Alexandersmap

    Tag: Philosophy

    • Willing to be Dazzled

      “Still, what I want in my life
      is to be willing
      to be dazzled—
      to cast aside the weight of facts
      and maybe even
      to float a little
      above this difficult world.”
      – Mary Oliver, The Ponds

      Maybe it’s the dulling effect of years staring at screens, where every moment is designed to dazzle you into staying. Don’t click away! Stay! Wait, look at this! I believe too many people have lost their willingness to be dazzled by the world. And that’s a shame. The world can be dazzling indeed.

      I quickly fall behind when people start listing the shows they’ve watched. I’ve watched a few, but I just can’t commit to binge-watching every episode of every series that’s been recommended. I feel like I’m missing out when I watch an early afternoon football game, not because I don’t love the game, but because its three hours of time that I might have spent outdoors or in conversation with someone of significance. I recognize that this makes me a bit different than the norm. I never professed to be normal.

      We’re halfway through September. Personally a rough month in a year so rough many would soon forget it. The weight of facts are overwhelming. There’s far more on my mind than being dazzled this week, but that’s the very time to open your eyes to the world and find the magic. For its out there waiting for you should you take the time to see. The sun still rises and sets, mountains and oceans still mark time and the world keeps spinning. There’s a Carolina Wren singing to me even as I write this as if to remind me the world is still here. And so must we be.

    • For this Moment

      I’m a bit lost this morning with the writing. Most days it comes naturally. Not so much today. This morning I found a lovely poem that I thought might be a great starting point but, upon reflection, reserved it for a eulogy I’m writing. Unless I scrap it for another passage I’m contemplating. But either way I just can’t use it for myself at this moment.

      And so there’s my dilemma. Write what I’m thinking at the moment for a blog post, for the eulogy, or perhaps even the novel I’m slowly chipping away at that doesn’t seem so important today. And so I simply write and let the words come as they may. There will be other times for observation of the world at large. For the moment the writing turns inward. And there’s that word again: Moment. Here we are.

      Living for the moment seems a bit selfish, really. It’s the grasshopper not preparing for winter the way the ants do. But living in this moment, well, that’s a bit different, isn’t it? Living in this moment is being present. And so I’m embracing the moment at hand, filled with wonder yet sadness, possibility with reflection. There are things to do at the moment, while honoring the things you can no longer do, or perhaps never could. In the moment distracts. This moment clarifies.

      So get on with it already.

    • The Path of Further Understanding

      “If you think it is ever warranted to stop on the path of further understanding, you are very far from the truth. The life which we received was given to us not that we might just admire it, but that we should ever look for new truth hidden from us.” – Leo Tolstoy, quoting John Milton

      I thought I was pretty clever stacking up my list of quotes and observations about the ocean, at the ready for a sailing trip northward in the Gulf of Maine. But plans change, as I wrote yesterday. And sailing will have to wait for another year and another boat. Other forces are at play now. So today I return to introspection on my own path to understanding. This year is full of moments of clarity, but also searing injustices that are difficult to understand. We do what we can to discover the truth hidden from us.

      “Well the heart that hurts
      Is a heart that beats
      Can you hear the drummer slowing
      One step closer to knowing…”
      – U2, One Step Closer

      U2 writes big arena songs that lift people up out of their seats in unison. And I love rising out of my seat with the rest of the arena. But for me, their songs of quiet reflection often left off the set list stick with me long after the adrenaline of the big songs wears off. One Step Closer is one of those songs, and I found the lyrics running through my head when I woke up this morning. Losing a loved one shakes distractions away abruptly, even when expected. And serve as reminders that we’re all one step closer to knowing stir such remembered words from the cobwebs of the mind. The truth is always waiting for us to find it.

      Is there a bigger cliche than “We’re all on this journey together”? I’m guilty of using it several times in this blog. And yet it rings true. Those who came before us offer the accumulated wisdom of their lifetimes to light the path. Our own accumulated wisdom adds familiarity and confidence that we might know the way. But none of us know where the path leads us beyond the next step. We can only walk the path as countless souls have before us and be fully present on the way. It helps to remember that we don’t walk it alone.

