The Guy’s Perspective

Written by Sai: Aka, “One of the Guys”

When my kids are sick I never quite feel right. It’s as if I have a furry woodland creature gnawing away at my stomach lining, trying to claw it’s way in. Somehow I’m able to function with this creature inside of me, but it throws off my equilibrium and my balance. And I get occasional stabs of pain.

My daughter’s been sick the last four days. She’s got a fever. She’s tired, listless, and unhappy. So my wife and I set her up on the couch in our room, so she can sleep, watch TV, and be with us at night. We like to be able to keep an eye on her.

But since we still have to attend to our other responsibilities-like her brothers-we gave her a small bell to ring when she needs us. This same bell we’ve also given to her brothers when they’ve been sick, and it seemed to work well. The boys would use it only when they needed something serious-like they were getting cold, or they were hungry, or lonely. My daughter, well that’s another story.

It all started off innocently enough. She’d ring it for some of the same reasons as the boys. But then she realized the power of the bell, and that’s when things got out of control.

“Daddy, my blanket fell on the floor.” (The couch is six inches above the floor)

“Daddy can you change the channel.” (She’s holding the remote and knows how to use it.)

“Mommy, can you bring me the computer?” (It’s on the bed next to the couch. She’s feeling better and totally capable of walking over to bed.)

“Daddy, what’s your favorite color?”

“Mommy, I want a dog.”

And it went on and on. Every time we’d sit and relax, or get started on a project that damn bell would ring. In fact my wife and I started hearing that bell, even when she wasn’t ringing it.

“Was that the bell?” my wife would say to me.

“No I think it was one of the boys blowing his nose.”

__________________

“I think I hear the bell,” I would say.

“Nope, that’s the dish washer,” my wife would retort.

___________________

And so it went.

And I got to wondering. My boys have had the same bell in their possession, but they’ve only used it when it was absolutely necessary. Actually, we had to push them to use it, otherwise they would have sat in bed and suffered. My boys actually felt threatened by that damn bell.

But not my daughter. Oh no. My daughter felt empowered by the bell. .

So I’ve been pondering what this all means, and how it might relate to the innate qualities of men and women.

Are we truly all hardwired from birth to take on the qualities of gender, passed on by generations before us?

Or is this an isolated incident, unique to my family and my kids?

My boys are like tiny men; you know the kind-they refuse to ask for directions when they’re lost. And my daughter is completely comfortable with the power bestowed on her, wielding it at every opportunity. It’s a funny thought to me, but one that might have some merit to it.

Either way, I’d like to take that bell and send it where it belongs-to the depth of Hades. But I am glad she’s starting to feel better. And she’s hard to say no to.

Gotta run. I hear that freakin’ bell now. Am I’m not kidding!!!!
“I’m coming honey!!”

What do you think?

Written by “Suburban Guy”

I realized recently that I’ve forgotten something very important. I realized that hidden behind all of my self-imposed restrictions and fears and limitations, there is a spirit within me that wants to feel absolutely powerful and free and beautiful. I connected with this feeling recently while listening to some primal music by a percussion team known as David and Steve Gordon. The song is called Spirit Vision, and it is a very primal and beautiful piece of music that evokes images of being wild and free and strong. You can listen to it here for free:

As I listened to it, I found myself yearning for a feeling of being fully alive, standing on the edge of a high cliff, feeling the wind on my face, tall, strong, brave, in the moment (add tanned skin and rippling muscles for a bonus). My imagination carried me away to a place where I lived as a part of a primal community, where I was respected for my strength and wisdom, where I was deeply connected to the earth and to the people and to a greater spirit, where I was powerful and beautiful. I stood on the cliff looking down, arms extended, overlooking my village, and knew that I was fully alive.

Okay, I know it sounds crazy, and perhaps something from a movie, but think about it. You’ve had this feeling yourself, perhaps after winning a big game, getting the girl/boy, achieving something really big or doing something that earned you lots of praise.  You may not have been half-naked on a cliff, but inside your spirit was soaring. You’ve also gotten this feeling from watching movies. I recently watched Avatar and found it beautiful this way — the main character transforms into a powerful and respected being who takes on life moment by moment with incredible bravery and strength. Think about it. Many of our favorite stories seek to invoke this feeling, the feeling of living a life that is essential, spirited, adventurous, engaged moment by moment, meaningful: Braveheart, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Harry Potter, and even How to Train your Dragon.

I think the desire to feel this way is there for all of us, but we don’t think we deserve to feel it.

