I believe every man is wise to work to identify his emotional Achilles' Heel.
Not an emotion itself, but circumstantially (in general terms), what might very well bring about emotional trauma.
I realize we cannot forecast how vulnerable our hearts are situation to situation. It's impossible to know exactly what emotional fallout (if any) will occur 'till we experience it, but we can, again in general terms, look to our needs to identify our potential weaknesses.
For me, it all points back to what I discussed within a former blog post which focused on mentoring.
Tuesday, December 31, 2019
Libido
The Bible addresses an awful lot of practical items, and libido is one of those (just barely).
The apostle Paul mentions it in his writings as a qualifier for marrying versus staying single. Of course we all know that marriage's primary identifier is a consensual, monogamous sex life which takes the work and the risk out of managing one's libido.
So what exactly is libido?
-------------------------
One of the smartest men I know shared with me that despite the fact that he was homeschooled (by his pastor parents) prior to pursuing his engineering degree from a very reputable public university, masturbation was never looped into the curriculum. Therefore, not unlike the majority of us, he was also just as much left in the dark as we were (within adolescence) as to what to make of our sexual desires.
I mean, if you can't talk openly about libido at your home school...you know there's a problem / disconnect in discussing sexuality period.
I can remember so vividly hearing Dr. James Dobson address adolescent libido to his audience of conservative Christian (mostly women) by regurgitating the mantra he divulged to his son, Ryan. And that was, "...try not to masturbate too much, son."
Wow. Really, Dr. Dobson? That's it?
The apostle Paul mentions it in his writings as a qualifier for marrying versus staying single. Of course we all know that marriage's primary identifier is a consensual, monogamous sex life which takes the work and the risk out of managing one's libido.
So what exactly is libido?
-------------------------
One of the smartest men I know shared with me that despite the fact that he was homeschooled (by his pastor parents) prior to pursuing his engineering degree from a very reputable public university, masturbation was never looped into the curriculum. Therefore, not unlike the majority of us, he was also just as much left in the dark as we were (within adolescence) as to what to make of our sexual desires.
I mean, if you can't talk openly about libido at your home school...you know there's a problem / disconnect in discussing sexuality period.
I can remember so vividly hearing Dr. James Dobson address adolescent libido to his audience of conservative Christian (mostly women) by regurgitating the mantra he divulged to his son, Ryan. And that was, "...try not to masturbate too much, son."
Wow. Really, Dr. Dobson? That's it?
Monday, December 30, 2019
A 16 Year Old's Endorsement Is a Noteworthy Endorsement (posted with her permission)
Caroline Turner
Mrs. Christian
English 1113/A1
12 December 2019
One of my family’s special Christmas traditions is reading The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. Every year my dad gathers us around the fire and begins reading us the classic story. The story follows the six Herdman children as they accidentally get mixed up in a church Christmas pageant. They were known as the meanest kids the town had ever seen. After a change of heart, the Herdmans learn the true meaning of Christmas and pull off a successful pageant. The story means a lot to me because it made the Christmas story make sense. It emphasizes how real and sacred Jesus’ birth really was. The true meaning of Christmas is not the presents or the tree but the Saviour that was born in Bethlehem.
Since I was a little girl, I have probably heard the Christmas story a thousand times. They teach the kids about it in Sunday school the same way every year. The story had always gone in one ear and out the other for me. I cared more about the presents and the pretty decorations. I knew the Christmas story was true, but I did not believe it fully in my heart. It was not until my dad introduced me to The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.
“It’s finally here!”, I screamed. My sister and I jumped around the house excitedly. It was Christmas Eve and we knew we would be opening up our presents after a short night's sleep. I sat below the tree and stared up into the twinkling lights and shiny ornaments. I could not wait any longer. “Caroline? Anna? Come sit down in the living room.” my dad called. I jumped up and ran to take my seat. I knew that we would finish The Best Christmas Pageant Ever tonight. The last chapter was always read on Christmas Eve. There are only seven chapters in the book, so my dad would space them out evenly throughout the month of December. Once silence fell over the room, my dad began reading.
I stared intensely at my dad as he read. I tried to follow his eyes on the pages of the book. The book is full of funny jokes and humor. My family and I would break out in laughter at every joke. As we approached the end of the chapter, my dad’s reading began to slow down. The last chapter of the book took him on an emotional rollercoaster. As he read, his eyes began to get watery and his lips started to quiver. He began to choke but finally spit out the last line, “Hey! Unto you a child is born!” That is when it hit me. My whole life I had been missing what Christmas is all about. Jesus’ birth was not all smiley and rainbows like most people think. Jesus was born on a cold winter’s night in a stable. They did not have warm blankets or even a bed for Jesus to sleep in. Jesus is what Christmas is all about. The gifts, food, and decorations are important, but cannot compare to the birth of my Saviour.
After my dad finished reading, he asked, “What was your favorite part of the book Caroline?” I took a few seconds to think and then replied, “When the Herdmans finally realize that Christmas is not what they had thought. That it is much more than it seems.” My family and I sat around the living room in awe of the story. “The story hits a little harder every year.”, my mom said. I agreed, “I never knew how surreal the birth of Jesus was. Now I see it from a different point of view.”
I went to bed that night wide awake. I stared into my dark room while my head spun. I could not stop thinking about the Herdman’s story. Everything I knew about the Christmas story was wrong. Seeing it from a different perspective opened up my eyes. “It must have been awful. Jesus and his family had nothing. I mean his bed was literally a feeding trough!” I could not believe it. I almost felt sorry for them. I laid in bed with a hundred thoughts running through my head. I felt inspired and thankful for what Jesus has done for me. The Christmas story had hit me straight in the heart. I would forever be changed.
Mrs. Christian
English 1113/A1
12 December 2019
The Best Christmas Pageant Ever
One of my family’s special Christmas traditions is reading The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. Every year my dad gathers us around the fire and begins reading us the classic story. The story follows the six Herdman children as they accidentally get mixed up in a church Christmas pageant. They were known as the meanest kids the town had ever seen. After a change of heart, the Herdmans learn the true meaning of Christmas and pull off a successful pageant. The story means a lot to me because it made the Christmas story make sense. It emphasizes how real and sacred Jesus’ birth really was. The true meaning of Christmas is not the presents or the tree but the Saviour that was born in Bethlehem.
Since I was a little girl, I have probably heard the Christmas story a thousand times. They teach the kids about it in Sunday school the same way every year. The story had always gone in one ear and out the other for me. I cared more about the presents and the pretty decorations. I knew the Christmas story was true, but I did not believe it fully in my heart. It was not until my dad introduced me to The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.
“It’s finally here!”, I screamed. My sister and I jumped around the house excitedly. It was Christmas Eve and we knew we would be opening up our presents after a short night's sleep. I sat below the tree and stared up into the twinkling lights and shiny ornaments. I could not wait any longer. “Caroline? Anna? Come sit down in the living room.” my dad called. I jumped up and ran to take my seat. I knew that we would finish The Best Christmas Pageant Ever tonight. The last chapter was always read on Christmas Eve. There are only seven chapters in the book, so my dad would space them out evenly throughout the month of December. Once silence fell over the room, my dad began reading.
I stared intensely at my dad as he read. I tried to follow his eyes on the pages of the book. The book is full of funny jokes and humor. My family and I would break out in laughter at every joke. As we approached the end of the chapter, my dad’s reading began to slow down. The last chapter of the book took him on an emotional rollercoaster. As he read, his eyes began to get watery and his lips started to quiver. He began to choke but finally spit out the last line, “Hey! Unto you a child is born!” That is when it hit me. My whole life I had been missing what Christmas is all about. Jesus’ birth was not all smiley and rainbows like most people think. Jesus was born on a cold winter’s night in a stable. They did not have warm blankets or even a bed for Jesus to sleep in. Jesus is what Christmas is all about. The gifts, food, and decorations are important, but cannot compare to the birth of my Saviour.
After my dad finished reading, he asked, “What was your favorite part of the book Caroline?” I took a few seconds to think and then replied, “When the Herdmans finally realize that Christmas is not what they had thought. That it is much more than it seems.” My family and I sat around the living room in awe of the story. “The story hits a little harder every year.”, my mom said. I agreed, “I never knew how surreal the birth of Jesus was. Now I see it from a different point of view.”
I went to bed that night wide awake. I stared into my dark room while my head spun. I could not stop thinking about the Herdman’s story. Everything I knew about the Christmas story was wrong. Seeing it from a different perspective opened up my eyes. “It must have been awful. Jesus and his family had nothing. I mean his bed was literally a feeding trough!” I could not believe it. I almost felt sorry for them. I laid in bed with a hundred thoughts running through my head. I felt inspired and thankful for what Jesus has done for me. The Christmas story had hit me straight in the heart. I would forever be changed.
Sunday, December 29, 2019
Godly inconvenience
- My car needs new brake pads and rotors. They're so degraded that I can no longer safely drive the vehicle, therefore it's parked 'till I can have the maintenance work accomplished at some point in January.
- Our van had major HVAC repair work executed a few months ago, and now it's broken once more. The system is behaving just as erratically as it did prior.
- Due to us now only having two (drivable) automobiles to transport our family of 5 around in, we chose to only take one this AM to church. Upon our return, we discovered that dad (me) had only brought the car key itself versus the entire key chain. Hence, there was no way to unlock the door under the garage and get back into the house. From there, we had to telephone my 'rents and coordinate rendezvousing with them to obtain a spare key. My father thought we were idiots for getting ourselves into this situation.
- Last night, I dreamt about an architect that I worked for right out of college. For almost a decade, he was the most respected (by me) professional within my life despite his hands off approach, passivity, and general professional aloofness (towards me and every other man who worked for him). Weirdly, in my dream, he was the complete opposite of the man I remember. Upbeat, genuinely compassionate / supportive and harboring a very positive outlook. I actually felt encouraged once I awoke until I realized just how potentially life changing my professional life would have been had this man been more like the dream architect I experienced.
- A week prior to today, we'd invited friends over to dine with us tonight, having not seen them in some time. As of yesterday, this afternoon's weather was forecasted to be severe, therefore I called our friends, and we rescheduled. Considering the more recent forecast for today (right now), it's diminished in severity considerably, but the rescheduling has already occurred.
-------------------------
Convenience is a systematic word. It refers to chronology which has its root in logic. Logic is how we as human beings rationalize our worlds.
God is sovereign over our lives as Christians. As adopted sons, he's interested in only one thing: our faithfulness to him exclusively. God measures our faith by peering into our hearts.
-------------------------
I like being physically strong. The last few years of my architecture schooling at Mississippi State afforded me the opportunity to be colleagues with a brute of a young man who exemplified the term "musclehead" to me (& most everyone else) back there in 1995. This Floridian wasn't arrogant about his build, but nonetheless, you can bet no one gave him any shit either.
Our final fall semester juries were in Starkville at the Architecture building, therefore since our 5th year studio was in Jackson, we had to haul our work back to campus (+/-2 hours away). The design group I was in had focused its attention on working with sheetmetal and concrete, and I'd decided to construct a sizable (4'-0" x 4'-0") cross section of my work. Needless to say, this specimen was very heavy. Unrealistically heavy, now that I think more on it. And had it not been for the strength of my fellow student, it never would have made it back into the architecture school mothership (loaded and unloaded into the back of a UHaul truck). Thanks again Judd!
