Finding your voice

Manhood, Nightmares, Guiding Principles

Walking through the forest one day the boy looked at his grandfather and asked, "Papa, what's a man?"

Papa smiled, walking over to a nearby stream beckoning his grandson to follow. 

Splashing the boy he said, "A man is like water. Always changing.”

“That is the only thing that is exactly the same. Other than twigs and berries. All men have twigs and berries.

Beyond that a man can take many forms, and each man can take many forms throughout his life.

“Some are like that rock," he said pointing. "They are dependable and strong. Always there when you need them most.

Some are like that oak tree. They are grounded and help others center themselves.

Some are like your dog, playing and spreading joy. They remind others that there is more to life than work.

Some are like a spear wielding courage to pierce the armor of power with truth.

Some are like the owl. They share wisdom from a higher vantage point than others.”

Sliding his feet across the pebbles on the ground, the boy looked down contemplating what he had just heard. "So what's the best kind?", he blurted out.

His grandfather took a breath and said, "Look at that flower. What do you think is the purpose of that flower?

It's just to be a flower.

And just like the flower, a man's purpose is to be himself. If he is tree-like, he should be as sturdy as he possibly can. To grow roots as deeply as he can. To sway with the wind when necessary. Not trying to be a bush because it thinks a bush is more valuable.

The bee needs the flower, the flower needs the soil, and the soil needs the leaves on the tree.

The tree needs the water, and the wind takes the water where it needs to be.

And like this is a created a harmonious “we.”

A flower is no better than a rock, and a famous artist is no better than a grocery store clerk.

Lastly, he looked around and pointed. "That bush. That rock. That tree. That sun. That water. It's made up of the same material as a man.

Through this recognition a man might see himself in all things and all things in himself.

When he sees darkness in another man he may remember that he too has some darkness inside of him, and that his privileged circumstances may aid him in keeping that darkness at bay.

When he sees greatness in another man, he may know that that man is only a mirror for his own greatness, however dormant it may lie within.”

And he may recognize the humor of the words “going out into nature,” for he knows that he is nature.

Satisfied, the boy leaned back and smiled. Then he asked, "But grandpa, why are some men's twigs bigger than others?"

What we live for

I watched Dead Poet Society with Robin Williams recently (10/10 would recommend). In it Williams' character John Keating says, "...medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, music, romance, love, these are what we live for."

I've been pretty obsessed with music my whole life, but for the first 29 years I constipated the urge to create my own. I stopped playing the piano when I was 10 because I thought my friends would think it was lame. I quit the choir because I was terrified that it meant I was gay. And I was certain that being in the choir was gay.

I took the fact that so few men around me danced or wrote poetry to mean that they didn't want to. And that neither should I.

The older I get the more I suspect that every man, whether he admits it to himself or not, deeply wants to be able to dance. To create art. To create his own sappy romantic life.

My writing about twigs and berries and grandfather's wisdom may not put food on my family's table (yet), but it sure brings a lot more beauty and meaning to my life.

Finding our voice

John Keating tells his students, "You must strive to find your own voice because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are going to find it at all."

In my infancy of "finding my voice" I can already say that I never would have found it without trying to say something in the first place.

Many of my worst nightmares have come true. A panic attack on stage, offending people in my writing and podcasts, etc. All of those experiences sucked berries at the time. But none were as painful as the years of creative constipation. The years of wanting to express myself but not.

Keating said, "To quote from Whitman, 'O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?' Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?"

A few other things I want to share with you

1. A tweet that sums up one of my life's guiding principles

2. Adee and I just celebrated our 5 year anniversary (6 months late) in the mountains. One of the days we did some exercises from the book His Needs, Her Needs (thanks to Andrew and Libby Drish for the idea). It was excellent. Similar to the 5 Love Languages. However, this book provides a much higher definition around what each person needs to feel loved and supported. If the 5 Love Languages is like an old black and white TV, His Needs, Her Needs is a 72 inch 4k.

P.S. She’s 5 months pregnant already. New offspring coming in hot!

Peace,

Michael