I go solo for this quick podcast. I’ve observed a lot of weak men raising wayward kids of late. We’ve got to take back our families. I cover the basics of what makes a great father. I also give a general update on the status of my life and this podcast. Great things coming.Check out this episode!
Red Pill heavyweights Rollo Tomassi and Black Label Logic take this one away. We get back to red pill 101 covering topics like buffers and abundance. Rollo also talks about his upcoming live appearance where attendees will get to meet and speak with him. BLL talks about his book release as well! Enjoy the show!Check out this episode!
I have been reading The Richest Man in Babylon of late. What a tremendous book. Timeless.
However, if you go beyond the finance advice you find nuggets of wisdom everywhere.
I am paraphrasing here as I am writing this post while my kids sleep and I don’t want to dig around for the book, plus I’ll be in bed myself in ten minutes.
“Save ten percent of your income, but don’t push for much more, enjoy the rest.” Or something to that effect. It goes on to tell the story of the man who lives carefree, but only because he did what he had to first.
This was a timely lesson for me as I have a tendency to feel like I should always be pushing, I feel the urge to fill every free moment with “productivity”.
It’ll be 7pm after a long day of work and raising kids and I’ll still feel like I should be getting things done, the sense of urgency would never go away.
Well, after reading that passage in the book I decided to give it a try, I gave myself permission to enjoy life so long as my responsibilities were taken care of.
In the book the man spends his money freely so long as he is saving ten percent, he enjoys it so much more because he’s done what he needed to do first.
This can apply to more than just money. Can’t we enjoy our time the same way?
Once we have completed the work required of us for that day to fulfill our responsibilities, don’t we then deserve the chance to rest and enjoy leisure?
I sure think so. I have tried it and it is sweet.
So long as my work is done, my home is maintained, and my family obligations are taken care of I feel free to enjoy the time remaining in each day.
Now, if I couple this with the financial lessons above I find that I can freely enjoy my time and my money which is doubly sweet.
Try it out, you have permission to enjoy the fruits of your labor.
There’s a powerful lesson in the parables of this book, that pushing past a certain point leads to diminishing returns and less happiness.
Save ten percent of your income, invest the first few hours of your day wisely, and you can enjoy a wealth of time and money.
I’m divorced. I want to validate my life choices, my ego does not want to accept that I have made major errors in my life.
The ego is a liar and a con artist.
Divorce is real.
Divorce has consequences.
We are all worse off when a family falls apart.
Nothing can replace the intact nuclear family. Nothing.
My life is as “normal” as possible following divorce, yet it is anything by normal.
I got five days without seeing my kids, then for five days I am their sole source of care and comfort, discipline and routine.
I spoke with my neighbor tonight, her husband moved out six months ago. She’s trying to keep things as “normal” as possible, but she fought back tears as she said it.
We both know there is no such thing as normal after divorce.
We kid ourselves, or even worse, we lie to ourselves.
But we’d do best to just share it like it is.
Divorce is brutal.
Let’s not normalize and let’s most certainly not romanticize it.
But that’s exactly what the powers that be would like to do.
They’d like to pretend there are no consequences to the destruction of families.
They’d like you to believe that everyone can be haaaappier after the split.
It’s all a lie. People are happiest when they overcome hardship.
Families are happiest when they overcome difficulties and stay together. It’s fact. Studies prove it.
The truth is, save for abuse, married adults would come out much better if they fought tooth and nail for their marriages.
Fight like hell.
Nobody said fighting would be comfortable or easy, but nothing worth a damn ever is.
Start with the truth. Tell the truth.
I now believe that most marriage troubles occur when the couple stops telling the truth to each other.
We think we are better off by hiding our imperfections or even our doubts.
Then we think we are alone in those thoughts, yet the person right next to us is probably thinking the same thing.
It’s like the old Pina Colada song where the couple finds they’re both miserable for the same reasons.
Things can be fixed, they can almost always be fixed.
But they can’t be fixed without truth.
Some talk of the danger of sharing too much with a partner.
That is true is dating and seduction, but when families are on the line the truth must be on the table.
We are intricate creatures with an incredible ability read verbal cues and body language.
We know when our partner isn’t being truthful and it doesn’t sit well with us.
We also know when we aren’t being truthful, and our body cannot hide this.
I see it in the faces of those who gave up on their families for greener pastures.
They try to justify it, often without prompting. That’s a sure tell.
“I’m so happy now, things have worked out great!”
No they haven’t. Don’t kid yourself.
Divorce is real. Divorce hurts us all.
Something that Dean Abbott said in our podcast yesterday really stuck with me. He talked about beginning with the end in mind. How do you want your life to end? To this, most people will say surrounded by family.
That was my initial thought as well.
But then I considered my own situation a bit. I am divorced with no plans to remarry. Sure, I could remarry at some point, and I might, who wants to grow old alone? But that certainly won’t be the same as passing away holding the hand of my wife of 50 or 60 years.
A lot of divorced men make the mistake of trying to recreate something that is now gone.
Accepting a new, different end is the reality of divorce.
Things are different, they will always be different.
I know a man who got divorced in his late fifties. He immediately moved in with a woman who was just like his ex-wife. He now dotes on her grand-children as if they were his own, spending little time with his own.
Why would he do this? He’s trying to recreate that family feeling that was lost in divorce. Yet he can’t see that it is alienating the very people that will stand at his bedside when we passes.
Part of understanding life is understanding that some things are simply gone, forever.
