“Crazy is like glitter. It sticks to everything, gets everywhere, and you never get rid of it.”  – Anonymous (or perhaps I said it first)

In this post, I want to explore the relationship between Identity and Stimulation.

Insert Personality Here

Crazy

Gen X Angst

Haiku writing youth

I’m a pierced nonconformist

Just like all my friends

                  -George E. Booth

Two facets

 About glitter

What makes crazy so crazy?

But why do they do it?

I’m so glad you asked! Part of the reason I’ve emphasized identity followed by Truth is to make this next point clearer. People do crazy things because, having abandoned Truth, they do not know who they are or why they are here. This leads to a good deal of experimentation. Since I’m feeling generous, I’ll call it questing.

The quest is to overcome the boredom that a rootless, purposeless life will produce. Think about the worst stereotype of American middle-class consumerism. Glassy-eyed, stoop-shouldered, and paunchy, homo economicus americanus  gets up every morning to earn enough money to keep a roof over his head, so he can get up every morning…

This is where the synthetic stimulants enter. These range from television to fantasy sports, to video games, to gambling, to intoxicants, to gossip, to stirring up conflicts among people, to living vicariously through celebrities or even one’s own children. (And yes, porn would be included in this grouping, too.) Not all of these would appeal to every man, but a bored man will be attracted to one or more of them. The goal is to fill the emptiness with experiences, with feelings — even if they aren’t rooted in reality.

I want to be fair and add that leisure time is a blessing, and a measure of our comparative affluence. And Story is an important part of being human. So please understand that I am for wholesome pastimes, just not at the expense of Living and being truly alive.

Contrast fake stimulation with a life of purpose and consequence where every day is vitally important, and the fruit of one’s labor is enhanced by the satisfaction of the tasks completed and delight at the work ahead.

Initiation: getting your question answered

Love, Dad

• Don’t date or marry crazy – She won’t change. But for God, people don’t change.
• Don’t co-sign crazy – It’s bad financial practice, and you’re only enabling more jackassery.
• Don’t make your living from crazy – It’s immoral to sell people the tools of their enslavement
• Avoid other people’s drama – Recognize it for trap it is — especially the classic “Let’s You and Him Fight”
• Don’t try to fix other people’s crazy – Love everyone and live your life. Pray for the crazy ones you know, but unless you’re a trained counselor, leave that to the pros.
• Let God initiate you into manhood – If you didn’t get it from your dad, God wants to do this for you.
• Get some sane friends – encourage each other in your respective missions.

So how about you – In what ways are you giving crazy a wide berth? Add your comments below.

When it’s too tough for everybody else, it’s just right for me. – Anonymous

In an earlier post, I argued that hardship shapes character. This time, I want to develop that idea further.

Would you believe me if I said you need a battle to fight? An adversary? A foil? Think about it: every great story — in order to be a story at all — has to have conflict. The protagonist finds himself pitted against another man, against nature, against God, or even against himself. The story doesn’t begin until the conflict comes into view.

Ok, you say, that’s great for stories, but why do I need a battle in my life? Lots of reasons — not least of which is you need stimulation in order to thrive. Without a conflict, you’d be mentally stunted and die of boredom! But there are other evidences that prove our need for adversity.

You need to find yours when the world turns upside down

Babies and birth

The passage through the birth canal helps newborns to thrive. The birth process is an ordeal for mother and baby, and it is vitally necessary.

I recently learned that babies born via c-section receive fewer beneficial microorganisms than children born vaginally, and it takes them longer to develop equivalent immune function. Sure removing babies surgically is less strenuous, but it’s not as good for the mother or the baby.

Butterflies

We’re all aware of the metamorphosis from caterpillar to chrysalis to butterfly. But did you know that the emerging butterfly needs to struggle free of the chrysalis to be able to form flight-worthy wings? It’s true. The effort of extricating itself from the cocoon forces hemolymph into the channels of the wings, giving them the needed shape. Take away the  struggle and the circulation doesn’t happen, resulting in malformed and useless wings.

Bodybuilders

We’ve talked about this before. If you want to build a sculpted physique, there are no shortcuts. Sure you can apply intelligence to increase your exercise efficiency and effectiveness, but you’re still going to have to put in the time doing the right work consistently and in the right way.