In order to develop physical strength, one must inconvenience your muscles with resistance. By forcing them to work despite the resistance you apply to them, the muscle tissue develops tiny tears via exertion. These tears, over time, heal, and when they do, the muscle tissue increases in strength (& scale) for future use. Now this sounds all well and good, but it really, really hurts. Plus, if you don't know how to execute proper form, you can injure yourself due to the movements you're making whilst under physical duress.
-------------------------
If you truly consider the glory of being an adopted son of God, taking into account the transformative work that goes on therein; doing this whilst superimposing your covenant circumstances on both this culture of ours as well as the microculture that you yourself / me were / was reared within, there's good reason to rejoice in God's faithfulness to each of his own.
But...
In a world of unfathomable convenience and customization, we're spoiled. Deceived really, into believing God, just like everything else, should follow our logic. Especially regarding pain (all of which seems unnecessary).
-------------------------
There's no amount of momentum or reflex needed to ever rekindle or retrofit my faith in God relative to where he's healed me from 6 years ago. And yes, after my firing, it did feel as if I'd been lured into a trap. A trap that crushed my heart and sent me spinning traumatically out of control. Oh, how many times did I ask, "Why is this happening to me?"
I believe I'll always see it as my life's greatest inconvenience that ultimately landed me in a prison of pain. A prison that I wasn't completely released from 'till 18 months into the future.
Therefore, despite my pleas with God during my emotional incarceration for my own children to never suffer (in their futures) as I was then, today I would welcome seeing them experience said rescue as I did (obviously necessitating their own pain prison).
In closing, this is why I attempt to model - as the father - a good attitude despite Murphy's Law within our family. But in all truthfulness, attitude can only hold so much water for me personally. It's ruminating on where I once was that bolsters my faith. What I was feeling - to what extent - and why. That's my jumping off point for measuring the domination of God and his continual restoration of me.
- Our van had major HVAC repair work executed a few months ago, and now it's broken once more. The system is behaving just as erratically as it did prior.
- Due to us now only having two (drivable) automobiles to transport our family of 5 around in, we chose to only take one this AM to church. Upon our return, we discovered that dad (me) had only brought the car key itself versus the entire key chain. Hence, there was no way to unlock the door under the garage and get back into the house. From there, we had to telephone my 'rents and coordinate rendezvousing with them to obtain a spare key. My father thought we were idiots for getting ourselves into this situation.
- Last night, I dreamt about an architect that I worked for right out of college. For almost a decade, he was the most respected (by me) professional within my life despite his hands off approach, passivity, and general professional aloofness (towards me and every other man who worked for him). Weirdly, in my dream, he was the complete opposite of the man I remember. Upbeat, genuinely compassionate / supportive and harboring a very positive outlook. I actually felt encouraged once I awoke until I realized just how potentially life changing my professional life would have been had this man been more like the dream architect I experienced.
- A week prior to today, we'd invited friends over to dine with us tonight, having not seen them in some time. As of yesterday, this afternoon's weather was forecasted to be severe, therefore I called our friends, and we rescheduled. Considering the more recent forecast for today (right now), it's diminished in severity considerably, but the rescheduling has already occurred.
-------------------------
Convenience is a systematic word. It refers to chronology which has its root in logic. Logic is how we as human beings rationalize our worlds.
God is sovereign over our lives as Christians. As adopted sons, he's interested in only one thing: our faithfulness to him exclusively. God measures our faith by peering into our hearts.
-------------------------
I like being physically strong. The last few years of my architecture schooling at Mississippi State afforded me the opportunity to be colleagues with a brute of a young man who exemplified the term "musclehead" to me (& most everyone else) back there in 1995. This Floridian wasn't arrogant about his build, but nonetheless, you can bet no one gave him any shit either.
Our final fall semester juries were in Starkville at the Architecture building, therefore since our 5th year studio was in Jackson, we had to haul our work back to campus (+/-2 hours away). The design group I was in had focused its attention on working with sheetmetal and concrete, and I'd decided to construct a sizable (4'-0" x 4'-0") cross section of my work. Needless to say, this specimen was very heavy. Unrealistically heavy, now that I think more on it. And had it not been for the strength of my fellow student, it never would have made it back into the architecture school mothership (loaded and unloaded into the back of a UHaul truck). Thanks again Judd!
In order to develop physical strength, one must inconvenience your muscles with resistance. By forcing them to work despite the resistance you apply to them, the muscle tissue develops tiny tears via exertion. These tears, over time, heal, and when they do, the muscle tissue increases in strength (& scale) for future use. Now this sounds all well and good, but it really, really hurts. Plus, if you don't know how to execute proper form, you can injure yourself due to the movements you're making whilst under physical duress.
-------------------------
If you truly consider the glory of being an adopted son of God, taking into account the transformative work that goes on therein; doing this whilst superimposing your covenant circumstances on both this culture of ours as well as the microculture that you yourself / me were / was reared within, there's good reason to rejoice in God's faithfulness to each of his own.
But...
In a world of unfathomable convenience and customization, we're spoiled. Deceived really, into believing God, just like everything else, should follow our logic. Especially regarding pain (all of which seems unnecessary).
-------------------------
There's no amount of momentum or reflex needed to ever rekindle or retrofit my faith in God relative to where he's healed me from 6 years ago. And yes, after my firing, it did feel as if I'd been lured into a trap. A trap that crushed my heart and sent me spinning traumatically out of control. Oh, how many times did I ask, "Why is this happening to me?"
I believe I'll always see it as my life's greatest inconvenience that ultimately landed me in a prison of pain. A prison that I wasn't completely released from 'till 18 months into the future.
Therefore, despite my pleas with God during my emotional incarceration for my own children to never suffer (in their futures) as I was then, today I would welcome seeing them experience said rescue as I did (obviously necessitating their own pain prison).
In closing, this is why I attempt to model - as the father - a good attitude despite Murphy's Law within our family. But in all truthfulness, attitude can only hold so much water for me personally. It's ruminating on where I once was that bolsters my faith. What I was feeling - to what extent - and why. That's my jumping off point for measuring the domination of God and his continual restoration of me.
Thursday, December 26, 2019
The Holidays Can Be All About Pornography Consumption, Anonymous Sexual Encounters, Or Telephone Sex
We live in the strange age of the ubiquitous Internet, and for me, this strangeness reared its head initially with a decided impression back in the late '90s. Angie and I had only been married for a few years. We'd endured her terrible bouts with the mental illness of anxiety disorder and the subsequent panic attacks throughout our newlywedding. Therefore, at this time (we were married in the mid-90s), things were beginning to settle down some as we learned to live life reasonably well as DINKS (double-income no kids).
And then this thing called the Internet showed up, thanks to a laptop she'd been issued by her employer. It didn't take long at all for me to "take my turn" at the laptop [*wink, wink*] and get my first look at what it meant to be online, and from there, I found pornography as I'd never imagined.
Keep in mind that growing up here in Mississippi offered few, if any, opportunities to look at smut. Know too that Angie was privy, prior to our marriage, to my obsession with porn. She and I had traveled to NOLA on a few occasions and it was there in The Big Easy that I fessed up (at the time NOLA was one of the only reasonably close cities to Jackson where print porn was available at the magazine stands).
-------------------------
When you grow up never seeing professionally shot photos of beautiful naked people posing and sexing other beautiful naked people, your life is certainly not waning in that particular "culturally necessitated" experience, but when these images are thrust upon you, particularly considering a certain season of life, its impact is not unlike the detonation of an emotional atomic bomb. At least that's how it was for me.
Having come off of this rough initial marital season (as I described above) combined with being a massively visual individual (architect intern), I found myself helpless to combat the allure of Internet porn. This neverending resource for smut of every ilk. So much so, in fact, that I went to my wife (eventually) and asked specifically for help in the form of quarantine by saying, "Keep me away from your work laptop. If you don't, the Internet will likely kill me". And whilst looking back, there was some truth to that statement.
But that smart confession move didn't occur until I'd partook in a major binge session on the eve of Thanksgiving, and for this, I was given a regret that I'm sadly not likely to ever forget.
-------------------------
Thanksgiving Eve, Angie hadn't been sleeping well and made a comment to me that she'd likely need a Tylenol PM in order to assist her that evening. I took it upon myself to coerce her into taking two. And I did this in order to ensure that once asleep, she'd stay that way throughout the night.
From there, I crawled out of our bed and jumped online via her laptop (which I'd discreetly left turned on) on the opposite end of our apartment. I then binged on online images as the hours waned 'till eventually I realized dawn would soon be approaching. And, my goodness, what a moment that was realizing I'd spent the entire night using Internet pornography, and that I'd have to face my very well rested wife (as well as her family) throughout the rest of the Thanksgiving Day.
I climbed in bed for an hour or two of sleep before being woken up by Angie at my side. She'd slept well. I cannot begin to describe how regrettably I attempted to go about getting prepared to Thanksgiving with all of her family. But, I did, and life marched on.
-------------------------
What came out of this binge session was threefold:
1. I got away with it but with a sizable amount of what I've now dubbed "newlywed regret".
2. I realized just how infinite the abyss of the Internet truly was / is.
3. There aren't that many exceptionally beautiful people on planet Earth. Great looking people, yes. Exceptionally beautiful, no. But, there are plenty of people on the planet who're willing to pose sans clothing for a salacious photo in order to make a buck.
Let's break these down in an effort to close this out.
1. The first three to five years of marriage is a critical time relative to seeding / fertilizing the element of trust between husband / wife, and those seeds start with the individual being able to trust themselves firstly. One of the biggest issues my wife was confronted with as she dealt with her aforementioned mental illness "outbreak" was not being able to trust herself as my wife. Hence, she experienced intense seasons of mental anguish as she wrestled with what I'll call "wife self-doubt". It was as if the very fabric of whom she'd set out to be as Angie Turner was coming unraveled right at the start. I microcosmically experienced the same whilst hiding out Thanksgiving Eve in our apartment's TV room with my underwear down around my ankles. Other new husbands might have had similar self-doubts relative to engaging in an anonymous sex encounter or paying for telephone sex, but for me, it was this deep Internet porn dive I took, behind my wife's back, that brought on these intense negative feelings.
As most new husbands (Christian or otherwise) set out to be, I wanted to be faithful through and through to my wife, and I had been, up to that point, in spite of her ongoing struggles with her mental unhealth. But those pornographic images also opened a Pandora's Box of doubt within my own mind, and unfortunately, I became convinced that more and more exceptional was out there to be found / used. Therefore, this pursuit in turn was far more gratifying than a newfound DINKS lifestyle situated in suburban Jackson, Mississippi. Not to mention the unexpected season of anxiety I'd just endured with Angie.
Let me reiterate a point I mentioned earlier. When young husbands use online porn, they're arguably doing exponentially more damage to themselves firstly, and typically they're not even realizing it. The damage runs counter to his need to believe in himself and his ability to lead himself and his new bride as head of household. Too, if he's honest with his spouse relative to his smut consumption, that will undoubtedly sow seeds of doubt as well from his helpmeet. It's a very poisoning experience, yet the elixir tastes so sweet and refined.
I'm convinced a marriage lead by a husband who doubts himself internally is prone to being vulnerable to Satanic attack, and those attacks will focus on promulgating mistrust between both (& inside of) parties.
2. When I'd used print porn, the quantity of smut was finite. Typically, I'd hold onto the material for a few days prior to tossing it into the trash. Of course, this is not so with Internet porn, and too, there's so many sites online where like-minded sickos put their digital smut on display in the form of blogs, etc. Therefore, given enough time, one can connect with these, and therefore participate within a community of sinners, bound together by salicious material. This is arguably the most destructive usage of the Internet. Who would argue against the notion that mankind's sin nature seems to be amplified online. The supposed anonymity ramps up this illusion, and it's terribly wicked to take part in. No amount of warnings can proportionally make up for what's out there to "sow one's oats" within. It is unfathomable to behold until you've seen it firsthand.
