Do Hard Shit Mondays: Chapter XVI
Managing our greatest fear, this week's challenge, a tweet from Mark Manson, and the Algebra of Happiness
Welcome to The Art of Becoming: the Do Hard Shit Monday chapter. We explore what it means to lead a happier, wiser, and more prosperous life by doing hard shit. We learn to be more resilient and embrace discomfort in a complex and challenging world. And maybe, better people for it.
I hope you join me.
What you need to know
The greatest fear of man
This week’s challenge: Time to do 150 burpees
A tweet from Mark Manson
The Algebra of Happiness
The Greatest Fear of Man Is Loss
For over 20 years, a week before Christmas, I walked ten miles from my house to my favorite coffee shop and performed an annual review.
Initially, the primary motivation was to take the lessons I learned and develop a plan to be a better version of myself in the coming year. At least wealthier.
The format and structure of my annual review changed on February 27, 2013.
My oldest daughter called me from college to say she felt a lump in her neck. Jump another three weeks, the lump grew to the size of her fist, and eleven more tumors were found.
But my Greek tragedy didn’t stop there. Death followed me, and over the next three years, I lost 22 friends, a nephew to a drug overdose, and my father. My finances went to zero; my brothers stopped speaking to me; I stopped writing.
Life changed, so I changed.
In December 2013, my annual review was a little different. The lessons I learned came when I sat at a friend’s deathbed or told my daughter she might die.
I discovered the meaning of friendship when a friend I had ignored for months passed away. In his will, he asked for me to be a pallbearer.
Today, I view the world differently. I still measure my professional wins and failures, but those metrics are the least important. Loss and the lessons from them are what I count.
We live in a time when presidents, governors, senators, and members of Congress deny election results. Schools ban books, Elon Musk suspends journalists from Twitter, and millions refuse to accept that a simple vaccine can save lives.
We fear the loss of our freedom or power. We fear life will change. Or we allow others to exploit our fear for their gain. We fear the loss of any kind.
Without accepting loss, we will never end this cycle of misery.
My annual review attempts to synthesize my losses and grief into the wisdom to become a better man. Or, at least, a not-so-shitty one.
I start by reminding myself of three stories. Each year, they are different but offer a lesson I try to embrace for the following year.
These are the stories I thought about last Friday. Each is true.
A father grieves
Carl fell in love with Kathy on their first date at the Spaghetti Factory in Newport Beach.
On the date, Kathy told Carl she was a package deal. She came with two-year-old twin daughters. If he wanted to be in her life, they had to be a priority for him. If not, he had to move on.
They married about a year after their first date. Carl’s three girls became the love of his life, and then like most love stories, Carl and Kathy had two more children.
Their lives were perfect until it was no longer perfect. One twin was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis when she was five years old and would die eight years later. The other twin would also die of the same disease a few years later.
A year comes and goes, and Carl is still crushed by the deaths of his daughters. Kathy is immobile, unable to leave her room.
Carl’s daily routine stayed the same: he woke up at 5 am, rode his bike, read the bible, went to work, rallied his salespeople, left work, went to the church for bible study, and then headed home for dinner. Sometimes he golfed or rode his bike. But he wasn’t the same.
He was broken and didn’t want to be fixed. He stopped believing he deserved to be good again.
After church one day, a friend asked if Carl wanted to tag along with him to Mexico. He and several people from the church were going to build a house for a homeless family. Carl said no, but the friend would not stop asking. He went for a weekend and had fun.
For a few hours, Carl forgot about his pain. He smiled throughout the build. He went back two months later to build another house and never stopped. Over the years, Carl helped build 79 homes for the working poor in Mexico.
Carl told me his story the day I told him Misha had stage IV cancer. He said he would do anything to help Misha. And he did.
A mother forgives
At a party in 1993, Laramium Byrd was shot and killed by 16-year-old Oshea Israel. A few days later, Israel was caught and tried for murder.
Laramium’s mother, Mary Johnson, was angry throughout the trial. She thought Oshea was an animal that deserved to be punished.
She decided to tell Israel how she felt during the victim impact statement. Mary changed her mind when it was time for her to give her statement. She forgave Oshea “because the bible tells us to forgive.” Forgiveness was crucial to her faith.
Oshea was sentenced to a 25-year prison sentence, but it wasn’t the end for Mary.
Mary Johnson didn’t truly forgive Oshea. The bitterness she carried ran deep, always showing, staining every relationship, pushing friends and family away. She hated Oshea, and that hate grew and bled into everyone else.
