Getting By

It happens to everyone. As much of an introvert as I am, the isolation associated with staying safe in this pandemic has started to impact my mental wellbeing. There’s no escaping the fact that I’ve found myself in a bit of a funk as of late. To add insult to injury, I have also been a little rough on myself for feeling discouraged. After all, my family and I have fared extremely well through all of this. We are all healthy, still gainfully employed and by all accounts, living quite a comfortable existence.

This weekend, I finally verbalized my recent feelings to my wife. I pointed out that I was feeling guilty about complaining about the funk I have found myself in. She was quick to point out that I was not complaining at all. I was just sharing. No guilt and no judgement. She just listened.

This past weekend, I made it a point to sit outside, just being still. I sat outside and watched birds. Simple and uncomplicated. The birds didn’t seem to realize that we’re all a little stir crazy. The world just kept spinning. I found comfort in the stillness.

Today, I feel a little bit better. Just sharing my feelings with my best friend and taking an hour to connect with nature seemed to dull the ache of having our world turned upside down. I still miss our friends. I desperately want to travel somewhere where I can simply disengage. I see the light at the tunnel. Until then, I will look for the little opportunities to keep myself grounded. I will be more diligent about sharing the burden of my feelings with the person I trust more than anyone else. I’ll find a way. I’ll get by.

A Win is a Win

There are days that I worry about the connection I have with my daughter. I don’t pretend to believe that this is unique to me. I would imagine that there are plenty of fathers out there that struggle to connect with their 13 year old daughters. I also know that this is not necessarily a bad thing. I don’t want to be my daughter’s best friend. It’s hard to be an effective parent when you’re focused on being your child’s friend. I know all of this, yet I still worry some days.

We share some common interests in music and the humanities. She’s a sensitive soul and beneath my hardened veneer, I very much am as well. Yet, as it almost always happens, I keep traversing further and further away from her orbit. Again, I rationally understand that this is expected. The pain is none the less real.

Thankfully, every now and then, I am reminded that I still occupy a space in her expanding universe. Last night, the three of us enjoyed a socially distanced dinner out to celebrate my birthday. Normally, this configuration will find our daughter sitting on the same side of the dining table as her mother, opposite of me. To be clear, this does not bother me in the least. I enjoy a little extra elbow room. Last night, she sat on my side of the table. On purpose. Because it was my birthday. She made a deliberate decision to sit next to me.

I know this may not seem like a ground breaking development. But it mattered to me. It mattered to this man that finds himself struggling more and more to remain relevant in his teenager’s world. I will take the win and I will place the trophy in the case to be revered in the days ahead, where wins may become an increased rarity.

The Balancing Act

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about balance. No, not how I manage to stay upright on two legs, but the balance between my professional and my personal life. I have been reflecting on how at various stages in my life, I’ve put more emphasis on one over the other. I’ve thought extensively about the price I have paid for those decisions.

All of this reckoning seems to bring up more and more questions. There are social expectations. There are familial obligations. There is the need to feel valuable to this world. It seems the more I think about what the “right” balance for me is, the deeper into the rabbit hole I dive. What was right in my twenties certainly isn’t what I believe is right today. How do I know if I have it right?

I don’t know the answer to a lot of these questions. I’ll keep asking. I am relatively certain that the answer will change from one person to the next. I’m also confident that the answer will change for me in the future. For now, I look both inward and outward to take the best reading I can, as to whether that balance is “right.” Am I still learning and growing? Do I feel content? I look inward. Do those around me seem content? Are they sending me signals of something being out of balance? I look outward.

Do you think about the work/life balance in your life? What do you use for your barometer? I want to hear from you!

Essential Reading – Walden, or, Life in the Woods

Welcome to the first installment of the Essential Reading series, books I would recommend every man read. When trying to determine where to start, I asked myself if there was one book, above all others, which had the most significant impact on me. That is where I would start. That question, brought me to Walden, or, Life in the Woods by Henry David Thoreau. Allow me to explain.