3. My qualitative threshold for erotica is up there within the 99th percentile. Most of this exceptionally "high-quality" material is behind a paywall, therefore that wasn't where I was interested in going (using one of our credit cards would have certainly served to expose me). But, I absolutely LOVED THE THRILL OF THE HUNT (for "free" exceptionally high-quality porn)! And this cannot be emphasized enough. For years and years, I returned to the www for the sole purpose of scratching that curiosity itch. What could I possibly find today? This was the question that lingered and lingered within the back of my mind.
And then this thing called the Internet showed up, thanks to a laptop she'd been issued by her employer. It didn't take long at all for me to "take my turn" at the laptop [*wink, wink*] and get my first look at what it meant to be online, and from there, I found pornography as I'd never imagined.
Keep in mind that growing up here in Mississippi offered few, if any, opportunities to look at smut. Know too that Angie was privy, prior to our marriage, to my obsession with porn. She and I had traveled to NOLA on a few occasions and it was there in The Big Easy that I fessed up (at the time NOLA was one of the only reasonably close cities to Jackson where print porn was available at the magazine stands).
-------------------------
When you grow up never seeing professionally shot photos of beautiful naked people posing and sexing other beautiful naked people, your life is certainly not waning in that particular "culturally necessitated" experience, but when these images are thrust upon you, particularly considering a certain season of life, its impact is not unlike the detonation of an emotional atomic bomb. At least that's how it was for me.
Having come off of this rough initial marital season (as I described above) combined with being a massively visual individual (architect intern), I found myself helpless to combat the allure of Internet porn. This neverending resource for smut of every ilk. So much so, in fact, that I went to my wife (eventually) and asked specifically for help in the form of quarantine by saying, "Keep me away from your work laptop. If you don't, the Internet will likely kill me". And whilst looking back, there was some truth to that statement.
But that smart confession move didn't occur until I'd partook in a major binge session on the eve of Thanksgiving, and for this, I was given a regret that I'm sadly not likely to ever forget.
-------------------------
Thanksgiving Eve, Angie hadn't been sleeping well and made a comment to me that she'd likely need a Tylenol PM in order to assist her that evening. I took it upon myself to coerce her into taking two. And I did this in order to ensure that once asleep, she'd stay that way throughout the night.
From there, I crawled out of our bed and jumped online via her laptop (which I'd discreetly left turned on) on the opposite end of our apartment. I then binged on online images as the hours waned 'till eventually I realized dawn would soon be approaching. And, my goodness, what a moment that was realizing I'd spent the entire night using Internet pornography, and that I'd have to face my very well rested wife (as well as her family) throughout the rest of the Thanksgiving Day.
I climbed in bed for an hour or two of sleep before being woken up by Angie at my side. She'd slept well. I cannot begin to describe how regrettably I attempted to go about getting prepared to Thanksgiving with all of her family. But, I did, and life marched on.
-------------------------
What came out of this binge session was threefold:
1. I got away with it but with a sizable amount of what I've now dubbed "newlywed regret".
2. I realized just how infinite the abyss of the Internet truly was / is.
3. There aren't that many exceptionally beautiful people on planet Earth. Great looking people, yes. Exceptionally beautiful, no. But, there are plenty of people on the planet who're willing to pose sans clothing for a salacious photo in order to make a buck.
Let's break these down in an effort to close this out.
1. The first three to five years of marriage is a critical time relative to seeding / fertilizing the element of trust between husband / wife, and those seeds start with the individual being able to trust themselves firstly. One of the biggest issues my wife was confronted with as she dealt with her aforementioned mental illness "outbreak" was not being able to trust herself as my wife. Hence, she experienced intense seasons of mental anguish as she wrestled with what I'll call "wife self-doubt". It was as if the very fabric of whom she'd set out to be as Angie Turner was coming unraveled right at the start. I microcosmically experienced the same whilst hiding out Thanksgiving Eve in our apartment's TV room with my underwear down around my ankles. Other new husbands might have had similar self-doubts relative to engaging in an anonymous sex encounter or paying for telephone sex, but for me, it was this deep Internet porn dive I took, behind my wife's back, that brought on these intense negative feelings.
As most new husbands (Christian or otherwise) set out to be, I wanted to be faithful through and through to my wife, and I had been, up to that point, in spite of her ongoing struggles with her mental unhealth. But those pornographic images also opened a Pandora's Box of doubt within my own mind, and unfortunately, I became convinced that more and more exceptional was out there to be found / used. Therefore, this pursuit in turn was far more gratifying than a newfound DINKS lifestyle situated in suburban Jackson, Mississippi. Not to mention the unexpected season of anxiety I'd just endured with Angie.
Let me reiterate a point I mentioned earlier. When young husbands use online porn, they're arguably doing exponentially more damage to themselves firstly, and typically they're not even realizing it. The damage runs counter to his need to believe in himself and his ability to lead himself and his new bride as head of household. Too, if he's honest with his spouse relative to his smut consumption, that will undoubtedly sow seeds of doubt as well from his helpmeet. It's a very poisoning experience, yet the elixir tastes so sweet and refined.
I'm convinced a marriage lead by a husband who doubts himself internally is prone to being vulnerable to Satanic attack, and those attacks will focus on promulgating mistrust between both (& inside of) parties.
2. When I'd used print porn, the quantity of smut was finite. Typically, I'd hold onto the material for a few days prior to tossing it into the trash. Of course, this is not so with Internet porn, and too, there's so many sites online where like-minded sickos put their digital smut on display in the form of blogs, etc. Therefore, given enough time, one can connect with these, and therefore participate within a community of sinners, bound together by salicious material. This is arguably the most destructive usage of the Internet. Who would argue against the notion that mankind's sin nature seems to be amplified online. The supposed anonymity ramps up this illusion, and it's terribly wicked to take part in. No amount of warnings can proportionally make up for what's out there to "sow one's oats" within. It is unfathomable to behold until you've seen it firsthand.
3. My qualitative threshold for erotica is up there within the 99th percentile. Most of this exceptionally "high-quality" material is behind a paywall, therefore that wasn't where I was interested in going (using one of our credit cards would have certainly served to expose me). But, I absolutely LOVED THE THRILL OF THE HUNT (for "free" exceptionally high-quality porn)! And this cannot be emphasized enough. For years and years, I returned to the www for the sole purpose of scratching that curiosity itch. What could I possibly find today? This was the question that lingered and lingered within the back of my mind.
Monday, December 23, 2019
You Have What I Want, & I'm Willing To Admit To That
Encouragement / affirmation from a man you respect that's specific relative to an attribute you've worked to obtain is such a gift.
And I would argue, you'll never see yourself the same way again, or at least I won't. Nor will you see that other man as you did before, or at least I won't. The specific encouragement / admiration affirms, and therefore seals the two men close due to the humility it took to administer, and in turn the commitment to hold onto said encouragement in order to keep it privately held between both parties.
A boatload of good comes from friendship between men. It's a healthy / helpful brotherhood.
And I would argue, you'll never see yourself the same way again, or at least I won't. Nor will you see that other man as you did before, or at least I won't. The specific encouragement / admiration affirms, and therefore seals the two men close due to the humility it took to administer, and in turn the commitment to hold onto said encouragement in order to keep it privately held between both parties.
A boatload of good comes from friendship between men. It's a healthy / helpful brotherhood.
Sunday, December 22, 2019
The Intimacy Ache
The most notoriously routine disqualifier for me within the friendships I've been fortunate to foster throughout the years is the disconnect centered squarely on intimacy needs.
But that's now changed or changing. I think changing is the better word here. Thanks be to God and his work within my life in and through Samson Society.
Based on my experience, most men feel they're no longer men if they even begin to consider intimacy as a need. In fact most, I would argue, qualify intimacy as a weak point that directly targets their masculinity. And of course, if that's the case, how could there possibly be a need for intimacy at all if it's simply going to do harm to your / their identity as a man?
As a same-sex attracted man who began to clumsily take stock of his own intimacy needs decades ago, I can tell you that there's only a miniscule percentage of guys out there who fall into the camp of admitting they have intimacy needs. Miniscule.
Therefore, ain't a whole lot of opportunity to relate from this perspective, if you know what I mean.
Nonetheless, it's a viable topic today due to not only how its resolution is impacting me personally but how too it's voidance has indirectly impacted Samson men in a negative capacity whom I'm fortunate to call friends.
All that being said, I'm learning by experience and vicariously through friends' experience regarding this monumentally important topic.
-------------------------
So what does intimacy look like for a man who's readily identified it as a need of his own?
I see it as follows: It's being personally known by someone that you're attracted to, and as a qualifier, that attraction must look to be sustainable for some period of time. Attraction is the key here, and for most of us, that attraction begins with our understanding of another person's mind i.e. how they think / see themselves and the world around them. Of course too, it helps if that brain is being carried around in an attractive bod to match, but that's certainly not a must.
For example, you've had the experience of living, working, playing, worshiping alongside other humans who've been given beautiful exteriors but none the equal values to match your own, then there's likely going to be a holistic disconnect there by default. Therefore if you have intimacy needs, you're up a creek relative to the real deal. Hence, alternative finds (many involving sin) may come into play.
All and all, it takes work and providence to locate relational matches where intimacy can blossom, therefore in God's sovereignty, we are at his mercy to provide.
-------------------------
So, let's say you're a young Christian intimacy-aching man and you begin dating a young Christian woman. Then, against God's will for your dating circumstance, you begin to lead her into passionate make out sessions that warm her up sexually to such a degree that she's allowing you to do what you two discussed - early on - never to do. And the next thing you know, you're fondling and fingering, massaging and teasing, and this results in her spreading her legs for you to make physical love to her. And now you've found yourself, having relinquished your virginities, feeling just about married. Except you're not.
Before we proceed further with this example, let's define intimacy. For I'm of the opinion that this is where things get interesting / catastrophically complex fast.
Now, let's add a little more to our understanding of intimacy (as I see it). For each and every "intimacy needy" guy, his partaking of such is not unlike one's / his own penchant for dessert. What kind and how much varies man to man, but as I alluded to earlier, for men with that intimacy ache, they're looking for respectful, relational similarities firstly tied to a willingness to be vulnerable.
Now, rewind to my example above. How unfortunate a situation this now is as these two lovers have relinquished the clear headedness needed to adjudicate whether their boy / girlfriend is a proper match relative to their "choice of desserts". Why might this occur? Intercourse seals the deal relation-ally thereby short-circuiting the brain, especially within the mind of women, though many men too find it difficult to think clearly when the fires of passion are constantly being stoked by sexual sin.
As I've detailed here prior within other posts, God's plan to not fornicate is the best plan. Marrying someone who's unable to meet intimacy needs is a tough sell for a lifelong promise (as the years wane onward). No matter how fulfilling the sex is.
-------------------------
I met a Floridian at the Samson Society retreat who's about my age, married with 3 children. We've been dialoguing ever since, having had the opportunity there in TN to share our stories to each other. This friendship has served as a mirror for me in many ways because I can see so much of my own intimacy needy self within my friend.