    • Prominence

      “Make sure you’re not made ‘Emperor,’ avoid that imperial stain. It can happen to you, so keep yourself simple, good, pure, saintly, plain, a friend of justice, god-fearing, gracious, affectionate, and strong for your proper work. Fight to remain the person that philosophy wished to make you. Revere the gods, and look after each other. Life is short—the fruit of this life is a good character and acts for the common good.” – Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

      Lately I’ve been contemplating prominence. It started with Little Haystack Mountain, an impressive 4760 foot summit, relegated to the role of supporting actor due to its prominence of only 79 feet from nearby Mount Lincoln (5089/180). Or consider poor North Carter Mountain, 4531 feet tall but an almost embarrassing 59 feet of prominence from its cousin Middle Carter Mountain, which by comparison is 4610 feet with a prominence of 720 feet. North Carter didn’t even have a cairn or USGS marker designating its summit. I walked right by it until called back by a savvier hiking friend with a GPS tracker.

      If all this seems like a lot of numbers, well, I’m with you. To me a summit – no matter how prominent it may be – is a worthy accomplishment and very much worth celebration. With both Little Haystack and North Carter I lingered with friends to savor the moment before considering the next destination. Prominent or not, both summits took a fair amount of energy to reach and deserved their moment of appreciation. My mind danced as joyfully on Little Haystack as it did on Lincoln. Perhaps more so because in reaching it the world opens up around you. Why negate the accomplishment because of prominence?

      We live in a world where prominence is everything. How many followers do you have? How many likes did you get on your last post? What school did you attend? What was your class rank? How quickly did you reach a C-level position? Who did you marry? Where do you live? What kind of car do you drive? Where do you go on holiday? It seems that no matter how high your personal summit, it doesn’t matter unless you’ve achieved some measure of prominence. Of course its mostly nonsense that churns away in our own brain, perhaps fueled by co-conspirators like a parent or spouse who wants the best for you, if only for bragging rights at the next cocktail party (remember those?). Your prominence is your identity to some others.

      But not all others. Some celebrate your personal summit and ignore your prominence. Those are the people you want in your life, not the posers who skip right past the lesser summits to check in where there’s status. The trick is knowing who to celebrate with, and who to ignore as you focus on your climb. I sometimes shake my head at people who leapfrogged over others to reach VP titles or collect Board of Director positions like some magnets of places they’ve been. Prominence is a game really, and the question is who do you want to play the game with? How much is enough? Who is a true friend and who is an acquaintance who pays lip service and then quickly moves on to the next summit?

      Our worst critics are often ourselves. All those questions above? How many do we ask ourselves as we compare our own prominence to that of others we know? If achievement is associated with height, comparison is associated with prominence. But comparison is a fools game that negates your achievements when stacked up next to others. Skate your lane and stop worrying about what others are achieving. Focus on what matters. Celebrate each day and each accomplishment, no matter how prominent it may be. And by all means keep climbing and stretching your limitations. Be supportive of others as they make their own climb. Give and receive support on this epic slog. Fight to remain the person that philosophy wished to make you.

    • Unfolding Your Own Myth

      “Don’t be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.” – Rumi

      There are a lot of stories out there. Stories of accomplishment, stories of conquest, stories of adventure and love and tragedies overcome. Humanity is full of stories. The ones we tell others to make them believe we’ve got it all figured out. The ones we tell ourselves to make ourselves believe we haven’t got anything figured out. Stories rule our lives.

      There are stories of who we’ve been, and what we’ve overcome to get here. And those stories are admirable. But lately I’m thinking more about where are you going now stories. Here we are, good, bad and all that lies in the middle. Thankfully we all woke up today, so what are we going to do with it?