That hope and dream of raising a stable nuclear family is obliterated by divorce. Trying to recreate it is futile. Sure, you can go on and remarry and have more kids, no shame in that, but it must be accepted for what it is, and not treated as a replacement for what was.
I used to live every day with the end in mind, then that end was no longer.
I have since stopped thinking so much of myself.
Does it much matter how I go out? Is that not just the ego talking anyway?
My contribution to life is today, right now. I have far less control over what happens 40 or 50 years from now, but I can handle the duties of today.
Are my children safe and cared for? Are my parents, the people who gave me life, comfortable? Have I fulfilled my duty to my employer? Have I kept my promises? Have I carefully saved for tomorrow?
Taking on each day this way without much thought given to the legacy I will leave takes all the pressure away. I will be forgotten someday no matter how hard I try to be remembered.
Most important to me now is can I lay my head down each down with a clear conscience knowing I have done what was asked of me each day? There is no greater feeling than this and I give no thought as to whether I will wake in the morning, for that is not in my control.
The regular listeners of my podcast will know who I am talking about, my pesky feline friend that makes himself heard in nearly every single episode of my show.
For those that don’t know him, this post is about more than just a cat, so read on, or don’t, doesn’t matter.
Podcast Cat has been seeming a bit “off” these last few days. Now, I didn’t read much into this as he is sixteen years old, his days are numbered.
But I knew something really wasn’t right when I recorded a two hour podcast this afternoon and he never once made himself seen or heard. I usually beat him away from my keyboard with a stick, but he was nowhere to be found today.
Upon closer examination, he had some other concerning symptoms, so I decided a visit to the vet was warranted. I called the vet and described the symptoms and they told me to rush him there immediately! Suddenly I was a bit concerned!
I mean, it was concern mixed with resignation, he’s sixteen and has lived a full life. I drove quickly to the vet hopeful I would leave with my friend, but at the same time practicing in my head how I would tell the kids about his passing.
After they rushed him away to the “back room” for tests I found myself sitting alone in a room that felt just like an exam room at a regular doctor, only I wasn’t the patient, and the patient wasn’t even here. I was in a holding cell of sorts.
Only this cell had a window looking out to the grassy area where I presume people take their dogs on one last walk, and the kids say goodbye one last time, before taking a one-way trip back inside.
The rain was coming down heavy by this time, and I was certainly feeling a bit anxious, so my first instinct was to reach for my phone. Nothing kills the anxiety quite like the dopamine drip initiated by those red notification bubbles.
Only this time I didn’t look. I have long since removed twitter from the phone, and the only apps remaining require attention and offer little in the way of instant gratification. No social media, no games, nothing but my kindle app and a few productivity apps.
For a moment I contemplated downloading Twitter, but I held strong. Instead, I stood at the window and watched the rain fall. I watched a strange surge of water emerge from the ground about 15 feet from the building, like they ran a downspout underground but gave it no end, so the water was finding its own way to the surface in a marvelous pattern.
I saw a flash of lightning and counted as if a kid wanting to know how far away the strike was.
I watched families leave their vehicles carrying their beloved pets, wondering if this was the last time they would hold them. How much meaning did these pets have in their lives?
My sadness about the passing of pets often comes from the passage of time they represent. I got a cat at five years old, when she passed what I was twenty-one it was as if my entire childhood passed with her. Podcast Cat was acquired a year later and represents another era of my life.
I was young when I got him, and naive yet full of hope and arrogance. In the span of his life I have seen my beard fill in and speckle with grey. I went from living with my folks to a joyous family home to living on my own, raising kids along the way. Podcast Cat is five years older than my oldest son, who is hitting puberty.
He bridges, as most pets do, eras. Chunks of time that can be marked by “that was when we had Sparky, remember?”
Sometimes the passing of pets feels even harder than the passing of people because we aren’t sure if we’re allowed to openly grieve a pet. There’s still a bit of stigma involved, “it’s only a cat” some might say.
The rain has stopped now and I have gone from staring out the window to reading the only magazine in the room called “Simple Living” or something like that. Clearly a magazine geared toward women, but I find it has some interesting information tucked in there.
An entire article about kids and screen time really catches my attention. Kids with smart devices in their hands are facing all sorts of peril and we are ill prepared to help them. This gets me rethinking my tech strategy with my kids. I am now convinced that less, for longer, is better, when it comes to access to the internet for kids.
There’s even a quote from a mom about making kids learn to drive on stick shift cars to force them away from texting and driving. A novel idea that I tuck away for later, I might just use that, besides, I like stick shift cars anyway.
Finally, the nurse pokes in and says Podcast Cat is not in any immediate danger, he will go home today. Whew, no talks with the kids about death, at least not today. Perhaps Podcast Cat has a few more episodes left in him. I find myself thankful for some more time to spend with him on my lap where I sip a cup of coffee each morning and brush his fur. I suddenly look forward to this rather than view it as an annoyance and impediment to starting my day.
I breathe a sigh of relief and move on to reading Choose Yourself by James Altucher on my Kindle app. It catches me, for brief moments, rethinking my career strategy. I like the style of the book and the message isn’t lost on me, but for the most part, just a few hours later, I have forgotten most of what I read in it, nothing life changing, but perhaps I am not his target audience.
The vet finally arrives and says Podcast Cat is going to be just fine. Hyperthyroidism, common in old cats, and treatable with medication. I pack him up, swipe for the $350 charge, and head home for another evening in this the Podcast Cat era.
If you had told me at 22 that by 37 I’d have three kids, be divorced, and host a popular podcast for men I would have said “What’s a podcast?” and “is the cat still alive?”