Now, let me backtrack to when I originally began investing time in Samson Society meetings here in Jackson back in 2014. Just a few months into my tenure, I befriended a man whose story was brutally difficult for me to bear. His vocation coupled with his sin harkened back (for me) to past trying friendships / childhood experiences that were extremely difficult to keep separate within my mind. Therefore, I'd often find myself frustrated with the level of exhaustion I'd face as I worked to assist this man in carrying his blistering shame / regret. This friendship went on for well over a year, and I stayed faithful throughout. But what didn't occur between the two of us was any platonic cross pollination, and for the longest, I could never understand why.
-------------------------
Sex addicts do exist. I believe that today, though for the longest, I didn't think it was possible to actually be addicted to sex. First and foremost, the pull towards sex for these is almost animalistic. For many a sex addict who's target includes sex involving other people, there's often a ritual involved that includes some semblance of flirting and eventual seduction. In the interstitial moments outside of this dance, they may be heavily involved in pornography use which fuels their addiction to all things sexual / sexualized.
What I'm describing here is exactly what I saw within my Samson friend from 2014, but in all truthfulness, I was convinced his situation was somewhat anomalous due to my own ignorance relative to sex addiction.
Rewind again to my new Floridian friend that I met at the retreat. He's no addict, therefore his indiscretions he actually doesn't regret. Knowing full well what he was doing, he'd reached a place where his need for intimacy overruled everything else. Therefore when opportunity knocked, those intimate relationships resulted in infidelity. Upon suspicions arising within the mind of his spouse, he answered honestly before disclosing everything to her (w/ a professional counselor present). Today, their marriage is still on the rocks (2+ years into the future). It's sexless and she's bitter / very much opposed to working on her own half of the marriage. No doubt, she's also dealing with massive trauma, having lost her trust in her husband.
He's found himself up a creek without a paddle, and at the present, she's still in boat beating him over the head with it.
How can this marriage last? I pray he'll find contentment. Plus, I'll attempt to serve him well as a friend. What a gift it is to know him, recognizing the similarities in wiring that we both possess.
I have learned so much about myself by befriending other men via Samson Society. Extremely helpful indeed.
But that's now changed or changing. I think changing is the better word here. Thanks be to God and his work within my life in and through Samson Society.
Based on my experience, most men feel they're no longer men if they even begin to consider intimacy as a need. In fact most, I would argue, qualify intimacy as a weak point that directly targets their masculinity. And of course, if that's the case, how could there possibly be a need for intimacy at all if it's simply going to do harm to your / their identity as a man?
As a same-sex attracted man who began to clumsily take stock of his own intimacy needs decades ago, I can tell you that there's only a miniscule percentage of guys out there who fall into the camp of admitting they have intimacy needs. Miniscule.
Therefore, ain't a whole lot of opportunity to relate from this perspective, if you know what I mean.
Nonetheless, it's a viable topic today due to not only how its resolution is impacting me personally but how too it's voidance has indirectly impacted Samson men in a negative capacity whom I'm fortunate to call friends.
All that being said, I'm learning by experience and vicariously through friends' experience regarding this monumentally important topic.
-------------------------
So what does intimacy look like for a man who's readily identified it as a need of his own?
I see it as follows: It's being personally known by someone that you're attracted to, and as a qualifier, that attraction must look to be sustainable for some period of time. Attraction is the key here, and for most of us, that attraction begins with our understanding of another person's mind i.e. how they think / see themselves and the world around them. Of course too, it helps if that brain is being carried around in an attractive bod to match, but that's certainly not a must.
For example, you've had the experience of living, working, playing, worshiping alongside other humans who've been given beautiful exteriors but none the equal values to match your own, then there's likely going to be a holistic disconnect there by default. Therefore if you have intimacy needs, you're up a creek relative to the real deal. Hence, alternative finds (many involving sin) may come into play.
All and all, it takes work and providence to locate relational matches where intimacy can blossom, therefore in God's sovereignty, we are at his mercy to provide.
-------------------------
So, let's say you're a young Christian intimacy-aching man and you begin dating a young Christian woman. Then, against God's will for your dating circumstance, you begin to lead her into passionate make out sessions that warm her up sexually to such a degree that she's allowing you to do what you two discussed - early on - never to do. And the next thing you know, you're fondling and fingering, massaging and teasing, and this results in her spreading her legs for you to make physical love to her. And now you've found yourself, having relinquished your virginities, feeling just about married. Except you're not.
Before we proceed further with this example, let's define intimacy. For I'm of the opinion that this is where things get interesting / catastrophically complex fast.
Now, let's add a little more to our understanding of intimacy (as I see it). For each and every "intimacy needy" guy, his partaking of such is not unlike one's / his own penchant for dessert. What kind and how much varies man to man, but as I alluded to earlier, for men with that intimacy ache, they're looking for respectful, relational similarities firstly tied to a willingness to be vulnerable.
Now, rewind to my example above. How unfortunate a situation this now is as these two lovers have relinquished the clear headedness needed to adjudicate whether their boy / girlfriend is a proper match relative to their "choice of desserts". Why might this occur? Intercourse seals the deal relation-ally thereby short-circuiting the brain, especially within the mind of women, though many men too find it difficult to think clearly when the fires of passion are constantly being stoked by sexual sin.
As I've detailed here prior within other posts, God's plan to not fornicate is the best plan. Marrying someone who's unable to meet intimacy needs is a tough sell for a lifelong promise (as the years wane onward). No matter how fulfilling the sex is.
-------------------------
I met a Floridian at the Samson Society retreat who's about my age, married with 3 children. We've been dialoguing ever since, having had the opportunity there in TN to share our stories to each other. This friendship has served as a mirror for me in many ways because I can see so much of my own intimacy needy self within my friend.
Now, let me backtrack to when I originally began investing time in Samson Society meetings here in Jackson back in 2014. Just a few months into my tenure, I befriended a man whose story was brutally difficult for me to bear. His vocation coupled with his sin harkened back (for me) to past trying friendships / childhood experiences that were extremely difficult to keep separate within my mind. Therefore, I'd often find myself frustrated with the level of exhaustion I'd face as I worked to assist this man in carrying his blistering shame / regret. This friendship went on for well over a year, and I stayed faithful throughout. But what didn't occur between the two of us was any platonic cross pollination, and for the longest, I could never understand why.
-------------------------
Sex addicts do exist. I believe that today, though for the longest, I didn't think it was possible to actually be addicted to sex. First and foremost, the pull towards sex for these is almost animalistic. For many a sex addict who's target includes sex involving other people, there's often a ritual involved that includes some semblance of flirting and eventual seduction. In the interstitial moments outside of this dance, they may be heavily involved in pornography use which fuels their addiction to all things sexual / sexualized.
What I'm describing here is exactly what I saw within my Samson friend from 2014, but in all truthfulness, I was convinced his situation was somewhat anomalous due to my own ignorance relative to sex addiction.
Rewind again to my new Floridian friend that I met at the retreat. He's no addict, therefore his indiscretions he actually doesn't regret. Knowing full well what he was doing, he'd reached a place where his need for intimacy overruled everything else. Therefore when opportunity knocked, those intimate relationships resulted in infidelity. Upon suspicions arising within the mind of his spouse, he answered honestly before disclosing everything to her (w/ a professional counselor present). Today, their marriage is still on the rocks (2+ years into the future). It's sexless and she's bitter / very much opposed to working on her own half of the marriage. No doubt, she's also dealing with massive trauma, having lost her trust in her husband.
He's found himself up a creek without a paddle, and at the present, she's still in boat beating him over the head with it.
How can this marriage last? I pray he'll find contentment. Plus, I'll attempt to serve him well as a friend. What a gift it is to know him, recognizing the similarities in wiring that we both possess.
I have learned so much about myself by befriending other men via Samson Society. Extremely helpful indeed.
Wednesday, December 18, 2019
The Harsh Reality of Xmas
We live in a day and age of deeper and deeper still - personal lifestyle facades. Facades that we work to constantly perfect to the point that we actually begin to believe they're our reality, and I suppose eventually a facade, if it ends up deep enough, will serve to replace reality itself. Wait a minute, nope. That's not possible. Scratch that.
In the past, it was consumerism that fed this pursuit of lifestyle facade construction, but today, it's also social media and any / all forms of technology that serve to buttress our camouflage.
The end-of-the-year holiday season can serve to ramp up that work on said facades when in actuality, there's tremendous experiential pain going on behind the scenes. I became aware of this as a teen right around this time of year when there presented itself a breach in my serendipitous reality one Xmas eve. Read on.
-------------------------
When I was a boy, my father spent Thursdays out of town (in the MS Delta) for business, and often wouldn't return home 'till late Thursday night. On one particular Thursday night where he was absent from the homestead, my mother and I were spending the evening watching Christmas television programming in the den (or TV room). The home in Madison I was reared within was +/-1,800 square feet, therefore like the abode I reside in today, a loud enough yell or scream would easily resonate throughout. The den was on the east end of this ranch house with a "formal" living / dining room on the front (north side). That "formal" room was always cordoned off since it was "reserved for social gatherings".
Our TV consumption was interrupted when we heard something that sounded like a knocking on our front door (which was only accessible through the living / dining room). My mother noticed it first. This motivated me to investigate.
I remember just as soon as I breached the "formal" part of our abode, I heard a very loud banging on our front door along with muffled cries from someone on the opposite side. The solid core door had an arched glass window close to its head, but it was too tall to see out of. Nor were there any windows within close proximity to peer through prior to opening the door. I wasn't sure how to proceed so I hesitated.
I remember clearly the harsh white light streaming through that arched door window into the dark living / dining room. The source of that light was the ground mounted PAR lamp out in front of our door. This cheap lighting stunt was the typical suburban attempt to ring in the season by highlighting your home's Xmas entrance décor. At this point in time, I found myself leaning against the back of the door attempting to hear more from the other side, wishing all the while that my father were home to handle this (more and more) frightening situation.
-------------------------
So, I eventually opened the door, and what I witnessed changed my perception of Xmas forever.
-------------------------
An athletically built white teenager was crouching on our stoop in obvious emotional and physical distress. There was no doubt in my mind that he needed help, but in that moment, as we stared at one another, neither of us could even begin to fathom how best to clearly articulate anything of any substance. Nonetheless, this strange teen he'd ended up at our door, and he looked to be on the run from something or someone. And here I was peering out at him awestruck.
The next thing I remember was a station wagon coming to a screeching halt at the STOP sign in front of our house. It slid to a stop due to the street being slick from an early evening rain. When I attempted to take a closer look at it, despite the harsh glare of the floodlight, I made out the driver frantically exiting the vehicle right there in the street. The man rushed around the back of the car before sprinting towards the teenage boy through our small front yard.
All the while, the boy was continuing to plead for help, but when he became aware of his impending doom, his pleas turned to stark panic. At this point, time seemed to stand still, and I became frozen as I watched this bizarre scene unfold.
Within seconds, the man had the boy by the back of his coat, lifting him with ease off of our front stoop. From there, he dragged him back to the station wagon prior to tossing him into the backseat. The teenage boy went kicking and screaming all the way as the man repeatedly punched him in the head with his fist as he yelled obscenities at him.
Then I remember the car speeding away, but only after the man glared back at me right before opening the driver side door. What little I could make out of his looking at me was a combination of both threat and satisfaction.
By now, my mother was also in our front room, standing silently not far behind. From what I recall, she only witnessed what she could see from within the room itself. Eventually, I turned back to her, and we found ourselves standing there in stunned silence for a few seconds wondering what exactly had just happened.