      I like this Rumi challenge; unfold your own myth. Aren’t we all just works in progress doing the best we can with the pile of skills and experience and instinct that we woke up with this morning? Aren’t we all slowly unfolding our own myth? Is that myth a fighter of social media troll battles or a climber of mountains? Couch potato or fit and active? The person who hides in their job or the linchpin that keeps things going? Aspiring writer or actively writing?

      “Rise free before the dawn, and seek adventures.” – Henry David Thoreau

      Today is a random Wednesday in a string of weeks that make up 2020. We all have obligations to consider and honor, of course, but what of the rest of our time? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? Just what kind of myth are we unfolding anyway? Make it a good one.

    • On Discipline

      “Look at a river as it moves toward the sea. It creates its own banks that contain it. When there’s something within you that moves in the right direction, it creates its own discipline. The moment you get bitten by the bug of awareness.” – Anthony de Mello, Awareness

      Sometimes I fight active avoidance in the work I do, and find myself pushing through tasks that I have no desire to tackle. There are plenty of things that make my mind overflow the banks and wander in the wrong direction, and the pandemic has illuminated my routine and forced me to reconcile what matters in the job, in writing and in exercise and fitness. But the days flow differently when you’re constantly working from home. Work time blends into off time and vice versa. Writing time this morning was blown up by casually reading work email and reacting to the urgency of others. Discipline is not just doing the right things, its not doing other things at the wrong time. Learning, and re-learning, to say no or not yet.

      “Discipline equals freedom.” – Jocko Willink

      This is where those handy habit loops become an essential part of your day. They allow you to keep promises you make to yourself to keep moving forward. For the most part those habit loops have kept me on track, but I see some drift in my habits over the last month, beginning with vacation when the only thing I stuck with was the writing. Deep inside you know when things are off, and when corrective action is needed. Reflect on your current course, and then decide what to be and go be it.

      “It is a simple two-step process:
      1. Decide the type of person you want to be.
      2. Prove it to yourself with small wins.“
      – James Clear, Atomic Habits

      When you’re on the right path, doing the work is relatively easy. Sure, you can drift now and then, but resetting is natural, like setting the sails when the wind shifts. Discipline, when applied to the work you love, becomes natural through repetition. And that’s the trick, doing what you love. Following your path. Sounds positively dreamy, but there’s truth in it. Hate your work? You’ll be miserable as you force yourself down the trail of tears. Love your work? The word work disappears altogether and you focus on optimization instead. Yeah, optimization. I said it. There’s a business-speak word for you, but seriously, isn’t it better love what you do and focus on making the most of your day instead of hating what you do and focus on making it through the day?

      “Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.” – Rumi

      I’m not one of those writers who pretends to have it all figured out. This blog is me figuring it out in writing. We’re all works in progress, aren’t we? Might as well enjoy the work as it progresses.

    • Merely Time

      “Life will follow the path it started upon, and will neither reverse nor check its course; it will make no noise, it will not remind you of its swiftness.“ – Seneca, On The Shortness Of Life

      I re-read Seneca’s On The Shortness Of Life again over the last few days. Its a quick read but jammed full of timeless quotes we’ve all heard and yet don’t hear. They say repetition penetrates the dullest of minds, and perhaps thats a reason to re-read essays like this often. By dull I don’t mean I’m an idiot (though you may insist I reconsider), but rather distracted by the madness of life. We’re all so distracted by the whirl of everyday that we don’t value the breathless moment we’ll never see again. Seneca pokes at us from a distance- he’s been dead far longer than he was alive. And so will we be someday too soon. And so it is that he reminds us; why are you not fully alive today? Stop postponing time you don’t have!

      “Postponement is the greatest waste of life; it deprives them of each day as it comes, it snatches from them the present by promising something hereafter. The greatest hindrance to living is expectancy, which depends upon the morrow and wastes to-day.”

