Core bible level 1: discovering gods greatness pdf download

In standard playground fashion, each boy then chose one classmate after another to join their team until everyone had been selected. I remember standing there, expecting to be picked early as part of a strategy to build a good team. The captains, being boys, started by picking boys. Then the last boy besides me, a kid who was notorious for having no athletic abilities at all, was chosen. Being the last boy picked hurts, a lot.

I was the only person left. By default I ended up on the team with the tough luck of having to pick second. But not like this. This was in front of all my classmates. I was made to appear not only less than the other guys, but I was shown to be less even than the girls.

In that moment, I decided that I would never be picked last in sports again. I went out during that game and literally crushed every single one of them. I returned the humiliation they gave me by dominating them, not only in that inconsequential game of dodgeball but in every game I ever played from that point forward, physically reminding them of their mistakes.

I dedicated my life after school to becoming the biggest, fastest, strongest athlete I could become. Winning and succeeding in sports made me feel the opposite of how I felt as a vulnerable, picked-on kid. Do you know what the worst part of my story is? Nearly every man I know has his own version. The specifics may be different —it could have happened in eighth grade instead of fourth. It might have been a teacher who mocked him for being stupid instead of unathletic.

It might have been about money or academics or any number of other topics. But almost every man has a story in which he learned—through pain, humiliation, or even force—how he does not measure up. When that happens to him, masks become more than a way to hide, they become armor. In this way, all men—each and every one of us, including myself—have worn or currently wear a variety of masks in order to endure the onslaught of expectations from the world and to live up to the definitions of what it means to be a man.

As I began to research the topic of masculinity, I asked the guests on my podcast several questions: What does it mean to be a man? How does this hold people back? What is your greatest fear? Who are you pretending to be? What I learned from them is that all of us have or have had our own insecurities. All of us are, or have been, afraid to be vulnerable and real. Though this fear manifests itself in unique ways for each individual, with their help I was able to uncover nine common masks of masculinity that men wear interchangeably.

The Stoic Mask: Because every man must be invulnerable and tough, emotions are carefully managed and suppressed. There can be no crying, no pain, no feeling. The Athlete Mask: One of the clearest ways a man can distinguish himself is on the field or on the court.

Sports are how men prove themselves, and a good athlete is a good man—period. This means spending hours in the gym to get in shape. It means fighting through injuries and pain and fear to win at all costs. In this way, his cars, his watches, his houses, and his social media feeds become a representation of who he is.

Those are for lesser men—for quitters and settlers. The Aggressive Mask: Men are aggressive. When they see something they want, they take it. Men hate; men have enemies. Of course they have a temper; of course they break things; and of course they get into fights. A man who thinks otherwise is not a man and is responsible for the weakening of the world. The Joker Mask: A man has a sense of humor and a wit that can repel even the most withering critique or the most nagging doubt.

Talk about his problems? Okay, Dr. Phil, maybe later. Cynicism and sarcasm and a sense of superiority, these are the intellectual weapons that a man uses to defend against every attempt to soften him or connect with him. If you want a man to let you in, expect a knock- knock joke, not an open door. The Invincible Mask: A man does not feel fear.

A man takes risks. Other people i. Men have it all under control. He went to a top school, he watches the news, and he knows all the answers. He knows it all. The Alpha Mask: At the most basic level, men believe that there are only two types of men: alphas and betas, winners and losers. No man can stand to be the latter—so a man must dominate, one up, and win everything. Masculinity is a similar mask. And unlike the perils of fame, this is a problem that affects more than 0.

This will not be an easy journey—though I will do my best to make the book easy to read. My own journey required confronting serious pain in my life.

Not only did my business explode, but my relationships became richer with men and women, and my life is more fulfilled because of it. Do I still catch myself wearing my masks from time to time?

We can love. We can find our purpose. We can connect. We can actually work harder, do more, be better, and appreciate every step of the way.

While all of these would be valid reasons, they are certainly above my pay grade. Instead, I have written this book to encourage you to remove your masks for one simple reason: It will make you a better and more successful person in all areas of your life. Regardless of gender, the key to success in life is creating meaningful relationships.

