We’ve been hearing a lot about alpha males lately. They feel the culture has become feminized. And that men are made to feel ashamed of their masculinity.
Is this true?
Before we decide, let’s say something everyone can agree on: The question we just asked is one of many questions we could ask.
Stop with that.
It doesn’t seem like an important observation. You’ll never see the headline, “There are a lot of questions you could ask!” Or: This just in! The sun continues to shine!
Usually we ignore truths like these. Plain, universal, uncontroversial. And yet they are by far the biggest stories.
Nothing happens on earth without the sun. The grass can’t grow, the cow can’t eat, and the alpha male can’t have his steak.
And those questions we could ask? “A lot” feels like an understatement. If there aren’t an infinite number, there are definitely enough to keep us busy on a Sunday afternoon.
Speaking of Sunday afternoons, or anything else, remember death? That thing that’s going to happen to each of us? The only thing, it would seem, with the power to blot out the sun? It’s even been known to take out an alpha male or two.
Death means we have limited time. We can’t entertain every question we might wish to. That’s pretty uncontroversial too. If an alpha male would put down his barbell for a moment, I think he’d agree.
Thank you, by the way, for putting down whatever weight you’ve been lifting and drifting along with me here through such uncontroversial material. I know you have options. I myself am itching to bounce over to Medium to read about the Ben Franklin morning routine that was centuries ahead of its time.
Did you know that Ben Franklin is dead?
You heard it here first.
Anyway. The sun, death… where was I? Oh, yes. Questions. There’s a lot of them. How many? I’m putting my money on infinite. My time here is finite.
You see the issue.
If not, I invite you to stop again. Because this is big.
You may or may not be feminizing any alpha males, but you are definitely doing this: choosing which questions deserve your attention.
In the forest of our experience, we can turn our gaze in a million places. Sights, sounds, urges, desires; this or that video, article, book, idea, or person. This is a fundamental freedom.
It is the fundamental freedom.
When I feel compelled to answer any particular question, I allow myself to become its prisoner. I accept its claim on my attention. My gaze turns away from a million possibilities. Magicians call this misdirection. Politicians call it Tuesday.
Once we start debating a question, the most important step has already taken place. The poser of the question has successfully imprisoned our attention.
Usually the outcome is now known. In the case of a magician, the crowd will be entertained. In the case of a politician, the enemy will be baited, the faithful will be stirred, and no real solution will be reached. That was the point of the question.
What is the point of the questions you choose to focus on?
To prove you’re right? To feel that you’re being heard? To defend a position at all costs? To tell someone else what they should be doing? To understand another’s point of view? To learn something? To reflect on your perspective? To contribute to solving a problem? To choose the most helpful course of action for you?
Asking ourselves these questions isn’t flashy. They can seem murky. I have sometimes felt like I’m drowning in them. But the longer I live with them, the more I feel something solid rising under me, like the back of some great whale.
When I was twelve, I was a paper boy. I pedaled my neighborhood, tossing Foster’s Daily Democrat onto the doorsteps of my hapless victims. Today, I toss a different kind of newspaper to you.
When you open it, the pages are blank.
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