Manhood is no joke

This is a beautiful example of a man in action, spurring others on to greatness in spite of his own wounds.

Questions...?

What if we got good at being ourselves?

What if we changed the world by being “professional” (insert your name here)’s?

What if becoming wholer versions of ourselves was the very thing that had the power to change things?

What if one of the hardest things to ever do was to face ourselves and our pains?

What if we spent time helping ourselves and others to find courage to fight for themselves?

What if?

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Thoughts?



A Letter to my Future Wife

A dear friend of mine recently shared a letter he wrote to his future wife.  I thought it was an inspiring illustration of strength in such candor, everything that this project embodies. Man or woman, I hope you find encouragement in this gentleman's journey.

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A LETTER TO MY FUTURE WIFE

**I'm never going to actually give the woman I marry (if I marry) this letter. It's just where I am now**

Dear Mrs. Andre Henry,

I beg you, PLEASE let me pursue you! Do not give me your heart easily. Allow me to work for it. It's the only way I know how to value it. Don't toy with me, just gracefully and subtly let me know I'm on the right track. Make yourself available, be intentional, but do not take the pursuit from me.
I am too selfish to meet you today. If you are in my life, please do not reveal yourself. Because I am never satisfied with anything I have now. It's the some GREAT moment of redemption through being deeply loved that I'm waiting for-- some "tadah!" transfigurative moment--that I'm looking for. If I meet you now, I will only find someway to convince myself that this is not that moment.
If, as we get to know one another, you find yourself falling for me. Guard your heart. I am not as capricious as I appear, just fearful. Wondering, "are you The Great Love?" what if I make a mistake. You have to understand, though you won't, that I am never satisfied with the present. When you're near me, I'll want space. When you're away, I'll miss you. It's psychology. I'm trying to work it out before I meet you.
Mrs. Henry, I'm a virgin. I plan on giving that to you. But I am by no means pure. I am begging you, DONT kiss me or let me kiss you. Not until we're an item. It will mess everything up. Too many relationships have gone that way for me. I'll get confused. I'll feel wrong. The onus is not entirely on you. I am committing myself to honorning, protecting, respecting, loving and serving you...please help me do that. Be my friend. Intimacy is what I want. True, healthy, well-rounded, connection.
I'm weak, Mrs. Henry. I'm wounded. I'm strong because I endure and presevere, but my brokenness will probably never be fully healed on this side of heaven. Please be gracious with me. Know my heart. Trust my heart. Tell me when I'm wrong, gently. Let me know I'm important to you, respected. Let me know that you won't abandon me, or give up on me. I will always move toward healing. Believe in me. Encourage me.
I really want to be a good man to you. I want to be good at love, and to be loved. Promise me you will always let love be the overruling principle: love is more important than winning or being right.

"Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is never envious or rude, boastful or proud. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth. Love always hopes, always trusts, always perseveres." my paraphrase of Paul's words.

Until Next Time,
Andre

Narayanan Krishnan

Madurai, India (CNN) -- Narayanan Krishnan was a bright, young, award-winning chef with a five-star hotel group, short-listed for an elite job in Switzerland. But a quick family visit home before heading to Europe changed everything.

"I saw a very old man eating his own human waste for food," Krishnan said. "It really hurt me so much. I was literally shocked for a second. After that, I started feeding that man and decided this is what I should do the rest of my lifetime."

Krishnan was visiting a temple in the south Indian city of Madurai in 2002 when he saw the man under a bridge. Haunted by the image, Krishnan quit his job within the week and returned home for good, convinced of his new destiny.

"That spark and that inspiration is a driving force still inside me as a flame -- to serve all the mentally ill destitutes and people who cannot take care of themselves," Krishnan said.

Krishnan founded his nonprofit Akshaya Trust in 2003. Now 29, he has served more than 1.2 million meals -- breakfast, lunch and dinner -- to India's homeless and destitute, mostly elderly people abandoned by their families and often abused.

"Because of the poverty India faces, so many mentally ill people have been ... left uncared [for] on the roadside of the city," he said.

