Not that I was a daredevil, but I pushed the envelope more times than would any sane man. Paragliding in Switzerland where a pilot had recently been blown east into the Italian Alps, his frozen remains found weeks later, I flew into the wild blue. Just to prove that Leonardo Da Vinci had it right. That man could fly. That we could break free our earth-bound chains. That we might forget, for thirty minutes, that we were bipeds, sentenced to a life of plodding along a well-worn path.
Or sailing in survival conditions off the coast of North Africa, a pregnant wife on board, crewing for Italian owners in a magnificent hand-built yacht in Germany that suffered a series of almost comic failures and broken systems. Captain courageous at the helm, sent forward to save the ship, close to drowning, repeatedly, only to prove to my young bride that she could trust me.
No matter what. Even when I made regularly scheduled poor decisions. A man’s man who could pull through anything. What a fool to have believed in immortality.
Or scuba diving in the Sea of Japan on a rusty fishing boat with dive gear that looked like it had survived Hiroshima. Ignoring basic diving safety procedures, not really understanding any of the translator’s words on operating the equipment from a local who hadn’t bothered to paint his sketchy boat in decades, I needed to prove my manhood, again and again. To who? To prove my father wrong that I would never measure up to fit in his shoes? To prove to myself that I was bigger than life, like the 1950s Hollywood big screen heroes? That real men never feel fear? Or if they do feel it creeping up their spine, knotting their guts, crippling their reflexes, they not only minimize the signals, they deny the unrequited love of the human being pleading for recognition. Loving acceptance of themselves even when it is normal for fear to arise. Love themselves even when they are not the Saturday afternoon matinee hero who doesn’t flinch in a gunfight.
Real men, I learned the hard way, can weep openly when their heart breaks over the news of a friend dying from head injury when falling out of bed. Or with the news of their first grandchild. Or the election results proving that democracy is still alive. Tears are not for the faint of heart, no, they are the badge of courage. To show to all that the tender heart is the true warrior’s heart. And that trusting in our instincts, our intuition can be learned. It just takes practice.
When in doubt, be still and wait; when doubt no longer exists for you, then go forward with courage. So long as mists envelop you, be still; be still till the sunlight pours through and dispels the mists; it surely will. Then act with courage. – Chief White Eagle, Ponca
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