Author: tomgrasso (Page 7 of 38)

I recently was privileged to read The Art of Masculinity by Lasara Allen and was left feeling a bit confused by what I read.  It seems, to me, that women themselves aren’t even sure what it is they want in a man.  The article left me saying to myself, “yeah, that’s what you say you want, but what you do is completely different.”

Now, let me first disclaim that I am generalizing here.  When I say “women” I am speaking of my own experience with the women I have known or do currently know.  When I say “men” I am speaking of myself and most of the men I know.  This is not, of course, a scientific dissertation based on known widespread data.

First, let me say that I see “masculinity” as Yin to “femininity’s” Yang.  The two only truly exist for each other.  I would doubt that any men I know would consider me anything less than a “man’s man”.  I am physically strong, not easily frightened, mentally sharp and a rather big guy for someone who has never taken a steroid.  I can swing a sledge hammer and wield a pen with equal aplomb.  I’ve been in my share of fights in my youth, been an athlete, and can be rather intimidating if I choose to be.  I fight fires and perform rescue work with a shear intensity given to me by God and experience.  These are things that men (and some women) would consider “manly” to say the least which would seem to make me quite adept at the “Art of Masculinity” to them.

In the case of my relationships with women, let me suggest to you, the reader, that masculinity is, in itself, a direct relationship with femininity.  It seems women are describing this “masculinity” through their own feminine perspective and until women themselves can define what the feminine perspective is we men will always be confused about what it is we are supposed to do to please our partners.  Our mothers couldn’t even truly teach us what masculinity is because they had no real idea what femininity was.  To their part, our father-figures (for those of us who had such a beast) basically just shrugged their shoulders in quiet surrender to their utter confusion.

The First Myth – The Lost Art of Strength?

Um, excuse me.  As an adult I’ve never been confused for a sniveling wimp and doubt I ever will be.  However, women somehow believe our sharing control with them as a loss of strength.  The issue I have with the “boat drifting off course” analogy is that a woman’s idea of “off course” and ours is sometimes completely different.  If I see my woman is having a hard time, I will attempt to help and if she doesn’t want or need it I will step back.  My role is not to lord over her like some Master because she is incapable, it is to be her partner and be there when she needs me to be.

[Hint:  This may involve the Lost Art of Communication, which we will explore later]

It also fails to recognize that there are many boats in the water in a real relationship.  I pilot some, and she pilots others while yet others we pilot together.  If I see her struggling, I will try to step in and expect the same from her.  Yet, how many times have we men (and you women) have stepped in to help only to get a swift (and proverbial) kick in the pants for the attempt?  It’s a tricky course that usually involves an apology, and sometimes great make-up sex after the fact.  I can say that I’ll if great make-up sex is part of the equation I may step on my woman’s toes from time to time just to get there.

Yes, I am kidding.  Kind of. 🙂

I will say that I have never been asked to make a decision where I wasn’t willing.  Yet, I often will want, and demand, my woman’s input.  I am not her daddy just as she is not my mommy.  We are partners in the experience, and I want a partner, not some sniveling noodle afraid to tell me what she thinks, when she thinks it, and how it is being thought.  It’s how trust is fostered between a man and a woman, and it is how the threads of a relationship are exercised.  It’s not about roles being played in household, it’s about being an active and trusted partner in the relationship with your man.  So, if I happen to say, “No honey, it’s okay.  You decide.” it is because I mean it.  I want you to decide.

If this understanding creates a thought that somehow I am afraid of “being a man” allow me to say one thing.  When you need a strong, capable man you will find few others stronger.  Yes, I would die for the woman I love.  I’ve said this to someone I care for very much once  and I meant it with every fiber of my existence, “I may be non-violent in a Gandhi kind of way, but I will kill a motherfucker who messes with you.”

In other words, I see strength as being able to be a thoughtful, considerate, caring, passionate, and loving partner while still being able to do what is necessary to make sure you are cared for, comfortable and safe.  I can, and do, help everyone I can in a loving and compassionate way but no one would ever mess with or try to harm my woman.  Then non-violence would dissipate into a swift non-proverbial kick in the ass.

