#menswork

No announcement.

No validation.

Just daily execution.

He does more.

He promises less.

He delivers daily.

That’s masculine discipline.

Routine made him average.

Excuses kept him stuck.

So he raised his standards.

One small win per day.

There’s a difference. Silence looks like absence, like something missing, like a man who has nothing to say. Carefulness looks like control. Measured words, filtered reactions, a steady presence that doesn’t create friction. From the outside, it can even look like growth, like he’s matured, like he’s learned how to communicate, like he’s finally figured it out.

But that’s not what’s happening.

What’s happening is that he’s learned to watch himself.

It starts small. A moment where something natural gets a reaction he didn’t expect. A look, a comment, a shift in tone that doesn’t match what he felt when he said it. Nothing explosive, nothing he can point to and say, that was wrong. Just enough to register. And once it registers, it doesn’t leave. It sits there, quiet but active, shaping what comes next.

So the next time, he pays attention. Not to what he wants to say, but to how it will land.

That’s the shift.

A second process comes online. Before he speaks, something checks the room automatically, almost invisibly. Will this create tension? Will this be taken the wrong way? Will this make things harder than they need to be? And if the answer is yes, he adjusts. Not dramatically, just enough. A word changed, a tone softened, a reaction delayed. Small edits that don’t feel like a loss.

And it works.

The conversation moves more easily. The moment passes without friction. Nothing escalates. Nothing needs to be repaired. The room stays stable. And his system learns quickly: this is how you keep things good.

So he does it again. And again. Not out of fear, but out of reinforcement. It feels effective, which makes it feel right.

Until it’s no longer a process.

It’s automatic.

He doesn’t say what he thinks and then adjust. He adjusts before he ever speaks.

This is where most men believe they’ve become better communicators. What’s actually happened is more precise than that. They’ve become self-editing.

There’s a cost to that.

At first, it feels negligible. He still says most of what he wants to say. He still feels like himself. Nothing obvious has been lost, nothing dramatic enough to trigger concern. But something has shifted underneath that surface continuity. He’s no longer speaking from himself. He’s speaking through a filter.

And filters don’t just remove what’s wrong.

They remove what’s real.

The sharp edge. The humor that doesn’t land perfectly. The spontaneous reaction that wasn’t planned. The parts of him that don’t ask permission before they show up. Over time, those are the parts that disappear first. Not because they were wrong, but because they were unpredictable. And unpredictability carries risk.

So he becomes consistent. Reliable. Easy to be with.

And harder to feel.

Before this turns into something easy to dismiss, the frame needs to widen.

Women, you should read this too.

Not because you’re the problem, and not because this is about blame. It’s because this is where the dynamic becomes invisible. It doesn’t present as suppression. It presents as cooperation. It looks like a man who listens more, reacts less, and doesn’t escalate. It feels easier to be around, more stable, more manageable.

And that feels like improvement.

But what’s actually happening is more exact than that. He’s learning which parts of himself cost too much to express, and he’s letting them go. Not all at once, just enough each time to keep things smooth. Just enough that it never feels like a loss in the moment.

Until one day, it is.

There’s nothing left that might disrupt the room.

And nothing left that surprises you either.

That’s not communication.

That’s containment.

“Careful” — listen here:

The Silenced Man goes deeper into this. Not just how it happens, but how a man begins to see it while it’s still happening, and what it actually takes to stop editing himself without turning everything into conflict. Because this isn’t about swinging to the other extreme. It’s not about saying everything, reacting to everything, or forcing honesty into every moment.

It’s about something much more precise.

Knowing when you’re speaking from yourself, and when you’re speaking from what the situation allows.

Most men don’t notice the difference until it’s too late.

But once you see it, you don’t go back.

If the first post hit, this is why.

See you Thursday with the next part of this thread.

With Love,

Conan Hansen

https://leanintoyourlife.net/2025/01/04/starring-death-in-the-face/

I love hosting dinner parties. My partner and I had several friends over for a Christmas Day meal. I was in heaven, planning, shopping, cooking, preparing, and completing all the tasks needed to feed eight people. I am nourished not only by the food, but equally by the intimate connection that these gatherings engender.

