Father and son – Serenity Through Sweat

Rules

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I’m working my way through the second book in the Wheel of Time series and wanted to share a quote that I found particularly appropriate for Father’s Day.

I was first introduced to the Wheel of Time when my wife and I watched it on Amazon Prime last summer.

After we put the boys to bed, we would wade through the magical world that Robert Jordan created one episode at a time.

A broken world, doomed to repeat itself, cycle after cycle as the “wheel” turns each age. The only inhabitants of this magical realm who seem able to exert any control over the fate the wheel has laid out for them are the Aes Sedai.

The Aes Sedai are a group of women able to channel the magic of the “one power” to do incredible things.

The Aes Sedai are split into factions (ajahs) denoted by their color. Each faction slightly different in their methodology, beliefs, and purpose.

Each Aes Sedai has a male guardian, a warder, assigned to her. They are bonded to each other till death. The relationships are complicated, and while they are reciprocal in many ways, the warders are subordinate.

In ages past, there were male Aes Sedai who could also wield the one power. Theirs was slightly different than that wielded by the women.

Opposite powers but complimentary, male and female, yin and yang. But at some point ages ago, the male side screwed it up and broke the world. Now, the women are left with the pieces, trying to hold it all together.

The Aes Sedai of the red ajah do not have male warders. Their mission is to root out men who may try to channel the one power.

One of my favorite layover runs in Roanoke

Any man who tries to wield the one power will cause chaos and destruction. Reaching out to the source of the one power will, in time, drive a man to madness.

The women of the red ajah find these men and “gentle” them. Cutting off their ability to touch the source so that they won’t cause any harm. The men still end up going mad.

Some Aes Sedai, particularly of the blue ajah, believe in a profecy of the dragon reborn. A man who will be able to channel the one power and will restore the world from it’s broken state and win the eternal battle against the dark one.

This was the back story given in the Amazon Prime show and tracks fairly well with the books.

Beautiful day for some miles on my Traverse city layover

The world created by Jordan and the characters that populate it are rich and enticing.

Both the books, and especially the show, have a significant feminine lean. Men break the world. Men cannot control the one power. Women are the saviors. “Gentling” bears a striking resemblance to castration. I was worried this would put me off, but i was pleasantly surprised.

The warders seem to be excellent male role models. The main characters who are male while still defering to the Aes Sedai, are anything but subordinate.

Lan, one of the warders, is training Rand, a simple sheep herder but also the dragon reborn, in swordsmanship. The scene has them practicing atop a castle tower, with the warder getting the best of the sheep herder and talking to him about the challenges that lie ahead of him.

“There is one rule, above all others, for being a man. Whatever comes, face it on your feet. “

The scene came right at the end of the chapter, and it just hit me a special kind of way.

Maybe it was that I wasn’t expecting much in the way of masculine advice based on my experience thus far with the show and the first book.

Maybe it was the elegance and simplicity of the statement and the stoic and thoughtful nature of the character it was coming from.

Maybe it was the added irony from my time in Jui Jistu, where I face obstacles sitting on my butt or laying on my back.

Whatever it was, the scene, the quote, the moment created in the story, it felt significant. It resonated with me beyond just a story in a book.

The past few months have come with no shortage of challenges. I haven’t always risen to them in the way I would like. But I haven’t run from them either.

Some of my proudest moments, after the happy events of life and the triumphs and successes, have been some of my failures.

Not because of the failures themselves, but because of the way I was able to face the failure. To own it. To feel it. To grow out of it and through it.

Just like a triathlon, you put one foot in front of the other and keep going. Sitting down doesn’t get you any closer to the finish line, and there is no one coming to get you.

I wrote in this post about The Martian. You solve one problem, then the next, if you solve enough problems, you get to go home.

I think that is what Lan is trying to say. You don’t take whatever life throws at you lying down. Stay on your feet, nimble, agile, ready to adjust course. If nothing else, you go down swinging.

It’s easy to feel helpless. It’s easy to feel like you are steering into uncharted waters with strange currents. It’s easy to feel ineffective.

I hope that I can show my boys the alternative. Demonstrate for them Lan’s first rule of manhood. Cultivate in them, the attitude and ability to face the many challenges of life on their feet.

Find your footing, dig in your heels, put on a brave face for what may come. There is surely serenity in taking charge of your own destiny.

Lots of miles getting ready to ride in the mountains

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Debt

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I wrote a few weeks back about Pappyland, a book following the van winkle family and their generational story through the booming bourbon market. The writing even after just a small snippet struck such a chord with me that I bought the book and could hardly put it down. After finishing it, I wanted to share my thoughts especially as they fit in with the overarching themes of the blog.

Whright Thompson spends a few years researching the book getting to know Julian Van Winkle, the bourbon industry as well as the family’s complicated history. The story follows four generations from “pappy”, Julian’s grandfather, all the way to Julian’s son Preston, who is learning at his father’s side.