Soldiers, sailors, and marines

Each branch of the service has its own boot camp — that period of time when raw recruits are forged into warriors. The adversarial model of instruction subjects the candidate to physical and emotional stress to cultivate strength, endurance, and resilience, since there are no time outs in combat. The harshness of this type of initiation also weeds out the merely interested from the deeply committed.

When you are facing opposition, try asking yourself how badly you want what’s on the other side of that obstacle.

Astronauts

If you crave the frictionless, zero-gravity life, please note that astronauts have to simulate earth’s gravity in space to avoid becoming worthless in this world when they return. The reason is that earthlings’ bones and muscles are suited to the load placed on them by gravity. Remove that base layer of resistance, and atrophy and bone loss set in.

One counter-example

Just in case you doubt the case I’m making here, consider what becomes of children whose parents coddle them. By seeking to remove any possibility of frustration or — horrors! — tears, coddling parents destroy their children’s resilience and resourcefulness. One needs the experience and wisdom he gains by solving small problems when he is small, so that his capacity grows with him.

Scars are stories — ask Shakespeare

Difficult times leave their marks — some physical, some psychic — but they all tell stories. In Shakespeare’s Henry V, the young king is rallying his outnumbered men before the climactic confrontation against the French at Agincourt. In his famous monologue, Henry says:

This day is called the feast of Crispian:

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,

Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,

And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

He that shall live this day, and see old age,

Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,

And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian:’

Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.

And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’

Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,

But he’ll remember with advantages

What feats he did that day: then shall our names.

Familiar in his mouth as household words

Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,

Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,

Be in their flowing cups freshly remember’d.

This story shall the good man teach his son;

And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,

From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remember’d;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,

This day shall gentle his condition:

And gentlemen in England now a-bed

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.”

The wounds sustained in a valiant struggle are the seed bed of stories. And those stories are how we transfer noble character traits and/or warn against ignoble ones.

Adversity creates resilience and prepares one for the next challenge. How do I know? Because people who get wiped out don’t tackle the next challenge.

So what about you? What lessons are you extracting from your current challenges? Add your comments below.

 “Crazy is like glitter. It sticks to everything, gets everywhere, and you never get rid of it.”  – Anonymous (or perhaps I said it first)

In this post, I want to explore the relationship between Identity and Stimulation.

Insert Personality Here

Crazy

Gen X Angst

Haiku writing youth

I’m a pierced nonconformist

Just like all my friends

                  -George E. Booth

Two facets

 About glitter

What makes crazy so crazy?

But why do they do it?

I’m so glad you asked! Part of the reason I’ve emphasized identity followed by Truth is to make this next point clearer. People do crazy things because, having abandoned Truth, they do not know who they are or why they are here. This leads to a good deal of experimentation. Since I’m feeling generous, I’ll call it questing.

The quest is to overcome the boredom that a rootless, purposeless life will produce. Think about the worst stereotype of American middle-class consumerism. Glassy-eyed, stoop-shouldered, and paunchy, homo economicus americanus  gets up every morning to earn enough money to keep a roof over his head, so he can get up every morning…

This is where the synthetic stimulants enter. These range from television to fantasy sports, to video games, to gambling, to intoxicants, to gossip, to stirring up conflicts among people, to living vicariously through celebrities or even one’s own children. (And yes, porn would be included in this grouping, too.) Not all of these would appeal to every man, but a bored man will be attracted to one or more of them. The goal is to fill the emptiness with experiences, with feelings — even if they aren’t rooted in reality.

I want to be fair and add that leisure time is a blessing, and a measure of our comparative affluence. And Story is an important part of being human. So please understand that I am for wholesome pastimes, just not at the expense of Living and being truly alive.

Contrast fake stimulation with a life of purpose and consequence where every day is vitally important, and the fruit of one’s labor is enhanced by the satisfaction of the tasks completed and delight at the work ahead.

Initiation: getting your question answered

Love, Dad

• Don’t date or marry crazy – She won’t change. But for God, people don’t change.
• Don’t co-sign crazy – It’s bad financial practice, and you’re only enabling more jackassery.
• Don’t make your living from crazy – It’s immoral to sell people the tools of their enslavement
• Avoid other people’s drama – Recognize it for trap it is — especially the classic “Let’s You and Him Fight”
• Don’t try to fix other people’s crazy – Love everyone and live your life. Pray for the crazy ones you know, but unless you’re a trained counselor, leave that to the pros.
• Let God initiate you into manhood – If you didn’t get it from your dad, God wants to do this for you.
• Get some sane friends – encourage each other in your respective missions.

