How To be A Man

This morning I got up, and went down to break fast. I followed the basic routine I did yesterday, breakfast then back to the room to shower, and off to the grocery store to pickup some food for the day. After dropping off my food, I took a little walk. The clouds had come in a little bit, and the clear blue which had been, was now gone. The clouds were all bright white, but a looming gray over the Matterhorn which completely covered the peak of it. The giant mountain looked ominous, and powerful with its terrible cloak of foreshadow.

I walked along the path I did last night, but I took a different route. Instead of heading up toward the mountain, I went down to the river. When I reached the old wooden bridge, I strayed off the path down to the river bed, and crossed by way of jumping rock to rock. There was still some snow down this far, though most of it in the city had melted away. Even this snow was too icy now to really be called snow. I wandered along the river's edge looking for a place to sit and think, and when I finally found a rock I could perch myself on I let myself sit in deep thought for a while.

Something which has troubled me in the past is the question of what truly makes a man. How am I to know, and take pride in the fact of being a man of worth? I'm not talking, of course, of the gender of man, but more of it's figurative meaning. It seems clear that some men are not worthy of the title, while others are pointed out right away to be "Great Men". In my mind I've always differentiated between a good man, and a good person. Some men are great, but terrible people. While others nice, and interesting to be around, but lack the qualities of a great man. I'd like to consider myself something great, but I'm never convinced I've yet accomplished this. I'm not by any means rich or successful, however I don't believe that's what makes a man great. I feel like there have been many great men who lead very humble lives. Many of them do great things for the world, but I'm also convinced there are several whom history has never recognized. I've heard that a man always stands up for what's right, although every man fails at some point to do the right thing. No one's perfect, so does that mean someone would lose their status until earning it back by doing the right thing? Is it a point system, or a rank of society?

Perhaps being a man is admitting ones faults, and striving to amend them. I've told of several of my faults during the course of this trip, however, some of which are irreversible. I can't make up for things done in my childhood, or lovers taken advantage of. I can't take back the thoughts, and words said in anger. I suppose the most I can do is try to avoid them this time around. But I'm going to screw up again. I'm going to make the same mistakes over and over. I know I'll always be susceptible to anger, and lust which can often feel like love, and I still can't tell the difference.

When I was 18, my father knighted me with a sword he'd had inscribed for my graduation from High School. He told me, now I am a man, and charged me to go forth into the world as such. I was honored, and excited to be accepted by him, who now viewed me as a fellow man, and no longer a child. I think all sons want their fathers to view them as equals, and welcome them into their circle. A father's approval is an important thing in the life of a son. It's where we get a lot of our images of what a man is. I've always thought my father to be a great man. I very much admire his passion. You'll never find a man who works harder, and cares more about what he's set his mind to. In impossible circumstances, and certain defeats, my father brazenly charges forth to meet his adversity with eyes wide open. I've never once looked at my father and thought, "He'll back down." He lays everything on the line at every chance he gets, and loses as often as he wins. However, I've never been left wanting. My family's needs were always met. Somehow, despite always overwhelming odds, he pulls through carrying the same passion and fervor he started out with. That, to me, is a very manly quality. One which I hope, I too, possess.

When I got cold, and cramped from sitting there on the rock, I made my way back the way I came. I passed by the church in the center of town, and wandered through the cemetery next to it. There's a section of it dedicated to those who died climbing the Matterhorn. I was immediately amazed how many headstones there were. I was even more amazed that the majority were less than 30 years old. "Cut down in their prime" some said, "fell to their death." Countless stones recounting the memory of how their loved ones met their end. I walked through briefly reading each one, until I was stopped at a particular headstone which caught my eye. A name and date on it, told of an American from New York who died just 2 months after his 18th birthday. On the inscription read only: "I chose to climb." His pickaxe was bolted to the side of the stone, and rusted from the weather and time. I read the words again, and replayed them in my head. Something inside me was moved by the simplicity of it. There was no explanation, or sobbing lament of death on a lonely mountain at only 18 years old. Just a choice. Should I climb, or not? The decision ultimately ended in his death, but he had decided at 18, where he wanted to face that danger. It may have been an easy decision for him, or it may have been one he struggled with. I'm sure several friends and family members warned against it, perhaps even pleaded with him not to go. I'm sure he was on a quest like mine, to figure out some things about himself, and he thought he'd find his answers on the peak of a mountain. He chose to take up the quest, and fight back the doubt. He chose to do what has hard, even if it cost him his life. He chose to climb.

That's the man I want to be. I want to climb. I want to chose to face my challenge, and hold that line to the end of my life. I want the courage, and passion to risk everything, and the faith to keep looking forward. I think that, more than just doing the right thing, is what being a great man is about.

Tomorrow I leave for Colmar, France. My train's at 5:39pm, and gets in at about 10:13pm. Jan and Randy said they'd meet me at the station, so I'm excited to finally meet them. Keep commenting on my blogs, I really like reading your thoughts and encouragements.


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