changing to a weekly post would change my habit loop in ways I wish to avoid. No, I subscribe to the Seth Godin school of daily blogging.

      So what then? Narrowing the focus to specific topics? Specializing for the pursuit of 1000 true fans? Instead of the trivial many blog posts, focus on the vital few, as Joseph M. Juran would say? If I were to monetize this site, I’d surely do that. But the goal of Alexandersmap is to seek adventure, to understand the place I find myself in (both physically and mentally) and write about it. And so it will continue as it always has been. The rest of the writing necessarily will evolve into a more focused pursuit of those vital few. But there’s something to be said for habit loops and cadence and Malcolm Gladwell’s 10,000 hours theory. Just write, often, on a diversity of topics, and the process will necessarily change you and improve the writing.

      And so here we are, one day at a time, building the cumulative force of a whole life’s cultivation, and seeing where it takes me. Is it a talent to write every day? Or accumulated skill? It would be brash to declare the former, and modest the latter. There’s a mix in there somewhere, but I do believe in sweat equity and making the most of the time we’re given. I’m a writer as long as I’m writing. There are plenty in this world doing the same. Whether the writing is that which I can do best? That will have to sort itself out. But I’m better for cultivating it.

    • Between the Earth and the Stars

      “Be humble for you are made of earth. Be noble for you are made of stars.”
      – Serbian proverb

      I sat outside last night on a cold evening in front of a warming fire; my body at the line of the radiating heat competing with the sneaky cold creeping up behind me. I inhaled more wood smoke than I should have cheating the line to get just a little bit closer to the fire. Off in the darkness a rustle of fallen leaves in the woods betrayed a wild thing making its way past, and overhead we were serenaded by owls. It was in this moment on the edge of hot and cold, light and darkness that I sat contemplating this quote and the one that follows. Sending an offering to the universe in the form of sparks rising with the smoke. I looked up, following the rising sparks as they climb to join the stars. For who’s to say they don’t reach them, why must they all extinguish on their ascent and return to earth?

      “For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”
      – Vincent Van Gogh

      It seems that I am a dreamer. Surely this must be so. For my mind rises with the smoke and ashes to meet the stars. We’re all derived from this humble earth, and return there soon enough. But the stars seemingly burn forever. The stars have witnessed many a fire ritual in the scattered history of humanity, and continued their dance across the sky unconcerned about my veneration. But then a meteor blazed through the sky with no perceivable tale, disappearing in the western sky, as if to remind me that stars have a timeline as well, well beyond our scope of reference.

      2020 feels big for all of us, filled with moments that remind us of our small part in the larger game. For the stars, for the earth, it remains inconsequential. And so it must be. But in our time between the two we might derive some inspiration from the stars and make our time on earth a bit more meaningful at a human scale. We too will return to earth, but we don’t have to keep our feet planted on it. We are ourselves an offering to the universe. So burn brightly.

    • Vigor (and a Smile)

      Eddie Van Halen passed away yesterday. And so it is that another chunk of my childhood drifts away into the otherworld. I was never much of a guitar player, but it isn’t hard to see Eddie Van Halen playing his guitar Frankenstein and see a virtuoso at work. I suppose there are other guitar players I personally love listening to more for their particular style, but there was no better guitar player on the planet than Eddie Van Halen. That he never learned to read music amazes me, but it shows the difference between knowing the music on paper and living the music in practice. You don’t have to be great at everything, just your particular thing.

      My own life is about as far from the life that Van Halen lived as anyone’s. I’m a New Englander, he grew up an immigrant child in Los Angeles. I dabbled in bass guitar and put it aside when I started college, a victim of my overall casual approach to any form of discipline at the time. He latched onto music and went all in. In the ten years from 1978 to 1988 he was about as big a rock god as you could find. I quietly went about my life, stepping stone to stepping stone, from kid watching Star Wars to high school and college. Completely different life tracks. A pity he always had that damned cigarette burning away. Those would kill him eventually, just as he was entering his elder statesman stage of life.

