The Art of Manliness - Manvotionals: Timeless Wisdom and Advice on Living the 7 Manly Virtues (21 page)

“Stop!” We had arrived at our work site. Everybody rushed into the dark hut in the hope of getting a fairly decent tool. Each prisoner got a spade or a pickaxe.

“Can’t you hurry up, you pigs?” Soon we had resumed the previous day’s positions in the ditch. The frozen ground cracked under the point of the pickaxes, and sparks flew. The men were silent, their brains numb.

My mind still clung to the image of my wife. A thought crossed my mind: I didn’t even know if she were still alive. I knew only one thing—which I have learned well by now: Love goes very far beyond the physical person of the beloved. It finds its deepest meaning in his spiritual being, his inner self. Whether or not he is actually present, whether or not he is still alive at all, ceases somehow to be of importance.

I did not know whether my wife was alive, and I had no means of finding out (during all my prison life there was no outgoing or incoming mail); but at that moment it ceased to matter. There was no need for me to know; nothing could touch the strength of my love, my thoughts, and the image of my beloved. Had I known then that my wife was dead, I think that I would still have given myself, undisturbed by that knowledge, to the contemplation of her image, and that my mental conversation with her would have been just as vivid and just as satisfying. “Set me like a seal upon thy heart, love is as strong as death.”

The experiences of camp life show that man does have a choice of action. There were enough examples, often of a heroic nature, which proved that apathy could be overcome, irritability suppressed. Man
can
preserve a vestige of spiritual freedom, of independence of mind, even in such terrible conditions of psychic and physical stress.

We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.

And there were always choices to make. Every day, every hour, offered the opportunity to make a decision, a decision which determined whether you would or would not submit to those powers which threatened to rob you of your very self, your inner freedom; which determined whether or not you would become the plaything of circumstance, renouncing freedom and dignity to become molded into the form of the typical inmate.

The way in which a man accepts his fate and all the suffering it entails, the way in which he takes up his cross, gives him ample opportunity—even under the most difficult circumstances—to add a deeper meaning to his life. It may remain brave, dignified and unselfish. Or in the bitter fight for self-preservation he may forget his human dignity and become no more than an animal. Here lies the chance for a man either to make use of or to forgo the opportunities of attaining the moral values that a difficult situation may afford him. And this decides whether he is worthy of his sufferings or not.

Do not think that these considerations are unworldly and too far removed from real life. It is true that only a few people are capable of reaching such high moral standards. Of the prisoners only a few kept their full inner liberty and obtained those values which their suffering afforded, but even one such example is sufficient proof that man’s inner strength may raise him above his outward fate. Such men are not only in concentration camps. Everywhere man is confronted with fate, with the chance of achieving something through his own suffering.

F
ROM
V
OICES OF THE
N
IGHT
, 1839
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

CHAPTER FIVE
SELF-RELIANCE

T
he cowboy. The frontiersman. The pioneer.

These images of manliness still strongly resonate with Western men because they represent an ideal and virtue they often feel lacking in their own lives—that of self-reliance.

Our pioneer forefathers hewed a life for themselves out of the untamed soil with nothing but their wits and the sweat of their brow. They needed very little, and what they did need, they made. If it broke, they fixed it. Their nearest neighbors could be a few dozen miles away and solitude was simply a part of life.

Today we live in a time when almost everything a man does can be outsourced to someone else. Need your oil changed? Take it to a mechanic. Have a leaky roof? Call a repairman. Need food? Order take-out.

Even your thinking can be outsourced. A man’s every musing can be posted on the Internet or texted to friends for immediate feedback. And answers to life’s questions seem to be only a Google search away.

While modern conveniences and technology have happily freed us from much of the drudgery, danger, and hardship that our forebearers faced on the frontier, these advancements have also left many men feeling disconnected from their lives. They are plagued with a disconcerting sense of restlessness, feeling as if they are floating through life, that life is happening
to
them and being orchestrated by others.

Self-reliance is the antidote to this anxious drift. Seeking this virtue need not involve trading in your car for a covered wagon, donning buckskin pants, and retiring to a cave in the mountains. Or even erasing the pizza delivery man’s number from your phone. Rather it’s about coming to understand that a while a boy depends on others for everything, a man is able to stand on his own two feet and make his own way. It’s about fostering the confidence that even if the whole world went to pot around you, you’d still have the resources and inner fortitude to carry on. It’s about cultivating the pioneering
spirit
and
attitude
at the core of your approach to life.

The self-reliant man doesn’t wait around for his dreams to come true or for someone to fix his problems. He gets started right away and figures it out for himself as he goes.

The self-reliant man lives simply and frugally, without needing stuff to make him happy and avoiding the chains of debt.

The self-reliant man doesn’t depend on others to validate his beliefs and decisions. He carves out his own path in life even if his ideas cut across the grain.

The self-reliant man enjoys associating with others, but can be perfectly content spending time in his own company.

In short, the self-reliant man enjoys supreme
freedom
and
independence
in all areas of his life. He is captain of his soul and master of his own destiny.

F
ROM
S
ELF
-C
ULTURE
& S
ELF
-R
ELIANCE
, 1869
By William Unsworth

The questions are naturally suggested, “What kind of culture is intended? And what is meant by self-reliance?” … By self-culture is intended the cultivation of the powers and faculties nature has given you, and that to the greatest degree your opportunities and circumstances will allow: and this done by and for yourselves, with a view to improve your own condition here, as far as possible, and that you may stand on higher vantage-ground hereafter. And by self-reliance is meant a firm but modest dependence on your own capabilities, your own efforts and talents, in opposition to a weak and unmanly leaning upon foreign resources and assistance. These qualities blended and combined, will wonderfully help men through the world. But if they do not possess them in some tolerably good degree, they will be the football of their fellows, the sport of circumstances, and go down to death “sore sick at heart.” They will be deeply mortified at their own fickleness, despised by others, and heartily despised by themselves.

F
ROM THE SPEECH,
“S
ELF
-M
ADE
M
EN
,” 1859
By Frederick Douglass