So how about you – In what ways are you giving crazy a wide berth? Add your comments below.

“Of all sad words
of tongue or pen
the saddest are these
IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN”
-Anonymous

I have written about the importance of masculine initiation here and here, and I’ve featured a post written by my older son providing his perspective.  In this post, I want to provide some practical considerations against the day you will initiate your son, godson, grandson or nephew. Here are seven-and-a-half tips for masculine initiation and why they matter:

1. Have a plan — and a destination — in mind.  Aside from downtime — which every man needs –we  accomplish nothing worthwhile without an  objective.  Green lawns don’t grow out of neglect — weeds do.  If you want your son to grow into a young man, set your heart, mind and will on that goal, and do not allow yourself  to be lulled or intimidated into abandoning the necessary work.
   

   Green lawns don’t grow out of neglect — weeds do.

2. Have a guide you trust.  Before I took my son on the four-day backpacking trek that began his process of initiation, I sought as much information as possible about the trail we’d be hiking.  I purchased topographical maps and a spiral bound trail guide so I had an idea about sources of water,  campsites and other landmarks to help us stay on track.In the emotional and spiritual aspect of this, I read everything I could get my hands on in the realm of masculinity. I knew I wanted to cover the purpose behind maleness and femaleness, the essence of masculinity as a physical and a spiritual reality, The Talk about sex, and some counsel regarding the physical and emotional changes. I ended up synthesizing the best of all that I read from numerous sources — and this is the basis of what I share with other dads who intend to initiate their sons into manhood*
3. Establish a timeline — so you know when you’ve arrived. In my sons’ cases, I established a three-year process of masculine initiation. This consisted of the initial backpacking trek, annual four-day treks, other incidental backpacking trips to reinforce the message, monthly one-on-one breakfasts to check in, a final trek and a celebration.This occurred for each of my sons from the ages of ten to thirteen.  Interestingly, following his final trek, my younger son said he didn’t think he was ready for his celebration. I assured him he was, but he insisted that we wait.  Trails have known dimensions — souls do too, but they’re harder to measure.
4. Get away from screens.  Stripping away all the electronic conveniences helps to ensure you and your son are paying attention to each other and to the process.  Eliminating the distractions of work, school and technology resets your internal clock and frames this crucial transfer of wisdom as something solid and serious. It will be fun, and you’ll make lifelong memories – and inside jokes – with your son, but this is still make-or-break.  P.S. This is not something you get by reading, but by doing.  Get up and get outside with your son.
5. File a trail plan. When you arrive at an official trail head, there are often registers where hikers can indicate their trail name, the date they put in, where they intend to leave trail and when. Hikers can and do sometimes get lost, so this is a prudent practice.  Similarly, when you intend to initiate your son, you should enlist your allies, your friends and other men in your family to pray for you and your son through the process.  Plans can be like boats — even the best ones can develop leaks. Sharing your plans with people you trust can help you see them through.
6. Consider the source. If we’re honest with ourselves, we have to admit that we’ve all accumulated a mixed record of successes and failures, triumphs and compromises, victories and humiliations.  That realization can make us question ourselves and make the process of initiating our sons intimidating. You must persevere.  Who else will come through for your son if you will not? Imperfect though you are, what is your model?  Who is your ideal? Emulate Him, however imperfectly, and point your son toward His example. As an old priest told me years ago, “The efficacy of the sacrament does not depend on the purity of the priest.”  Offer God what you have and let Him use it to make what your son needs.
7. Bring ’em back alive — truly alive. Initiating your son into authentic manhood is not a silver bullet or a magic talisman. But done right, it can set your son on a course to thrive through his teen years because you will have conferred on him his father’s blessing — the confirmation that he indeed is a man and that you trust that he can come through.  In both my sons’ experience, the process gave us a reference point when they began to assert more independence.  I was able to show them that this was exactly the plan all along, so the discussions were more about how they would use their increasing independence instead of IF they would have it.
8. (Actually 7.5 with apologies to Jeffrey Gitomer) Choose a process that connects with your son’s heart.  Backpacking was great for my sons and me because the pace of hiking enabled us to settle into a pattern that facilitated conversation.  But don’t let the form I used keep you from working according to your son’s bent.If you’re a horseman, build the process around a multi-day trail ride.  Cycling, sailing, canoeing, kayaking, hunting or fishing are all possible alternatives.  The main idea is to tailor your son’s initiation experience in such a way that he rises to the physical challenge while you are teaching and affirming masculinity in him.