      It isn’t easy to honor the urgency of life. Even as I write this I’m distracted by other pressing things and need to force myself to turn off the work monitor until normal working hours. To turn off the Twitter feed, and all the rest of the noise. And to reflect on what matters now. For now will surely slip away as quickly as then did. The stack of thens grows taller by the day, casting a shadow on the brightness of tomorrow. There is only now.

      Life is divided into three periods – that which has been, that which is, that which will be. Of these the present time is short, the future is doubtful, the past is certain.”

      So what do we do in a pandemic when we can’t travel freely? In a career that demands fair share of your time? And in other commitments that demand of you? I believe we choose wisely, and make the most of the moments at hand. To live in this moment, drawing from the past for wisdom, and with an eye towards the future we’re navigating towards (even if we might never reach it). Making the most of our lives in the time we have.

      “The part of life we really live is small. For all the rest of existence is not life, but merely time”

    • Reflections of the Day

      Merrimack River at Sunset, Haverhill, Massachusetts

      “Water does not act like a perfect mirror. Light objects will appear a little darker and duller in their reflected images and dark objects will appear a touch lighter… A reflection [also] shows you the view from the point on the water’s surface that you are looking at, not the perspective from where you are standing.” – Tristan Gooley, How To Read Water

      I admit, standing on the riverwalk next to the Merrimack River in Haverhill, Massachusetts I didn’t think about whether the reflection was perfect or imperfect. I only thought about the beauty of the reflected light on the dark river water. For why dwell on the science behind the magic? Does knowing the science behind why something happens a certain way make it less magical? I should think not, and neither does Tristan Gooley. If anything it amplifies the beauty. Does knowing the name of the constellations improve or detract from the wonder in the night sky? Clearly it improves the experience. And so it is with water.

      I’ve borrowed How To Read Water from a friend and I chip away at it slowly. In fact, I finished two other books since he handed it to me. It’s not that I don’t want to read it, it’s more that the other books have been whispering to me more persistently. But after witnessing the sunset on the Merrimack River I’m inclined to dive deeper into the book.

      The Merrimack River holds a special place in my heart, flaws and all, because of my time living along its shores, and rowing on its waters, and exploring it from source to sea. Haverhill has never been my home, but I’m drawn to the city for its history and the raw beauty it still displays despite rough treatment by humans for generations. The land and the river both share the same affront from generations of humans, but still the land stoically holds on, scarred but dignified. And the river flows persistently onward, outlasting the generations who abused it. Those generations are eventually buried six feet into the land, becoming a part of it as we all must someday. For all our noisy encroachment, the land and the river silently have the last laugh.

      When you combine the history and the river and sunset, well, you’ve generally got me. And so I lingered along the edge of the river. My old friend and I quietly conspired as the light danced with shadows on her still water, until finally the shadows won out. The day faded and the river transformed into a black ribbon of water that now reflected starlight even as I reflected on another day that quietly slipped into the past.

    • How Shall I Live?

      “When a person tries to apply his intellect to the question “Why do I exist in this world?” he becomes dizzy. The human intellect cannot find the answers to such questions. What does this mean? This means that our intellect is not given to us to find a solution for this question. Our intellect can only answer the question: “How shall I live?” And the answer is simple: “We should live so as to bring good to all people.” – Leo Tolstoy

      There was a moment in college many years ago when I thought I’d like to major in Philosophy, but couldn’t possible justify it to my peers and parents.  But no matter: I’ve majored in Philosophy off and on ever since.  And it seems from my reading lately that I’m back on.  Perhaps there is something in the air.  Or perhaps there’s something in the changing light as the earth pivots and the days persistently grow shorter.  But I find myself drawn back into the great minds of history lately.  Seneca, Marcus Aurelius, Tolstoy, Campbell, Jung, Nietzsche, Frankl, Thoreau…  and on.

      The root of philosophy are these two questions posed by Tolstoy: Why are we here? and so, How shall I live?   As Leo points out, the first question is one most people don’t dwell on.  Existential questions about why we’re here make you pause a beat too long.  It’s easier to just get right to the second question.

