The Shocking Truth I Discovered about Vulnerability as a Man

 October 27, 2016

The figurative pendulum swings as we seek diligently for answers. Our narcissistic egos relax, our shoulders drop from decades of militant stances and the relentless judgments of black and white thinking burst free into the rainbows colors I had previously chased on the yoga mat.

I had finally reached the lovely land of Middle Ground where I was centered and resolved with the things inside myself, ya, the good, the bad and even the ugly.

So now what?

Happiness, joy, peace…all states of the cumulative mind and heart were mine for the enjoyment. I had earned it, done the work, purged the soul and stood with emotional sobriety in my own lane of life.

The desire to share this state with others along the path became overwhelming. In my questioning, what everyone expressed in countless conversations is this common question:

Who are we as people?

The philosopher in me shouted with excitement. But people didn’t want my esoteric ramblings and rhetoric.

The ambitious entrepreneur rose to share opportunity. But the people didn’t want my ingenuity.

The fashionable gentleman became poised and gallant. But the people didn’t care about attire and grooming.

All the values, qualities, talents and skills forged over decades meant NOTHING without one thing.

Authentic Vulnerability.

Like water in the desert, vulnerability was the life-giving force that quenched the people’s thirst for connection, resolved the heritage of toxic legacies and ushered oneness into a lifetime of segregation.

Attempts to fake, force or fancy it up were instantly thwarted. I couldn’t paint it, manufacture it, leverage it or monetize it.

Rather, this was going to be my greatest hurdle to include breaking down the masks, overcoming the perceptions and slowly, piece by piece, dismantling a lifetime of armor to stand with naked heart in front of a group of onlookers.

“I’m in!” I said with child-like eagerness, hiding my own vulnerability of screwing

the whole thing up.

Stories of romantic love were written in poetic detail. The many failures were shared with verbose charm, careful to add a believable happy ending. A year long recovery journey over depression was documented on video with artful construction and a hope that others too would be inspired to champion their hurdle.

No stone was left unturned. Authentic vulnerability was going to be mine!

While standing in an intimate circle of 15 people at a Mexico retreat, Lisa (my boss) said to me, “I didn’t trust your smiles until I saw your tears. Now, you are my brother.”

I was stunned yet again. My relationship with people MUST begin here, at the foundation of our humanity where we forge together as creatures of connection before prosperity and abundance can be cultivated and enjoyed.

I finally got it and even still, must continually seek from within, digging this deep mine of authentic vulnerability to share the soul gold.

To me, vulnerability outside the therapist’s office was about as useful as a submarine with screen doors. Now, years later, well…I’ll be honest. I stopped caring what others thought of me and in THAT, vulnerability began to appear, authentically and even effortlessly.

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