Before we all begin eating, offering a blessing is a common practice. It tends to be simple. It is a moment to acknowledge the earth for the gift of food, the hands that helped create it, and the sustenance it brings us. We also acknowledge the communion we receive from each other, sharing the connection of friendship.

At the end of the blessing, it is also common to take a moment and go around the table and share something we are grateful for. It doesn’t have to be profound or life changing. It can be a simple recognition of a momentary encounter with a stranger, a child finally cleaning their room, or just a new binge-able TV show.

This time, I felt compelled to not offer an opportunity to share any mention of gratitude. I was distressed even by the thought of doing so.

We had invited a couple we met last year and had been spending more time with. They are part of the large biking community we belong to in Tucson. We share many aspects of our lives, and it was easy to develop a friendship with them. Six months ago, the man was diagnosed with ALS.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis is an unforgiving fatal disease. Death often occurs within 3 to 5 years of diagnosis. It is relentless in its aim to weaken and eventually shut down any function in the body requiring the movement of a muscle. That is almost everything. It is a mean and unkind disease. It diminishes a person’s ability to attend to the very basic needs of being alive, slowly diminishing the capacity to speak, eliminate, eat, or even breathe. This man’s symptoms are progressing quickly. You can almost see a minute-to-minute decline in his ability to move.

Sitting around a table overflowing with delicious food, how could I reconcile my gratitude for my life in the presence of this man faced with the immanence of his mortality?

I could not bring myself to ask this gathering of friends what they are grateful for. I did not want to impose my sometimes self-righteous need to show off everything I appreciate in my life. There are no platitudes that serve him, no words of encouragement that will lift him up, and no reassurance that everything will be okay. The suggestion of praying, meditating, or surrendering to the present moment all seem trite and inconsequential.

I don’t know how I would react being told that I have a degenerative illness and that my death is months away. How would I respond as I watch my body stop working, no longer able to obey my commands? Unable to move independently and reliant on someone else for my most basic needs.

I ask myself how I would cope with the reality of great loss, not the loss of a child, spouse, sibling, or financial resources but the very real and imminent loss of my life. How would I face the prospect of having minimal options on how to even engage the next moment of my existence? This is not some vague notion of something that will happen in the future. This is as real as it gets.

I am a deeply spiritual man. For the most part, my life’s journey has been defined by choices and experiences that have deepened my connection to the divine. My experience tells me that God dwells in us as us. My life has continually brought me to moments of a deepening understanding that all life arises out of the unknowable, infinite movement of consciousness.

I live in a human body. The human condition is not always easy. It is often messy and confusing. My life has not always been easy. I am often challenged to reconcile my experience of the divine with my very human existence.

The tension between my struggle of being human and my experience of the divine current inspires me to continually surrender to the unfolding gift of my life. In this surrender, I witness its beauty, grace, and love. This shift happens when the illusion of my separation from life dissolves. Only then can I rest in the essential truth of who I am and view my life’s experiences with greater gentleness and compassion.

I am ultimately not afraid of death. If faced with the unbearable knowledge of my pending fate, I hope I can surrender to the present moment and find release by falling into the wellspring of the divine mystery. My friend has his own journey, something we ultimately face alone. The best I can do is to be his friend, support him in the way he asks, be present to his feelings, and help him not feel alone. In the midst of his crisis, I hold space for the possibility, that even for a moment, this man will have an awakening experience of his divine nature and be able to surrender to the mystery that lives all things.

Amidst the chaos and uncertainty of life, I remain open to Grace and the gift of my life.

I was gathered around a fire pit in a friend's yard. I sat with six of my closest friends, men I deeply trust, men who know my heart and the truth of my being. I love sitting around a fire. It feels primordial, something that calls to my ancient humanity. Something done for generations provided a way to connect to one's "tribe." It is a space where sharing vulnerably about one's life, challenges, and victories comes easily. It is a space free from judgment. As the night wore on, our conversations shifted to the heart of our lives: work, family, marriage, relationships, finances, those forces that shape us by challenging us to be authentic, loving, and present.

