I'm angry at these men and yet, they taught me such valuable lessons.
There I was, in loyal service to be led, offering my life of talents…and they shrank as cowards. I gave these good men the opportunity to lead and they weren't prepped for the task and as a result, much of my life had been leaderless.
Now, 20 yrs later, I see young men asking the same questions I once did and they look at me with that same gleam in their eye, in bondage with the duality of both distrust and hope. Times have changed though, these young men are smarter, faster and can sniff bullshit miles away from anything repping themselves as authority.
They unknowingly sharpen me, causing a chilling reverence in my spirit to be slow to speak, even slower to action or worse, give advice. Yet, I want to help! I have a desire to give the direction I so desperately wanted and was tragically lacking; that's sadly my own junk I must own. This generation is different…I must wait upon them, I am here again in this place offering to serve men, men that are younger than me.
Amazing really. Humbling too.
In poker games there's a saying: ‘if you look around and don't see the sucker, it's probably you.' I believe the same is true of leadership. So few of us fail to rise in times of challenge and we cave, rendered useless in our own flatulence. It hurts my fucking head!
Can a man rise to lead the ones that desire hope, a beacon that will affect change and do what's right for the people, unaffected by the lure of popularity? I don’t know. I’ve failed this test in the past, only to restore and rise, pushing against the system in bold proclamation of valiant freedom for us all.
At this point I have to stop and talk just to the women involved in this mania of men. Ladies, thank you for allowing us the space to run this course of both failure and success until it becomes engrained in the spirit.
We, well…we just take time to marinate and become Princes and Kings. Much like young Siddhartha, boys must leave the security of whatever castle walls we’re encased behind and explore our own way, bloody ourselves and return whole.
None of really know where it all went wrong, why we were born pure and perfect and the domestication process robbed us of all forms of masculinity, but we know something is missing and it’s the nagging ache, like a heartbeat deep inside us, that keeps us moving forward, seeking our treasure. Bare with us.
So many areas are desperate for leadership and we instead tolerate the amicable, the ones that look left and right, scanning the crowds for a consensual agreement along the silliest of paths. “Just making a decision already!”
I often think to myself only to bow down and okay the offer to let them think about it, uncommitted as they walk from the conversation with zero intention between us…only mealy mouth, weak minded, non-directed energy floating around looking for REAL purpose to show up.
There is a way of a few distinct men, it seems allusive almost secretive. In all the hundreds of books and courses consumed, and the thousands I've interviewed thru the years, I have yet to really see it be dissected much less even spoken about.
So we gather in circles, assembled tribes in the office, the church, the schools, even the bars and clubs to hone our skills and become better. I'm personally proud to be in this tribe of men, this genre of humanness, perfect in our imperfection and constantly evolving. I daily celebrate the brothers among me, this tribe called “men”.