‘You can’t laugh if you haven’t already laughed.’

‘You can’t drive if you haven’t already driven.’

‘You can’t cry if you haven’t already cried.’

So said one of the characters in my dream early this morning.

At first glance, those statements seemed like a duh to me. 

And maybe they are. 

Maybe they are conflicting statements, as in, take the initiative and you can do anything.

But as I drove westward this morning to pick up a couple of delayed shipments, I thought of them some more.

I’ve always had kind of have a thing when someone tries to apply anything and everything to some aspect of life. 

Maybe I’m vindicated on this one though; I wasn’t purposely trying to apply it to life when it suddenly applied itself to me.

(And maybe to any man, for that matter.)

For some reason, we men have this thing called an ego that takes an over proportionate amount of space in our lives.

When it does, each one of those three points suffers.

*****

‘You can’t laugh if you haven’t already laughed.’

Sometimes life gets too sober for us. 

We feel the ponderous weight of responsibility as it weighs down on us. 

If our word is taken as the end conclusion on the committee we serve on, we soon tend to think our sage advice is what buoys up the rest of the members we work with, and we try to anticipate the next problem or conundrum so that we can have an answer at the ready.

Such men are very difficult to work together with.  There seems to be an inordinate amount of pressure perceived from them to take their instruction, because not doing so will result in unwanted frustration and unasked for problems that their lofty position has foreseen.  You dwell under a continual threatening cloud of “See, I told you so.”

Another thing that happens when life gets too sober, is that we lose our smile. 

We lose the propensity to notice the most innate things along the road we travel. 

Because they aren’t worth our time. 

But life isn’t made up of singularly placed quite noticeable things that make us smile.

No.

It’s made up of hundreds of small things—the smell of spring air, the smell of feedlots, the sound of irrigation engines faithfully doing their job, or, my favorite, the sound of a distant train whistle, the sight of contrails forming a crosshatch pattern overhead, or a dog’s tail showing her enjoymentof our presence.

And that doesn’t even begin to start on the unending humorous things that happen when a family gathers for a meal.  (Such as a whole gallon of tea spilled on a carpeted floor because the sweet daughter and her dad got into a tussle of sorts.)  Amazingly, Mama J even smiled as I was down on all fours, scrubbing for dear life.

*****

You can’t drive if you haven’t already driven.

Surprisingly, we men who are made to be protectors and leaders, find in this our greatest strength also our greatest weakness.

Because we can be extremely lazy.

And it is most gratifying to be served. (Think ego.)

And sometimes it is most embarrassing to take the initiative in a public situation.

It takes courage to force oneself to break out of our comfort zone of lethargy and into a zone of humble leadership.

Leadership, when properly executed, demands submission of our idea to all ideas on the table until a wise choice of direction makes itself known.  (This isn’t laziness in the least, because the whole time we are fighting an inward war that wants to make our wishes known.)

Leadership means backing up more often than seems necessary.

Leadership means taking the blame of those under you as your own.  (Seems like there was a certain centurion that got this right some 2,000 years ago.  (Mathew 8:5-9)

Leadership refuses to micromanage. 

Try driving your truck and don’t let your eyes travel any farther than ten feet in front of your vehicle and you’ll get the idea of how disastrous this negligible and dangerous approach is. 

Leadership looks a long way down the road.

And whether the way looks easy or tough leadership continues with a steady hand on the wheel so the rest of his ride can function without the added worry of trying to steer the course besides their own duties.   

Leadership is risky. 

That is why it is so easy to hide behind a subterfuge of supposed intentions that are never realized.

*****

You can’t cry if you haven’t already cried.

Ego, again.

It’s so easy to present a tough exterior. 

Why?

Because we are scared we might loose our position of command if we let a little bit of vulnerability show.

We think softness is for pansies, and we think pansies are for the birds.

Go ahead, call it what it is. 

That thought process is degrading and categorically part of a caste system that we hope will elevate us in our social setting.

But a stern look, or a dent proof exterior creates a shell that turns into a prison known only to ourselves. 

It’s lonely inside there, and awfully uninteresting. 

I should know.  I lived inside one of those shells for the better part of 30 years.                      

Not being able to cry alienates us from those nearest to us and forces them to take a position never meant for them.

Which often involves making them need to share their deepest hurts and feelings with someone else or not at all.

Real men show real feelings.

And they aren’t cowards when they do so.

They are a great spreading tree with a cool patch of grass underneath it for those weary along the journey of life.

To stay tough and unbending stunts growth of the tree we are supposed to be, and the branches are forced into lifeless limbs that are eventually pruned off, and then the grass finally dies.

But some men stay as that unyielding stump all their lives, believing somehow that what they offer is useful.

And who in their right mind finds reprieve by leaning against a thorny stump in an arid plain?

*****

In the end, you can’t be any of these things if you haven’t already let yourself become them.

Written in Patrick Dugans

Pssst.  Jane Goodall just stepped in.  If any of you happened to read a post back in November of 22 with a title involving her name, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

Except this is my third time meeting her here.  The second time I was unguarded enough to let my mouth get going before my mind did and I blurted out that I had written about her previously. 

Upon which she and I were both surprised, because we were still complete strangers. 

And then I committed an even greater crime against myself.  I offered to send her what I had written if she gave me her number, which she did.

But it never would send, and I felt bad about that, because I didn’t know where she lived or how to tell her it hadn’t sent.

In the end I thought maybe karma was saving me from my blunder and I was free of any obligation of sending anything.

Until today. 

I found out I had a 0 instead of an 8 in my phone number for her.

And her name is Kandy, not Jane.