What is a Man?

A continuation of "Stand Tall, and Shake the Heavens," part of the greater speech the Magician gives to humanity.

"What is a man, but a miserable pile of secrets!"

                                  -Alucard

 

What is a man, indeed? The male mind is a fragile ego, afraid and paranoid. So fearful of shattering, it overly bolsters itself with arrogance, pride, logic and excess. There is never enough victory, never enough conquest--whether it be sexual, monetary, emotional, academic, physical, martial, or yet something else.

 

The man is a pile of secrets.The secret is that they are all still boys inside; young, fresh, and fearful. The secret is that they do care, and do become attached. Older married men usually die soon after their intimate others, their spouse. Older women carry on; arguably to continue the species, either for additional procreation or to continue caring for the offspring. There are always more men, always more seed. And that is another fear, another secret. That they are not special, that they are just one in a million.

 

The secret is that not all of them will be billionaires, or rock stars, or artists. That most, almost all of them, will be just another cog in the machine, another drone, and live a life of medicric averages. That they will not be remembered, that they will not have a legacy. That, when all is said and done, there is nothing to show for any of it.

 

That they might as well have never been at all.

 

Their secret is that they fear failure. Failing their loved ones, their dependents, themselves. Everything is just another outlet, just another chance to counter these fears. Bolster that ego.

 

They fear that they are weak. The secret is that they are indeed weak. They are finite creatures, bound by paltry senses and the limits of their imagination. Their time is limited, and the cosmos passes them by. Before they wondered what the stars and the greater universe was, they looked across and saw the mountains, the plains, and the valleys, and knew they were unimportant.

 

The sexual phallis rises tall, and they hope to rise with it. To rise above the ordinary, to rise above death and neglect. To rise above other suitors, other moneymakers, other scholars, other athletes, other siblings. They fight so hard because they know they're not there.

 

The secret is that men are not gods, and they know it. That is why they aspire so hard to become one.

 

The select, the exclusive, the blessed few. The celebrities, the Olympian champions, the genuises, the powerful politicians. They are the gods, the ones known and worshipped by the rest of humanity. They lust for power because only the gods are so powerful, possess such power, and are known for that power.

 

The secret is that men are doomed to fail. That time will always run out in the end, and that all meaning they hope to create can easily be undone by another.

 

But, there is one secret almost none of them know.

 

That it is because of their failure that they are great. That their desperation can lead them to greatness, any one of them. That with desire and greed they can achieve whatever they want. That they have the capability to unite, to defy, and to challenge.

 

That these secrets, when confronted, acknowledged, and understood, serve not to hinder but to enhance them in ways no other can. That failure can drive a man to win, and win with such force as to break all conventions.

 

The greatest secret is not that a man can become greater than men, but that they can do so and still be one.

 

Stand tall, children of men. Never forget the true depth of might in the words "the power of ten men." Never forget what it is to be a Man.

 

Man. Wo-Man. Man-kind. Hu-Man-ity. Gender, genetics, genitalia; all are minor variances no different than the color of one's skin. All are mortal. All are finite. All are imperfect. Know your secrets, embrace them, understand them.

 

Be a Man.

Author's Note

I usually proofread my works, however as always I'm sure there are typos and syntax errors. I appreciate any and all notices of that, and will work to correct those. If I haven't do know that I did acknowledge your notice and try implementing it, but found that it detracted from the effect I wanted and so omitted it.

Reviews

[Rick Puetter]

Dear Idyllwyld,

This is the first piece of yours that I've read, and it is a great introduction. I agree completely and would even go farther than some of your words. I think all distinctions between men are ultimately fallacies. Being a "great man", someone who is rich, someone who is famous, someone who is a genius is ultimately unsatisfying. There is little lasting benefit. There is a comfortable life, perhaps, but even then no guarantee of a happy life as disease and tragedy spare neither the rich nor the poor. And ultimately all suffer the fate of all flesh and die. Then of what benefits are great works or fame on earth? All benefits are left at the grave. Further, just as man is mortal, so too is the human species. Humanity also has a finite span of existence.

But now there is the second, most interesting part of the poem. Man strives despite his limits. How noble! How admirable to strive despite the knowledge that ultimately this battle can't be won and that there are no lasting benefits. We are all Don Quixote, making passes at windmills. We dream the impossible dream and reach for the unreachable stars.

A marvelous piece.

Best regards,

Rick

[Serenedy]

The cold hard truth.... I like it. Please do me a favor and read my book. It's about a man named Mason who has had a tough childhood. Instead of him becoming his dad (an abuser), he uses that as a reminder to never be that man and make a better life for his wife and daughter. It's called those calloused hands and part 2 is TCH 2.

Thank you.