One day, she read a poem about two mothers. One mother had a child murdered by the child of the other mother.
Mary envisioned an organization that would support mothers of murdered children and mothers whose children were killers. But how could she help those women if she hadn’t forgiven the man who killed her son? She called the Department of Corrections and set up a meeting with Oshea Israel.
Oshea refused to meet her at first, but Mary persisted. Israel changed his mind when he realized if he was going to grow and be a better person, he had to confess his sins to Laramium’s mother.
They met and talked for two hours. Mary saw Oshea was genuinely sorry and forgave him. Oshea couldn’t believe the mother of the man he murdered would forgive him and ask for a hug.
As Mary walked out of the room, she said, “I just hugged the man that murdered my son.”
Oshea was released from prison in 2010, having spent 17 years of his 25-year sentence. Mary Johnson threw him a welcome home party. Mary calls Oshea her spiritual son. When she got married in 2015, Israel walked her down the aisle.
A story of strength
Robert was a Vietnam veteran and cancer survivor. Two years prior, Robert married the love of his life, Susan. Though they were in their mid-forties, Robert and Susan acted like teenagers.
Robert suffered in Vietnam, hating what he did and what was done to him. Though he lived with PTSD, Robert was a joyful man who believed in giving back. He ran marathons and triathlons to raise money for cancer.
One day in 1997, while training for another triathlon, he was hit by a car as he ran on the road. The accident turned Robert into a person with paraplegia.
Susan refused to leave his side. Married for only a few years, theirs was a true love story. The woman who hit Robert was uninsured and without the resources to pay for the damage she caused. For 21 years, Susan sacrificed everything to care for Robert. She never left his side.
Robert never felt sorry for himself. He was not the same man he was before the accident. In many ways, he became a better one. Robert continued volunteering, using his presence to raise money for his church, intellectually disabled children, and veterans.
I met Robert in 2012 at a church function. He asked if I could sneak him a beer while Susan’s back was turned. I told him I probably shouldn’t. In a low whispery voice, Robert smiled and said, “Brother Mike, it’s okay. It’s okay. You don’t tell, I won’t tell.”
I grabbed a beer but told Susan anyway. She said Robert liked to trick her, and I was his newest accomplice. “Give him the beer, but don’t tell Robert I said it was okay,” Susan said. “Let him think he got one over me.”
Robert died on December 28, 2018. He was my friend, brother, and partner-in-crime. I never heard him complain about his life. We spoke of God, politics, baseball, University of Washington football, and my wife. He was a mad flirt—outright calling her his girlfriend.
Robert was one of the bravest men I have ever known. He was also the most loved.
Pain connects every human being. We may not speak the same language, but everyone suffers and goes through heartbreak.
James Baldwin said, “You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was Dostoevsky and Dickens who taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive or whoever had been alive. Only if we face these open wounds in ourselves can we understand them in other people.”
We are fragile creatures that can break with the softest whisper. And yet, we can survive hurricanes and pandemics. The question is how?
The Greek tragedian Sophocles gave us the answer to our pain:
One word frees us from all the weight and pain of life: that word is love.
Each of these stories tell a universal truth: we are better together than apart.
We can grow again when we forgive those who hurt us. We survive and climb out from suffering when we cling to one another and carry burdens that are not our own.
This Week’s Challenge
Last week, we committed to waking up an hour early and performing 100 reps of a challenging exercise.
Let’s up the ante.
This week wake up at 5 am or earlier and commit to doing 150 reps of any tough exercise.
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I will do 150 burpees.
Tuesday and Thursday, I will do 150 kettlebell swings.
There is no modification to this challenge. If you cannot do 150 burpees, do 150 squats or jump rope 150 times. Just do something hard.
Guess what next week’s challenge is going to be?
A Tweet by Mark Manson I can’t stop thinking about
I’ve followed Mark since he wrote The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. Both he and Ryan Holiday are modern philosophers who don’t try to confuse the f*ck out of you.
As Mark said, fear doesn’t control us by dominating our emotions. It controls us by convincing us that comfort is more important than happiness.
The video everyone under 30 should watch
Professor Scott Galloway is at his best when he gives the equation to happiness. Interestingly, he states forgiveness is critical to our happiness, a key point when dealing with fear and death.
Thanks for reading. Don’t forget: we are better together than apart. Forgive someone who hurt you. Or ask for forgiveness. You’ll be happier.
Michael