Some infinities are bigger than others. That’s just math. There is an infinite set of numbers between 0 and 1. There’s a bigger set of infinite numbers between 0 and 2. There’s a way bigger set of infinite numbers between 0 and 1 million.
We all have the set number of years on Planet Earth, beginning from our zero when we come into the world. That number could be 75 years. 41 years like Kobe Bryant – RIP. Perhaps, even 100 years. Yet, within each of those individual life spans, we create our own infinities. Our infinities are all different, much like our ‘zeroes’, our starting points. Should we be concerned with the comparison to others’ infinities? We could. Yet, our infinities are still infinite. Our infinities are different. Our infinities evolve as we reinvent our greater-than versions of ourselves. That’s just life.
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I have profound admiration and deep respect for the great fathers of the world who raise their children to be good people, who make a difference in the world. I’ve got nothing but mad love and respect for my friends, including John and Chuck, who do their best to raise their sons to be good men. No, neither John nor Chuck is perfect; they’re human like all of us. Yet, John and Chuck each created the fostering space for their sons to evolve into good, caring men. John and Chuck each absolutely make a difference in the world at large. More than just saying.
Suffering my childhood where my Dad terrified me for so many years, I chose for good or bad, to forego fatherhood. To be a good father, I would have to “not do” what I experienced as a boy. That was very difficult to do, as opposed to possibly being thrown to do what was done to me when I was a child. I think of it as ‘not’ picking up a pencil. Instead of just picking it up. There’s nothing natural about that.
My greatest fear: that I might do to my children what my dad had done to me. As I’ve stated before, I don’t wish my childhood on even my fiercest opponent. Becoming the source of suffering for my son, was absolutely unacceptable. The cost was too high.
Not having children might have been my greatest regret, too. Although, in time, I’ve made peace with that choice, albeit misguided. I forgive Dad for being human, for not knowing how to be a caring, nurturing father.
Most of all, I forgave myself for not being strong enough to stand up to my dad when I was 8 or 12 years old. I learned to love and forgive myself for what I am and for what I’m not. That has been my lesson on my “road less traveled”.
As life unveiled, I discovered Sensei Dan, who taught me Aikido, who taught me what it is to be a good man. Sensei gave me permission to make him the father I needed. With Sensei, I didn’t have to be someone else; I could be me. I was good enough. Sensei inspired me to create my next greater-than version of myself. I created my life. I began creating my infinity.
Sensei’s life-altering lesson: Be of service. He was of profound service in my life: his teaching, the man he was made the difference in my life. Sensei invented the possibility for me to become a father to men who were not my sons. In Aikido, I taught Adam to hate less on himself, give himself a fucking break. Basically, I taught myself while teaching Adam, who was that teen version of me, who thought, “I’m not good enough.” Adam made 1st-degree black belt about a month before his 18th birthday. Now, Adam is working on his Ph.D. in linguistics.
I guided young Lieutenant Jon in discovering the value of the bigger picture, asking the smart questions, and listen first, instead of speaking. I supported Jon in the goal of attending medical school. Today, he’s in his first year of med school. Yeah, the work is hard, but he loves it. I’m as proud of Jon as if he were my own son.
So much for regrets. I think we all have them because we’re all human.
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Years ago, I took a polygraph test for a security clearance for work. The dude administering my polygraph asked, “Is there anything that you regret in your life?” I said, “Yes.” That was still the fucking stupidest question I’ve heard in all my years on Planet Earth. The dude asked me about my answer because I was ‘truthful.’ I went off on him. I said, “You mean to tell me that there is nothing in your life that you regret? There’s no incomplete relationship that you regret?” He said, “No.” I replied, “Good for you…” Then he confessed that he didn’t have a great relationship with his dad. I got it.
I realized that I kind of frightened the dude. During the course of the polygraph, I told him that I was 3rd-degree black belt in Aikido at the time. He thought that I might throw him to the ground. That was never going to happen. So, my bad. I apologized for being such a dick. Like Werner Erhard, I only tell stories that work out. The Dude accepted my apology. I passed my polygraph.
***
In the bigger picture, to live life is to have regrets. In the bigger, bigger picture, we have to make amends or make peace with our regrets. We’re all human.
On the upside, my regrets have allowed me to create my own infinity, like being a leader of young men. No, my infinity is not greater than those of Chuck or John. That being said, my infinity is still meaningful to me.
In life, we each have our infinities, which vary in scale and measure. They belong to us. They define us. They give us life. Just saying.
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Have you read the original anthology that was the catalyst for The Good Men Project? Buy here: The Good Men Project: Real Stories from the Front Lines of Modern Manhood
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Not quite sure what you mean that Werner only tells stories that “work out.” Werner talks about who we really are, not our “stories,” and of our ability to transform our lives at every moment. So when we come from our responsibility for our lives, everything “works out.”