wondrous amusement

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I used to be fearless. I used to climb anything that was in front of me. I would come home dirty, bruised, an bloody. That was ok by me, I had a blast. 30 years later, I'm forced to wonder where that kid went. I imagined all kinds of things in my travels through the neighbourhood, but the main ones were of the tales of King Arthur and his brave knights. Chivalry was paramount, honor was life blood, and there were always dragons to kill. To this day, when I see a fog bank only two words come to mind, dragon breath. I can still imagine the knights on horseback riding through the mist, bravely on their way to glory or doom.

From the Arthurian tales I learned a lot of the values I would take into adulthood. The person I wanted to be. I wanted to be a Knight of the Round Table. I still do.

I spent many years in corporate jobs, doing my damnedest to squash that warrior, to kill my real self. Things changed and I couldn't do it any more. I made a lot of changes. I went back to school, I started my own business, I got into a healthy relationship, I started being the dad I really wanted to be. Most recently I started playing soccer again. I've said it before, but I'm really proud of the fact that I am 41 and playing league soccer. It has been far too long since I have had that unique physical competition. I've ignored the warrior for far too long.

Three things have come of this. First, my focus on my business is getting more concentrated. I'm becoming much clearer about my goals. I am finding myself more and more driven to figure out and bust through anything standing between me and success. So in a sense, my playing soccer again is good for my clients.

Secondly, like a baseball bat against the back of my head, I am reminded of those values I learned. Duty, Honor, Chivalry, Perseverance. These ideas, these values will never fail you in life, or in business.

Lastly, I want more. A friend of mine introduced me to the Warrior Dash. If you haven't heard about it, it is a "mud-crawling, fire leaping, extreme run from hell. This fierce running series is held on the most rugged and challenging terrain across the globe. Warriors conquer extreme obstacles, push their limits, and celebrate with kick-ass music, beer, and warrior helmets."

Does this sound like fun? Heck yeah! This is who I was. I lived this, pushed myself everyday, and celebrated life everyday. I lost it for a while. I did my best to kill that part of me off. Screw that, I'm back.

We are all meant to be warriors on our various levels. Some are white hats protecting us from cyber-attack. Some are police, medics, and firemen, fighting for society as a whole. Me? I'm a six foot two inch, 235 lb, ass kickin', name takin' father, husband, and social media professional. I am a member of Clan Johnstone, one of the oldest and fiercest of the border clans of Scotland. Warrior is in my Celtic blood. I fight for my family, my history, my life, and I may still yet be knighted and take my place at the Round Table. Who are you? What do you fight for?

This was reposted from my blog.

Do you remember (the 21st night of September) your teen years? I sure as heck do. The time in our lives that we are ruled entirely by our hormones. The majority of our thoughts were not based in any kind of reality except our own. Our actions were, more often than not, risky. Our decisions were, for the  most part, pretty bad. But, and that's a very big BUT, we were alive, and we were passionate about it. We were wrong, but for all the right reasons. We loved each other fiercely, and we were in love with the idea of being in love. School was a bore but hanging out in the parking lot after school was the best. Even though school was crap, we'd feverishly argue concepts we barely begun to grasp, that we had learned there. We were mad, in a very Kerouac-ian way. "The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!"

We drank in every bit of life we could and remained thirsty. We accepted everybody,because love is all you needed, and rejected everything, because the man was always trying to keep us down. We applied everything in life to music, and no one, absolutely no one, understood us, except our friends. And the Ramones, of course.

The teens before me, the teens after me, and indeed, the teens of my generation all share one thing, passion. Passion is one of the strongest moving forces in life. It has the power to push you to points you never knew you could reach, or stop you dead in your tracks. We carry that passion with us, in us, past graduation, and into college. In college we learn to grasp and hone that passion. We leave college with a passion that could possibly change the world. And then it tempers. Some of us get tired of the energy it takes to sustain, while others have it beat out of them. Many more of us simply accept our cog status and tow the line. We trade our torn shirts for the comfort of a sweater vest.

We'll get glimpses of that old self, every now and then. A commercial, knowing it owns you, plays one of your anthems, while encouraging you to buy their dumb little product. And you buy into the idea of that product. You hear the music, and instantly your head erupts with those old emotions, and while your head is going balls out, you quietly tap you feet to the tune. But still, that commercial owns you. The ad agencies know this. They employ highly creative, and very passionate people. One of the most fanatical-about-life people I knew in high school created some of the most successful commercials Target has ever had.

How is it, that a few of us manage to hang onto that passion and funnel it, very constructively, while many more of us learn, or are forced, to quell it? How can we be happy making explicit, detailed itineraries for our vacations? How can we be happy living grey lives? More importantly, how can we regain that thirst, and apply it to our own lives? I don't want grey. I want bright shiny splashes of intensity.  I want my heart ripped out, just so I can feel the the joy in healing. It truly is our scars that make us who we are. I want to love, and dream, and accomplish. I want to drive life, not have it drive me. I want to throw my hands up and scream "YES! Give me more! Give me all you got, cause you will never, ever beat me down!"

School's out, it has been for a long time now, and "The highways jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive". When all is said and done, are you gonna be content to fade away, or are you gonna leave your mark, and only be happy when you are going Mach 2 with your hair on fire?

This was reposted from my blog.