What stunned me is how briefly I was able to sustain the feeling. Way too soon, I felt my mind, my inner critic, step in and remind me: you’re not that! You’re a dopey Dad who’s arms are anything but rippling with muscle and your “tan” is on your forearms and nowhere else. You thinking of yourself as brave and strong is laughable! You can’t remember to give the dog medicine let alone be the wise leader of a tribe of beautiful people. You’re being ridiculous. Get down from there! You’ll poke your eye out! (sorry, couldn’t resist that one…)

You get the idea. I shamed myself out of the feeling as soon as I had found it. The good thing is that one of the lessons I’ve learned in my life is that in order to heal, I have to first know how I am suffering. It’s sort of the internal “bulking up” version of “no pain no gain.” Seeing the gap so clearly between what it would be like to feel expansive and free and what I “allow” myself to feel in everyday life is an amazing gift. The truth is — it doesn’t matter if I think anyone else sees me as a beautiful and wonderful spirit. What matters is that I allow myself to feel that way. Waiting for external approval is a losing game — why wait for other people who are limiting themselves to approve you so you can stop limiting yourself?

The truth is, there is no “entrance exam” or “quality bar” associated with feeling really amazing and free and alive. It’s available to anyone, and everyone deserves it. We just have to learn how to stop our inner critics from telling us to stop jumping on the bed because we’ll break a leg (or get laughed at for wearing a loin cloth on a cliff). Here are some lyrics from a John Mayer song that has now taken on new meaning for me (from No Such Thing):

I wanna run through the halls of my high school
I wanna scream at the
Top of my lungs
I just found out there’s no such thing as the real world
Just a lie you’ve got to rise above

The lie is that you don’t deserve to feel expansive, beautiful, free, and strong.

Once again, I find that music has brought a valuable insight into my life. I think I’ll go out and buy a drum with feathers on it.

From: “One of The Guys”

Tiger Woods is a scoundrel. That we can all agree upon. And if you’re not sure, just ask his wife Elin. She’ll sadly confirm this point.

Tiger has put himself in this position. He had it all. Fame. Talent. Money. Family. Now he has, himself and his one endorsement deal, Nike.

But why are we giving him so much power? Seriously, why!!??

You ready for this.

I used to root for Tiger. He’s a great golfer. No, he’s the best golfer in the world. It’s fun seeing someone from the younger generation try to surpass some of the legends of the past.

Guess what? I still root for him. Why you say? (Many of you might be bristling about this, but give a guy a chance please!)

Why do I still root for him? Because I don’t give Tiger that much power. He’s a golfer to me and that’s it. Just as other athletes are just that, athletes.

You might argue, “What about the kids of the world? We don’t want them rooting for someone who is such a bad guy!” That’s a valid point, but it actually supports my position, because we’re teaching our kids all wrong.

Confused?

Tiger learned from his Old Man. He learned the game of golf, but he also learned how to be an island. He learned how to take care of his own needs and put himself first. How else do you get to be the best player in the world? You have to be completely selfish. There is no other way! Being the best requires complete sacrifice and Tiger gladly did that. He sacrificed his family and the respect of the world to be the best. His dad taught him that because his dad was a selfish scoundrel too.

But in a very important way Tiger has it right. He looked up to his father and respected him. It’s not his fault that his dad was a terrible role model. He was a good son. And that’s what we should be teaching our kids. How to be respectful, attentive, generous, helpful, kind, sensitive, emphatic and curious  human beings.

Instead what are we creating? Entitled kids who walk around thinking they can have anything. And what they can’t have they take. It’s not their fault, they’re learning it from us, not Tiger Woods.

So we need to buckle down, stop pointing fingers at the likes of Tiger, and take some responsibility ourselves. We need to teach our children the difference between right and wrong. We need to teach them how to be solid and caring people. We need to teach them that Tiger is an awesome golfer and that’s all, and not the person they should aspire to become.

And if we do all that, maybe one day we’ll hear our children say this, as they play make believe in the back yard.

Our kids as the announcer: The crowd is tense. It’s the 18th green of the Masters with the tournament on the line. If he sinks this putt he wins it all……(Pause) The stroke looks solid. The ball is rolling. Rolling. It’s. It’s. It’s good. It’s good!! He sinks it! Daddy sinks the putt to win his first major championship!!!! And the crowd goes wild!!!!!!!!!!

If I ever hear those words, it will be music to my ears.

So now that you gave me a chance, what do you think? Where do you stand?