So how about you? How do you intend to initiate your son when the time comes? Add your comments below.

*For those who are interested, I am available to speak on the topic of masculine initiation. If you’d like me to speak to your group, please contact me through the website.

A note from the host: The following is a first-person account of masculine initiation, written by my son, Samuel.  I’m proud and honored to welcome him as the author of this site’s first guest post.  Here’s Sam:

The summer before my tenth birthday, my Dad took me on a four-day backpacking trip. This was the start of a series of hikes where over the next four years, we walked the entire Foothills Trail. It wasn’t just about learning self-reliance, getting away from civilization, or communing with nature. It was a lot of those things, to be sure, but it was also more. Something that all cultures all around the world have done in one way or another, but that ours mysteriously stopped doing. It was an initiation.

“My Dad strapped a pack to my back, put me on a trail, and showed me how I did measure up – because he said so.”

When we put in, I was a scrawny nine year old with a big mouth and a serious lack of fortitude. I found this out for myself. And quickly. Within the first mile I was gasping, red-faced, and pitching a complete hissyfit. My list of complaints was endless: my pack was heavy, the load was throwing me off balance, the straps were chafing my shoulders, it was hot and humid which meant you could sweat for hours and never get any cooler, and, on top of everything, I was sure I was going to vomit.

My Dad ignored most of my complaints (good on ya, Dad). At one point, he turned around and said, “Congratulations, we just passed the first mile mark.” I was crushed. This was the hardest thing I’d ever done and I was barely into my first mile. I asked if we could stop for second and spent the next few minutes resigning myself to fate. I had agreed to something I wasn’t prepared for. If we were just now finished with mile one, how much worse would the next one be?

I spent the rest of the day in complete misery. Wrapped up in my self-pity I trudged along behind my Dad, near tears and tripping over roots in my selfish carelessness. We arrived at a small clearing at dusk and made camp. When stopping for the night, it’s a good idea to store any food away from your tent and out of reach of any animals with a taste for people food.

We set out to rig a bear bag, a sack tied to a rope thrown over a sturdy tree branch suspended several feet off the ground. My Dad tied his pocketknife to a length of cord and hurled it over a tree branch. I stood oblivious off to one side; the cord swung around and the pocketknife, thankfully closed, hit me in the mouth. I tasted blood. There I was, miserable, tired, and dirty, and now I was bleeding from the mouth. On top of all that, even if I gave up and refused to go another step forward, I still had five miles to go back the way we came. As I drifted off to sleep that night, I remembered what my Dad had said to me earlier when my whining reached a fever pitch. “The only way off this mountain is over it.”

As the trip progressed, I felt better and better. I enjoyed finding a rhythm, covering terrain, taking in the sights and smells, looking for the trail blazes. Above all, I liked having my Dad’s ear without the interference of conference calls or chores. It was a time to just talk. About fears, hopes, the really weird changes that were beginning to happen as puberty approached. My Dad had a thing or two to tell me as well. He asked me “what does it mean to be a man?” I mumbled some half-hearted reply; it sounded like one of those discussion questions from Sunday school, and when you’re nine years old, staying on topic isn’t typically your forte. He pressed me for answers – I really couldn’t give one.

He produced a survival knife like the kind Bear Grylls would use, in a reinforced nylon sheath with my initials on a small plaque. He gave me the knife. “Pretty cool, right?” I nodded, dumbstruck. “A knife like this has all kinds of uses.” I wouldn’t argue with him there; I had read Hatchet by Gary Paulsen and knew if you were ever stranded in the wilderness, a blade of any kind is your best friend. From starting fires to preparing food and shelter, a knife is indispensable. He continued, “But what if you’re careless? You could very easily hurt yourself – or someone else. And plenty of people use knives to commit robberies – or worse. It’s all how you wield it. It’s not a toy; it’s a tool.”

“Your knife represents your strength as a man. You can use this knife responsibly, to build, even to defend yourself and others if need be, but you can misuse it for horrible purposes and do unspeakable things with it, or bury it in the backyard and let it rust where it’s no good to anyone.” My Dad told me being a man was about wielding strength. “Every male has some measure of strength; some don’t know how to control it,” he said. “They use their strength and aggression to intimidate, to take from weaker people. Some run from their strength and hide it away for fear of abusing it.” He said this was a misuse of strength too.

