Something To Chew On

Last night I listened to Dax Shepard's Armchair Expert podcast, as I do most nights while cooking dinner, a meal that has designated me a reluctant short-order cook for children who approach the table as if being forced to walk the plank. Have I tried forcing them to take bites? Yes, for years. Have I made them sit at the table for up to 45 minutes? Yes. Have I also tried the gentle-parent route, like nonchalantly introducing new foods at the prescribed rate of, what is it, 20 times? Yep. Invite them to help with cooking? Indeed. Maybe "Make tasks fun!" works for your kids. Mine are too cynical, for which part of me salutes them. 

Suffice it to say, trying all the tries at dinner time hasn't helped. So now I settle on cooking meals my boys are somewhat willing to eat or, in lieu, feeding them whatever soul-less victuals they'll happily chew on. If you run a tight ship where your kids eat what you cook without complaint, high five. I've decided that over here, we're pirates. And I'm the chaotic crew leader with the coolest outfit. 

On an unseasonably warm Wednesday eve, in my pirate mess hall deep in the hills of West Virginia, I listened to Dax as usual, while he went about being an intriguing mix of masculine, feminine, brainy, macho, insecure, and confident, as usual. I especially appreciate his confessional nature. The man isn't afraid to call himself out, not necessarily in the moment but certainly in hindsight. Am I romanticizing him? Of course. Calm down. 

Know him or not, Dax Shepard is clearly a man willing to be vulnerable. I embrace it, not only when it comes from men but also anyone alive and endeavoring to be more fully so. Vulnerability tends to be a defining quality in the people I keep close. 

Culturally, we excoriate vulnerability, equating it with emotional fragility. But vulnerability isn't one-dimensional. There is confident vulnerability. It's in the way we talk about ourselves. It comes from matter-of-fact assertions, not self-defeating ones. It's owning our BS, not letting it own us. It's the ability to use our foibles not to center ourselves but to invite others to participate in a conversation. Dax does that well, one of many reasons I enjoy his podcast. 

Cultural norms tell us to perceive reticence as confidence. I've fallen into that trap at times. Then better judgment rushes in to remind me that we all have concerns about our performance in life whether we talk about it or not. While I understand that not all of us are designed to be expressive, I can't help but feel distrustful of people who don't open up.

On an older episode of Armchair Expert, the guest (a sociologist? psychologist?) said that the happiest people are those who maintain deeply connected relationships. In my travels from city to city and state to state from 18-34 years old, this proved painfully true. Not staying in one place for long, I didn’t have the opportunity to establish consistent bonds. Unbeknownst to me in the midst of my adventures, that inconsistency gave way to a big void once I settled down. What I know from my travels is that we all need people, whether we admit it or not. 

Is it possible to maintain deeply connected relationships without opening up? At the helm of my domestic pirate ship, I see no reason to cross that sea.