Who Was HE?

Monday the sports world lost big time.  One of the granddaddies of modern sports, and unspoiled for over a century, the 117th running of the Boston Marathon was brutally attacked.  And I am fairly certain when and if the perpetrator of this sick crime is found out, it will be a man.

As a man who works to improve the state and reputation of masculinity, that cuts even deeper than the pain of losing something so special (I have personally run the Boston Marathon 4 times, and my family would wait to cheer me not very many feet away from where the second bomb went off - See http://pastorbecca.wordpress.com/2013/04/16/from-heartbreak-hill-to-heartbreak/).  It is almost not even a question whether or not a man did it - it is just assumed.  We are the violent ones.

But we aren't just that! I often tell men that if they want to understand the fullness of masculinity they need look no further than between their legs.  Part of our apparatus is hard, and aggressive, and that part can be hurtful as well as the source of pleasure for our partners.  But the other part of our masculinity is soft and quite fragile (if you have ever gotten a kick in the nuts, you know how fragile they are).  That part of us must be protected.  That part of us is the source of our life-giving, life-creating gift.

We often, as men, say to each other, "Grab your balls, and do it!" as a way to communicate the sentiment of getting tough.  But I think we have it backwards.  We need to grab those puppies as a way to remember that we have a soft underbelly, that we are vulnerable to attack and that we (and our species) need to be protected.

Yea, a man probably did that - a man that had no balls! He had no sensitivity for others or for himself. He had no compassion for the human race and, in fact, assembled his weapon for maximum pain and carnage. I have a difficulty containing my rage for that man, but I know that violence only breeds more violence.  The only way to heal this is through love and compassion.

So, brothers, grab your balls, and squeeze tightly.  Remember how fragile you and your life are. Remember your capacity to create and sustain life. We have to show up bigger and stronger than he did.  It is the only way.

The Hurt Puppy

Recently we had the great honor of having several women (accomplished, powerful and articulate women) come to the Married Man's Survival Course to serve as a panel for our men. Our intention was twofold: to confirm some of the many statements we make in the Guide about what women have told us regarding relationships, and to allow the men in the class to ask ANY question they had to some open and honest women who promised that they would do their very best to respond.

It was breathtaking, to say the least! The level of honesty of these women and the vulnerability they showed while responding to our men blew us away. But about three quarters through the session a man asked an impossible question - one really that most likely reflected his own relationship but which he asked in a generic way. "Why do our wives say such hurtful things when we are arguing?"

There was a pause as the women looked back and forth at each other, then one brave, beautiful soul spoke these words:

"I don't know what your wife feels, I can only speak about how I feel. When I am hurting all I can think of is that hurt. Trust me, I really don't think she is talking about you. She just hurts and that's all that can come out." Then she added, "A long time ago I had a puppy. it was the gentlest, sweetest dog I have ever had. But one day it got out into the street and was hit by a car. I ran out to get my dog and take care of her and as I gently picked her up, she bit me. I don't think it was me she was biting, I just think she was hurt and was protecting herself from further hurts. I am just like that puppy, and I don't want to be hurting any further!"

All the women nodded in agreement. And the men in the room knew what she meant.

Sharpening the Edge

Hey men, it is our pain that sharpens us - our wounds that teach us - our failures that forces us to focus. Why then do we complain? I hear men whining about their wives testing them or being a pain in the rear and then blaming their wives.

I really don't know her, but having talked with as many married men as I have over the years, I will lay odds that there is a bigger lesson there than "I have a bitchy wife." I read a blog recently that was truly sad. The male writer was heartbroken that his wife of one year was saying she didn't feel emotionally engaged. He should leap up and kiss her for being so communicative instead of sulking in the corner! She just told him how she was feeling = followed by the real give away "It's not you, it's me." So the truth in the matter was that his wife was simply telling him that she felt no juice.

So how did he get there in the first place? There was obviously some juice along that path and he needs to remember what it was that he did to court her.