There are several themes of Thoreau’s work that speak to me. It is, at its essence, a story of one man and his two year long experiment in self reliance, living in what could generously be called a cabin on Walden Pond, near Concord, MA. Let’s set aside the fact that Concord, MA is where I would want to live if I could afford to (and convince my spouse to do so as well). It is home to the American Transcendentalist movement of the 19th century. Emerson, Hawthorn, Alcott and Thoreau all called Concord home. What a rich literary history. I digress.

I learned this, at least, by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. – Henry David Thoreau, Walden, or, Life in the Woods

One central theme that still resonates in today’s world, for me at least, relates to simplifying what is important to a man. While completely shunning capitalism and technology for 24 months may seem unrealistic in 2021, there are important lessons we can take away from Thoreau’s reflections on his time spent at Walden. Important questions are left with the reader. Are the material gains we toil for worth it in the long run? Do the “things” we acquire justify the burden a man places on himself to obtain such treasure? We are forced to question what wealth really means.

Of course Walden is also a reflection on man’s relationship with nature. As if I couldn’t find more connections with Thoreau’s writing. It seems impossible to read the book without developing an impressive understanding of how important his connection with the land is. His ability to highlight the beauty in the smaller and better things, assists the reader in helping to answer these important questions. What is beautiful? What is wealth? What is success?

The reader, of course, must answer these queries for himself. One mark of a really great piece of writing is that it requires the reader to ask critical questions, even if they do not realize that’s the intended purpose. By this standard, Walden stands out amongst some of the very best works of literature we have available to us.

Have you read Walden? Have you asked yourself any of the questions? If you have, what have you come away with?

Essential Reading – An Introduction

Today, I’m speaking to the men out there. I’m assuming that since you’re reading this, you have some interest in the whole concept of what it means to be a Curated Man. We are simply products of our experiences. When we talk about becoming the men we wish to be, the careful selection of those experiences plays a pivotal roll. Of course, I’m talking about the experiences we choose, not the ones which are thrust upon us.

I hope that other men have a desire to develop into well balanced people. While we all develop and bloom into our own special versions of human beings, a solid foundation is necessary for any of those versions to thrive. While building that foundation can be complex, I have found it important to compartmentalize the approach, to the extent to which it can be accomplished. Let’s call them pillars of the foundation.

Now that we’ve introduced the concept of the pillars, let’s begin our journey of exploring one of them. Reading. I mean, you’re doing it right now. The written word is responsible for the advanced species of animal that humans have become. And while reading has certainly been crowded out of the options available to us to fill the minutes of our day, the importance of doing so has not diminished.

Gentlemen, I’m not going to offer that you have to become book worms. I’m also not suggesting that reading alone can turn you into a well rounded human being. None the less, reading is important. Reading the right things of course is equally important. This brings me to the reason for this specific blog post. Curating the things we read.

Ultimately, choosing the right reading materials will be an intimately personal decision for any man to make. A lot of those decisions will be driven by what interests the individual and their current circumstances. Still, sometimes a road map is extremely helpful when you’re beginning a new journey.

So, I’ll be starting a new ongoing series called Essential Reading. I will be offering some recommendations on some places to start. Many of the books are ones that occupy permanent spots on my own bookshelves. All have made a mark on the man that I have become. Many will sound like obvious selections. Some may seem a little more non-traditional when we talk about curating the men we want to be. All will come with an explanation as to why they were important to me, hopefully providing value to you.

What are some of the most influential books you have enjoyed? I want to hear from you!

Today, It’s Easier

Today, it became just a bit easier to be a father. It’s easier to teach my daughter, with a straight face, that character matters. Truth matters. It’s easier to demonstrate to her that sometimes how we do things is just as important, if not more so, than what we do. Character matters. Truth matters.