Doing anything great requires creating a team and fostering important relationships that develop and support you along your journey. I have spoken to many successful entrepreneurs, athletes, inventors, designers, and writers.

Regardless of their reputation, I have found that what lies beneath was a caring, empathetic, and insightful person. There was no way they could have accomplished what they did without empathy and insight —and certainly their success would not have lasted long if they did not have them.

In fact, when we discussed their mistakes and darkest periods, inevitably what came up were regrets about selfishness, ego, aggressiveness, and a refusal to listen to the feedback from the world around them—all of it driven by a fear of vulnerability. Contrary to what much of our culture tells us, invulnerability was a weakness that threatened their success, not a strength that supported their achievements.

As Dr. This research and journey is as much for me as it is for you. Thus, before you start reading the chapters, I want to provide the following disclaimer: If you see me criticize any behavior in this book, you can be certain that I myself have been guilty of that specific behavior—or worse—in my own life.

We all have things that hold us back from who we were born to be, from our authentic, most powerful selves, and I am no exception.

On top of that, if you find any wisdom or insight in this book, rest assured that the source is not me. I also want to say something about gender throughout this book: Many of my examples, stories, and interviews are with men. And I am a man. The book includes masculinity in the title.

But for the women reading this, rest assured that there is plenty in here for you. We all struggle with these masks throughout our lives, whatever our gender. Understanding these masks of masculinity can help you decode the men in your life—and shed light on your own biases too.

My hope is that in those struggles you can find something approaching guidance—maybe even solace—regardless of whether you are a man or a woman. A hero is a fearless badass who always comes through when the world is about to crash.

When we are young, many of us dream of becoming a superhero. We learn, instead, that the real heroes are the firefighters, the police officers, the soldiers, the first responders, and any men of service out there saving lives. They are men who rush into burning buildings or the line of fire to save someone else; men who put away their dreams of capes and costumes for the reality of uniforms and sacrifice.

For most of us, this life is also a fantasy. The leader. Dale spent plus years in the Marines. He conducted 31 combat operations in Vietnam, received a Bronze Star for heroic achievement, earned three! Purple Hearts, and was wounded five times. Before retiring in , he was part of the peacekeeping forces in Beirut during the Lebanese Civil War. If you are like most people, or like me, you probably knew none of that.

You may have never even heard of Captain Dale Dye. But I can almost guarantee that you have seen him in uniform, or watched something military-related for which Dale was responsible. You see, after Dale Dye left the Marines, he not only acted in movies such as Platoon and the HBO miniseries Band of Brothers, but in he created a company that has done more than any history book ever could do to explain, communicate, and document the experience of what it is like to be a soldier.

The company, Warriors, Inc. He sacrificed for his country, for his men, and for his family to do something truly great. When I sat down with him, Dale was a couple months shy of his 72nd birthday. It shot out from between a thick white mustache and a square chin that jutted out from his jawline. When I asked him questions, his deep-set eyes looked directly at me from out over a strong nose that had almost definitely taken a punch or two in his day. The two worlds I am most familiar with—sports and business—are filled with so much language around war.

In football, quarterbacks are gunslingers. Games are won or lost in the trenches. But none of that language ever resonated with me. I felt kind of phony saying those things.

In talking to Dale, I wanted to compare how I felt about being an athlete and an entrepreneur with how he thought about being an actual warrior. I had so many questions: How did he find the strength and resolve to endure what he has endured? How did he conquer his fear? What did it take to re-enter modern society after experiencing something as timeless and primal as war? And most importantly, is there a cost to the warrior life?

He talked about sacrifice. He talked about struggle. Wild Bill was the epitome of the bold, fearless leader. He would lead from the front, and he never showed his men even a hint of weakness. Does he have a death wish? Is he inhuman? Does he need to be committed? He was trying to stay awake when Wild Bill made his way over and dropped into the hole. You must project an image of strength or confidence that other people can lean on.

No one wants to look up and see their boss cowering when under fire. We want to see them face danger bravely, head-on. In my previous book, The School of Greatness, I told the story of my brother, Christian, who, at 18 years old, was sentenced to prison for selling LSD to an undercover cop. He got out on good behavior after 4 years and has since transformed his life.