Maple syrup lollipops from Vermont (what does a father, especially one who travels, owe a son?)

Thompson weaves his own relationship with his father as well as his journey towards becoming a new father into the novel which becomes more about family than it does about bourbon.

“Meeting with Julian and making him talk about his family made me ask myself the same question I’d been asking him: What did I owe my late father? What did I owe a grandfather I never met? What is demanded of a son or a daughter? What was demanded of me?”

Both Julian and Wright’s fathers died of illness before their time. Both sons felt the weight not only of the loss, but of the pressure to live up to family expectations. To succeed and press on in ways that the previous generation was unable to, for one reason or another.

The idea of raising a child, makes you reflect on those questions. If you are fortunate enough, and live in enough comfort to be introspective, having all of your needs met, you inevitably owe a debt to your parents. One that I’m not sure can ever be repaid.

Even if that debt is never tabulated, called in, or otherwise made tangible, it exists. It is an unspoken calling across generations to fulfill potential. To create, and affect, and change, hopefully in a positive and lasting way some part of this world.

In the acknowledgements Thompson writes to his young daughter telling her “let me save you some soul searching: you don’t owe me anything”. He goes on to say that he loves her unconditionally and that the book is for her.

I love his work, and I am inspired by it. Especially as I tackle my own literary project. Still, I think he misses the mark. After his deep and moving coverage of the VanWinkle family, it seems to.me there is always some form of generational debt.

The unconditional love and the debt are not mutually exclusive. If your parents did right by you, whatever their faults and failings may be, a debt is owed. It may not even be payable to them. It may be payable to yourself. But, a debt is owed.

My own feeble attempt then, to answer those questions.

Mom and Dad, I cannot thank you enough for the foundation you laid for me, and especially now for my family. There are lessons that are poignant in my mind, that I feel obliged to pass on. Traditions and relationships that I vow to maintain. An idea, of a fulfilled life that I will strive towards. These are the things I feel are demanded of me as a son.

Speedy and El Duderino, you are loved unconditionally. Your mother and I will support you to the best of our abilities in your endeavors. But you owe a debt, mostly to yourselves, but in a small part to us. To try, to engage, to grow, to explore and experience. In short, to live a life with purpose.

These are broad strokes intentionally. There are innumerable paths you both may choose. Following any of those paths in earnest, with intention, grace, and maybe even a touch of serenity, will clear any debt that may be owed.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Awakening

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. Last week, I talked about appreciating the metaphorical mountains of fatherhood based on a Frank Herbert quote from his magnum opus DUNE. This week I want to talk about another fatherhood theme of the book.

The book contains many layers each of which can be dissected individually and discussed at length in their own merit. The central storyline though follows Paul Atreides and his awakening from adolescence into the role of prophet and leader.

Early on in the book, before his own sci-fi training and psychedelic fueled prescient awakening, Paul has an awakening of a different sort, watching his father command and battle plan.

“There is probably no more terrible instant if enlightenment than the one in which you discover your father is a man-with human flesh.” This quote is attributed to Paul, though much later on in his story and after years of reflection.

As is often the case word choice and perspective are critical for the message sent as well as the message received. “Terrible instant of enlightenment”, conjures up a scene in the life of a young man that is as powerful as it is pivotal. The word terrible commands the readers attention, and dictates the connotation of the scene imagined by the reader.

Rather than imagining a tragic scene of innocence lost, I prefer to think of this instant of enlightenment like a door that has never before been opened. You don’t know what is on the other side, and you can continue on in that blissful ignorance for as long as you like. But once the door is opened, you can never revert to your state of unawareness.

I remember my own awakening and the realization that my father was just another good man trying to do the best he could with the hand he was dealt. That is a story for another time, but it makes me think about what I can do to shape and guide the journey my own sons will have to that day of their own awakening.

I say shape and guide the journey because I don’t think there is anything that can be done to control or schedule it. A young man’s awakening might be delayed, preserving boyish innocence, but like an infant who hasn’t yet mastered the concept of object permanence, they will eventually see the door and become curious. My sons will go on until that fateful day under the same magical trance that engulfs all children.

They will face their own terrible instant of enlightenment, transitioning into manhood upon this realization, walking through their own door that will close forever behind them. I can prepare myself, that I may be the best version I am capable of being. And, I can guide them, that they are prepared for the world waiting beyond that closed door.

Some windy runs, especially the 5k with a jogging stroller wind anchor/running buddy

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Mayday

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week we celebrate El Duderino’s birthday. As I reflect on the past year of his life and all the growth I’ve seen, what sticks out the most is his behaviors surrounding help.

Mayday is a word most aviators hope never to have to use. It is the international radiotelephone distress signal, and when repeated three times it indicates imminent and grave danger, and that immediate assistance is requested.

