The way I see it,
The world is hungry.
Hungry for father to return.
Fathers like you.
Men like you who not only lead your teams in the office,
But your children at home as well.
Men like you who work hard to build a great business and be a present father without compromise.
The way I see it,
Our children are hungry for men who lead their teams with the level of accountability that turns a leader into a mentor.
The way I see it,
Our sons are dying for men who open their hearts with strength and root their feet with commitment.
Who run into the fire with compassion.
Who speak with radical candor and men who follow through with their word.
Because the way I see it,
In the world we live in now,
Your everyday actions as a father become the imprint our children will follow.
The world has been waiting for fathers like you.
Who define business as living your purpose.
Businesses that build a better tomorrow.
Because not too long ago the father went missing.
He went off to war.
He locked himself up in the office.
Or he buried himself in the bottom of a bottle.
And when he was there,
His heart was closed and his mind was elsewhere.
But you,
You choose to do the inner work.
You choose to chop wood,
Carry water,
Reach enlightenment,
And then return to do it all over again.
As a leader,
You hold the mirror up and you stare into the plot lines of your face,
Tracing the memory of pain,
Turning trauma into wisdom,
Wisdom into action.
Action that breaks free from ancestral patterns,
That heals trauma,
That creates anew,
That sees the tunnel vision of a worldview and has the courage to open his heart and change his mind.
Flexing his heart,
Rooting into discipline,
Creating art that changes the world.
And when harsh criticism comes,
Because it will.
When your work becomes the scapegoat for another's shadow,
When you are battered and getting stomped on by the bull.
That's when you reach deeper into your well of power,
Realizing yet again your infinite potential that pummeled into your bones is your essence,
Your life force,
Your drive.
Hands in the dirt,
Connected to the land.
It's been said that what father cannot possess within him,
He cannot pass on to his children.
So you dig.
Hands in the dirt,
Connected to the land,
Feeling the pulse of the moment.
When the kids come home,
The office closes down.
When tears erupt,
The heart opens up.
And when emotions flare,
You lean in with compassion.
And when you fail,
You rise again without compromise.
Hands in the dirt,
Grounded in the body,
Present in the heart.
You build a new world on the back of giants,
Dancing with the wind,
Tuned into your inner compass,
Guided by the reflection you see in the eyes of your children.