He is known as one of the greatest jazz violinists in the world, and he teaches thousands of students every year, inspiring them to live a great life as well. I was only 8 years old when he went inside. I have to be strong for my parents. I do think there is something admirable in that mentality, in being strong. For me— and for so many other guys—the likelihood of that emotional strangulation is so much greater because we were children when we learned this stuff.

We were young. Instead, we were taught that even the adults in our lives would be leaning on us. This meant the armor had to go up—and stay up—from the days of our earliest memories. The night my brother got out of prison, we had a family meeting. Christian sat down and told us how sorry he was for the shame and stress he put on our family and that he felt horrible for letting all of us down.

Everyone was crying, even the Japanese exchange student whom we were hosting for 6 months who had never met my brother. And I was only 12 years old. Unconsciously I made theirs seem weak while I made mine feel strong—when obviously the opposite is true. As we get older, we carry tendencies like this with us. It could have been something we saw on television or in the movies.

Likely, it was all of the above. Life is not easy. War is not easy. Business is not easy. In , the American Medical Association published a study in its peer-reviewed journal JAMA Psychiatry revealing that men who have served in the military are twice as likely to report having been sexually abused as a child as compared to their nonmilitary male counterparts. It occurred to me, though, that military men like Dale had one advantage: They were surrounded by other men who were going through the exact same thing as they were.

In fact, by definition, this generation of workers who sit in front of computer screens all day has less human interaction and is less socially connected than were the men and women of previous generations.

Dale told me that although men and women he served with might not express their emotions openly, when things would build to a breaking point, relationships were always there to catch you.

These conversations were no more than a few words sometimes, but they were what I needed. Unfortunately, these conversations are not nearly as common or as frequent as they need to be. And the less frequent they are, the worse the negative feedback loop becomes for men who are struggling. One study found that 71 percent of married men in the United States selected their wives as the persons they turn to when they are feeling depressed 39 percent of married women turn to their husbands;2 women have far richer networks of friends, family, and sources of solace when they need help.

He was fighting with his former partners. The United States government had just hit his company, Nike, with a surprise multimillion-dollar tax bill that, if forced to pay in full, would drive him and the company out of business. Worse, the entire issue was one that his competitors had created.

They had lobbied behind the scenes, attacking Nike through means other than where it counted: at market, with customers. Knight would come home and try to talk to his wife about all the stress and pain and fear he felt. They put up walls.

They pull up the drawbridge. They fill the moat. She started as one of the first employees of Nike. She was so dedicated to the company her husband was building that she refused to cash her paychecks in order to help.

Yet he was putting up the wall to block even her out. He was fighting against the person who cared about him most. Imagine what his kids must have felt. Imagine his parents and his employees too.

Sometimes it is the entire world you lock out, and what you are keeping from them is your true, authentic self. The real you. Robbie Rogers is only the second English-born professional soccer player to come out, and he is an openly gay athlete playing in a major American professional league. His struggle to come out of the closet was profound.

Robbie—the real Robbie—was by definition on the outside of that, looking in. Naturally, he was terrified of what other people would think about him, including his teammates.

Like a chance to just love you and to really know you. Taking off that mask to show vulnerability is one thing, but when you do it to show the world who you really are, that is something else entirely. That is true strength.

This is one of many costs that traditional masculinity imposes on relationships. There is this modern notion that relationships hold us back. Do relationships actually stand in the way of our goals? Unhealthy ones, sure. But good relationships, with open communication, are the exact opposite. They help us deal with our dreams and reach our potential. The jury is pretty much in on that notion. And it will make you happier in the relationship on top of it. Those beliefs are slowly shifting and habits are changing.

Men lag behind this shift because they are still learning how to talk openly with their partners and connect honestly with other men. We know what to do. And until that changes, where does that leave us? It leaves us alone. A Chicago Tribune article based on the work of Terri Orbuch, PhD—a professor at Oakland University and the University of Michigan who has completed long-term studies on marriage and divorce—describes the situation like this: Traditional masculinity distances men from having intimate relationships with other men, and it makes them more dependent on their wives for affection, affirmation, and emotional support.

This is, then, why it is harder for men after a divorce or a relationship breakup. In other words, men may be happier in their marriages than women and men may have more to lose in a divorce or breakup in terms of health and happiness. This brings us back to Dale.

