Exhale #26: Are You A Soft Man?

Rites of passage and how to develop courage

Rite of passage; a coming of age

Passing through to the next stage.

Initiation

We all must brazen

The path our grandfather’s grandfather must have taken

An alchemical test transforming boys into men

Fear in my belly I courageously begin

Weakness disguised as strength

Softness disguised as hardness

Entitlement exposed

Overconfidence implodes

All my shadows brought into the light

Would I collapse or would I fight

There can be no courage without the presence of fear

Same for all the virtues we hold dear

To be terrified of losing control

Of experiencing intense pain

Of failing

Of looking a fool

And to march forward anyway

That is the jewell

I dug in giving everything I could

Harder than I thought I ever would

Bending but never breaking

I got to meet myself for the first time

The man deep inside

The relentless and unshakeable me

Arrogance into humility

True strength through vulnerability

Connection with a deeper part of me

Capable of more than I ever believed

There can be no courage without the presence of fear

A test we all must share

---

Initiation rites of passage have been a part of human history for thousands of years to help boys transition into manhood. 

To be tested and then accepted into the tribe of other initiated men. 

I imagine that these rites helped these boys become tougher, more mature, and more connected to themselves and a higher power. More like the tribe of men they were joining. Capable of protecting and providing for others.

In 2012, I was initiated, in part, by former NAVY SEALs. 

I was pushed to my absolute physical limits at an event called Sealfit Kokoro camp – a 50 hour rendition of the SEALS Hell Week. And at my absolute limit, I quit.

My ego wants me to give you all of the excuses and justifications for why I quit so you don’t think less of me, but I won’t. 

I quit. 

It’s the first physical thing I’ve ever quit in my life, and it crushed my ego. I was ashamed and humiliated.

The day after I quit, I woke up and immediately signed up for one the following year. And when I went back I was prepared. 

Having just won the Crossfit Games on a team for the second year in a row a week earlier, I was in the peak physical shape of my life. I was ready.

When I showed up, the very first thing we did when the 50 hour clock began was a simple physical test that begins with pushups, squats, situps and pullups and ends with a 1.5 mile time trial wearing boots. All with ex-SEALS screaming in my ear about how my form sucked and how fucked I was for the next two days. 

After that they gave us a very short break to get some water. 

Then suddenly, without warning, they proceeded to take us through a grueling physical challenge that lasted hours.

The end of that challenge was a crucial moment. It was the point where every single person had given everything they had and were now on an even playing field physically. 

That’s when the real challenge started. The challenge that existed between the ears.

And that’s what I came back for. The test of will. To see what I was made of inside. To prove to myself what I was capable of. The moment I had been searching for my entire adolescence and early adult life.

I was confident and terrified at the same time. 

What would it mean if I quit again? What would other people think?

The first time my mindset was largely unconscious. In retrospect I can see that my thoughts were based on survival and scarcity. I started the event on my heels.

This time I deliberately decided that I would thrive. That I would assume that I always had an abundance of energy left.

The first time I told myself I was hurting worse than everyone else. This time I told myself that others were probably hurting worse than me.

The first time I contributed to the group only as much as absolutely necessary. This time I used my extra energy and attention to help other members of the group, grounding them, motivating them. This got me out of my own head, allowed me to stop focusing on my own suffering, and allowed me to be a bigger contribution to my team.

The first time I preserved energy and held back. This reinforced my belief that it was excruciating and I needed to protect myself. This time I put out 100% effort at all times trusting that I would be able to hang on. This reinforced my belief that I could go on forever.

The experience of quitting the first time before coming back to complete the event was an important step in my journey. The story in my head after quitting was that I had no grit and I was not a real man. This gave me something much more than a physical challenge to overcome.

The intense fear of failure allowed me to prove to myself that I had courage. It taught me to respect challenges and that it’s cooler to prepare for them rather than fly by the seat of my pants. It helped me believe in myself more than if I had completed it the first time.

This experience was an important rite of passage for me. Not a sacred one like I imagine ones in indigenous communities might be, but a rite of passage nonetheless.

Whether it was innate in me as a male or something I learned from movies, I had always been obsessed with the idea of extreme physical crucibles. Of initiations. 

I had a deep desire to be tested. To see what I was really made of. Now I knew. 

I felt tough as nails, and I knew how to navigate and use my own mind. 

From that point on there has never been a physical challenge that has scared me, and there hasn’t been one I’ve underestimated either.

It both humbled me and gave me confidence. It helped me to respect and prepare for other hard things in life and gave me the self-esteem to know without a doubt that I could do it. I knew that I could count on myself. I became a better teammate, and started the journey of learning to sacrifice for the group.

I was fortunate enough to have multiple initiation rites of passage in my early adulthood. Wilderness therapy, living in the desert for months and this experience several years later. They grounded me, they allowed me to express my courage, they bonded me with other men beyond shallow conversation about sports, and they welcomed me into manhood.

What initiations do we have in our society today? On the whole in western culture we have none. They’re gone and have been replaced by gangs, fraternities and hazing from older football players. That void in our culture has produced soft men both physically and emotionally. 

Men that are full of fear and have no idea what they are capable of – because they’ve never been tested. 

It has led to men being in their heads rather than their bodies, and thus gets in their way of connecting with others.

There are organizations popping up, though, to fill this void such as The Mankind Project, EVRYMAN, and Twin Eagles Wilderness School.

Without initially intending to, I think that part of what I’m doing with Soul Searching Adventures is trying to create for others what I didn’t have growing up.

Physical and emotional crucibles. Transformational events for men to learn more about who they are, what they’re capable of, and what their purpose is on this earth.

Initiations.

If you’re a man and feel that you could benefit from something like that I highly encourage you to look into all of these and find something that feels scary and exciting to you.