“What both of these misuses have in common is this: they’re afraid they don’t have what it takes.”

It made sense. I had seen angry dudes with hair triggers who went ape over the result of a football game. And I had also heard the “roll over and play dead” advice from well-meaning, but spineless PSAs, counselors, and teachers. It seemed like in either case people thought they didn’t measure up. So they blew up or rolled over.

“The whole purpose of this trip,” I remember my Dad saying “is to tell you that you have what it takes, that I’m proud of you, and that you have your father’s blessing.” At the time I was a little perplexed by what that meant, but as we continued our journey by installment of the Foothills Trail, culminating in an initiation into manhood ceremony at age 13, I began to see why my Dad went to all this trouble.

Years later in an anthropology course I learned how in different cultures all around the world, manhood is bestowed by other men after a trial or test. Boys look to the trial as a formative experience, and to their fathers and other elder males for confirmation of their masculinity. In modern Western culture, these rites of passage have largely vanished. But that day we set foot on the trail, my Dad began a process of initiation into manhood that I plan to continue with my sons. My Dad strapped a pack to my back, put me on a trail, and showed me how I did measure up – because he said so. And I’ve never forgotten.

-SYB

So how about you?  Who initiated you into manhood?  Who encouraged you and told you you have what it takes?  Add your comments below.

It was the first night of my son’s initiation into manhood.  We had hiked to the top of Pinnacle Mountain and beyond the boundaries of Table Rock State Park and made camp for the night.  After dinner, we sat by our campfire, and I began to explain to my son the purpose and the content of this process of masculine initiation.

This is the actual knife I presented to one of my sons. Your knife — and your son — may vary

He had persevered and willed himself forward up the steep slope of the mountain, proving that he was equal to the physical challenge of entering the process.  I told him I was proud of him and  to commemorate the start of his initiation, I presented my son with a combat knife.

Although it wasn’t my son’s first knife, let me tell you when you present a nine-year-old with a knife nearly as long as his thigh, you have his full attention.  This was intentional.  As he held the knife and carefully removed it from its sheath, he looked at it solemnly, almost reverently, as I began the lesson:

“Son, this knife is a symbol of your strength as a man.  Now, some people say a man is a dangerous thing — and they’re right.  Some say a knife is a dangerous thing, and they’re also right.  So let’s talk about that.

“What are some good things you can do with that knife?”  Without missing a beat, my son listed an impressive number of worthwhile things a man can do with his knife — including defending others.

“Good,” I said.  “And what are some bad things you could do with a knife?” Immediately, he named several illegal, immoral and unethical things a man could do with a knife — including harming himself or others.

“So,” I asked, “how do we make a knife safe?  Should we grind the edge down to make it dull?  Should we bury it in the backyard and pretend it doesn’t exist?  Or should we hand it over to someone else to use against us?’  “No,” he answered.  “Then how do we make a knife safe?” His answer was perfect: “Keep it sharp.  Keep it clean.  And keep it under your control.”

I explained that his answer is also correct for the proper use of masculine strength.

Keep it sharp

God invested greater physical strength in men, and this is part of how men reflect His image.  A man owes it to God to cultivate the gifts he has received from his Maker.  This includes taking care of his body, his mind and his spirit, but it also includes developing his moral sense and pursuing wisdom, and especially using masculine strength to defend the weak.

To keep your masculine strength sharp is to answer the question of why God gave that strength to you in the first place.  When you understand why, you’ll understand better how. Men have accomplished great good through the proper use of masculine strength.

Keep it clean

Many large and small problems in the world today are from the abuse of masculine strength.  Think of all the misery that results from fatherlessness, for example.  We misuse our masculine strength when we exploit others for our gain — whether in intimidating weaker men, taking liberties with women, or simply being indifferent to the suffering of others.

But the misuse of strength isn’t always an action.  Some men fear their strength or what others will think of them, so they stay on the porch and don’t offer the world anything.  If this is you, consider what the world and those closest to you will lose if you remain inert.  Check your motives and for Heaven’s sake, ACT!

Keep it under control

The power to make decisions and to take responsibility for these decisions and their outcomes is a hallmark of moral agency.  This is one of the big differences between human beings and animals — and also why God held Adam and Eve responsible for eating the forbidden fruit.