He is happily married now he remarried at age 61 , but not all veterans are so lucky. Studies show that both military men and women have higher rates of divorce than nonmilitary citizens, and that experiencing combat significantly increases the rate at which marriages fall apart. More than 50 percent of veterans who had separated from their partners reported intense or even violent incidents.

If all this is true, and I have no doubt that it is, then what the hell are we doing pardon my French as men and as a society?!? Even guys who have been through the ringer and lived to tell the tale—as Dale has—perpetuate it. That role has been given to you because you were born with a certain set of genitals and a certain emotional makeup.

So play your role. Your role is to be a provider, a defender, a teacher. Your role is to step up in the hard times. But if you will do it, in the hardest of times, your life will be rewarding no matter how many troubles you go through, no matter how many hard times, no matter how many emotional pits you fall into.

What about those guys? I asked him about those men. No wonder so many men walk around wearing an emotionless, stoic mask. Dale said those words to me in August as we spoke together. We were not in some bunker in a war zone, but across from each other, wearing casual clothes in my recording studio, in peaceful, sunny Los Angeles. You can dismiss Dale as just another cranky old man. He is a smart, accomplished man of enormous societal influence who works in an industry that is famously open-minded.

No wonder men feel stuck and depressed and closed off. She had me hooked to her connection and intimacy and would use that by threatening to take it away to keep me where she wanted me. She was a very emotionally capricious lover. Back and forth we went. It was exhausting to watch helplessly as she sabotaged our relationship.

Not my parents, not my friends, certainly not other women. So instead I just lay in my bed for 2 weeks straight and watched 80 hours of television. When I finally forced myself out of the apartment and went outside, the mask was firmly in place.

Numb, passionless, guarded, unavailable, and definitely lacking the confidence I once had. I was not going to let another woman see me sweat. I felt like I had no other option. Or did I? I spoke with Randy Couture, the six-time UFC world heavyweight and light heavyweight champion, about his definition of manhood.

He began his career as a collegiate wrestler, served as a soldier in the US Army for 6 years, was a four-time US Olympic wrestling team alternate, and enjoyed a hall of fame mixed martial arts career where he became the first of only two UFC fighters to hold two championship titles in two different divisions.

And he did all this before becoming a superstar actor for his roles in all three of The Expendables, Ambushed, and The Scorpion King 2, among others.

I think we have a tendency to put up walls and put up fronts. I asked Randy if a real man cries. He said a real man expresses his emotions too. But guys are not allowed to fall apart. Maybe openness is winning out. No one is saying you have to wake up tomorrow and sing your feelings at the top of your lungs. The journey to remove the Stoic Mask is a long one, and the idea of abruptly tearing it off can be intimidating.

Chris Lee, author of Transform Your Life: 10 Principles of Abundance and Prosperity, has been a leadership and emotional intelligence coach for the past 30 years.

During his legendary intimate weeklong workshops, he has trained more than , men and women. He has some practical advice for men who are looking to slowly dismantle their walls. He says men should start journaling. We think that being open about our feelings is weak. That is not only a lie, it can accomplish the opposite of what you expect.

The less a person understands the feelings, the responses, and the behavior of others, the more likely he will interact inappropriately with them and therefore fail to secure his proper place in the world. Our beliefs about what it means to be a man—that we must be reserved and tough and solitary—are leading us astray, down a lonely road to nowhere. More specifically, they are holding us back from getting to the place we all know deep down that we want to go.

I learned that lesson with my own podcast. It has been the site of one of my most important disclosures to date: the fact that, as a young child, I was raped. After years of shame and covering up, I was finally able to open up about the experience.

Part of what allowed me to do that was my conversations with Chris and doing the very journaling he recommended. The fact that I felt pain about it still, years later, said I was a weakling. After writing down these beliefs, I could clearly see how they were limiting me. Seeing my beliefs on the page in front of me, I recognized that they were just plain factually incorrect. When I took off the mask, I was able to share my feelings.

I also felt freed up to do better work. This unmasking let my audience see the real me, and they liked that me better. I feel more confident every day that my audience sees the real me and that they appreciate who I am for what I am.

