A Warrior’s Life is a Happy Life (For Me)
I have never been a smart guy.
Of course, my family would beg to differ. I was told ever since I was a boy that I was “special” and I would go on to do something important with my life.
Naturally, as I grew up and was coping with misunderstanding the world (Asperger's syndrome) I began to think the delusion that this was a sign of a hidden genius. That I’d be the next awkward, but brilliant boy that would impress others with his mental skills instead of brawn and power.
It should be obvious where I’m going with this. None of that happened.
As a matter of fact, I’d say that my math skills were subpar at best, my ability to reason was fairly limited, and my overall ability to do well in school was not correlated at all with my intelligence.
I got good grades in middle school because when I got bad ones, I was allowed to re-take them based on my developmental disability.
In high school, I voluntarily moved myself out of the special needs program because I thought I would be independent enough and was beyond my fellow peers with Asperger’s. So I stopped receiving special treatment and started learning on my own terms, which led to me accumulating the very mediocre GPA of 2.99 when I graduated.
I will spare you the rest of the story’s details, but the crux of my early life was underachievement mixed with bitter cynicism, and a dash of having no practical skills.
Fast forward to my last year of college. After essentially being the walking dead for three to four years..
..I woke up.
I don’t know exactly what happened. My brain chemistry must’ve been went crazy in that moment. But from that point onward to writing this very article, I have felt like I was truly awake.
I wanted to be a writer, so damn bad. But I also wanted a life of discipline where I was in control of my destiny. I had previously scoffed at the idea of “callings,” but if there ever truly was one I felt, it was in that moment.
I wanted a warrior’s life. I didn’t originally call it that, but that was how I felt.
“But wait, I thought you wanted to be a writer?”
That’s exactly it. I wanted to be a writer and a warrior. To quote Musashi:
“It is said the warrior’s is the twofold Way of pen and sword, and he should have a taste for both Ways.”
The way my family and peers looked at me after that moment had profoundly changed.
My father and uncle had no idea that I was planning on becoming a military officer. My mother was unable to comprehend how I could eat so much in a single week. My friends noticed me filling out my scrawny form with muscle.
People were happy that I was happy, but the source of their confusion was that they expected me to remain the same timid boy that was going to be some profound intellectual.
This is a common frustration for me. People expect each other to not change, and I can’t fathom that.
My instinct is to be offended that people want to confine me in a box, but I know that being offended is a useless thing. It changes nothing.
People often question my life decisions and think I am underplaying my potential.
Here’s the thing that they never consider:
I don’t want the life that they want for me. I want a life that is mine.
And you know what my life is?
Writing articles into a white void.
Practicing thousands of cuts a week.
Throwing the same punch a hundreds of times.
Lifting heavy weights at the gym.
Running several miles to the point of exhaustion.
Preparing to make the most dangerous decision of my life.
It is perfectly fine to desire flourishing as a meathead instead of torturing yourself in an academic prison.
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