-------------------------
This was no doubt a once in a lifetime event. Madison, at the time, was countryside. Few people lived there, and those that did were church-going, lower to lower-middle class folks. Even today, I wonder why this boy picked our house to look for help, and of course, the greater question is why didn't I choose to respond in lieu of simply standing there like a pansy? It would have been so easy to simply let him inside our house, locking the door behind us. There was plenty of time for me to execute a rescue.
-------------------------
My mother and I continued to look at each other without saying a word, and from there, both of us did the most shameful thing I care to admit to here. We returned to the den on the east side of the house prior to locking the front door and settled back in to watching television on our 19" Toshiba CRT. There was no telephone call to law enforcement. No discussion regarding the incident with my father. Nothing. The event was treated by us as if it had actually only existed as part of our TV programming.
Why?
Because we were too busy existing within our facade, and what we had just been sucked into didn't "fit" within that artificial construct. And this reflects perfectly of my entire growing up years and how shallow they truly were. It was like living within a Norman Rockwell painting in so many ways. A very deeply unoriginal Norman Rockwell painting.
-------------------------
Xmas is a harsh, difficult, uncaring, brutally wicked time of year for so many folks, and all of these negative superlatives seem to only ramp up during the holidays in contrast to the traditional merrymaking. But, this ugly truth is so often hidden from view until you have it show up on your suburban doorstep.
If this reality decrees itself within your world during this Xmas season, don't cower away as I chose to do. Instead, come to the rescue of those in need. Open the damn door, swing it wide, and let the suffering inside for safe keeping. To hell with the devils of this world, but especially here at Xmas.
In the past, it was consumerism that fed this pursuit of lifestyle facade construction, but today, it's also social media and any / all forms of technology that serve to buttress our camouflage.
The end-of-the-year holiday season can serve to ramp up that work on said facades when in actuality, there's tremendous experiential pain going on behind the scenes. I became aware of this as a teen right around this time of year when there presented itself a breach in my serendipitous reality one Xmas eve. Read on.
-------------------------
When I was a boy, my father spent Thursdays out of town (in the MS Delta) for business, and often wouldn't return home 'till late Thursday night. On one particular Thursday night where he was absent from the homestead, my mother and I were spending the evening watching Christmas television programming in the den (or TV room). The home in Madison I was reared within was +/-1,800 square feet, therefore like the abode I reside in today, a loud enough yell or scream would easily resonate throughout. The den was on the east end of this ranch house with a "formal" living / dining room on the front (north side). That "formal" room was always cordoned off since it was "reserved for social gatherings".
Our TV consumption was interrupted when we heard something that sounded like a knocking on our front door (which was only accessible through the living / dining room). My mother noticed it first. This motivated me to investigate.
I remember just as soon as I breached the "formal" part of our abode, I heard a very loud banging on our front door along with muffled cries from someone on the opposite side. The solid core door had an arched glass window close to its head, but it was too tall to see out of. Nor were there any windows within close proximity to peer through prior to opening the door. I wasn't sure how to proceed so I hesitated.
I remember clearly the harsh white light streaming through that arched door window into the dark living / dining room. The source of that light was the ground mounted PAR lamp out in front of our door. This cheap lighting stunt was the typical suburban attempt to ring in the season by highlighting your home's Xmas entrance décor. At this point in time, I found myself leaning against the back of the door attempting to hear more from the other side, wishing all the while that my father were home to handle this (more and more) frightening situation.
-------------------------
So, I eventually opened the door, and what I witnessed changed my perception of Xmas forever.
-------------------------
An athletically built white teenager was crouching on our stoop in obvious emotional and physical distress. There was no doubt in my mind that he needed help, but in that moment, as we stared at one another, neither of us could even begin to fathom how best to clearly articulate anything of any substance. Nonetheless, this strange teen he'd ended up at our door, and he looked to be on the run from something or someone. And here I was peering out at him awestruck.
The next thing I remember was a station wagon coming to a screeching halt at the STOP sign in front of our house. It slid to a stop due to the street being slick from an early evening rain. When I attempted to take a closer look at it, despite the harsh glare of the floodlight, I made out the driver frantically exiting the vehicle right there in the street. The man rushed around the back of the car before sprinting towards the teenage boy through our small front yard.
All the while, the boy was continuing to plead for help, but when he became aware of his impending doom, his pleas turned to stark panic. At this point, time seemed to stand still, and I became frozen as I watched this bizarre scene unfold.
Within seconds, the man had the boy by the back of his coat, lifting him with ease off of our front stoop. From there, he dragged him back to the station wagon prior to tossing him into the backseat. The teenage boy went kicking and screaming all the way as the man repeatedly punched him in the head with his fist as he yelled obscenities at him.
Then I remember the car speeding away, but only after the man glared back at me right before opening the driver side door. What little I could make out of his looking at me was a combination of both threat and satisfaction.
By now, my mother was also in our front room, standing silently not far behind. From what I recall, she only witnessed what she could see from within the room itself. Eventually, I turned back to her, and we found ourselves standing there in stunned silence for a few seconds wondering what exactly had just happened.
-------------------------
This was no doubt a once in a lifetime event. Madison, at the time, was countryside. Few people lived there, and those that did were church-going, lower to lower-middle class folks. Even today, I wonder why this boy picked our house to look for help, and of course, the greater question is why didn't I choose to respond in lieu of simply standing there like a pansy? It would have been so easy to simply let him inside our house, locking the door behind us. There was plenty of time for me to execute a rescue.
-------------------------
My mother and I continued to look at each other without saying a word, and from there, both of us did the most shameful thing I care to admit to here. We returned to the den on the east side of the house prior to locking the front door and settled back in to watching television on our 19" Toshiba CRT. There was no telephone call to law enforcement. No discussion regarding the incident with my father. Nothing. The event was treated by us as if it had actually only existed as part of our TV programming.
Why?
Because we were too busy existing within our facade, and what we had just been sucked into didn't "fit" within that artificial construct. And this reflects perfectly of my entire growing up years and how shallow they truly were. It was like living within a Norman Rockwell painting in so many ways. A very deeply unoriginal Norman Rockwell painting.
-------------------------
Xmas is a harsh, difficult, uncaring, brutally wicked time of year for so many folks, and all of these negative superlatives seem to only ramp up during the holidays in contrast to the traditional merrymaking. But, this ugly truth is so often hidden from view until you have it show up on your suburban doorstep.
If this reality decrees itself within your world during this Xmas season, don't cower away as I chose to do. Instead, come to the rescue of those in need. Open the damn door, swing it wide, and let the suffering inside for safe keeping. To hell with the devils of this world, but especially here at Xmas.
Monday, December 16, 2019
“They say, I’ve been masturbating to you all these years,” she says. “And you know, that’s a feat that I will be proud of.”
Sexual fantasy is sin. If you're concerned about sin, you'll avoid sexual fantasy, but this is quite a difficult feat if your sexual fantasies were seeded within your childhood entertainment.
The link below should be clicked with discretion, but I felt compelled to include it here to sound a multi-faceted alarm.
https://nypost.com/2019/12/16/boy-meets-world-star-maitland-ward-i-make-more-money-doing-porn/
Firstly, many beautiful women are manipulated / deceived by the notion of their value being tied to the size of their breasts / ass and the subsequent reactions from flaunting said physical assets . Despite this, they're no less excused from damnation to hell.
Secondly, boys are supposed to grow to become men, and it is their understanding / knowledge of their God-given sexuality through puberty that will assist them to mature into manhood (where boyish behaviors are left behind).
Thirdly, monetary wealth is the ultimate goal of most everyone on Earth, and the accumulation of it - so long as it's legal - is absolutely blind to responsibility relative to one's fellow man, society, culture, etc.
-------------------------
If there were no Bible and therefore no knowledge of God other than through nature and our own internal "God compass", we could look at this story and perhaps laugh it off (maybe prior to getting off).
But there is God's word, and it's really clear relative to sexual sin. Lust, fornication, homosexuality, adultery, etc. All of these will land you in hell. It's as simple as that.
Remember, Jesus talked about the "H word" more than anyone in Scripture, according to the gospels.
-------------------------
Back when Angie and I were a young married couple, one of our Sunday School teachers likened being in heaven to having a continual orgasm for eternity. He believed it would be that pleasurable. Of course, that drew a number of awkward chuckles from our group.
What it left me to wonder about though was what hell might be like in turn.
God expects his children to grow up in their faith, leaving behind boyhood sin and embracing a trans-formative, new life.
Take a few minutes today to pray for Ms. Ward. I have no doubt there's hope for her still.
The link below should be clicked with discretion, but I felt compelled to include it here to sound a multi-faceted alarm.
https://nypost.com/2019/12/16/boy-meets-world-star-maitland-ward-i-make-more-money-doing-porn/
Firstly, many beautiful women are manipulated / deceived by the notion of their value being tied to the size of their breasts / ass and the subsequent reactions from flaunting said physical assets . Despite this, they're no less excused from damnation to hell.
Secondly, boys are supposed to grow to become men, and it is their understanding / knowledge of their God-given sexuality through puberty that will assist them to mature into manhood (where boyish behaviors are left behind).
Thirdly, monetary wealth is the ultimate goal of most everyone on Earth, and the accumulation of it - so long as it's legal - is absolutely blind to responsibility relative to one's fellow man, society, culture, etc.
-------------------------
If there were no Bible and therefore no knowledge of God other than through nature and our own internal "God compass", we could look at this story and perhaps laugh it off (maybe prior to getting off).
But there is God's word, and it's really clear relative to sexual sin. Lust, fornication, homosexuality, adultery, etc. All of these will land you in hell. It's as simple as that.
Remember, Jesus talked about the "H word" more than anyone in Scripture, according to the gospels.
-------------------------
Back when Angie and I were a young married couple, one of our Sunday School teachers likened being in heaven to having a continual orgasm for eternity. He believed it would be that pleasurable. Of course, that drew a number of awkward chuckles from our group.
What it left me to wonder about though was what hell might be like in turn.
God expects his children to grow up in their faith, leaving behind boyhood sin and embracing a trans-formative, new life.
Take a few minutes today to pray for Ms. Ward. I have no doubt there's hope for her still.
Sunday, December 15, 2019
The Journey To Recovery (Authored by my old friend, Chris Inman)
All of us, at one time or another, entered into this journey we call recovery. We arrived at different times in our lives and under different circumstances, but we are here. But what does the recovery journey look like?
Thankfully we have the musings of Nate, Aaron and others on the Pirate Monk Podcast to help us consider how we can struggle well as we seek healing in our behavior and our hearts. But for those who are just getting started,
or have lost their way along the journey, here are a few ideas about how to structure our lives as as we seek to recover from the brokenness of the past:
Community - The first place I found a safe and accepting group of men was during a men’s retreat in April 2012. I grew up the church and learned well how to play the religious game. On the outside I was a saint, but in my soul,
I was ashamed of my sin. There was no safe place to take this shame, until my experience with male community. The freedom that I found there to be myself, without fear of shame or rejection, was exhilarating. (I hope all of you have had that experience.) After
that retreat I thought I was healed — but that was just a feeling. What I missed in that first experience that I have since learned is that connection is not only the place we get well, but the place we stay well. I am responsible for my own life, but I cannot
live as God intended alone. I need the fellowship of others help me own my journey. That is why many find the community at weekly Samson meetings so helpful.