My intention is to give you a new way of looking at things. But, just to be sure, I want to leave you with something you can start doing right now to begin the process of removing the Stoic Mask and opening yourself up to all the possibilities of the world around you.

What you are suppressing is creating disease. Disease of the heart, the mind, and the soul. These are some of the things that can flood back into your life when you drop this mask. But they are important, and they can at least help you get the ball rolling toward dropping this mask.

Step 1: Make a list of the five most painful moments of your life. Note what happened, and how you felt in each moment. Journal about it and go into detail. An example could be: My dad was my best friend growing up, but he abandoned me when I was 6, and it left me devastated. Give yourself permission to feel or to cry about them when you hear your own words.

Play soft instrumental music during this process to facilitate your ability to reach your emotions as you allow your feelings to awaken. Step 3: Share them. When you have accepted the truth of this pain and all these emotions, tell a friend, partner, or family member whom you trust. Part of removing the Stoic Mask is allowing other people to support you.

Step 4: Look into hiring a coach, therapist, or someone who is a specialist. For those who really struggle behind the Stoic Mask, this is serious work and it requires a serious approach.

But it is work that can start today, right now, with a piece of paper and a pencil. Listen to them. Ask them to communicate their feelings to you. Be proactive about it. Take the initiative.

The gap between verbalizing their emotions to themselves and verbalizing them to a friend or a family member is like walking a tightrope over the Grand Canyon. If you want the man in your life to take off his Stoic Mask, you can lead the way by example and take off your Stoic Mask.

Just know that underneath his Stoic Mask is a vulnerable man with a big heart who wants to come out and be his real self around you. He was the 10th overall pick, and he experienced the dream not only of every aspiring athlete, but also the dream of millions of young men around the world—to go pro.

We can all vividly remember the team selection process for games at recess during elementary school. Dodgeball, kickball, basketball, soccer. Sometimes we were picked last, and that felt horrible. Other times we were picked in the middle of the pack, and we felt glad just to be on a team.

And then every so often we were picked first, and that felt amazing. Imagine that feeling of being picked first for a team, but at an entirely other level. Joe was chosen to play as a professional—he was going to get paid for this stuff—in one of the most popular sports in America, by one of the most famous and respected teams in the league. Joe had been a good player for a long time. In , after beating Wisconsin 43—7 in front of 45, people, Joe got into a fight with four or five people at the same time, some of whom were fans.

Joe was an All-American in for Syracuse University. He would go on to play eight seasons for the Colts and then two seasons for the Detroit Lions. After the season, he was selected to play in the Pro Bowl, officially confirming that he was among the best of the best. In almost every way, Joe Ehrmann was living the dream. In fact, he was living my dream. I endured two-a-day practices in the terrible summer heat and suffocating humidity. My identity in high school and the posters on my bedroom walls all centered on football.

To be a football player—a pro football player—was to be a man. Turns out, it was his dad. My dad saw that and kinda pushed me into it. Who knows where Steve or Joe would have ended up without the gym or the coaches whom they met on their journeys.

There is a darker side to it as well, specifically when boys learn simultaneously that sports are a place to excel and that their masculinity is tied to that excellence. He is mind-bogglingly talented. Not only was he a prolific scorer and a back-to-back-to-back NBA All-Star who led the entire league in minutes played during the —06 season, but he and his Wizards teammate Javaris Crittenton threatened each other with handguns in the team locker room.

Is that what men do? Crittenton is currently serving a year prison sentence on an unrelated manslaughter charge. On the flip side, consider someone like Jason Brown, who stepped away from the NFL and a lucrative contract in his prime to become a farmer.

Not only that, but he donates his crops to food pantries in the area. He was a member of the Dinka tribe from the war-ravaged country of Sudan. Manute was an incredible athlete who could play in the post like a traditional center and then drain three-pointers from well beyond the arc when given the chance.

But most impressive of all is that Manute spent nearly every cent of his NBA salary from 8 years in the league helping Sudanese refugees through his own charity and countless other organizations. He made dozens of trips back and forth to Sudan—his 7-foot-7 frame folded like a lawn chair into commercial airline seats. On the largest stage in all of sports—the final match of the World Cup—Andres scored a goal and, rather than celebrating his own achievement, he removed his jersey to reveal a touching tribute to a fellow Spanish player who had just died of a heart attack.