Strength also means I trust her with my life.  That takes great strength for most of us.  As the article correctly points out, we men have trust issues for the most part.  Now, while the article wants to blame the non-existent male figures in our lives, allow me to suggest even for a moment that simply is not close to absolute truth.  Instead, let me suggest that the women in our lives up to this relationship have done a lot of fucked-up things and taught us that women were not be to trusted.  Sure, we don’t trust men because we realize from our experience that most men would fuck a fence post if it had a hole in it, but we also don’t trust women.  Either we have seen them tear the heart out of strong men who dared put faith in them or we have experienced it (and, for some us unlucky types, we have experienced both).

We are used to being self-reliant because we were taught that we were the only ones we could trust.  So, we want to trust you with our lives, and if this means that we may, from time to time, suggest that it’s okay for our women to make a decision it is an exercise of a trust that may have taken us a long time to foster.  Enjoy it ladies, it is your man being vulnerable and proving to himself that his trust is well-placed even if it is tantamount to our putting out toes in the pool before jumping in.  It’s not about you “taking responsibility” for everything, it is about our intense desire to trust you.

Chivalry is Not Dead Until You Kill It

I was once taught by a well-meaning female friend that chivalry was not dead, it had just been redefined.  Chivalry was no longer (apparently) about showing off your manliness by opening a door for a woman, it was about being strong enough to allow her to do it for you or, more importantly, for herself.  Look, if we are going to define our relationships (and what masculinity is) by whether or not I rush to open a door for my woman we are doomed.  I will do it whenever I can, but don’t put my credence in my manhood on whether or not I keep my “batting average” in this regard high.

I will always give my woman my coat if she is cold, and would rather be soaked to the bone and freezing if it means seeing her dry and warm.  That’s me.  I would want to fix her broken window or take her car to get an oil change too.  I want to pay for dinner when we are on a date, but understand that some women want to share the cost.  I would suggest to any woman who would challenge me here that it is much harder for someone like me to share the bill (I pay for the movies, her for the popcorn) than it is to pay for the whole thing.  Yet, part of my chivalrous nature also means trying hard not to interfere with my woman being herself, and if that means paying for some of the date than so be it.

I would also suggest that most would not be very happy with the results of saying anything inappropriate about my woman.  It is my nature to not accept such behavior in idiots, er I mean people, and it is very hard for me to overcome the anger generated by such stupidity, er I mean activity.  In fact, I have never had that happen to me even though I am sure I’ve been with women who certainly deserved it.  I can honestly say I have never had a man or woman speak poorly of any woman I have been with as long as I’ve been with them.

I can also say quite honestly that I don’t know any man who would accept that behavior from others.

I can also say with some concrete certainty that I would give my life to save my woman.  This isn’t male chest-pounding from me.  See, as a firefighter I have put my life in jeopardy for far less than the person I love so I can say with a very deep conviction that I would die for my woman regardless of the circumstance.  I know I could just close my eyes, see her smile and take whatever harm would come my way for her.  I may have a tear in my eye in doing it, but I that is just the love I have in me coming out at it’s moment of clarity.

Oppps, did I just say something that would put my manhood in question?  Sorry, I do that quite a bit because putting myself in harms way also means putting myself out there for her to see.  Harm doesn’t just mean taking a bullet for her, it also means risking her judgement by pulling out parts of me only she will see.  To me, that is far more risky of an endeavor than taking a bullet because it is far more likely to result in harm to me.  I open myself to her, fully and completely, and sometimes at my own peril.

The Lost Art of Romance

Since I am replying to the article cited, I must answer this even though I agree with it completely.  I have to say this though, and ladies please listen to this point.

We men certainly have not been taught by our fathers the fine art of romance.  We also have not been taught this by our mothers (wouldn’t it be creepy if we were?).  We need some help here.  Tell us what you want, tell us what you need.  We will respond because we honestly do love you.  Give us time to develop perfect timing and understanding.  Give us ideas as we won’t need constant reminding.  Do this early in in our relationship if you can and reap the rewards forever.  “You reap what you sow” is a very true axiom here.  I want to make you happy, I want to make you feel wanted and needed and everything else you want.  Not because you want it, but because I want to give it to you.

Yes, the surprise here is that most of us men want to make their women happy.  This does not mean giving away our masculinity, it means expanding it to include your femininity.  It means being strong and chivalrous and romantic because we love you and no one else.  That leads me to the point I’d like to interject…

…The Art of Communication

I could easily believe that I could have started with this section and not had to write the rest of it.  Still, what would have been the fun in that?