Vulnerability - Growing up in a broken home, I was desperate for people to see me. I would do or say almost anything to get the approval of others. (That included lying to make my life look more significant — a habit I took
into adulthood at great cost.) And while I longed to be known, I was never truly vulnerable. Would I overshare? Yes. Was I needy? Of course. But the truth was that while I longed for others to know me, I did not know myself. My efforts to be seen were a coping
mechanism for a deeper wound. I wanted to be loved, just for who I was. It was not until I learned the value of being vulnerable in a safe place that I truly experienced love. As I share my broken parts, sometimes in detail, with another man who empathizes
with me and reflects God’s love back to me, a little part of that lonely boy is healed. This happens over and over again as I sit with men on the recovery journey. And the more vulnerable I am, the more strength I have to walk the path. Jesus said that, not
me.
Structure - I love to fly by the seat of pants. Things just seem more fun that way. I know there are many who are terrified by that idea. But that’s how I roll. And that’s also how I struggle. Without structure in my life, I
am prone to rationalizing my behavior, falling into destructive habits and overall wasting my time. I thought that getting a fulfilling job, or getting married, would give me the structure I needed stop my porn problem. I was wrong. Not that responsibilities
and relationships aren’t helpful in some way. But they are only helpful after I learn to establish healthy structures in my personal life. Nate shared recently about the structures his sponsor encouraged him to begin as he sought to walk his recovery
journey. Keep a hour-by-hour schedule, vigorous exercise, self reflection through journaling, the daily phone call to a Silas, were all healthy habits he began when he got serious about recovery. I know in my efforts to ‘fix myself’ I never developed structures
like that in my personal life. I am finding them so helpful now, not only in recovering myself, but also in staying sober.
A final note on sobriety (a topic of discussion I hope you have had in your group) — it is impossible to maintain sobriety without recovery. Sure, you can ‘white knuckle’ your sobriety for a while, but the underlying habits
and beliefs that lead to your addictive behavior are still there. Without walking the path of recovery, the old demons that lead to your struggle will inevitably return. We need a new way of living, a way of grace and the gospel of Jesus Christ, in order to
heal. I pray you have begun to experience that in your recovery journey.
When The Unfathomable & Unnecessary Become Everyday Expectations / A Way Of Life (Give Credence To Your Heart)
Many years ago, I worked for the state of Mississippi, and at times during my tenure there, I'd interact with some of my fellow state employees within other agencies (relative to project management). On one occasion, I met a young man who'd recently mortgaged a home within a small town outside of Jackson with his girlfriend, and the interesting thing about their situation to me was their decision to forgo a residence that had any climate control. To be more specific, no central air or heat and no window A/C units. Now, if Mississippi's weather was like that of southern California, I'd understand their rationale, but it isn't at all like southern California (climate or otherwise).
My great-grandmother lived in a dogtrot house in rural Humphreys county, Mississippi 'till her death in the late '70s, but even she had a couple of window A/C units within a few rooms, despite the fact that the hand built structure had what amounted to zero insulation. Keep in mind though that she didn't hole herself up within those A/C rooms throughout the day. Instead, most days, she could be found out of doors, swinging on her front porch. Contrast this to my grandmother (one of her three daughters) who relegates herself to her tiny climate controlled home 99% of day, constantly complaining about the weather outside being either too this or too that for her liking. To me, she's like a goldfish in a fishbowl submerged within the ocean depths.
-------------------------
One of the identifiers for us as human beings is our ability to calibrate ourselves emotionally and intellectually to what we believe is most readily controllable. I don't believe we do this instinctively, instead, as a stimulate to our grey matter - which due to the information age, is constantly being piqued.
As humans, we're designed to adapt well and to reap the hardships or rewards of that adaptation, but within our current modern-day environment, it is our minds that are consistently stimulated, and in turn it tends to govern our moves to calibrate ourselves relative to this culture of technological advances time and time again.
To calibrate is to "set your watch by" or "buy into" something in terms of your lifestyle routine, establishing it as your norm within your mind, and thereby receiving in turn instant gratification relative to your super satisfying decision. Within the environment we live in, our daily routine(s) is more often than not mundane and repetitive, and this is the driver towards the brain calibrations we've culturally mated ourselves to. Huge swaths of our global economy from entertainment to food & beverage to small appliances / electronics exist because of the normalization of this monotonous existence.
So, what gives us the impression of being most readily controllable...thereby stimulating our "bored-to-tears" brains?
Have you ever observed a child or teen eschew a touchscreen controlled device like a pocket or tablet computer, instead preferring to pick up a book? Not likely.
Have you ever observed the machines at the gym collecting layers of dust compared to the free weights and benches? Never.
Have you ever witnessed theatrical productions garner more interest than film? Nope.
Machines, machines, all manner of machines!
-------------------------
I've been an automobile aficionado most of my life. I find the auto industry fascinating to track, research, and ponder on. Obviously, the basic automobile was perfected long ago, and of course our country embraced it wholeheartedly. So now, what we're faced with is an industry that's constantly looking to create a car that seems to be an extension of its specific owner relative to his / her comfort, communication, and mood / experience. And every manufacturer is heading in that direction despite their different user base and branding, though I would argue they're each becoming more and more alike with each passing year.
Subsequently, for me, cars are no longer about beauty / style. Instead, it's a race to hand seemingly more and more control over to the owner, giving him the impression that he's no longer been gifted a motorized steed but actually somehow instead been born into his own personalized mobile cocoon.
-------------------------
Have you ever watched / listened to someone tell you about their decision to forgo something that everyone else assumes is impossible to live without? Like my A/C example earlier in this piece?
The first time this happened to me was in church, and it was a guest preacher who openly criticized cable television during his preaching. And he wasn't referring to a specific television program either. Instead, he was referring to the entire cable television industry as something only imbeciles invested their time in.
Now that got my attention due to the fact that preachers are typically only concerned with one underlying thing: man's heart.
-------------------------
Growing up in the '80s (the decade of the shopping mall), I clearly remember the edification of consumerism through the experience of shopping. To be human in this era meant you were a consumer (by right!), therefore what you consumed and where you consumed it from synced up precisely with who everyone was meant to be by definition during that era - a consumer! And the same could be said for entertainment during this era which included music, film and television. Our culture during this time over produced everything (that cannot be emphasized enough), and in turn, due to the novelty shock to our systems, we bought into it hook, line, and sinker. Momentum from this era continues to reverberate today despite it being translated into seemingly endless digital means of "user experience customization" which essentially is just over-produced calibration to the nth degree.
-------------------------
We've known newlyweds who've forgone television during their first year of marriage.
I've known men who've relinquished their smartphones for dumbphones.
I've read about couples who've downsized into smaller homes in order to live cheaper.
I know of a couple who only has one automobile.
-------------------------
Adaptation works on man's heart, and this is the portion of ourselves that God is most concerned with. But, adaptation is hard to experience within a world that elevates / normalizes the notion of our having a right to brain stimulation through calibration.
Therefore, make a point going forward to upend who's / what's being catered to as you consider your whole self. Intentionally diminish hierarchically the value of your brain today by forgoing opportunities for it to be appeased (as detailed above), and in turn, give credence to your heart! Give credence to your heart! Give credence to your heart! For it's all that matters in the grand scheme of things.
My great-grandmother lived in a dogtrot house in rural Humphreys county, Mississippi 'till her death in the late '70s, but even she had a couple of window A/C units within a few rooms, despite the fact that the hand built structure had what amounted to zero insulation. Keep in mind though that she didn't hole herself up within those A/C rooms throughout the day. Instead, most days, she could be found out of doors, swinging on her front porch. Contrast this to my grandmother (one of her three daughters) who relegates herself to her tiny climate controlled home 99% of day, constantly complaining about the weather outside being either too this or too that for her liking. To me, she's like a goldfish in a fishbowl submerged within the ocean depths.
-------------------------
One of the identifiers for us as human beings is our ability to calibrate ourselves emotionally and intellectually to what we believe is most readily controllable. I don't believe we do this instinctively, instead, as a stimulate to our grey matter - which due to the information age, is constantly being piqued.
As humans, we're designed to adapt well and to reap the hardships or rewards of that adaptation, but within our current modern-day environment, it is our minds that are consistently stimulated, and in turn it tends to govern our moves to calibrate ourselves relative to this culture of technological advances time and time again.
To calibrate is to "set your watch by" or "buy into" something in terms of your lifestyle routine, establishing it as your norm within your mind, and thereby receiving in turn instant gratification relative to your super satisfying decision. Within the environment we live in, our daily routine(s) is more often than not mundane and repetitive, and this is the driver towards the brain calibrations we've culturally mated ourselves to. Huge swaths of our global economy from entertainment to food & beverage to small appliances / electronics exist because of the normalization of this monotonous existence.
So, what gives us the impression of being most readily controllable...thereby stimulating our "bored-to-tears" brains?
Have you ever observed a child or teen eschew a touchscreen controlled device like a pocket or tablet computer, instead preferring to pick up a book? Not likely.
Have you ever observed the machines at the gym collecting layers of dust compared to the free weights and benches? Never.
Have you ever witnessed theatrical productions garner more interest than film? Nope.
Machines, machines, all manner of machines!
-------------------------
I've been an automobile aficionado most of my life. I find the auto industry fascinating to track, research, and ponder on. Obviously, the basic automobile was perfected long ago, and of course our country embraced it wholeheartedly. So now, what we're faced with is an industry that's constantly looking to create a car that seems to be an extension of its specific owner relative to his / her comfort, communication, and mood / experience. And every manufacturer is heading in that direction despite their different user base and branding, though I would argue they're each becoming more and more alike with each passing year.
Subsequently, for me, cars are no longer about beauty / style. Instead, it's a race to hand seemingly more and more control over to the owner, giving him the impression that he's no longer been gifted a motorized steed but actually somehow instead been born into his own personalized mobile cocoon.
-------------------------
Have you ever watched / listened to someone tell you about their decision to forgo something that everyone else assumes is impossible to live without? Like my A/C example earlier in this piece?
The first time this happened to me was in church, and it was a guest preacher who openly criticized cable television during his preaching. And he wasn't referring to a specific television program either. Instead, he was referring to the entire cable television industry as something only imbeciles invested their time in.
Now that got my attention due to the fact that preachers are typically only concerned with one underlying thing: man's heart.
-------------------------
Growing up in the '80s (the decade of the shopping mall), I clearly remember the edification of consumerism through the experience of shopping. To be human in this era meant you were a consumer (by right!), therefore what you consumed and where you consumed it from synced up precisely with who everyone was meant to be by definition during that era - a consumer! And the same could be said for entertainment during this era which included music, film and television. Our culture during this time over produced everything (that cannot be emphasized enough), and in turn, due to the novelty shock to our systems, we bought into it hook, line, and sinker. Momentum from this era continues to reverberate today despite it being translated into seemingly endless digital means of "user experience customization" which essentially is just over-produced calibration to the nth degree.
-------------------------
We've known newlyweds who've forgone television during their first year of marriage.
I've known men who've relinquished their smartphones for dumbphones.
I've read about couples who've downsized into smaller homes in order to live cheaper.
I know of a couple who only has one automobile.
-------------------------
Adaptation works on man's heart, and this is the portion of ourselves that God is most concerned with. But, adaptation is hard to experience within a world that elevates / normalizes the notion of our having a right to brain stimulation through calibration.
Therefore, make a point going forward to upend who's / what's being catered to as you consider your whole self. Intentionally diminish hierarchically the value of your brain today by forgoing opportunities for it to be appeased (as detailed above), and in turn, give credence to your heart! Give credence to your heart! Give credence to your heart! For it's all that matters in the grand scheme of things.
