Though much is taken, much abides;
… that which we are, we are,
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Most of us received no sword from our fathers. Instead we inherited an awkward club, or an attitude, or a wound. So, we say “yes” when we mean “no.” We pound our point into the ground, and we abuse others with our foul dispositions.
All the while we wish for a sword sharp enough to amputate our dysfunction, to cut through the crap daily life can dish out, to sever the umbilical cords that bind us to people and places in our history. We want a sword that gleams in the darkness, that lights our way, that shines for those less fortunate or those too small or weak to stop the abuse they’re receiving. We must find this sword and remove the dust it has collected. Then we must learn when to wield it and when to sheath it.
Today I’ll search for this sword. When I find it, I’ll keep it close to my briefcase, my pocket, my soul.
Excerpt from A Quiet Strength: Meditations on the Masculine Soul