I told you earlier about an important documentary called The Mask You Live In,1 which many people had recommended to me after I had begun to explore the themes in this book. The most powerful person in that documentary is none other than Joe Ehrmann.

One of the things he said in the film felt like it was aimed directly at me. You can hide inside that helmet. You can hide behind the roar of the crowd. You can project this persona—the epitome of what it means to be a man in this culture. I had no idea what life was like. I had no serious relationships.

I had a deep and abiding passion for sports, but no driving passions in my life besides winning and beating other people. The guys who go pro are lucky in this regard. They find some fame. They make a few million dollars, which allows them to float in the bubble of the sporting life and devote themselves to the glories of game day.

And when their playing days are over, they presumably have banked a tidy fortune to see them through. But for most guys—guys like me—there is no safety net. Then he fractured his ankle and made the hard choice to give up football.

I remember those days in college. This is when it all comes crashing down. The thing you used for years to define your worth and measure your masculinity—your prowess on the field —now is totally useless. It no longer applies.

And men will do anything to delay that crushing feeling. One of the most common ways guys do this is when they play through injuries. Injured players—and in particular players with long-term injuries—may experience a loss of self-esteem and self-confidence as a result of their inability to take part in the one activity which, above all others, sustains their positive self-image. When a player literally gets decleated and knocked flat, then gets back in the game, fans go crazy.

But when that player seeks medical attention or takes himself out of the game, the reaction is often indifference, or worse. In his last years with the Chicago Bulls, Derrick Rose was regularly shredded by fans and local sports media for what they perceived as an overabundance of caution coming back from a series of right leg injuries.

In September , the Chicago Sun-Times ran an article with this headline:3 Derrick Rose has missed more games in 2 years than Tim Duncan has in his career. The implication of the headline—backed up by the judgmental, condescending tone of the entire article—is clear: Derrick is a fragile weakling, while Tim Duncan is a real man.

We respect invincibility a mask we will discuss at length later on. When guys lose their ability to play sports, they sometimes compensate through an obsession with sports.

Pychologist Martin Phillips-Hing has explained the role that sports can play in their lives: I would suggest that most men watch soap operas too, except they call it sports. Think about when you most often publicly see men expressing strong emotions such as joy.

Sports, like novels and soap operas, allow men to identify and live vicariously through their team. We root for the same teams and are joined in common cheering. We watch games together and have shared experiences because of them.

These interactions can be profoundly meaningful. Sports create a space where it is okay for a man to express his emotions, bond with other men, and become part of a group bigger than himself. Other men, when their days on the team are over, compensate with solo exercise. They find a home in the gym.

Sadly, one of the reasons some men die earlier than women is due to overexertion in the gym. Essentially, trying to prove themselves to everyone and no one, men do more than they should and hurt themselves in the process. Marianne Legato has found that men jump into intense physical activities instead of doing them slowly and gradually. This is true for a lot of guys who suddenly try to prove themselves through exercise.

But to finish his thought, I think he meant that the gym, like sports, is something you can control. Some guys go there, driven by insecurity or frustration, and hide from those emotions. They think a six-pack will make them feel valuable or happier. Steve and I talked about the movies we used to watch and the action heroes we idolized—Schwarzenegger, Stallone, Van Damme. Sure, they had great bodies. Sure, they could do amazing amounts of damage with their bare hands.

But is that really why we admired them? They were serving others, and ultimately their needs came second. That is really at the core of happiness, I think. You learn to put your needs and goals second to the needs and goals of the team. For example, as a wide receiver, I always wanted to catch as many balls and score as many touchdowns as possible.

But sometimes, the team needed me to be a good downfield blocker in the running game so as to create balance in our offense and give us a better shot to win. And, by doing my job right, I actually opened up more opportunities for me to achieve my goals. So of course I was happy to block, to not get the ball every time. I blocked for my teammates as enthusiastically and aggressively as I ran my routes and went up for the ball. It was a symbiotic relationship where, if everyone put the needs of the team ahead of his own, everybody won.

