A plain ole soup
A lived story is more interesting to read about than a bunch of what ifs.
I generally think that statement is true, especially in short form—blogs and essays.
I enjoy reading blogs that ooze with candid honesty. Unfiltered musings. It might be subjective, but you get the feeling of personal truth and conviction seasoning the whole narrative with some tang, some bite, some bitterness.
Unlike this post, which is mostly just water.
A plain ole soup.
Reflective.
A note for myself.
The most interesting lived stories are full of contradictions. Paradoxes. The kind of tension that makes you keep reading because you need to know how someone holds two opposing things at once.
I've never really gotten out of my way to read a biography. It's a me problem, TBH. I rarely finish them—I look at them like study material, a perspective I should probably move on from.
I've skimmed through some of Jung's works. Maybe that counts?
But if I ever choose to read one, I want it to be the story of a good father.
Because that's the lived story I'm trying to write for myself right now.
As a new father and as a generalist who's never stuck to a rabbit hole long enough to be an expert at anything, I want to dwell more into the specifics of creating a warm and kind space that's still conducive to learning and exploration.
There's this recent inner fatherly yearning in me to be strong and reliable—almost in a violent sense—but with the preference of being kind to everything and everyone first.
It's a paradox. How can you be kind while being ready to fight back when needed?
And maybe that's exactly what makes this worth pondering on and writing about. 🫕