Even so, there are too many men walking around blaming others for their poor choices.  A man must recognize the strength he has received from God, value it, build on it, and own it for all it’s worth.  Throughout the New Testament, men are charged with spiritual headship of their families.  This is why I say men are to lead in the arena of relationships.   We will talk more about this, but you cannot lead your family or anyone, if you are constantly handing your strength over to others.

So how about you?  How are you handling your masculine strength?  Add your comments below.

Note: While I’m taking a sabbatical from new posts to work on some longer-term projects, I’m re-posting some of my favorites, like this one.

Note: While I’m working on creating some new posts, I’m re-posting some of my favorites, such as this one.

When my older son was about to turn ten, I began a three-year process of initiating him into manhood.  (How I came to this decision is the subject of an upcoming post.)  The first part of this entailed a four-day backpacking trip along a segment of the Foothills Trail in the mountains of South Carolina.

Here I should explain that the Foothills Trail is 76 miles long and runs in its meandering course in South Carolina and North Carolina from Table Rock State Park at its eastern end to Oconee State Park at its western end.  Starting at Table Rock State Park, the first segment of the trail goes up to the bald atop Pinnacle Mountain — roughly 1,800 feet of vertical climb over the course of a mile or less.

It had been at least ten years since I’d had a backpack on my back, and my son had never had a pack on his back.  Even so, we prepared — buying the gear, brushing up on bushcraft, studying the topographical maps and trail guides, and walking the neighborhood with weighted backpacks.  As we made ourselves ready, I emphasized what an adventure we were going to have, not how difficult it was likely to be.  Despite my strict workout discipline, I underestimated the physical challenge.

The day of the trip we reviewed our checklists twice, weighed our fully-loaded packs and my son kissed his mom goodbye.

We arrived at the trailhead a couple of hours later, filed our plan at the rangers’ station and had hardly gone 400 yards before it began to rain.  In some ways this was a good thing, since the afternoon had already been oppressively  humid.  But the rain didn’t last, making the humidity even worse.  The rain also made the roots, rocks and ruts that comprised the trail’s surface slick, and the narrow switchbacks treacherous.

Despite our preparations, the slope of that first mountain was considerably steeper than the suburban hills of our subdivision and the trail more forbidding than the paved cul-de-sacs we had walked.  Outwardly, I encouraged my son; inwardly I began to wonder what I had gotten us into.  With my legs burning, my clothes drenched in sweat, and my pulse pounding in my ears, I prayed my son wouldn’t have the horror of watching his father croak in front of him.

I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a bit of whining, and a few times my son said he wanted to go home.  Despite my apprehension and the greater-than-expected difficulty of the climb, I refused to consider turning back — and I told him so.  I explained that the entire purpose of the adventure was to enable him to discover his strength by putting it to the test in an uncertain enterprise.  “The only way off this mountain is over it, ” I said.  And that became an axiom I spoke to him — and later to his brother — from then on.

I’m telling you this story because I suspect you’re on a mountain of your own right now.  Perhaps you’re tempted to quit and return to the comfort and safety of the familiar.  Before you do that, I want to  encourage you instead to view your current challenges as an opportunity to discover your strength through perseverance.  You may or may not succeed but you will learn, and by learning you will eventually succeed.

So how about you?  What is your mountain?  How are you persevering to get over it?  Add your comments below.

I have written about the importance of masculine initiation here and here, and I’ve featured a post written by my older son providing his perspective.  In this post, I want to provide some practical considerations against the day you will initiate your son, godson, grandson or nephew. Here are seven-and-a-half tips for masculine initiation and why they matter:

1. Have a plan — and a destination — in mind.  Aside from downtime — which every man needs –we  accomplish nothing worthwhile without an  objective.  Green lawns don’t grow out of neglect — weeds do.  If you want your son to grow into a young man, set your heart, mind and will on that goal, and do not allow yourself  to be lulled or intimidated into abandoning the necessary work.
   

   Green lawns don’t grow out of neglect — weeds do.