Saturday, December 7, 2019
Privilege(d)
I worked at Chick-Fil-A in NorthPark Mall in high school. I applied as a 15 year old, soon after acquiring my driver's license. There were two black women, both much older than me, that had worked there for some time and everyone else was like I was, a white high school / community college student. Each of these older women typically opened the restaurant in the mornings with one other employee (for a total of three). At this time, breakfast at the Chick wasn't nearly as popular as it is today, therefore it didn't take too large of a crew to serve those ubiquitous, greasy chicken biscuits.
Keep in mind that the year was 1988.
I'd never been around blacks at all up to this point in time. My 'rents paid for me to attend a local private academy, therefore there were none there, and we lived in the suburbs far from the blacks who lived in the city of Jackson. Therefore, I have to admit that they definitely intimidated me out of disassociation despite the fact that they were very friendly.
One disclaimer here. My 'rents weren't racist. Never did I hear derogatory comments about blacks, Hispanics, Asians, etc. for which I'm very thankful, but they had lived through integration. Thusly, they were pulled out of the public schools within the Mississippi Delta as upper elementary students and relocated to the private academies that sprung up overnight as a result of the DOJ rulings.
-------------------------
As Chick-Fil-A is today, the restaurant was closed on Sunday, but I can remember on one occasion having to report to the Chick for some formal training (w/ the entire crew) on the sabbath. We each sat within the dining room for this training which consisted of the Operator passing around a freshly unboxed 3-ring binder in order for each of us to take a turn reading instructions on how to grill chicken filets (versus fry). What surprised and saddened me was what happened when the binder made its way to these older black females (who I'd come to respect a great deal and befriend). My heart sank due to the awkwardness as they stumbled through their few paragraphs that had been queued up for them to orate. And I literally mean stumble. From what I recall, neither of them had a reading aptitude that was anything above a second or third grade level. It was shocking to me as a then 16 year old white kid.
Oh, how I wished these ladies hadn't been exposed like this! What could be done to leverage this situation in their favor?
Nothing. What was done was done.
Needless to say, the restaurant Operator never put us through that exercise again. From that point forward, all training was executed via watching VHS videos, and usually during our breaks. And this was the right thing to do in order to not single anyone out.
-------------------------
A sizeable portion of who we are as human beings and how we live out our lives has to do with attitude. Attitude is essentially perspective, whether it be first or third person (or some combination of the two). If it's first person, you're like me and have such a difficult time not seeing oneself as the center of the universe, experiencing life - mostly - with zero frame of reference. On the other hand, if it's third person, there's always a point of reference (your true, unadulterated self) to consider, which I believe, can result in life lived far from the vacuum of existing solely within one's head.
Samson Society has introduced me intimately to more men than I ever dreamed I'd have the privilege to know intimately as a late 40 year old white guy. Now, I'll admit that in terms of racial diversity there's been much less available than I'd like, but relative to story, backgrounds, demographics...it's been quite rich.
I recall the very first meeting I attended in Jackson back in 2014, hearing stories that in so many ways mimicked my own, but easily within the first 6 months of my tenure within that group, I witnessed the distinct details of who each man was. Most of which in no way cross pollinated with my own, and some of which were dramatically different overall.
-------------------------
Rarely, if ever, do circumstances lend themselves for men to celebrate - literally - their weaknesses, failings, flaws. And why should there be? What good is this to any man?
The good that comes from it is the reorienting of one's perspective - from first to third. But this takes quite some time to accomplish. I've literally been involved in Samson Society for 5.5 years and only now am I beginning to see my own perspective change. That's much longer than I'd like to admit to, but it's the truth.
Our culture / world celebrates arrogance and pride, and this is built on a first person (privileged) view. This perspective sees life sans one's own self (story), and it is constantly biased towards being either highly critical / complaining or aloof and insular due to the fact that you're rarely if ever taking / utilizing your story as a point of reference. This is the perspective we're born with, which typically reaches its natural peak during adolescence as children experience all the inevitable growing pains that come with that season of their lives.
So again, I ask the same question. What good is this to any man?
For me, it's served as a proving ground to make peace with my own self, and in doing so, given me courage to look my own life in the eye and no longer be ashamed whatsoever. That's privilege, and it's one of the greatest gifts Samson Society has provided me.
How did this come about exactly?
By finding comfort and support from within a community of men, some of which I've befriended deeply and yet today have little to no consistent contact with. The comfort piece, for me, has been learning to see myself within this community as a true brother AND NOT as an anomaly. The biggest boost to me in this regard has been involving myself within the Samson community outside of Mississippi which has allowed me to meet men from around the country. And, of course, that's made possible by being involved in the annual retreat and from there, continuing to communicate with these men after the fact. That in itself has expanded my horizons, validated, and excited me more as I've sought to drop the "d" from privilege, and subsequently change my perspective / attitude from first to third.
Keep in mind that the year was 1988.
I'd never been around blacks at all up to this point in time. My 'rents paid for me to attend a local private academy, therefore there were none there, and we lived in the suburbs far from the blacks who lived in the city of Jackson. Therefore, I have to admit that they definitely intimidated me out of disassociation despite the fact that they were very friendly.
One disclaimer here. My 'rents weren't racist. Never did I hear derogatory comments about blacks, Hispanics, Asians, etc. for which I'm very thankful, but they had lived through integration. Thusly, they were pulled out of the public schools within the Mississippi Delta as upper elementary students and relocated to the private academies that sprung up overnight as a result of the DOJ rulings.
-------------------------
As Chick-Fil-A is today, the restaurant was closed on Sunday, but I can remember on one occasion having to report to the Chick for some formal training (w/ the entire crew) on the sabbath. We each sat within the dining room for this training which consisted of the Operator passing around a freshly unboxed 3-ring binder in order for each of us to take a turn reading instructions on how to grill chicken filets (versus fry). What surprised and saddened me was what happened when the binder made its way to these older black females (who I'd come to respect a great deal and befriend). My heart sank due to the awkwardness as they stumbled through their few paragraphs that had been queued up for them to orate. And I literally mean stumble. From what I recall, neither of them had a reading aptitude that was anything above a second or third grade level. It was shocking to me as a then 16 year old white kid.
Oh, how I wished these ladies hadn't been exposed like this! What could be done to leverage this situation in their favor?
Nothing. What was done was done.
Needless to say, the restaurant Operator never put us through that exercise again. From that point forward, all training was executed via watching VHS videos, and usually during our breaks. And this was the right thing to do in order to not single anyone out.
-------------------------
A sizeable portion of who we are as human beings and how we live out our lives has to do with attitude. Attitude is essentially perspective, whether it be first or third person (or some combination of the two). If it's first person, you're like me and have such a difficult time not seeing oneself as the center of the universe, experiencing life - mostly - with zero frame of reference. On the other hand, if it's third person, there's always a point of reference (your true, unadulterated self) to consider, which I believe, can result in life lived far from the vacuum of existing solely within one's head.
Samson Society has introduced me intimately to more men than I ever dreamed I'd have the privilege to know intimately as a late 40 year old white guy. Now, I'll admit that in terms of racial diversity there's been much less available than I'd like, but relative to story, backgrounds, demographics...it's been quite rich.
I recall the very first meeting I attended in Jackson back in 2014, hearing stories that in so many ways mimicked my own, but easily within the first 6 months of my tenure within that group, I witnessed the distinct details of who each man was. Most of which in no way cross pollinated with my own, and some of which were dramatically different overall.
-------------------------
Rarely, if ever, do circumstances lend themselves for men to celebrate - literally - their weaknesses, failings, flaws. And why should there be? What good is this to any man?
The good that comes from it is the reorienting of one's perspective - from first to third. But this takes quite some time to accomplish. I've literally been involved in Samson Society for 5.5 years and only now am I beginning to see my own perspective change. That's much longer than I'd like to admit to, but it's the truth.
Our culture / world celebrates arrogance and pride, and this is built on a first person (privileged) view. This perspective sees life sans one's own self (story), and it is constantly biased towards being either highly critical / complaining or aloof and insular due to the fact that you're rarely if ever taking / utilizing your story as a point of reference. This is the perspective we're born with, which typically reaches its natural peak during adolescence as children experience all the inevitable growing pains that come with that season of their lives.
So again, I ask the same question. What good is this to any man?
For me, it's served as a proving ground to make peace with my own self, and in doing so, given me courage to look my own life in the eye and no longer be ashamed whatsoever. That's privilege, and it's one of the greatest gifts Samson Society has provided me.
How did this come about exactly?
By finding comfort and support from within a community of men, some of which I've befriended deeply and yet today have little to no consistent contact with. The comfort piece, for me, has been learning to see myself within this community as a true brother AND NOT as an anomaly. The biggest boost to me in this regard has been involving myself within the Samson community outside of Mississippi which has allowed me to meet men from around the country. And, of course, that's made possible by being involved in the annual retreat and from there, continuing to communicate with these men after the fact. That in itself has expanded my horizons, validated, and excited me more as I've sought to drop the "d" from privilege, and subsequently change my perspective / attitude from first to third.
"I'm Not The Problem. You Are."
"You don't even know who I am."
To me, as a Samson Society facilitator as well as a Silas to numerous men, when you hear, either directly or indirectly, these aforementioned phrases from another Samson Society man, it's likely you're at a stalwart or about to witness platonic implosion.
We're a world built, literally, on criticism and complaints. As a culture, we are pedigreed to critique and constantly turn our attention towards everything BUT ourselves, and a huge swath of the Internet is geared towards nothing more than that.
Samson Society isn't a social club. It can become as such, but that's not what it's mission is. It's a place where men can find healing and recovery, and if that recovery requires they go beyond The Path of Samson Society (trained therapeutic counseling, for example), it needs to segue there. Otherwise, it's not following the natural progression of its mission.
But, man oh man, it's hard to find the humility to step into that paradigm. I can speak to that personally due to the breadth of professional counseling I've received over the years - from both PhDs and licensed therapists. Nevertheless, it's been worth almost every private session of the 5 counselors I've talked to over the course of my life.
-------------------------
When you spend months and months, if not years walking alongside another man within the Samson Society paradigm, for me at least, there becomes a familiarity to that man. Patterns become apparent, and from there, you either see maturation forward or cycles of inner circling. And regarding the latter, the illicit behaviors may have ceased, but the man simply isn't changing inwardly. And from there, it's obvious to me that there's more work to be done that Samson Society simply cannot help with (explicitly).
That's what catches my attention, and usually when I speak up.
Friendships, from there, either accelerate forward hand in hand or come to a screeching halt. All depending on how that Samson guy reacts.
To me, as a Samson Society facilitator as well as a Silas to numerous men, when you hear, either directly or indirectly, these aforementioned phrases from another Samson Society man, it's likely you're at a stalwart or about to witness platonic implosion.
We're a world built, literally, on criticism and complaints. As a culture, we are pedigreed to critique and constantly turn our attention towards everything BUT ourselves, and a huge swath of the Internet is geared towards nothing more than that.
Samson Society isn't a social club. It can become as such, but that's not what it's mission is. It's a place where men can find healing and recovery, and if that recovery requires they go beyond The Path of Samson Society (trained therapeutic counseling, for example), it needs to segue there. Otherwise, it's not following the natural progression of its mission.
But, man oh man, it's hard to find the humility to step into that paradigm. I can speak to that personally due to the breadth of professional counseling I've received over the years - from both PhDs and licensed therapists. Nevertheless, it's been worth almost every private session of the 5 counselors I've talked to over the course of my life.