When the team is gone and the playing days are over, however, a weird thing happens to many guys stuck behind the Athlete Mask. This rears its ugly head for guys most often in their romantic relationships, which, ironically enough, are themselves a certain kind of team in which these virtues are just as important.

And yet, before you know it, the partner stops feeling like a teammate and starts looking more like an opponent. Everything becomes a competition. Getting your way, getting the other person to admit they were wrong, refusing to apologize unless they apologize first, winning arguments.

These are the hallmarks of a partner hiding behind the Athlete Mask. These traits are among the hardest things for women to deal with, because my experience with the women in my life has been that they are not wired so strongly for winning at all costs. Well, suppose you triumph over the other man and shoot his argument full of holes and prove that he is non compos mentis. Then what? You will feel fine. But what about him? You have made him feel inferior. You have hurt his pride. He will resent your triumph.

Dale is talking to a male audience in a business context at a time when business was a male-dominated world. But his point is absolutely relevant to romantic relationships today.

In relationships headed to divorce or breakup, the ratio is 0. I bet Dale Carnegie would say and Steve Cook would agree a big part of it is this insistent, competitive desire to win arguments. One of the big reasons the relationship that brought me out to Los Angeles unraveled so quickly is that my girlfriend and I were constantly at odds with each other.

She was emotionally manipulative on her part, and I always had to get my way in every other aspect of the relationship. I could never lose an argument with her. I would keep fighting until she admitted she was wrong, or she just gave in and quit.

The idea that we were on the same team, that we could both win, never dawned on me. The competitive streak that had been baked into me as an athlete made my approach to our fights second nature, but what made it worse is that I was doing it to compensate for an insane vulnerability I felt.

I left my happiness in those early months entirely in her hands. I felt like I was out on a high wire with no net. I could fall at any moment. I could lose. No chance! The destructiveness of that controlling, competitive mind-set is something I learned only in the months after our eventual breakup, just as Steve Cook learned it in the months after his divorce.

I was lucky enough to talk to another Steve who had some experience with professional football. He and I became great friends, and I then hosted him on the School of Greatness podcast. Like a lot of athletes, Steve partially took to sports because he had something he wanted to prove.

He told me one of his biggest motivators was a bully who mercilessly teased him for being small. The teasing and bullying made Steve so miserable, he worked out every day over one summer break to put on plus pounds of muscle.

Mastering his body and mastering the playing field were ways of earning confidence and fighting back indirectly against his tormentor. You hear a lot of stories like this in sports. This mindset is certainly true of countless millions of men around the world.

What was so special and educational to me about my interview with Steve Weatherford was that despite the bullying in his formative years, he did not do that. When I spoke with him for my podcast, he was fresh off his decision to retire. He easily could have spent another six to eight seasons in the league.

I had to know why. Steve told me a story about the birth of his fourth child. JJ was born the day before Steve was supposed to report to training camp. He spent a few hours with his newborn and wife and then hopped on a flight to New Jersey.

The flight was delayed in the air due to weather and ultimately redirected to Washington, DC. He landed and was forced to wait for a bus, but the bus never came. Steve had never been late for a practice in his life, and he refused to start now.

So he rented a car at a. At mile marker 58 on the New Jersey Turnpike, Steve hit an unexpected flooded patch of road at 75 miles per hour. His car hydroplaned, spun, and headed straight for a cement embankment. Knowing he would hit it, he tucked his chin and grabbed the wheel as tightly as he could. The car crashed into the concrete, flew into the air, went up and over the embankment, went across oncoming traffic, and smashed into the guardrail on the other side of the road.

He came to, shocked that he was alive, then crawled out of the back right door of his totaled red rental Jetta and called As he did, another car driving northbound on the turnpike hydroplaned just as he had. It smashed into his car at more than 80 miles per hour. Steve ran to help the other driver, whom he found slumped over the steering wheel, bleeding profusely and unresponsive. As he attempted to pull the driver out, he found all the doors refused to budge.

Then he pulled the driver from his seat, through the car, and out the door to safety. What does this have to do with anything? What Steve realized in that moment hit me as hard as his car must have hit that guardrail.

I got to get to practice on time. Although he was never some self-obsessed jock who repressed his feelings, football and the self-worth he derived from his competitive drive were central to his identity. He was behaving as if he was sprinting for the finish line of a race and was going to win a medal when he walked through the front doors of the New York Giants practice facility.