      “I don’t believe people are looking for the meaning of life as much as they are looking for the experience of being alive.” – Joseph Campbell

      Most people just go about living whatever identity they choose for themselves.  For the most part you can march along most of your life just living your chosen identity, until something like 2020 comes along to disrupt that illusion.  The easy path becomes harder, doors that were always open are closed, and the people we’ve come to rely on to reinforce our identity have their own problems.  But there’s nothing unique in history about the challenges we’re dealing with in 2020 – the only thing unique about it is that its happening to us this time.  And in a year as disruptive to identities as this one, what better question to ask of ourselves than how shall I live?

      “As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.” – Carl Jung

      Kindling light is lovely, but sometimes your battery is running low and you’re a long way from the dawn.  So where do we go from here?  I hear people despair at lost semesters, lost seasons in sports, lost jobs, lost mobility to cross borders, lost time with loved ones…  and what I hear most is despair of lost identity.  We all had plans for these days, and those plans were turned upside down.  But here in the darkness of 2020 philosophy gently taps you on the shoulder and offers direction from those who came before us, and in many ways suffered in ways that we can’t imagine in our current life of relative comfort:

      “It did not really matter what we expected from life, but rather what life expected from us. We needed to stop asking about the meaning of life, and instead to think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life – daily and hourly. Our answer must consist, not in talk and meditation, but in right action and in right conduct. Life ultimately means taking the responsibility to find the right answer to its problems and to fulfill the tasks which it constantly sets for each individual.”  – Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning

      So how shall I live?  Responsibly; in this moment and the next one too, bringing good to all people and bringing light to the darkest corners.  Offering a shoulder to cry on and an ear for those who need it.  To keep climbing the hill and giving a hand to those who need it.  To be patient with those who lose their way but firm with those who would pull you towards the darkness.  To be a steady presence in an unsteady world.  And when the bucket empties, draw from the wisdom of those who came before for strength and sustenance to keep going.

    • So Many Mornings

       

      “This is the earnest work. Each of us is given
      only so many mornings to do it—
      to look around and love
      the oily fur of our lives,
      the hoof and the grass-stained muzzle.
      Days I don’t do this
      I feel the terror of idleness,
      like a red thirst.
      Death isn’t just an idea.”
      – Mary Oliver, The Deer

      Each morning I jot down one sentence that sums up the day prior in my Clear Habit Journal.  This one exercise alone has prompted me to be more creative in my days; to seek adventures worthy of writing down.  But there are plenty of days when I just go to work (which currently means walking downstairs) and maybe had a meaningful conversation with someone.  And sometimes that’s enough.  But in the back of my mind I feel that tomorrow morning I ought to write something down that was worthy of a day alive.  For as Mary Oliver says above, each of us is given only so many mornings, and death isn’t just an idea.

      Saturday morning brought tales of night swimming with my bride and hot embers warming cold skin.  Sunday morning brought soreness and a note about the magical Franconia Ridge Trail.  And this morning brings a summary of bottles of wine, grilled goodness and laughter with friends at a distance.  This was a string of worthy days and I work to compress the entirety of it all into one sentence that somehow may sum it up.  These are moments of quiet smiles and satisfaction.  Sometimes I write about adventures above tree line, but sometimes I write about installing a new toilet in my parent’s bathroom.  Both count just the same as worthy entries.

      Just as the blog forces me to reach beyond my comfortable place to explore and try new things, the daily sentence lingers as a cold-hearted judgement on the worthiness of any given 24 hours on this planet.  If that seems like a lot to live up to, well, so be it.  I believe we’ve got to live with urgency for all the reasons I’ve written about before that you already know too.  Someday I’ll have my last morning on this planet, and I hope the day that follows it is so epic that I wish I’d had one more to write down what I did.  Those single day entries will pass on to those who survive me, and I hope they’ll see the sparkle and shimmer of a life well-lived, one day at a time.