The origin of the word mayday comes from the French, M’aidez, which is help me. Obviously there is a change in tone, connotation, and level of urgency when alternating between the two, but that is kind of the point. The difficulty as aviators, as parents, and as humans, is knowing when to ask for help and knowing when to say mayday.

This is a hard enough distinction for somewhat self reflective psuedo adults (yours truly), much less toddlers. When should I ask for help, who should I ask for help, and especially how should I ask for help, are all critical communication skills we could all improve upon.

El Duderino is at a stage where he wants to do things himself, but also needs a significant amount of help. He isn’t shy about asking for help, but it often comes in the form of a mayday like call from across the house. The desperation fills the room regardless of whether or not the situation demands it.

I’m left trying to parent the situation determining what the issue is, what type of help he needs, and if he needs to adjust his communication method before I provide such help. It is a lot to evaluate and even more to try to pass on to a toddler. Add on to that the fact that I’m still a little confused on what is the best way to approach the topic of “help”

In the bewildering and convoluted web that is modern masculinity, we end up with lots of different positions on help. Providing help to others, super manly. Needing help yourself, not so manly. Yet somehow admitting you need the help and actually asking for it, is somehow manly.

Picanaha, bacon wrapped scallops, and pork belly burnt ends birthday dinner

What is it about needing help, asking for help, accepting help, and providing help, that drives men of all ages to such silly mental gymnastics.

I won’t try to speak for all men, but I think for me it has a lot to do with conflict, like we talked about last week. There is value and growth to be found in conflict and struggle, and bypassing or shortening the conflict with help, could otherwise bypass or shorten the growth.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that tiny driving force called ego that gets in the way. Mine has certainly gotten me into a fair share of trouble often times because I was too proud to ask for help.

Speedy making friends at El Duderino’s birthday

When I do dig myself into enough of a hole that even my ego needs bailing out, I still struggle to ask for help. The request tends to mimic an old Dave Mathews song and my “grace is gone”. (Not that I have ever been accused of an abundance of grace to begin with)

Asking for help is an essential human behavior, and like most behaviors, it can be taught, learned, mimicked, and improved. Parents of toddlers know all too well how behaviors good and bad can be mimicked.

As El Duderino reaches his third birthday this is a skill I’m trying to improve in myself, so that I may provide a better example to teach him.

So the next time El Duderino starts screaming for help like he is going down over the atlantic, and the reason is that he can’t cram anymore play-doh into the cab of his matchbox dump truck, I have to remind myself that this is a teaching moment, and we could all use a little help.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

A long run, a quick run, and a warm up before an EMOM kettlebell sandbag blowout

Escape

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I spent the last few days in a tree stand in the woods behind my dad’s house. With all of the craziness of election day I was very glad to have an escape.

This was my first real experience hunting. I think I had followed along as a youngster but never actively participated. The idea of sharing a meal with my family from an animal I harvested has been increasingly appealing to me. Not only as a more reliable means of obtaining and knowing where my food comes from, but also as a connection with our most base self and a new challenge.

Like a lot of things discussed in this blog, (endurance events and parenting) the romanticized idea is much easier to digest than the actual event itself. My ideas of parenting before hand was helping with homework, or teaching the boys to wrestle. A lot of my parenting time is really spent keeping El Duderino from reaching things on the counter and washing out Speedy’s cloth diapers. Hunting followed very much along the same lines.

There is a lot of ground to cover between suiting up and walking to the tree stand and pulling that tenderloin of the grill. The romanticized ideas ask to often omitt the grind, but there is beauty to be found in that grind.

There is a very distinct beauty to sitting still and silent anywhere, but especially out in nature. Appreciating that beauty is not automatic, but rather requires mindfulness. The requirement for mindfulness is only accentuated by those things that would otherwise distract you; cold weather and wind, restlessness, first world problems communicated by an electronic device in your pocket.

My experience hunting in the woods was magical. One of the things I’m most appreciative of when it comes to my fitness and well-being routine, is the place those activities take me to. I can get out of my head and out of my own way finding a place of serenity, if only for the briefest of moments. Sitting in a tree stand watching the sun rise, the multicolor leaves fall, and the animals of the woods come alive took me to a very similar place.

Helping my dad drag his deer up a ravine and back to the house, cleaning, butchering and eating it all in the same night was a very powerful and fortunate experience. I felt transported to that same place of serenity I so often seek, but also felt a sense that others have been there before.

Running, grappling, and triathlon are largely solo pursuits, and while there is surely serenity to be found, it is largely a lonely endeavor. Hunting, cleaning, butchering, and learning from my father, who learned from his father, gave me the same escape but with a greater sense of all those others who seek serenity through that path.

Speedy’s first taste of meat, and El Duderino days go get some more

I couldn’t have asked for a better hunt, or hunting partner. I will be forever grateful for the knowledge passed on, as well as the experience and the escape it provided. I hope that you reader, can find your own much needed escape in this chaotic time, and the serenity that comes with it.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe, (warm if you are in the stand), and stay sweaty my friends.