Women, you confuse the living piss out of us men.  You will tell us everything in the The Art of Masculinity and then tell us that you don’t want us responsible for your happiness.  You will share with us all the masculine things you need from us and then not allow us to exercise that masculinity.  You will tell us how you love our exposing our vulnerability while not exposing an ounce of your own.  You will tell us how you want us to take the lead and then tell us how you don’t want to need us at all.

And you will reject us for being who we are and then tell us how “unmasculine” we are for being someone else.  Amazing dynamic this relationship thing provides!

In other words, you often act like our mothers and then tell us you don’t want to be our mommies.  Guess what ladies, we don’t want our mommies, but if you are going to act like them we can’t help but slip into that role.  Love us, dammit, and let us love you.  Need us and let us need you.  Stop working so hard to prove you are strong by forcing us out.  We know you are strong, for some that is why we love you.  You can stop proving it by stripping away our masculinity, making us question our value, and then informing us of our failure for following your lead.

The best relationships I have ever seen come from two people who want to need, depend and trust one another.  Anything else is just bullshit and an excuse for failure.  If you want to be loved, than fucking accept love.  If you don’t, then stop whining about how men aren’t masculine and want to be mothered.  We love you, and if you don’t love us back we will fail you because you have helped us there.  We will take over the boat and you may not like where we take it.  This is not a threat, it is an observation and something that can be proven over and over again.

[I remove male assholes who just can’t help being assholes from this equation.  I am talking about real men here.  Assholes will take the ship where you don’t want it because they have no idea how to drive.]

And please, for the life of me, stop telling me how I can reclaim my masculinity while you are telling me how horrible my masculinity is.  Allow me to accept you even if I take issue with you from time to time.  Allow me to know you in ways no other human can.  Don’t talk about love, BE LOVE.  Don’t talk about wanting a man, let the man in your life BE THE MAN.  Stop wasting life on fear and start spending it in Love. You’ll be surprised what you find.

For me, well I am a rock.  I am a strong, warrior type who loves strong, warrior women.  I just don’t need strong, warrior women who treat me like the enemy.  My woman must talk to me and, more importantly, show me things.  She can’t leave me to guessing.  Talk is cheap, it’s in the actions we find truth.

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” ― Lao Tzu

He felt her without ever seeing her. He closed his eyes, reached out, and there was her hand…wanting his…grasping for his as well. There were no words necessary in the moments they shared, he gave himself freely to her and she to him. When he faltered she was there to push him up. When she fell he was there to lift her up. They found strength in one another not out of weakness of self, but out of a resounding strength that love itself had provided.

He was strong without her, but stronger with her by his side. She was a mighty woman in her own right, but he brought her to new heights. There was not shame in this surrender, only the joy of finding a space where few would tread before them. They gave of each other in ways they could only give to one another, and they relished in those moments that such vulnerability offered. They tended to each other’s wounds, wiped each other’s brow in battle not out of a need for such frivolity, but out of a desire to have the other there. The Moon had found her Sun and the Sun had found his Moon. There is no weakness or shame in either discovery.

He would never leave her side. When the battle seemed lost he found his strength in knowing the love inside him. When all was hopeless she would close her eyes and feel his arms around her. When fear surrounded them the took each other’s backs and fought that fear together like Hell itself was born. He wore the scars that were meant for her while she fought off the demons that attacked him. They were unbeatable.

They did not bother with the formalities of normalcy. Passion ruled their lives, as did the relentless way they attacked life together. He could take her and kiss her in a crowded room and she could demand the same with equal desire. They could read each other’s eyes from across the ocean, and run the waves to see the conversation consummated. The clouds parted in their moments of ecstasy, and the stars themselves gave way to the heat of their passion. They need not pretend for the sake of others, others simply quaked in the presence of such Divine power.

Such fierceness needed no guidance. They spoke a language only they understood, and they spoke it well. They found suredness in each other and never questioned the foundations they sat themselves upon. This House Undivided could stand the test of any clime, condition or wanton raid from those shadows that had destroyed even the mightiest cities. There were ready, they were firm, and they were One.

“Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.” ― Robert A. Heinlein, “Stranger in a Strange Land”

It is never easy to give yourself to someone else. It is, to some extent, the most frightening experience of life. You offer the most vulnerable part of you to someone who can either choose to accept it, deny it, embrace it, or trample it into the ground. It takes great courage to open yourself up to such a thing and to consider that, for this person, you are willing to fight battles not winnable that you would otherwise run from. It’s rare, and it’s painful when it fails but absolutely awesome when it doesn’t.

There has never been a fight I’ve been in or a challenge I’ve faced where painful failures were not part of the possible outcome. Today I stand chest bared, sword in hand with an open arm to my Queen, to whom I would fight a million men and die a million deaths. It is a beautiful intensity to which I may pay a hefty price, but if I cannot pay a hefty price for this I cannot find value in any thing else outside of my children. This snarl, this inner growl, this intense devotion to this feeling much be honored in the only way I know how to honor mySelf – with the Love, devotion and countenance it deserves.

I am ready, and getting stronger by the day. Soon, words will be unnecessary.

I occurred to me that I have reincarnated.  Many times as a matter of fact.  I can vouch for reincarnation as a definite, and can truly dare anyone to prove me wrong about my complete belief in reincarnation.  Yes, I dare you!

Let’s look at the most common definition of the word “reincarnation”:

Definition of REINCARNATION (Source: Merriam-Webster.com)

1
a : the action of reincarnating : the state of being reincarnated
b : rebirth in new bodies or forms of life; especially : a rebirth of a soul in a new human body
2
: a fresh embodiment (b : to make concrete and perceptible)

Most of us want to focus on the “rebirth of a soul in a new human body” portion of the definition.  I tend to believe in that as well, but since I can’t prove it beyond some personal experiences I have had I don’t tend to make it part of my normal discussions with people.  What I’d like to focus on here is the “fresh embodiment” aspect of reincarnation.

I can prove that I have reincarnated many times if I use that definition.  That proof is called “life experience” and is something we can easily see if simply willing to take some time to review our life experience and see the magnificent manifestations of reincarnation we have undergone.  I’ve compiled a list of “forms” I have seen in my review, and would love to share them here with you now.

The Sapling

Yes, I was a Sapling, a baby.  Now, while most of us tend to think we were nurtured by our parents and grew from them, I suggest that we were nurtured by the Universe that manifested Itself as our parents and/or caregivers.  Our Soul had an intention when it conceived human form (uh oh, there I go heading into the unproveable) and the Universe provided the “soil for the soul” which we call our culture, our archetypes, our parents and/or our condition.  Some of us were born into very fertile soil, others not so much.  Still, we were born, and we were like a Sapling struggling for life.

In my experience, since we provide the creative force behind our present moment, we also provided the creative force behind which soil we were born into.  The difference is that one was chosen by our Soul and the other created by our Minds.

The Dove

I believe I was like a dove when I was a young boy.  I loved peace, and loved people.  I had a unique compassion and sensitivity as well as a curiosity about all things.  I loved life, loved living and searched for joy wherever I could find it.  I explored, I challenged, and I got into more trouble than I care to remember.  I loved to make people laugh and feel good about themselves.

So, the Sapling was reincarnated into a Dove.  I no longer was completely helpless, yet I was still dependent (as we all are) on my Universe for most things.  Yet, my Mind was forming and being formed.  I was experiencing things that would alter my perceptions, change my attitudes, and influence my path.

I faced challenging conditions during this part of my life.  I won’t get into too many details right now, but lets just say that it was time for another reincarnation as my life, and my environment, took yet another turn.

The Chameleon

When I was about 8 years of age, my mother remarried and we moved.  I went from a neighborhood full of kids (and a ton of friends) to a farmhouse on a busy road with few kids and few opportunities for friendship.  While I made one of the best friends I have ever had during this time, I felt lonely and completely shell shocked.  Add to that the fact that I began experiencing physical and mental abuse at about this time, well you can see the reincarnation experience.

Part of this abusive home life included isolation.  I was hardly allowed to play with my new friends (this went on for years) and they were belittled both when present and in private.  No one was “good enough” for me to be around, and I was not “good enough” to be around anyone.  This isolation and hardship created in me an alter-ego, one that became his surroundings in order to survive the experience.  Today, I call that alter-ego the “Chameleon” since he would change his colors to whatever would help him get through the moment.