How many hoops do you think he would have jumped through if his wife had asked him to stay one more day? How much of a contest might he have turned that into? Probably a pretty bad one that almost certainly would have been a must-win.

Football was who Steve was, just as football was who I was and who Joe Ehrmann was. In that life-changing moment, the absurdity of it—the whole lie—became clear to Steve. His goal? That might seem strange, considering the guy was a clutch player for a team that played in front of millions of people over the years.

But he no longer saw football as a meaningful pursuit, nor did he believe his sports career was a way to be of service to his family and others. I want to have a legacy. And I gravitate towards people like that, because I want that in my own life, and I want to share that with other people as well. Heck, even a successful human being. Health, wealth, happiness, and love. And being such a man has nothing to do with an NFL championship. After Steve dropped that nugget of truth on me, he gave me a pair of tennis shoes he bought that morning as a surprise gift.

Then he got up, left my house, and went off on his way to have more impact on the world. But our self-worth has nothing to do with those things. It has to do with our values and principles. Specifically, our self-worth has less to do with our physical contributions to the world, and much more to do with our relationships and the positive legacy that we leave behind.

Yet how many of us athletes actually became athletes as a defense mechanism for feeling not good enough, not smart enough, or feeling less than? How many of us spend so much time working out that we neglect other skills and emotional connections? One thing athletes avoid is going deep and getting real. I know that was me for a long time. What I needed—what got me to break through the Athlete Mask—was to find balance. You can find balance right now. Creativity Culture New experiences Connections with other humans Self-worth A healthy relationship with your image Balance Time to do other things you enjoy MEN: Balance is one of those things that are easy to consider from a distance but hard to apply and maintain.

The first step is figuring out what needs to be addressed in your life that is out of balance. What have you been neglecting? Here are five core areas of your life to focus on: 1. Health: mental, physical, emotional 2.

Relationships: intimate, family, friends 3. Wealth: finances, career, education, business 4. Spiritual: connecting to a higher power or your spiritual beliefs Rate yourself in each area on a scale of 1 to What would a 10 look like in each area? Write this down in your journal. What are your values and principles that you can lean on so that you can figure out how to contribute to the world, and to your own happiness, in each of these areas? The place to start is with developing your emotional intelligence, social skills, and your presence in the world outside of physical achievement and athletic accomplishment.

The goal for you is to step out of your comfort zone daily! Start reading and doing things that are intellectually stimulating. Get involved in something with the arts, music, or dance. Do things that develop your brain and your heart and not your biceps.

Choose activities that do not reinforce the Athlete Mask. For me, it was learning guitar in college, joining the school musical, and learning to salsa dance. Have deeper conversations with him. Be open and vulnerable to show him what that looks like. Communicate those feelings that scare you, and that you think might be scaring him.

To support him in creating balance in his life, create a schedule, timeline, or a list of priorities with him so that you include other things in your relationship as a team, and thus in his life. You could volunteer at an animal shelter, for instance. There are very few things as disarming as a bunch of shelter dogs that just want to play and shower you with love. Ultimately what he is lacking, as a result of his fear of vulnerability, is intimacy.

Find ways to create the connection necessary to build intimacy. If he can drop into his heart and you can hold the space for him to practice intimacy, everyone wins.

Count what is in him, not what is on him, if you would know what he is worth—whether rich or poor. By his own account, this man has lived an incredible life. He had a few people who looked out for him: a supportive grandmother, a stepfather who helped build him a basketball court and encouraged him to play. He lived near the projects, so he saw kids join gangs, and he could have easily gone that way himself.

Christmas was not a happy time, but a reminder of just how little he and his family had. Yet, here he was, not just wealthy but conspicuously wealthy. The man I am talking to, and about, is Tai Lopez, an Internet entrepreneur and marketer, whose videos have been viewed hundreds of millions of times.

Videos of him pulling into his garage with his Ferrari or his Lamborghini. Videos of him giving a tour of his mansion with legions of models running around half naked. Even by the exaggerated standards of Los Angeles, it was all a bit much. The results of his steady PR blitz have been impressive. He has well over three million followers on social media.

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