2. Have a guide you trust.  Before I took my son on the four-day backpacking trek that began his process of initiation, I sought as much information as possible about the trail we’d be hiking.  I purchased topographical maps and a spiral bound trail guide so I had an idea about sources of water,  campsites and other landmarks to help us stay on track.In the emotional and spiritual aspect of this, I read everything I could get my hands on in the realm of masculinity. I knew I wanted to cover the purpose behind maleness and femaleness, the essence of masculinity as a physical and a spiritual reality, The Talk about sex, and some counsel regarding the physical and emotional changes. I ended up synthesizing the best of all that I read from numerous sources — and this is the basis of what I share with other dads who intend to initiate their sons into manhood*
3. Establish a timeline — so you know when you’ve arrived. In my sons’ cases, I established a three-year process of masculine initiation. This consisted of the initial backpacking trek, annual four-day treks, other incidental backpacking trips to reinforce the message, monthly one-on-one breakfasts to check in, a final trek and a celebration.This occurred for each of my sons from the ages of ten to thirteen.  Interestingly, following his final trek, my younger son said he didn’t think he was ready for his celebration. I assured him he was, but he insisted that we wait.  Trails have known dimensions — souls do too, but they’re harder to measure.
4. Get away from screens.  Stripping away all the electronic conveniences helps to ensure you and your son are paying attention to each other and to the process.  Eliminating the distractions of work, school and technology resets your internal clock and frames this crucial transfer of wisdom as something solid and serious. It will be fun, and you’ll make lifelong memories – and inside jokes – with your son, but this is still make-or-break.  P.S. This is not something you get by reading, but by doing.  Get up and get outside with your son.
5. File a trail plan. When you arrive at an official trail head, there are often registers where hikers can indicate their trail name, the date they put in, where they intend to leave trail and when. Hikers can and do sometimes get lost, so this is a prudent practice.  Similarly, when you intend to initiate your son, you should enlist your allies, your friends and other men in your family to pray for you and your son through the process.  Plans can be like boats — even the best ones can develop leaks. Sharing your plans with people you trust can help you see them through.
6. Consider the source. If we’re honest with ourselves, we have to admit that we’ve all accumulated a mixed record of successes and failures, triumphs and compromises, victories and humiliations.  That realization can make us question ourselves and make the process of initiating our sons intimidating. You must persevere.  Who else will come through for your son if you will not? Imperfect though you are, what is your model?  Who is your ideal? Emulate Him, however imperfectly, and point your son toward His example. As an old priest told me years ago, “The efficacy of the sacrament does not depend on the purity of the priest.”  Offer God what you have and let Him use it to make what your son needs.
7. Bring ’em back alive — truly alive. Initiating your son into authentic manhood is not a silver bullet or a magic talisman. But done right, it can set your son on a course to thrive through his teen years because you will have conferred on him his father’s blessing — the confirmation that he indeed is a man and that you trust that he can come through.  In both my sons’ experience, the process gave us a reference point when they began to assert more independence.  I was able to show them that this was exactly the plan all along, so the discussions were more about how they would use their increasing independence instead of IF they would have it.
8. (Actually 7.5 with apologies to Jeffrey Gitomer) Choose a process that connects with your son’s heart.  Backpacking was great for my sons and me because the pace of hiking enabled us to settle into a pattern that facilitated conversation.  But don’t let the form I used keep you from working according to your son’s bent.If you’re a horseman, build the process around a multi-day trail ride.  Cycling, sailing, canoeing, kayaking, hunting or fishing are all possible alternatives.  The main idea is to tailor your son’s initiation experience in such a way that he rises to the physical challenge while you are teaching and affirming masculinity in him.

So how about you? How do you intend to initiate your son when the time comes? Add your comments below.

*For those who are interested, I am available to speak on the topic of masculine initiation. If you’d like me to speak to your group, please contact me through the website.

The summer before my tenth birthday, my Dad took me on a four-day backpacking trip. This was the start of a series of hikes where over the next four years, we walked the entire Foothills Trail. It wasn’t just about learning self-reliance, getting away from civilization, or communing with nature. It was a lot of those things, to be sure, but it was also more. Something that all cultures all around the world have done in one way or another, but that ours mysteriously stopped doing. It was an initiation.

“My Dad strapped a pack to my back, put me on a trail, and showed me how I did measure up – because he said so.”

When we put in, I was a scrawny nine year old with a big mouth and a serious lack of fortitude. I found this out for myself. And quickly. Within the first mile I was gasping, red-faced, and pitching a complete hissyfit. My list of complaints was endless: my pack was heavy, the load was throwing me off balance, the straps were chafing my shoulders, it was hot and humid which meant you could sweat for hours and never get any cooler, and, on top of everything, I was sure I was going to vomit.