 

Krishnan said the name Akshaya is Sanskrit for "undecaying" or "imperishable," and was chosen "to signify [that] human compassion should never decay or perish. ... The spirit of helping others must prevail for ever." Also, in Hindu mythology, Goddess Annapoorani's "Akshaya bowl" fed the hungry endlessly, never depleting its resources.

Krishnan's day begins at 4 a.m. He and his team cover nearly 125 miles in a donated van, routinely working in temperatures topping 100 degrees Fahrenheit.

He seeks out the homeless under bridges and in the nooks and crannies between the city's temples. The hot meals he delivers are simple, tasty vegetarian fare he personally prepares, packs and often hand-feeds to nearly 400 clients each day.

Krishnan carries a comb, scissors and razor and is trained in eight haircut styles that, along with a fresh shave, provide extra dignity to those he serves.

He says many of the homeless seldom know their names or origins, and none has the capacity to beg, ask for help or offer thanks. They may be paranoid and hostile because of their conditions, but Krishnan says this only steadies his resolve to offer help.

"The panic, suffering of the human hunger is the driving force of me and my team members of Akshaya," he said. "I get this energy from the people. The food which I cook ... the enjoyment which they get is the energy. I see the soul. I want to save my people."

The group's operations cost about $327 a day, but sponsored donations only cover 22 days a month. Krishnan subsidizes the shortfall with $88 he receives in monthly rent from a home his grandfather gave him.

Krishnan sleeps in Akshaya's modest kitchen with his few co-workers. Since investing his entire savings of $2,500 in 2002, he has taken no salary and subsists with the help of his once-unsupportive parents.

"They had a lot of pain because they had spent a lot on my education," he said. "I asked my mother, 'Please come with me, see what I am doing.' After coming back home, my mother said, 'You feed all those people, the rest of the lifetime I am there, I will feed you.' I'm living for Akshaya. My parents are taking care of me."

For lack of funding, the organization has been forced to halt construction on Akshaya Home, Krishnan's vision of a dormitory where he can provide shelter for the people he helps. Despite the demands and few comforts his lifestyle affords, Krishnan says he's enjoying his life.

"Now I am feeling so comfortable and so happy," he says. "I have a passion, I enjoy my work. I want to live with my people."

Want to get involved? Check out the Akshaya Trust Web site and see how to help.

Sharp cheddar

This weekend I got to attend a benefit performance for a man who had just recovered from a brain aneurism. That in itself was an amazing sight to see. Group after group dedicated songs that resonated with the southern roots I remember being brought up with. But it wasn't just the songs that caught my attention, it was the men who were singing them.  They had heart. What does that mean? They sang from their soul, like they were sharing a piece of their own story.

I came to a realization while watching these men perform…

 men grow greater with age.

(Please don’t stone me, this is my observation :))

Would it be too much to say, that the glory of a man shines in his aging? It’s the journey, experiences and failures that have taught him what it means and what it takes to be a great man.  When I think about it, women are beautiful by creation, by the beauty that lies in them, it’s more of a matter of recognizing what she’s worth… men show their glory by the strength that grows in them, a realization that I think comes through experiences and trials (developers of character) that tell him he has what it takes. Women can see this a mile away… and it’s so freakin’ amazing to see a man who somehow has grown to know that he has what it takes. When I think of the great men I know who possess this “growing strength” I tell you there is nothing like it. It’s like being known by a lion. Being understood, honored and protected by someone that you know has so much dependable, tested strength is one of the safest feelings I know besides the arms of God himself.

This thought came to me because of some great men that I saw that night, but also because of the great men that stick out in my mind. Most of them have lived, they’ve learned, they are dependable and wise… but I wonder if they were the same great men they are today, when they were 25.

Is my theory true? Or is it just as possible for a man of few years to possess the virtues of a man who has lived to know better.

Thoughts?

Mr. Conley

I love to sing.

In the car… in the shower… even while walking on the streets in open air.  Sometimes I get interesting looks, a few smirks, but I don’t really mind.

