The Buffoon Father Image
I just stepped away from getting my kids to bed. Here's where the challenge lay—I was thinking about my writing in the middle of my parenting experience and it was taking me out of that experience. This is something I have be careful about—staying present with my family when I think of ideas or plans for my writing.
Being a little less present tonight, I chose the wrong gummy melatonin bottle and ended up giving my little guy a lot more melatonin than he's supposed to have. Four times the amount, in fact. If you haven't heard, an overdose of melatonin—which typically helps you sleep—will lead to hyperactivity.
Ugh.
My inner critic turns on. He quickly calls me out as dumb husband that can't pay attention or get his s*** together to even be present enough to administer the right dose of night time gummies to the kids. I’m a buffoon. Typical for a father, right?
My inner critic is rarely helpful. I take a step back from the onslaught of thoughts coming, not like pretty leaves on a calm brook, but like a waterfall pummeling me with leaf piles made muddy by soggy winter days. And all I can see is me as a buffoon.
I'm talking about the buffoon father image that we have been bombarded with over the past decades in a variety of media channels.
I hate that this buffoon father archetype exists. I hate that he’s been uplifted into mainstream media for consumption. I hate that I’ve fed on that archetype and never questioned the harm I might be doing to myself. Not to say any one archetype is “bad”. But too much of one message without variety to balance is a recipe for disaster. I let that buffoon father patterning into my psyche for my inner critic to feast on. To distract me with shame.
The buffoon father image has become so normalized. But that's not the programming I want entering my psyche. I long for something better.
Creating my Vision for Myself as a Father
I long for role models in real life. And when I can’t find them in real life, I find them in the realm of stories. Stories that I ingest and tuck away inside a subconscious folder called, “ideas for ways of being.”
I long for the archetype of an authentic, compassionate, and present father to get more attention. But not a perfect image—a human one. The one that will struggle and also own up to his struggles. He makes cameos on occasion in Hollywood—I will point these out to you as I see them.
In this blog I aim to explore how I become my own role model, however imperfect. To share my struggles as I invent the kind of father I wish to be. And how I navigate this terrain.
Resonance Supports Healing & Growth
What I've noticed in sitting in circles with fathers for years now, is that the act of speaking one’s personal truth often lands with another father very well. In other words, when I share my story and I own it, another father can hear it and either:
Feel validated that they are not the only one.
Or feel resonant with an aspect of what I shared and get more insight into their own experience.
And vice versa, this has happened for me when other fathers have shared and I was playing the witness. No doubt, as you witness me through my writing, you will resonate with some of what I share—feel free to discard the rest.
Revealing Ourselves to Others
Let's use the Fatherhood Dojo as a place for revealing ourselves and honoring resonance as it authentically occurs—in whatever way feels appropriate to share. There's an important thing here: Being vulnerable takes courage. And knowing when it’s time to be vulnerable requires wisdom. Knowing when it’s better to process things a bit longer before responding by impulse requires patience.
Dojo Ground Rules
These have served me well, alongside other men in intentional supporting spaces:
Bring curiosity and keep an open mind to what others share in this dojo. We are first and foremost witnesses, not here to fix each other.
In response to myself or what others share here, offering validation and acknowledging resonance is always welcome.
When you share, if you want constructive feedback, ask for it.
As you witness another in this dojo, if you feel called to give constructive feedback and they have not asked for it, get that person’s consent first. And don’t proceed until you have clear consent. For example:
“May I reflect something back to you as I see it?”
“May I challenge you on something, knowing I may be wrong about what I think I see?”
Pass the mic. Be aware of the space you are sharing with others. Take your turn, then allow your attention to expand to include the voices around you in the dojo.
Where are We Going?
This blog will explore the fatherhood journey. For me this journey has been a vast dojo I stepped into. As long as I'm a father I will be in that dojo—which means the rest of my life.
It as an overstated understatement to say that becoming a parent changes everything. Parenthood may be the most widely practiced initiation into adulthood that remains. Ideally, we practice the initiation with consciousness as we near and then cross that threshold. Never to be the same again. No going back.
In this fatherhood dojo, I find my way on the mat. I feel the stress of landing hard against my edges—often. I feel the push and pull with others in the dojo—my immediate family especially. I bring awareness to the ways that I work with or against my family and how that affects me and us. I solicit and take in the feedback I receive and seek what is true—how I might make some adjustments to my way of being in a way that feels aligned for me, even if those adjustments are hard. And when to keep boundaries around what brings me real joy (not just dopamine)—those activities that leave me naturally high, still grounded, and making good decisions.
I navigate the way my family interacts with the close-in and wider community. I bring compassion to myself when we’re in public and someone in my family is not behaving the way I wish they were—compassion to the part of me that freaks out and wants to control others.
To step into the dojo aspect of the Fatherhood Dojo is to bring intention, curiosity, a willingness to explore one's own experience and to question what is true for myself. While honoring a lineage of fathers that are here now and have come before, to be more clear about my own vision as a father and move in that direction, sometimes with baby steps. To risk courageous communication between myself and others while taking responsibility for my well-being.
I bow to you. Welcome to the dojo…
Need more? See the About page »
Or more about the founder?
Awesome! Excited to step into the Fatherhood Dojo - thank you for creating this container!
Compassion for that part of me that wants to control my kids, and can label them as “getting in the way” of all the other important things I need to do, is a big one for me. Thanks for naming it.
“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver springs to mind as a mantra for Fatherhood Dojo (and really all things human):
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.