Being a Man

I am not yet man. But I am a sweet little boy, at least that’s what I am discovering. Like fossils, my sweet boy-ness was once fully alive and large and in charge. And as I continue to gain knowledge of my past, my history, I begin to have feelings that help me remember. And it’s funny, and “funny” is a loaded word, but I want to be sweet and I want to be a little boy and I want to be proud of being both of those things but not only those things. And I’m not sure because I’ve never been there but I think being these things and being proud of these things are important ingredients in being a man.

I wrote the piece below back in November, 2013 and I think it’s a beautiful example of one side of life, one side of being a man and today, I am feeling what I think is another side. Both sides are vital, both perspectives and I am grateful for my Son because without him I would never have the depth of understanding of the difference between how I have treated myself and how I want to treat him, of how I have felt about myself and about how I would like him to feel about himself. A man struggles against the desire to punish himself, a man is not afraid of his sweetness.

I think my Father is a man.  And I am grateful to have him in my life as an example. I think there are other men, but not many and not close to as many that are needed today. I want to become a man, a real man, a man that other men respect and love. A man that will bring love with discipline, power with compassion, peace with the adversity of growth. This is my journey and I’ve found one of the most moving and precise descriptions of the ultimate purpose of man in the last scene in “No Country For Old Men”. Please watch it, tell me how it makes you feel, share it if you think it’s poignant.

Thank you for reading.

There is no inspiration in what I am about to achieve, I refuse to indulge in motivation or excitement.  What I want is to move ahead with the solidness of what is right. With the blandness of life, the flat, simple, quiet road absent of cheering minions and the ticker tape of the soul.  What I want is like the bare-ness of an early Winter morning, naked trees and brown monotone life; no foolish bursts of color or hopeful blooms, no surprises rising from the earth like eager little show-offs.  No.  What I want is to be alone in my desperation and have no voice reach me, no hand held out, no loving shoulder or supportive embrace.  What I want is to walk the barren path of reality and see only sameness and keep walking because what I seek is not on the outside and perhaps now it’s time (is it time?) to take drastic measure, perhaps now it’s all hands on deck to turn the ship away from the pomp and circumstance down the bleak road.  But like a lost child I look dizzyingly and frantically around, swivelling my head to look behind me, smile askew and furrowed brow, first one side and then whipping around to the next, just to get a glimpse of the things I am leaving behind; the people and the smiles and the warm hearts.  I am panicked.  I don’t know what lies ahead but I do know that the path of comfort is paved with good intentions and so is the path of bleakness.  The only difference is bleakness is my intention.  There is no other way to build strength.

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