My Dad ignored most of my complaints (good on ya, Dad). At one point, he turned around and said, “Congratulations, we just passed the first mile mark.” I was crushed. This was the hardest thing I’d ever done and I was barely into my first mile. I asked if we could stop for second and spent the next few minutes resigning myself to fate. I had agreed to something I wasn’t prepared for. If we were just now finished with mile one, how much worse would the next one be?

I spent the rest of the day in complete misery. Wrapped up in my self-pity I trudged along behind my Dad, near tears and tripping over roots in my selfish carelessness. We arrived at a small clearing at dusk and made camp. When stopping for the night, it’s a good idea to store any food away from your tent and out of reach of any animals with a taste for people food.

We set out to rig a bear bag, a sack tied to a rope thrown over a sturdy tree branch suspended several feet off the ground. My Dad tied his pocketknife to a length of cord and hurled it over a tree branch. I stood oblivious off to one side; the cord swung around and the pocketknife, thankfully closed, hit me in the mouth. I tasted blood. There I was, miserable, tired, and dirty, and now I was bleeding from the mouth. On top of all that, even if I gave up and refused to go another step forward, I still had five miles to go back the way we came. As I drifted off to sleep that night, I remembered what my Dad had said to me earlier when my whining reached a fever pitch. “The only way off this mountain is over it.”

As the trip progressed, I felt better and better. I enjoyed finding a rhythm, covering terrain, taking in the sights and smells, looking for the trail blazes. Above all, I liked having my Dad’s ear without the interference of conference calls or chores. It was a time to just talk. About fears, hopes, the really weird changes that were beginning to happen as puberty approached. My Dad had a thing or two to tell me as well. He asked me “what does it mean to be a man?” I mumbled some half-hearted reply; it sounded like one of those discussion questions from Sunday school, and when you’re nine years old, staying on topic isn’t typically your forte. He pressed me for answers – I really couldn’t give one.

He produced a survival knife like the kind Bear Grylls would use, in a reinforced nylon sheath with my initials on a small plaque. He gave me the knife. “Pretty cool, right?” I nodded, dumbstruck. “A knife like this has all kinds of uses.” I wouldn’t argue with him there; I had read Hatchet by Gary Paulsen and knew if you were ever stranded in the wilderness, a blade of any kind is your best friend. From starting fires to preparing food and shelter, a knife is indispensable. He continued, “But what if you’re careless? You could very easily hurt yourself – or someone else. And plenty of people use knives to commit robberies – or worse. It’s all how you wield it. It’s not a toy; it’s a tool.”

“Your knife represents your strength as a man. You can use this knife responsibly, to build, even to defend yourself and others if need be, but you can misuse it for horrible purposes and do unspeakable things with it, or bury it in the backyard and let it rust where it’s no good to anyone.” My Dad told me being a man was about wielding strength. “Every male has some measure of strength; some don’t know how to control it,” he said. “They use their strength and aggression to intimidate, to take from weaker people. Some run from their strength and hide it away for fear of abusing it.” He said this was a misuse of strength too.

“What both of these misuses have in common is this: they’re afraid they don’t have what it takes.”

It made sense. I had seen angry dudes with hair triggers who went ape over the result of a football game. And I had also heard the “roll over and play dead” advice from well-meaning, but spineless PSAs, counselors, and teachers. It seemed like in either case people thought they didn’t measure up. So they blew up or rolled over.

“The whole purpose of this trip,” I remember my Dad saying “is to tell you that you have what it takes, that I’m proud of you, and that you have your father’s blessing.” At the time I was a little perplexed by what that meant, but as we continued our journey by installment of the Foothills Trail, culminating in an initiation into manhood ceremony at age 13, I began to see why my Dad went to all this trouble.

Years later in an anthropology course I learned how in different cultures all around the world, manhood is bestowed by other men after a trial or test. Boys look to the trial as a formative experience, and to their fathers and other elder males for confirmation of their masculinity. In modern Western culture, these rites of passage have largely vanished. But that day we set foot on the trail, my Dad began a process of initiation into manhood that I plan to continue with my sons. My Dad strapped a pack to my back, put me on a trail, and showed me how I did measure up – because he said so. And I’ve never forgotten.

-SYB

So how about you?  Who initiated you into manhood?  Who encouraged you and told you you have what it takes?  Add your comments below.