Welcome to What Doesn’t Change—formerly Into the Fire. In the next post I’ll get more into the why behind the name change. In this post, I’ll share part of the journey of its discovery with you, and we can go from there.
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I’ve been struggling, y’all. Started with just not being able to keep pace with writing a new Substack post every week, having committed to not using AI to write my posts for me, what with my first summertime as a parent of a kid in school, running two businesses, watching the world expand and contract in all the ways, while feeling everything, as deeply as I do.
It’s just so overwhelming sometimes.
And I’m probably not the only one out there, feeling this way.
Maybe that’s why there’s so much AI-generated content out there, which, I’ll be honest, I’m sick of reading. It’s an immediate turn-off, a bell that reminds me to put down my phone and be more present in my life.
My marketing mentors encourage me to get clear about who I help. My niche, my target audience, whatever you want to call it. Because I’ve been leading annual Fatherhood Retreats for years now, I’ve been going with that. Adjusted the website, SEO optimization. Blah blah.
And that’s how I felt about it: blah. It’s not that father’s don’t need help(!), it’s that that isn’t my mission right now. My mission feels even closer to my core, closer to what I think many men need right now.
My family recently took a trip to the ocean. For the first time in a while, I looked out at the sea, where I worked and made my living for the first 14 years of my adult life as a commercial fisherman in Alaska, and I remembered something vital.
Commercial fishing was my rite of passage into manhood. It showed me everything about being a man that I did not want to become, and offered treasure chests of experiences that have helped me become who I am, now.
In my off-seasons, I used to attend workshops led by men who offered practices for participants to connect with death, sex, money, and purpose. The big questions in life.
The practices were helpful for many, and intellectually accessible for most of the participants. But for some reason I was often disappointed because writing down my mission in life, or *thinking* about my own death just didn’t set off any fireworks.
I had lived the shit, year after year, for months of sleep-deprived hard physical labor in a very small container with humans with whom I did not always get along, and who did not always like me. I had pulled in nets in seas too big for our boat, which pitched and yawed in all the directions, threatening to toss me or my crew overboard if we made a wrong move.
While on deck, I had ducked under the bow of other boats that intentionally rammed us, tackling my crew to the deck so he didn’t lose his head. I’ve had crew-mates lose body parts, and their dignity, in front of me.
Hell, I’ve lost mine a few times.
But you know that in fishing stories, the fish gets bigger every time the story is told.
What doesn’t change is more interesting to me.
What doesn’t change is reliable, steadfast, connected.
It is grounded, worthy, spacious, allowing, accepting, aware.
There is no shame in that which does not change because while it is self-aware, it is not self-conscious. It is unapologetic for the space it occupies. It also has no need or inclination to violate the space of others.
If this seems abstract, stay with me for just another moment.
That which does not change has no need to disconnect, dissociate, divide, or deceive.
It is transparent, open, honest. It reflects the truth because it embodies the truth.
It is trustable to others because it is consistent, solid, unwavering in its purpose and devotion to life.
Unwavering in its love.
What doesn’t change grounds the relentless tornado that is Change, offers it a container to get as big as a tornado can get.
What doesn’t change is a virtue, an archetype, an internal state that is available to everyone at all times.
The masculine, in its purest essence—that is, before it interacts with humans—is that which does not change.
What is possible for men—and those who love us—when we are able to connect to that?
Good for you and thanks for sharing your journey. It feels like the way you're describing "What Doesn't Change" is really another way to say our "essence." Am I interpreting that right? If so (or if it's anything close that), I love the concept of what you're trying to do.
Wow, such powerful writing. Felt the rawness of the fishing. And also love your attitude towards AI. I am with you there.