Create The Queen

You stood at the altar, utterly convinced.

Your friends had warned you: told you that you were about to exchange your bachelor freedom for sleepless nights, dirty diapers, and the ceaseless braying of children.

You saw the burdens of family life before you, and you felt happy–even eager–to shoulder the harness.

For this woman in white before you… this beautiful, adoring bride… she fired you as no one ever had before.

With HER by your side… with her love, adoration and BELIEF shoring you up, what could you NOT do? What burdens could you NOT withstand?

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Steady Eddie and Roller Coaster Rick

We all know Steady Eddie:

Cheerful, even-keeled, slow to anger, quick to smile, steady as the rising sun.

Eddie is the paragon. The gold-standard of married masculinity you constantly compare yourself to.

And you do not measure up.

In fact, your name could be Roller Coaster Rick.

For, whether visible or not, you flit from despair to elation and back again at blinding speed.

Unlike Eddy, you are restless: one moment playful and kind, the next distracted, impatient, roaring.

You are discontent.

And adding shame to misery is your mistaken assumption that all this makes you malformed, broken, abject… that you are, to everyone’s disappointment, so unlike Eddie.

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Man’s Leprosy Of The Soul

I’ll never forget the sight of that leper begging in the slums of Nairobi.

The man had no feet or hands, and lay on his back like a dog, waving his runny red stumps in the air to draw the passerbys’ pity and open their purse-strings.

The twist with leprosy is that it’s not the disease itself but the secondary effects that wreak especial havoc.

First, the disease shuts down the pain messages that warn your brain of bodily damage. Then begins the body’s slow destruction: you stand on a hot coal unaware, or walk about, oblivious to the nail buried in your foot, until infection and rot take hold.

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Chain Yourself Free

As creators, we are both attracted to and repelled by creating within a committed routine.

In many ways it feels anathema to inspiration… that the proper relationship to creation is to work only if and when the muse moves us to.

When we give in to that wistful arrangement and leave our creating undisciplined, the powers latent in us go untapped:

We live as potentialities, always wondering what we are capable of but never disciplining our creative lives in a way that will ultimately reveal that to us.

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Why Men Are Addicted To Sacrifice

Photo by ladydragonflyherworld [cropped & flipped]

Photo by ladydragonflyherworld [cropped & flipped]

You stand there shivering in the rain:

Ankle deep in a muddy field, your belly empty save the weedy scraps of yesterday’s meager gleanings.

You are the work horse, set grimly to rocky pasture.

Your entire life, the message: “your place in the world… it’s here, unfeeling and unflinching in the field… your gift to the world your ability to self-deny, self-deprecate, self-annihilate.”

In a world of lower order problems… a world of tooth, claw, ice, darkness, blood… these gifts may well be your full extent: survival via stoic resolve the highest order of problem your bleak life can aspire to solve.

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How To Get Your Fire Back

I sat on the couch in the dark, hating myself.

I felt so stupid:

College-educated, “creative,” visionary… with a wife and kids looking to me to provide not just food and shelter, but to LEAD them into a life of love, adventure, joy…

And I was FAILING.

I felt more a slave at my *business* than I had felt at my day job.

Each passing day shredding my confidence, our bank account steadily draining out like a severed vein in the neck.

All around me, it seemed, men less creative, less educated, less visionary were succeeding wildly… creating the life of wealth and abundance that I craved…

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Year Of The Gut

You have at your feet a new year fresh and unblemished:

A blank canvas yet unmarked by the blood of failure, a fresh snow not yet stained by despair.

So here you stand, poised on the fork: a part of you planning out another year’s goals and resolutions, another part hissing to yourself: “fuck these goals, fuck this charade of ‘creating my future’… this illusion that I will someday break through.”

These paths you’ve inherited, you are right to doubt them:

You’ve tried the path of cold, solitary reason…

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You Are The Gift

You’ve worked hard to make today special:

To make her dream of the perfect Christmas come true…

To give your children the gifts they’ve pined for, to see the wild delight in their eyes…

To please and appease the relatives and all their little plans for you.

And meanwhile, you expect little for yourself.

No grand gifts, no great gratitude…

All you want it to make it through un-criticized, to tip-toe through the gauntlet of expectation un-bloodied.

And in that respect, today is much like the others:

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Why Modern Man Lies

We drift to sleep warm in our beds, never further from the jungle, yet never more afraid.

It is not the lion’s jaw we fear, of the flash of some blade in the dark:

It is the disapproving look.

The public derision.

Exile from the land of the “correct.”

And so…

Glib and cheerful: THAT is how we go into the day.

THAT is the stance proven to buy some toleration.

Speak freely, and you risk social annihilation.

But you are not here to smile and bob:

You are here to speak hard truths.

You are here to live and love untidily.

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How To Sell Your Wife On The Dream (Part 2)

This is a followup to a previous post on the same topic.

You see the future so clearly:

The business you’ll build, the money you’ll make, the wild freedom you’ll unleash in your life.

You share the vision with your wife:

Instead of joy in her eyes, you see… fear.

Fear of it all going to shit.

Fear the so-called “family adventure” you describe will be, in fact, your own solitary, alienating slog.

“Wait, what?” you say. “Don’t you see? This is for US!”

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