I began to be unsure of who I was.  I felt no love at home and no companionship outside of it. In this phase, you have no choice but to lose sight of who you are because you are never your true self.  You are trying, failing, and recreating who you are just to get some feeling of security.  When you do this, as I was later to find out, all you do is create conditions by which insecurity and earth-shattering destruction is all but certain.

At some point, I’d say around the age of 15 or so, the Chameleon began getting tired of getting beaten and teased.  It was time for me to reincarnate yet again.

The Ass

In stark contrast to the Dove I was as a young boy, the Ass was born as my Mind began to take ownership of my existence.  I can remember the first time I stood up to my abuser.  I had a bit of blood trickling from the corner of my mouth, and I simply said “hit me again, bitch, and don’t stop until you can’t swing your arms anymore.”  It was a liberating thing, and unfortunately my Mind associated reactive violence with liberation from fear.  It began my journey as the Ass.

I began to work out hard in earnest.  I would push my body beyond its limits.  I figured that if I could torture my body (and my mind) beyond their limits, no one else would be able to come close.  I would deprive myself of food for days while exercising into a frenzy.  I began to lose weight and gain muscle quickly despite my fasting.  I was always a strong kid, but I began to not only get stronger, but to realize my own strength.  I would goad my abuser into attacking me just so I could prove to myself that I could take physical pain.  I began to want to push my pain tolerance to its limits and beyond.  I would do sit ups until I vomited, often getting right up from chucking to punch myself in the gut until I would vomit for good measure.  Whatever I did to myself I did to the extreme.

Still, I did not act out in violence to others until I was about 19.  I was still the Ass, but the Ass was growing.  I was a pacifist kid for the most part; I never wanted anyone to feel the physical or mental anguish I was experiencing.  That changed in my 20’s.

My first sexual experience was not a good one.  I was about 10 days shy of my 14th birthday, and I was taken advantage of by an 18 year old woman.  It took me decades to realize that this was abusive, and I learned it by taking a look at my relationships and how I treated women in them.  For nearly a year I was taught how dirty sex was in ways I don’t care to remember.  As my mind picked up on the fact that sexual gratification was tantamount to some kind of “happiness” (my mind, at that level, did not know what true happiness was), it began to seek it out everywhere.  I was hooked, and most of my relationships in my later teens and 20’s were destroyed by this understanding of what “happiness” was.  Women were not to be cherished for anything other than the gratification they could provide me.

Yes, that is an Ass.

I had no trust in people at this point, and didn’t want them to trust me either.  I played my part well, and played it continuously until the birth of my first daughter in 1994.  That moment changed my life (I call it my “first taste of Nirvana”) because I actually felt love for another human being.  I walked into that hospital an Ass, and left it truly wanting to change.

Another reincarnation was on its way.

The Caterpillar

On that day in April, 1994, my Soul left my body for a bit.  I looked at this little girl looking back at me and felt something completely foreign.  Imagine feeling so cold that your numb and never realize it until suddenly you sit near a roaring fire.  It’s mind-bending to say the least.

Here I was, a tough guy street fighter (and boxer) who trusted no one never shed a tear for anything or anyone, sitting in a rest room at the hospital bawling my eyes out.  My head hurt, my eyes were closed with only the vision of my little girl burned into them.  I was on my knees, not the place you really want to be in a hospital restroom, just letting go of the emotion of the moment.  I sobbed for nearly an hour, and had absolutely nothing left when I was finished.  I just wanted to see my daughter.

The Ass was letting go, reincarnating as the Caterpillar.  I wasn’t free from my torment, but I was beginning to saw away at the chains.  I knew my relationship with her mother was over at that moment.  I knew my life was going to change.  I knew pain and torment was on its way.  Somehow, though, I knew it was going to be worth it.  If not for me, at least for the little girl who was not going to have an asshole freak for a father.

The Mind, as I was going to find out in this experience, is horribly opposed to change.  It finds safety and security in the present condition, no matter how dangerous or painful that present condition is.  It took decades for me to break free.  In that period I got divorced from what was a horrible and self-defeating relationship (in some respects I had married my own mother).  I lost time with my daughter.  I lost myself and my security.  I had not lost my strength though, and in some respects I was very happy during this period of time.  Sure, I engaged in self-destructive behaviors  but I began to see those behaviors for what they were. I was breaking free.