One man shared that he was moved by what a priest shared at a funeral he recently attended. The priest said that "love seeks union." Those few simple words resonated deeply and gave voice to our collective feelings.

As conversations often do, this one shifted to the forces driving people's decisions and how those influences shift across generations, millennials, Gen X, and beyond. Each shaped by their own unique experiences. We were all curious about the general shifts that compelled a particular generation to postpone marriage, have children, and purchase a home, all life events that were familiar to us.

There is a lot of contention and debate about the impact of news on our lives. It isn't a reach to say that the news we consume influences our lives and decisions, both long and short-term. Some of that influence is not always obvious and manifests in subtle, unconscious ways, compelling us to turn in a particular direction when confronted with an important life choice. It's like an unconscious whisper that finds an expression in the conscious part of our brain.

Updates on the economy often dominate the news. Information about the stock market, interest rates, and inflation is pervasive. These issues shape political debates, economic policy, and, ultimately, the quality of our everyday lives. These metrics and the forces driving them aren't just abstract numbers; they directly and immediately impact our well-being. Far from trivial, they serve as critical indicators of the health of our society and the world. Sure, they are important. But they are not the truth.

Inflation is often talked about as if it was determined by some unpredictable force of nature. It’s not. Inflation is the byproduct of people making decisions without concern for their impact on our lives. The concept of “the object is rare, so let’s charge more” is an idea based on greed. What kind of person thinks only of themselves and not the good of humanity?

When I hear or read about these economic indicators, they're often portrayed as if they are detached, powerful entities that hold sway over our future. It's as if we must offer sacrifices to appease them, hoping they'll grant us the prosperity we depend on. It reminds me of a live animal sacrifice I witnessed in Bolivia, performed to summon the rain needed for a bountiful harvest.

Many news sources often end their segments with the most recent stock market indicators as if by reciting them, like a prayer, the spirits that inhabit them are placated for the moment.

What driving forces ultimately influence all the economic indicators? Simply, it is all of us. These "indicators" are reflective of where we are collectively as a culture and society. They are a communal zeitgeist. They are an unconscious agreement for what we choose collectively for ourselves. Ultimately, we are in control of those choices; they just need to be made consciously with knowing awareness of their implications. As a society, we have acceded our ability to decide what we need to sustain ourselves to some disembodied entities.

We don't live in isolation. There are always implications to those decisions. It's not always immediate or obvious. As a culture, we rise together, and we fall together. We all need to be deliberate about the decisions and agreements we make. Our lives are not only about ourselves or the need for corporate profit.

It is essential to our lives and to the evolving nature of our humanity to make choices not only for the benefit of ourselves but also for society. Why would we not want prosperity for everyone? There are sufficient resources today to meet everyone's basic needs. Who in their right mind would want to settle personal or societal differences with war? A mechanism for resolving perceived grievances that deliberately inflicts pain and suffering on other people. I've written about an "us and them" perspective that is all too easy to embrace when, in fact, when you injure another person, you ultimately injure yourself.

How do we each restore ourselves to a deeper sense of our own being? How do we find a way to connect to those in our community and maybe begin to realize we need to save more than just ourselves?

One of the other men sitting around the fire shared some insight about a cultural imperative embodied by the Māori, the indigenous peoples of New Zealand. It is called Whanaungatanga. Whanaungatanga institutionalizes relationships, kinship, and a sense of tribal connection. It is created through shared experiences and working together and provides people with a sense of belonging. It includes a priority to include everyone in a community. So many people live in isolation today, lacking of any connection to the community they live in or the world they inhabit. This might be a simplistic view of a very diverse and contentious world. I'd rather put my effort into improving the quality of life for everyone than on what we all subject ourselves and others in our culture to. Social media and the news need an emphasis on inclusion. I vote for the establishment of the Department of Whanaungatanga.

Amidst the chaos and uncertainty of life, I remain open to Grace and the gift of my life.