The flywheel from Hell didn’t pass my naval ‘float’ test, and so it now lays in the murky water and thick muck a few hundred feet below the surface of Commencement Bay. I had taken my family out for a ‘nice’ Sunday sail with Grandma, and now that the wind had shut off, we needed to motor back to the marina. This is when the ‘story of my life’ surfaced again.
To this day, I can clearly recall the priceless look on my mother-in-laws face as she had just witnessed her son-in-laws adrenalin charged Olympic discus skills forcefully chucking the entire outboard motor charging assembly, which was no longer attached to the top of the saddest piece of marine engineering I have ever owned – into the dark briny bay.
To be fair to the Honda engineers, the fault lies more with the lack of information possessed by the person who bolted that outboard motor to the back of my tiny sailboat. Anyone familiar with electrolysis and simple metallurgy knows that an iron rich flywheel rusts in the corrosive environment of a salt-water marina. More-over, the tolerances for the induction coils to produce the current sufficient to ignite the combustion gases would also turn the entire contraption into a heat inducing caldron – like the red-hot breaks on my 911 Porsche at the raceway - melting the charging coils made of plastic and fine copper wire into blobs which resembled a tangled mess of a Gordian knot.
According to fable, whoever could untie the Gordian knot was destined to become King of Asia. After numerous fruitless attempts, Alexander The Great made up his own rule and with a single stroke of his razor sharp sword, cut the mess in half.
Not having my trusty sword, I resorted to my caveman instincts and threw the entire assembly – and our power to get home – to the bottom of the bay.
That’s a memory I’m both humorously fond of, and tragically fated with; fatherless young father losing his cool, making things harder for himself while acting like a child because feels alone to figure the mess out.
For the past 15 years, when I run into technical coding or server issues, I turn to other men, as experts, within several software forums. I post questions, and usually get a critical insight which makes it possible for me to fix the problem in short order. That was the case this morning, and yesterday.
Who Do You Turn To?
As an enterprising man, encompassed with the complex set of issues that direct your roles of running and growing your own enterprise while becoming a man-of-valor, an excellent father and husband, who do you turn to when you run out of answers?
I imagine there’s a dad, or a minion or men that you have. But what if you are like me? The pile of dead mentors I’ve studied for decades don’t have most of the direct answers I need to resolve many situations, and my Pastor doesn’t speak entrepreneur. When I needed help with the Honda outboard, having run out of my own resources, I looked to the sky, hollered something unintelligible and threw the problem into the bay. I’m now 55. I’ve never had an engaged father, and my ‘leading men’ I have watched are losing their capacity, memory and availability.
So? Why not build a tool? You might share the lack of support, or be missing an understanding and wise peer group, and never considered creating a minion, but you can. Why not risk an emotional wound or two and post a question or answer in the Forum? How about joining a live online small group? You are staring at “what’s in your hand!” Moses didn’t see the power to lead in his familiar staff. Ali Hafed didn’t see his diamonds. Don’t miss the answer to 12345 7 so easily. Take action. Get engaged.
Oh, yeah… how did we get back home? God, while busy ‘initiating’ me into manhood, chose to freshen a small breeze sufficient for me to humbly sail all the way to our slip – while grandma and ‘the ex’ gloated at me in mild disgust. Fortunate for me, the kids took it all as adventure!
You can do better. You have a minyan now(10+ mentors). Put your sword away. Post a comment.
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