Men like me. 

And Ryan.

And Reggie.

We’re changing what it’s okay to talk about. We’re changing manhood.

Next generation, children will grow up truly tough. Because they’ll have had honesty, bravery in vulnerability, modeled for them.

I’m not ashamed of defeats. I’m not ashamed of having a hard time, sometimes. I’m not ashamed.

Men like me are modeling vulnerability for boys.

~

I’m good! Everything is great! Overall! In other ways, I’m sad! But I’m fine! And I’m open about it! Sorry! But that makes me truly tough! So there.

Overall, I have a lot of fun, and love life, and laugh often, and care about many things, and work to help in many ways!

In other ways, I’m sad! But I’m fine! And I’m open about it! Sorry! But that makes me truly tough! So there.

Sharing something vulnerable isn’t a cause for extreme concern. It’s also not a reason to make fun of someone.

As someone raised in a Buddhist, open-dialogue family, it continues to surprise me—I feel naive, again and again—when confronted by someone 1) concerned about my fundamental being because I shared that I was sad or broken hearted or discouraged or whatever or, 2) uncomfortable or condescending about my having shared something vulnerable, like, yup, I fucked up or lost something I cared about.

So, yeah: I’m fine. I’m sad, but I’m fine. I’m sad, and I’m fine.

And, if you think I’m a big wimp, good for you. You’re probably right. But being open about things makes me resilient, not brittle. And that’s truly “tough,” if you want to look at it that way.

And I’m made resilient largely thanks to you, my community and friends, and my practice of meditation, and reading the Dharma, and by getting outside into Nature, and by wise women and men and others who have inspired generations, or this generation, and by, yeah, my puppy, particularly when he leans over my arm when I’m on the couch and falls asleep on it.