      I suppose the big lesson with Eddie Van Halen is to put in the time necessary to master your craft. Don’t half-ass your work. But the thing that sticks out with him is that huge smile when he played guitar. He was a guy in love with his craft, exuding joyous electricity. And that love of craft was exactly why he put in the insane amount of time necessary to become one of the best guitar players who ever lived. If you don’t love your craft, why the hell would you do it? And that’s the difference between a craft and your job. You work to make money to feed the family and pay for the stuff of life. You perform your craft to extend some of your life force out into the world. That’s true whether you’re knitting a pair of mittens or writing a novel or playing guitar.

      So a fair question to ask as you follow your muse then is will this pursuit make me smile like Eddie Van Halen playing his guitar? If yes, proceed. If no, well, find another way to express yourself in the world. For if Eddie taught us anything yesterday, it would be that life is too damned short to flitter away your life force on other things. Pursue your thing. And do it with vigor (and a smile).

    • Vif d’Esprit et de Corps

      To be quick in mind and body – vif d’esprit et de corps – that is the goal. In this year of years I’ve seen many recede into dark places, or spritzed with wine or spirits or awash in binge-watching Netflix, or worst of all following the every move of the orange narcissist. Or maybe all of the above. I find myself sliding into these darker places, la détresse, when I’m too immersed in Twitter or Facebook. So I took a 30 day hiatus from Facebook beginning Sunday and just deleted Twitter for the next five days to force a reset of the brain. I’m doing the same five days off without alcohol, just to show it who’s boss.

      Where are you most alive? Doing what? To be quick-witted and vibrant requires work, but the work doesn’t have to be tedious or painful. It just requires consistency of effort. Who makes you feel most alive? Why aren’t you spending more time with them being so? What gets you invited to the dance? Raising your own game, of course. Becoming more. Doing more. Seeing more. Learning more. Not for water cooler talk (virtualized for the foreseeable future), but for a hand up on the climb. I view the next 20 years as the climb of my lifetime, and I’d better be mentally and physically fit enough to squeeze as much of the zest out of the experience as possible. And after the next 20? Well, I’ll worry about that when I get there, but it will have to start with a strong base.

      Ultimately, it becomes a matter of how do you live with yourself? What makes you interesting enough to hang around this being for any amount of time? What is the next act? Immersion in a French or Portuguese-speaking culture? Knocking off peaks and waterfalls and old castles? Chasing dark skies? Visiting every fascinating country on the list? Sailing across the pond? Building (or building on) lifetime friendships with choice adults, children, grandchildren (should they come) and dogs? Finally finishing those dusty classics taking up space on the bookshelf? There’s time for all of these things, and yet no time to lose. And no time to waste on the stuff of little consequence.

      To be quick in mind and body, vif d’esprit et de corps, begins with this next step. And the one after that. Let the adventure begin.

    • Drink Up Before the Dregs

      “Lay hold of to-day’s task, and you will not need to depend so much upon to-morrow’s. While we are postponing, life speeds by. Nothing, Lucilius, is ours, except time.” – Seneca

      “What is the state of things, then? It is this: I do not regard a man as poor, if the little which remains is enough for him. I advise you, however, to keep what is really yours; and you cannot begin too early. For, as our ancestors believed, it is too late to spare when you reach the dregs of the cask. Of that which remains at the bottom, the amount is slight, and the quality is vile.”
      – Seneca, Letters From a Stoic

      We had our first frost of Autumn overnight. The fog rising from the ponds this morning betrays warmer days conceding to cooler nights. In New Hampshire the leaves will soon turn progressively to bright yellow, red and orange before turning brown and returning to the earth to fuel the next generation. Such is the cycle of life.

      Early mornings trigger my adventurous spirit. I have the most energy and a willingness to dare greatly. By 9:30 – 10 PM I’m generally running on fumes and ready to call it a night. While I’m not old just yet, I suppose I’m the opposite of youth in this respect. Certainly the opposite of the rest of my household. And if a day is a lifetime, I reach the dregs sooner than most. But I started so much earlier in the day savoring that first sip (metaphorically, of course). I honor the Thoreau quote on the home page whenever possible, seeking adventures, but mostly I rise early.

      Seneca’s Letters From a Stoic is a call to action written almost 2000 years ago and still ignored by the vast majority of people in their lifetimes ever since. Nothing is ours but time! Keep what is really yours, for you cannot begin too early. Savor this very moment, such that it is, and make of it what you can. That is the eternal challenge for each of us. To spend wisely this moment. And each day offers reminders to get to it already.