It’s easier to show her that we can still be hopeful about the future of our country. It’s easier to show her that her own potential is limitless. It’s easier to show her that the arc of the moral universe continuously bends towards justice. It’s easier to see that our ultimate success is interwoven with the need for interdependency. She can see that we can never just do things , “our way.” There is the together way, or there is no good way. Allies are important. It’s easier to see that good is absolute, and that loving each other is a necessary element in our shared success. Empathy wins.

Being a father is full of difficulties, but today, it became just a little bit easier.

Do As I Say?

There is an old adage: Judge a man not on his words, but rather upon what he does. Malarkey, I declare!

While it is certainly true that actions can speak louder than words, it doesn’t negate the power that the words we use have on our influence.

Instead, we should be judged upon our words and by our actions. Even more specifically, does what we say match up with what we do? That is our measure.

The Fuel of Hope

Sometimes the juices just don’t flow. I could list the numerous reasons why I haven’t written much this past year. It wouldn’t tell you anything important. The explanation can be reduced to this: I was interested in doing other things. I got out of the habit of putting words on the figurative paper and this year has not been overtly inspirational. I suppose there is only one tried and true way to cultivate inspiration for writing and that is to simply write more. The ideas and feelings will come. I’m going to try and do more of that moving forward.

It certainly has been a year we will not forget. With luck, we will one day tell our grandchildren of our tales, which will become as curious to future generations as the Spanish Flu was to ours. Life has a way of showing humans that in spite of the many amazing things we have accomplished, predicting the future remains marginally more accurate than flipping a coin. The further in time we go, the less precise we become in divining what will come next. That doesn’t mean we do not prepare for possible eventualities, for we know that sooner or later we will need a plan to meet the next challenge we face.

As we eagerly hold the door open for 2020 to show itself out, none of us can predict how we’ll evaluate 2021 next December. We can develop some pretty good ideas as to what is in store for us in the beginning of 2021. Much of the same. Though one thing history has taught us about predicting what comes next is that we will one day move past our current challenges and we will design our fortresses for the next predictably, unpredictable obstacle we must face.

So, we plan and we hope. We look for the answers and put faith in our ability to develop the next set of solutions. Perhaps it is your child that will be one of the minds that will conquer cancer. Maybe it’s my child who figures out how to convert the Sun’s energy into electricity in a manner so efficient that the world will never want for clean and renewable energy again. Maybe it’s our generation. Maybe it’s the next one. It only takes one mind to spark a revolution. It only takes one mind to develop the next life changing innovation. Our job is to keep striving to cultivate those minds and drive towards better. Hope if the fuel we need to keep pushing forward.

I hope in the next year, each of you will find that hope. In the face of whatever may come our way, I hope that you find the joy in life that will provide the fuel that the world needs. I hope you smile as much as you can and laugh as much as possible. Know that I will be working diligently to take my own advice. Happy New Year my friends.

Quail and the Brittlebush

It’s April in Arizona.  The Sonoran Desert is in full bloom, her Spring borne, verdant hue cloaking the brutal reality she holds inside.  The ginger petals of the desert globemallow invite one in with promises of an elusive respite, only to reveal its arid certainty.  The brittlebush with her bright yellow blaze deceives a seasonal observer, knowing she will disburden her vibrancy once the brutal Summer makes itself known.  The temporary explosion of verdure is undeniably elusive, yet a finer beauty is intractable to chance upon.

All around, the world proves more uncertain, each day.  In a season of beauty, rebirth and consorting, we find ourselves isolated by the cold reality of a global blight.  A species rooted in social interaction finds itself in confinement, a cruel division from an otherwise communal world.  I wonder what nature knows of our trials.  Does the wise owl notice the mighty human, the apex predator, burrowed in their stucco-covered nests, sequestered for the safety of themselves and their brethren?