Face it guys, we get lazy and need to be kicked in the pants every once in a while to keep sharp and on point. The Samurai warrior trains for years on the art of bonsai or flower arranging and while concentrating on that, his master sneaks up behind him and whacks him with the broad side of a sword! We must be alert and attentive at all times. The great master teacher said, "Be alert! If the house owner knew the hour the thief was coming he would be ready." You never know when you must be ready, so you must be ready all of the time in marriage. Embrace your problems - they make you sharp and strong. Next?

Transforming Pain

Robert Bly says we carry all of our hurts and pains around in a big sack that gets heavier and bigger as we age. But what is it that we do with that pain. As men we are much better at doing that holding. Perhaps our female counterparts can hold on to pain and endure far longer that we males can. So at some point we face the issue of having to do something with the pain.

The only thing that we can really do with it though is transform it. We transform pain when we listen and learn from its message - its lesson. Each pain has some specific message - a value to teach; a line never to be crossed again; a door to be opened. And when we learn that lesson the pain is transformed into the teacher. It is no longer resident in us as a lesion or tumor. it has healed and transformed.

But the pain that we do not embrace and allow to transform us we will inevitably pass on to another. So as Richard Rohr always says pain is either transformed or transmitted. The choice is yours. Stop the cycle of violence - the pain do its work in you.

Quiet Despiration

"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation," Thoreau once wrote - and here is one. Veteran's Day I was making my coffee and saw the police coming down the street with blue lights on - and turning up the next street over. Right behind him were fire engines - way too many for that hour of the day. That's when I saw the smoke. It was already too late though.

Not for the house, though that was totalled, they were too late for the man inside. As the story unfolded, it turns out the couple had been having domestic problems, and I guess financial problems because the house was scheduled for foreclosure as well. I have to confess I don't even know their names - they always kept to themselves and the kids could not stop there on Halloween because they kept the lights out. Quiet desperation.

She left; he was alone. So he set the house on fire and then took his life. The note said something about this being an appropriate day being that he was a vet himself. Fifty three years old and done. Very quiet desperation. And I didn't even know him. None of us did.

Hey men, if you know of a man out there who is alone, maybe someone you even know but he's been down stairs for some time now, take this as a reminder that there are about a million ways men cry out for help only one of which is, "Hey help me! Please" The other 999,999 don't sound anything like that. Most of them make the inaudible noise of quiet desperation. Make a call. Drop by. Sit down beside him. But do something.

I know that this is supposed to be the Married Man's Survival Guide blog, but this is why we wrote the book, and why we do this work, and even then one slips away right under our noses.

Don't Remove the Arrow!

Shakespeare called them the "slings and arrows" but whatever you call them, the pains of living the masculine life can certainly feel like a direct arrow in the chest. I was working with a man who had been divorced and is now contemplating marriage to a chart-topping, classy woman. All was going well until he called me recently in agony and depression saying the arrow he'd taken in the divorce was just too painful. It was actually stopping him from proposing to this magnificent woman he knew he wanted to marry.

He said, "You're my mentor - help me take out the arrow. I can't get it out by myself!" But (and I am certain he didn't like my response at first) I said no. That is masculine wisdom. Men learn through our pain and what we learn are our values and our terms. Because the pain speaks loudly, in a sense, saying, "NO - I will never ever feel this pain again. I will never let this happen again." And that is the first step in driving the stake in the ground that says what your commitment is.

There is no legitimate "no" that is not the result of a committed "yes" to some principle or value. So if your pain is saying a loud "NO!" then there is a value that has been challenged; a line that has been crossed. That man lost - massively - when he did not hold his ground and let his values be compromised, and it cost him his first marriage (for better or for worse). And now that pain is what he needs to ensure that his commitment in this next marriage will be stronger than any circumstance or hiccup that can (and will) arise. "NO, I will not quit!" "NO, I will not get lazy in the relationship, because I will never allow that thing to happen to me again!" I told him that the pain is not what should stop him from proposing - it is the watchdog that will ensure that this will be an unstoppable marriage.

So a good mentor (I will claim that in this case) will not take out the arrow. A true mentor will help a man embrace and cherish the pain as his teacher. We do not learn any other way (sorry, I wish it were easy)! Wisdom is the ability to look through your pain and scars and find the lessons learned. Then turn around and teach another man - pass it forward.