STOP DEFENDING BASTARDS WHO DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOU
some things we learned as boys are worth keeping
The other night I was making dinner and my four-year-old swiped half an avocado I’d just sliced and smashed it with his foot into the floor.
I got mad. I grew up without a lot of food, and wasted food still hits something old and tight in me. I put him at the table, looked at the avocado on the floor, and ate it myself. Scraped it up and put it on my plate. Didn’t want to waste it.
Something opened up in that moment.
I’ve been holding my heart wide open for years because I see how deep the wounds are in men. I know what it costs to carry all of it unexamined. I’ve done enough of my own work to understand the landscape. And I’ve devoted a lot of myself to holding space for men who are navigating their own darkness.
But I’m raising a high-needs boy whose tonsils are fully inflamed right now, which means he hasn’t been able to breathe properly for a long time. I’m working in a cabinet shop. I’m seeing coaching clients. I’m building internet things I don’t know how to build. By the end of most days there’s not a lot left.
So when I ate the avocado off the floor I realized: I don’t need to save everyone. I don’t have the space for that right now. And honestly — at some point, men are just going to need to grow up. If they want to smash their avocado into the kitchen floor, let them eat it.
In men’s work we spend a lot of time on what we never received. Actual fathering, for example.. Deep witnessing from elder men. Rites of passage that mark important thresholds. Examples of men who were humble and powerful and kind and capable and open-hearted and decisive — sometimes all at once, sometimes as the moment required.
We also spend time on what we learned that needs unlearning. The misogyny. The entitlement. The fear of humiliation and shame that drive so much of our violence. The fragility and strategy and armor that parade as strength and status.
But there are things we learned as boys that are still relevant. Basic things. Things that didn’t require a men;’s retreat or a deep psychedelic journey to remember.
Don’t bully people smaller than you. Don’t be a dick to people who intimidate you. Stand up for the underdog. Stand up for what you believe even when it’s unpopular. Do the right thing when nobody’s watching. Take responsibility for your actions. Stop making excuses. Ask for help.
And learn to juggle.
Seriously. It’s good for your brain.
It’s hard to keep the candle burning for the big vision sometimes. This four-year-old takes most of my jet fuel. Working toward a future that features men who are awake to their hearts, kind, considerate, humble, and who know how to take risks well — who know how to lead others through uncertainty, repair wounds, make good food, build quality things, fix things that are actually broken, and empathize with the rest, and yes, make money — scaling that vision requires fuel I don’t always have at the end of a long day.
When I sit down at night like this, my brain scrambles. Things fall out that I want to say but think maybe I shouldn’t. Forgive me if I repeat myself.
If you ever question whether you’re worthy of being called a good man, you probably are. The ones who never question it are usually the ones to watch out for.
Stop fucking around. Stop blaming women for your problems. Stop defending bastards who don’t give a shit about you. If you‘re lonely and hurting and playing video games and smoking pot and addicted to porn, and mortally terrified of change, guess what? No one’s coming to save you.
Take the risk. Ask for help. Do the hard thing. Meditate instead of playing video games.
I was going through some things in my basement the other day and came across the sophmore school photo of my best friend at the time. He took his life two months after the photo was taken. The grief I carried from his death kept me from doing the same a bunch of years later.
Crawling out of deep dark moments like that is hard. But when there’s enough propulsion in the form of meaning, emerging from the cave is almost inevitable.
But you know what’s harder?
Enduring the mundane routine of life, day after day, month after month. Waking up. Kids, breakfast, shower, driving, work, driving, dinner, bedtime, work or chill or both. Get up and doing it all again, over and over and over.
Remove the connection with other humans from that cocktail and add a bunch of coping mechanisms and dopamine deficiencies and you’ve got a molotov.
So what to do?
Deal with it. Show up for the small moments, even when it’s hard.
I’m talking to myself here.
Think for yourself. Actually—don’t just think for yourself - think critically. Ask real, penetrating questions. Look for patterns. Lean into what’s uncomfortable. Stand up for what you believe. Don’t be a bully.
Not every lesson we learned as boys is irrelevant.
Some of them are exactly what’s needed right now.
If this material landed for you:
Bowing In is a guide for men who’ve decided to stop going it alone in the dark. 49 frameworks across 8 domains every man passes through: work, money, body, relationships, intimacy, brotherhood, fatherhood, purpose. It’s a guide built to be returned to, not completed. To bow in is to acknowledge our intention, to honor our practice, to respect the work itself. A gesture of humility and reverence before the work begins.
The guide is the map. If you want a guide for the territory, apply to work with me 1:1.
I felt this.
I’m sorry, but you’ll have to spell it out a bit clearer for me….