-------------------------
When you spend months and months, if not years walking alongside another man within the Samson Society paradigm, for me at least, there becomes a familiarity to that man. Patterns become apparent, and from there, you either see maturation forward or cycles of inner circling. And regarding the latter, the illicit behaviors may have ceased, but the man simply isn't changing inwardly. And from there, it's obvious to me that there's more work to be done that Samson Society simply cannot help with (explicitly).
That's what catches my attention, and usually when I speak up.
Friendships, from there, either accelerate forward hand in hand or come to a screeching halt. All depending on how that Samson guy reacts.
Wednesday, December 4, 2019
Feeling Masculine - Part 2 - Catalyst Theories
I believe it's the sense of control-lessness or lack of control that's seeded within a boy's life which fuels the mis / ill proportioned craving for masculine confirmation well into adulthood.
Most men define themselves completely by providing (a sense of) security to their "tribe", this notion of stability and confidence, and that confidence (or lack thereof) to provide security is confirmed / maturated within young adulthood. If these men (part of the aforementioned most) happen to be Type A control freaks, this identifier to provide security is especially important to their identity as males due to their specific and highly idealized temperament.
So let's consider these men's pasts.
If you put unfortunate, unhealthy, impossibly difficult circumstances within a young man's path that serve to traumatically counter that budding definition of confidence within himself - again, to provide security relative to his "tribe" - then you have emotional issues related to this identification need that can follow him into adulthood.
At least this is my theory.
-------------------------
And honestly, I'm not so sure this issue can easily be resolved into adulthood when you're dealing with Type A men. These guys also tend to be highly dutiful (to everyone but themselves), therefore their desire to actually do their own necessary recovery work is often pitifully minute. Or, on the other hand, some of these Type A men too can be extraordinarily lazy and lackadaisical, only choosing to act (get off their ass) when it's a situational react. If that makes any sense...
Or, these Type A men can be some combination of the two - both dutiful and lazy all at the same time - just proportioned out categorically depending on their own hierarchical system ("I care deeply about this... / I care nothing for that...")
Therefore, all of the garbage (facsimiles of sexual chemistry and the resultant masculine "hits") I listed on my previous blog entry: strip clubs, telephone sex, prostitutes, Internet porn, dating sites, chat rooms, and on and on, I find...these "fixes" for these emotional issues can come "into play" due to how convenient, secretive, and of course, pleasurably naughty they all are.
And each of these facsimiles absolutely do provide masculine hits that are off the charts whilst being extraordinarily efficient. Which is what they're designed to do again and again thanks to our free enterprise system (most of these services must be purchased).
In closing, Type A men as I've described here, like all men, have a story. It's just that the important parts for them are the really, really difficult memories as well as their subsequent choices that involved a tremendous amount of sin. It's these difficult memories as well as the sinful choices that need to be investigated and clearly, thoroughly, explicitly unpacked. Otherwise, there's no understanding of the why he's broken as he is nor why exactly he's taken the stupid (stupid is a verb) path he's taken to manage his brokenness.
Man, that's a mouthful. Please know that I'm trying my best to be clear here.
Most men define themselves completely by providing (a sense of) security to their "tribe", this notion of stability and confidence, and that confidence (or lack thereof) to provide security is confirmed / maturated within young adulthood. If these men (part of the aforementioned most) happen to be Type A control freaks, this identifier to provide security is especially important to their identity as males due to their specific and highly idealized temperament.
So let's consider these men's pasts.
If you put unfortunate, unhealthy, impossibly difficult circumstances within a young man's path that serve to traumatically counter that budding definition of confidence within himself - again, to provide security relative to his "tribe" - then you have emotional issues related to this identification need that can follow him into adulthood.
At least this is my theory.
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And honestly, I'm not so sure this issue can easily be resolved into adulthood when you're dealing with Type A men. These guys also tend to be highly dutiful (to everyone but themselves), therefore their desire to actually do their own necessary recovery work is often pitifully minute. Or, on the other hand, some of these Type A men too can be extraordinarily lazy and lackadaisical, only choosing to act (get off their ass) when it's a situational react. If that makes any sense...
Or, these Type A men can be some combination of the two - both dutiful and lazy all at the same time - just proportioned out categorically depending on their own hierarchical system ("I care deeply about this... / I care nothing for that...")
Therefore, all of the garbage (facsimiles of sexual chemistry and the resultant masculine "hits") I listed on my previous blog entry: strip clubs, telephone sex, prostitutes, Internet porn, dating sites, chat rooms, and on and on, I find...these "fixes" for these emotional issues can come "into play" due to how convenient, secretive, and of course, pleasurably naughty they all are.
And each of these facsimiles absolutely do provide masculine hits that are off the charts whilst being extraordinarily efficient. Which is what they're designed to do again and again thanks to our free enterprise system (most of these services must be purchased).
In closing, Type A men as I've described here, like all men, have a story. It's just that the important parts for them are the really, really difficult memories as well as their subsequent choices that involved a tremendous amount of sin. It's these difficult memories as well as the sinful choices that need to be investigated and clearly, thoroughly, explicitly unpacked. Otherwise, there's no understanding of the why he's broken as he is nor why exactly he's taken the stupid (stupid is a verb) path he's taken to manage his brokenness.
Man, that's a mouthful. Please know that I'm trying my best to be clear here.
Sunday, December 1, 2019
Feeling Masculine - Part 1 - Harnessing One's Hotness
Describe to many men what they desire more than anything else, from a fleshly standpoint, and the end result of those desires will very often be a masculine "hit" / spike / thrill ride, though they may not be able to articulate this. Whether they're to be found sexually attractive by another human being, execute a precision gameplay, or find themselves rolling their bank account into the seven-figure realm, any and all of these will suffice to bring on those heady, exceedingly masculine feelings for many men.
A quick disclaimer: Not every man experiences this. That's why I said most. I certainly don't. For Rob, my masculine "hit" comes through taking risks. Whether it's within my friendships or family (particularly my children), tied to what I may or may not say (& how I might say it), or what I may choose to or not to take part in (often culturally), these small risks add up to bolster my sense of masculinity.
Many men derail portions of their entire lives due to the never ending pursuit of these confidence building situational masculine feelings. Feelings that they learned early on as boys which very well do assist them in understanding themselves. And that's the entire point of these feelings. They're God-given helpers in reminding a male that he's male. And this is a good thing until it's not.
So why exactly do certain men gravitate towards this? (Fast forward to my theory which I've attempted to flesh out within Part 2).
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The world of men is typically average to below average relative to physical attraction. Most men, once married in particular, pay little if any attention to their physical selves. But, there are a handful whom have the DNA firstly, and the resolve secondly, to take full advantage of said DNA. And of course, people take note of this, and it's been proven that these guys are far more likely to earn more money throughout their lives whilst encountering fewer obstacles along the way. You might call it the George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Zac Efron effect, and it's as American as apple pie.
Our sexualized photographic culture elevates sexually attractive men, furthering the ridiculousness that strong masculine sex appeal makes for a solid (faithful), enduring (provider / security), endearing (compassionate / loving) man - boyfriend, husband.
So what if you're that guy? What if you're capable of turning heads or attracting a lot of sexual attention as you go about your everyday life? And what if you pay heed to it or take note of it once you sense someone has "taken the bait" based on how you've dressed / carried yourself at that particular moment in time?
If you're looking to exploit that masculine "hit", you're typically going to flirt in order to eek out as much of it as you can. And this is where situations tend to lead towards lives getting derailed, trust coming unraveled, lies being told, and stupid (stupid is a verb!) happening in droves.
-------------------------
For you husbands out there, hopefully you remember experiencing this aforementioned masculine kick when you were dating your wife. Oftentimes, it unfortunately leads to fornication because intercourse is the natural masculine progression of this attraction / flirting experience. But, in certain cases, just because you're a married man doesn't mean you suddenly lose your sex appeal. In fact, there are some individuals who consider others THAT MUCH MORE SEXY if they're married with children.
Guys who crave this masculine kick from arousing both women and men they encounter / relate to can at times find their looks also serving as a two-edged sword. Their wives, in particular, can trophy these men's debonair, and in the end harness their hotness (which seemingly comes naturally) against them. I believe women who choose to marry an Adonis are often blinded into thinking they're especially worthy of such manly finery, and this can in turn cause that much more consternation and outrage when his unfaithfulness is brought into the light.
This is very bad situation for all parties involved, that frankly, I have no idea how to remedy except supernaturally.
-------------------------
Now, let's talk next about the facsimile of all this sexual chemistry (& subsequent masculine "hits"): Strip clubs, telephone sex, prostitutes, Internet porn, dating sites, chat rooms, and on and on.
This is where things really get ugly relative to finding success in obtaining those masculine highs.
To be continued...
A quick disclaimer: Not every man experiences this. That's why I said most. I certainly don't. For Rob, my masculine "hit" comes through taking risks. Whether it's within my friendships or family (particularly my children), tied to what I may or may not say (& how I might say it), or what I may choose to or not to take part in (often culturally), these small risks add up to bolster my sense of masculinity.
Many men derail portions of their entire lives due to the never ending pursuit of these confidence building situational masculine feelings. Feelings that they learned early on as boys which very well do assist them in understanding themselves. And that's the entire point of these feelings. They're God-given helpers in reminding a male that he's male. And this is a good thing until it's not.
So why exactly do certain men gravitate towards this? (Fast forward to my theory which I've attempted to flesh out within Part 2).
-------------------------
The world of men is typically average to below average relative to physical attraction. Most men, once married in particular, pay little if any attention to their physical selves. But, there are a handful whom have the DNA firstly, and the resolve secondly, to take full advantage of said DNA. And of course, people take note of this, and it's been proven that these guys are far more likely to earn more money throughout their lives whilst encountering fewer obstacles along the way. You might call it the George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Zac Efron effect, and it's as American as apple pie.
Our sexualized photographic culture elevates sexually attractive men, furthering the ridiculousness that strong masculine sex appeal makes for a solid (faithful), enduring (provider / security), endearing (compassionate / loving) man - boyfriend, husband.
So what if you're that guy? What if you're capable of turning heads or attracting a lot of sexual attention as you go about your everyday life? And what if you pay heed to it or take note of it once you sense someone has "taken the bait" based on how you've dressed / carried yourself at that particular moment in time?
If you're looking to exploit that masculine "hit", you're typically going to flirt in order to eek out as much of it as you can. And this is where situations tend to lead towards lives getting derailed, trust coming unraveled, lies being told, and stupid (stupid is a verb!) happening in droves.
-------------------------
For you husbands out there, hopefully you remember experiencing this aforementioned masculine kick when you were dating your wife. Oftentimes, it unfortunately leads to fornication because intercourse is the natural masculine progression of this attraction / flirting experience. But, in certain cases, just because you're a married man doesn't mean you suddenly lose your sex appeal. In fact, there are some individuals who consider others THAT MUCH MORE SEXY if they're married with children.
Guys who crave this masculine kick from arousing both women and men they encounter / relate to can at times find their looks also serving as a two-edged sword. Their wives, in particular, can trophy these men's debonair, and in the end harness their hotness (which seemingly comes naturally) against them. I believe women who choose to marry an Adonis are often blinded into thinking they're especially worthy of such manly finery, and this can in turn cause that much more consternation and outrage when his unfaithfulness is brought into the light.
This is very bad situation for all parties involved, that frankly, I have no idea how to remedy except supernaturally.
-------------------------
Now, let's talk next about the facsimile of all this sexual chemistry (& subsequent masculine "hits"): Strip clubs, telephone sex, prostitutes, Internet porn, dating sites, chat rooms, and on and on.
This is where things really get ugly relative to finding success in obtaining those masculine highs.
To be continued...
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