Nearby in the flourishing wilds, birds once seen companionless now are seen coming and going two by two.  The curved bill thrasher, once in isolation himself, with his territorial cry of “whit-wheep”, is now heard singing his melodic warble, accompanied by his new mate.  The Towhee now forages the desert floor in advance of his new bride, clawing at the ground to expose its next morsel of nourishment, while she cautiously monitors for a signal of safety, so she can join the hunt for the next unsuspecting earthbound insect.

The quail, who roamed just weeks ago together as a covey, have now paired off, one boy and one girl.  The odd man out now aimlessly wanders the creosote lined dry wash, desperately crowing in hopes of attracting a newly single hen.  If his quest brings him in the proximity of a newly paired couple, the young lady will assertively remind him that she is indeed accounted for, while her companion confidently watches the theatrics.  

Do the quail, towhees and thrashers notice us?  More accurately, do they notice the absence of our presence?  Will they notice the absence of the man-made din once present in the Springs of bygone days?  What will they notice after another journey around the Sun?

There are so many uncertainties that lie ahead.  So many questions that are not just unanswerable about the thoughts of the desert flora and fauna, but answers that are unknown to the wisest of human beings.  What I do know is that beauty and wonder are still all around us, waiting to be observed.  In the midst of the worry, there are promises of resilience to be seen all around.  Just as there is certainty provided to us by the brittlebush and the quail, so too can we be confident that we will again gather together as friends, thriving with a renewed sense of connectedness and social responsibility. When the news around us casts its pall, look for the beauty underneath.  Look for the smaller and better things for the assurance that this too shall pass.

 

Cheese Puffs, Fire and En Vino Veritas

It’s Saturday night, the first day of February 2020.  We live in Phoenix, Arizona; smack dab in the middle of the Sonoran Desert.  While the rest of North America is shut in their homes, huddled around a fireplace and sheltering from the cold of a typical American winter, we saw a high temperature of 74 degrees Fahrenheit.  While the sun is engaged in a never-ending game of hide-and-go-seek with most of the country, she is our constant companion, bathing us in a warmth that becomes the seasonal envy of millions of people.  Torture, I know.

After the sunset this evening, which was a brilliant show of oranges, purples, and reds painted across the horizon, I suggested to my wife that we open a bottle of wine.  To this, she readily agreed.  I then made my way into the desert oasis that is our back yard, started a fire in our fire pit and sat down under the moonlight.  All of this, with the hopes that my wife would soon follow me and we would enjoy a semi-romantic suburban night as we enjoy the best of what the vine has to offer. Things didn’t transpire as I planned, and I couldn’t be happier about it.

As I endeavored into my first glass of wine, I heard my daughter come downstairs and begin a conversation with my wife.  This, in and of itself, was a scenario that has become more and more infrequent, as our daughter refuses to stop growing up and has entered her teenage years.  Straight away, it was apparent that my wife and daughter had taken advantage of some peculiar alignment of the stars.  They were laughing and conspired to spend an evening of ill-advised dinner choices and a new Netflix release.  As I sat alone with my thoughts outside, they were eating cheese puffs and giggling like they were sisters, not parent and child.

As I sat outside alone, watching the flames of my fire lapping at the mild desert night air, I realized that I was right where I needed to be, and my wife was exactly where she needed to be.  While I sat alone by the fire, I was the furthest from being lonely that I could be.  As much as I relish my opportunities to be a couple with my spouse, tonight was a night that I needed to remain on the periphery.  No dad or husband contributions were required this evening, other than recognizing the magic that was happening inside the house.  Yes, I sat alone, but every giggle and statement of nonsense inside the house filled me with a contentment that I seem to be constantly in search of.

As I finish my second glass of wine tonight, relocated from the fire to my study, I set to capture the magic of this evening in this prose.  Though the evening hasn’t taken the direction I originally had chartered, it has none the less drawn me closer to my wife.  I realize that there are times, where the best I can contribute to our family dynamic is to step back and watch the magic develop around me.  I am thankful for this night and for the desert oasis that lives inside my own home.