I am a man. Therefore I work, I provide, I lift, I learn, I win. I do these things, because I am a man.

It is an essential cycle of virtuous reasoning. In many cases, this justification is ironclad and belies the discipline many of us have to grow. But this cycle is not a circle, it is a spiral. It begins at the center where we are our smallest. With motion we take up more and more space. We work, we provide, we lift, we learn, we win. Further from the center, we lose sight of what we knew when we were small. This has to mean something.

We suspend our wonder and we embark. This is a good thing. For the sake of being men we blindly and ignorantly journey towards the breach. We begin lifting weights. We begin school. We pick up a trade. We commit to a relationship. We make money. We spend money. We get out of debt. We network. We travel. And from the perspective of anyone watching, it looks like we are winning. Yet somehow, we account for 75% of suicides on average year after year after year. Men are being the men the world needs us to be but we are still choosing to leave.

we account for 75% of suicides on average year after year after year.

Perhaps is the dizziness of the outward spiral that disorients us from the center. But it seems that even the most virtuous and well developed of us still can’t find the other pole. It could be that the pursuit of ability and the accomplishment of goals has never been where the spiral ends. It could be that the spiral isn’t meant to end, but establish a new center once we are gone. This is why three of the most common sustainers of the lives of men have been enjoyed by both the muscular and the meek, the wealthy and the poor.

Faith in the broadest sense, has brought countless men from the fray and relinquished them of the despair inherent to the suffering required of us. It is not so much adherence to a specific religion, but the genuine acknowledgment that the good and meaningful can be too big for human perception to make sense of. Call it imaginative nonsense if you’d like, but there is a leveling brand of boldness that comes with subordination to the highest possible good. It is under this umbrella that many have found themselves worthy of the respect that sustains them in their most important relationships. It is also what rids many of the disease of moral relativism.

While morals are not always easy, even within a divine framework, the idea that right and wrong are ideas subordinate to our human reason is an open invitation for the most harmful ideas to be actualized. It is an open door for the cynicism that creeps into a questioning mind and convinces them the edges of the outward spiral will only get darker. It is faith that feeds the notion that we are not merely wandering in dark but must be the torchbearers for good, even if it’s beyond our perception.

Marriage is arguably the most difficult of what makes men whole. Many do not enter into marriage, but rather, they legally agree not to breakup. When built on such flimsy grounds, it is no wonder so many of them fail. But when understood with maturity, it is easy for marriage to mold men into ones that feel necessary to the world. It is a choice that is chosen every day.

Within this choice is a call to action. It compels the husband to practice love as a verb and not rely on love as some ethereal, fleeting, motivating force. Implied within this choice are sacrifice and the exploration of limits within the context of meaning. It is marriage that forces a man to keep his word to an eternal extent, forgive without conditions, and practice patience when he had none left.

Fatherhood is the ultimate factor for focus. When becoming a father, it was no longer possible for me to care about frivolous things. Moreover, my definition of frivolous enjoyed a massive expansion. Suddenly, I stopped wondering what I was supposed to do. To those without kids it can look like a prison, but I would challenge those with that view whether it is better to be “imprisoned” by fatherhood or imprisoned by the unbuffered weight of wandering?

It seems that many, if not all, of the things we are told to do to become “high value men” are pursuits in becoming strong fathers. It is beyond the question of meaning having an answer, but of the questioning not occurring at all. What’s my purpose? To feed my son. What makes life meaningful? Caring for his mother and enabling her to nurture. What is all this for? For my son. That is more than enough.