This long process of being the Caterpillar was exactly that: long.  While seeing my behaviors for what they were, I also began to see just how deeply ingrained in me they had become.  There were times when I firmly believed that they would never end, and that I was doomed to living them.

Contrary to a vow I had made, I began a long-term relationship during this time.  This relationship was, unfortunately, doomed because it began during my time as a Caterpillar (and perhaps hers as well).  Two beautiful children and 12 years later it was very painfully over.  It was, however, necessary for me to be launched into the next phase.

There is a reason that the Caterpillar stage is known scientifically as the “feeding stage”.  I was feeding on every experience, every perspective, and every moment whether mindful or mindless in that moment.  Yet, at the end of this tumultuous time I had moved on to the next reincarnation my Soul desired to experience.

The Pupa

The interesting part of the Pupa stage of a butterfly’s metamorphosis is that it is not a universal experience.  The time of this “transition stage” varies greatly.  I think it is appropriate to suggest that I am in this stage, and that I have reincarnated again into a Pupa hanging from the Tree of Knowledge.  I haven’t quite learned to let go of this tree so that knowledge may become wisdom, but I have let go enough to begin to see the potential (and practice it a bit).

I often wonder if it is at this stage that a Caterpillar experiences being a Butterfly without actually being one.  There is no safety at this stage, but the Caterpillar must learn to let go so that the wings It has created can allow it to fly.  It must be able to know this without experiencing it.  It must learn to trust, to accept, and to recognize its own beauty through what it inspires in others.  It does not break through its cocoon until this has been accomplished, and it does not experience true flight until it is ready.

The Caterpillar has set Its intention, and has planted to seed that will grow.  No one could mistake a Butterfly for a Caterpillar (or vice versa) but the Butterfly does not exist without the Caterpillar.  It had to have each and every experience, each and every lesson and each and every tribulation in order to find Itself.

I feel this way.  I appreciate the “story” of my life for what it has taught me even if I see life through a different set of eyes.  I can release, let go, experience and, most importantly to me, be mySelf.  I can love, I can trust, I can appreciate others in a way never before possible. I can be alone, or in a crowd.  I can be still or active, happy or sad, without judgement.  I seek what makes me happy knowing full well that joy will follow me.  I have seen that when my vibrations are high, others around me are happier.  I can spread joy.  I can be non-violent (yes, I love being non-violent).  I can be a Lover and be Loved with equal abandon and energy.  I love being loved, and I love loving.

How long I will be in this stage is anyone’s guess.  Yet, I am fine being here until I am ready.  I can feel the Butterfly within me.  I can feel my wings spreading and taking flight.  I can feel the beauty that is coming because the beauty is here within me.  It is coming, and I am overjoyed.

The Butterfly stage is known scientifically as the “reproductive stage”.  For me, it is a chance to reproduce Happiness and Joy and to help others in any capacity I can.  I see what I want once I break free from the cocoon romantically, spiritually and professionally.  I have stated my intentions romantically (see “Ode to the Lover“) and spiritually (each and every moment) and am beginning to formulate my professional plan which is becoming very clear to me.  I can reproduce the feelings that raise me up over and over again if I simply make the choice to do so.

I can plant whatever seeds I want, and it is up to me to plant the ones I want to be.

What Does This Mean?

For me, this review (and the inspiration behind it) has taught me to not be too attached to the past.  I doubt a Butterfly is attached to its past, it flutters around in the present moment loving life.  Beyond that, I can find little meaning behind any of this.  Humans Being have a unique ability (or disability depending on your current point of view), we seek an understanding of our place, time and purpose in this life.  So, our pasts can be a burden if we choose to see them that way, or it can be a springboard to flight and purpose.

I hope you take some time to engage in this exercise, and that it helps you in any way it can.  It has helped me in a tremendous way as I stand on the verge of great change with my arms and heart wide open.

I see a tremendous amount of hope in the Butterfly, both for reasons stated and for reasons deeply personal to me.  It represents Hope, Courage and Experience.  It also represents the power of Love.  I patiently await its arrival.

Peace.