A few days ago, I walked into the subway station and found a man after my own heart. There he was walking down the stairs belting out an oldie but goodie, “You Make Me Feel Brand New” (which he later reminded me was by the Stylistics).  I stood behind him smiling, taking pleasure in his moment, thinking to myself, “There’s a man who knows how to have a good time.”

No later than this thought crossed my mind he turns around and looks me in the eye and begins to serenade me with his classic tune.

He says, “Do you know it?”

I paused, “Yeah… yeah I think I do… sing the chorus again.”

He repeats the refrain and I start singing with him. Hands flailing in the air in the middle of a crowded subway station, we continue our duet.

“Youuuu make meeee feeel brand newww!”

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Our train approaches as if on cue giving me a few more moments with my new friend.  He sits next to me and proceeds to take off his hat and charms me and the surrounding ladies with his dashing looks :)

He asks, “What do you think?” Giving a little emphasis to his do.

“Do I look like Donald Trump?”

“Nooooooooo,” the ladies said, “you look better!” Their downcast stares washed away with his disarming question, replaced by deep hearted grins.

I continued to dialogue with the Mr. Trump look alike getting to hear a little about his life and share some of mine. He asked me what I do and I told him about this project, he smiled and said, “How do you know they’re really gentlemen?”

I smiled back, “I don’t.”

We laughed together.

His stop approached and he wished each of us well and introduced himself, “Mike Conley.” His exit was like that of an old time movie.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” I said.

He dashed away leaving a taste of refreshment on the otherwise dry train ride home.

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If I didn’t know better, I would tell you I skipped home after my encounter with him.

There was something about him.  A liberty to be himself, to share his life and joy with a bunch of complete strangers.  The ability to transform his environment… by being him?

I know nothing of his character, but I do know the five minutes I was able to spend in Mr. Conley’s presence changed my whole day… changed my week even. It’s funny, it wasn’t until after he left that I realized I had found a G. His presence stayed with me and his song resonated in my heart as if to foreshadow my short experience with him…

“You make me feel brand new.”

Thank you Mr. Conley.

This one's dedicated to you, sing along if you'd like :)

Sing along.

Olympian's strength built from life on the streets

Great story.

http://www.cnn.com/2010/SPORT/02/22/olympics.bobsledder.homeless/?hpt=T3

2010 [Refresh]

Sometimes you have to start over.

Sometimes you have to refocus.

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The mission of The Gentlemen Project was always a simple one:

Find amazing men and honor them…

Find broken men and encourage them to be the G’s they really are.

We’re starting again, to do and be this project.

Thank you all for your continued support and participation as we continue to refine the journey of The Gentlemen Project.

 Let's be the revolution.

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Do you know any men you want to honor? Share your stories with us at findoneg@gmail.com.

Happy Holidays!

From "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas"

Narrator: All the Whos down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot,
but the Grinch, who lived just north of Whoville, did not.
The Grinch hated Christmas -- the whole Christmas season.
Oh, please don't ask why, no one quite knows the reason.
It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight.
Or maybe his head wasn't screwed on just right.
But I think that the best reason of all
may have been that his heart was two sizes too small.

Grinch: Blast this Christmas music! It's joyful and triumphant.

Grinch: Are you having a holly, jolly Christmas?

Lou Lou Who: I'm glad he took our presents. You can't hurt Christmas, Mr. Mayor, because it isn't about the... the gifts or the contest or the fancy lights. That's what Cindy's been trying to tell everyone... and me. I don't need anything more for Christmas than this right here: my family.

And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store? What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more? - Dr. Seuss

Here's wishing you a wonderful holiday season filled with love and good memories. We'll see you in the New Year!

Old dreams, young hope

Living Wisdom

What older people wish they would have done is what I want to have the mind to do.

Youth is our opportunity to live out the yearning of the aging.

It is their (the elderly) time here that has taught them what is valuable.

It is our (youth) lack of time here that gives us the zeal to try... to fight... to fear less.

Until we too age and our invincibility fails us.

Then we, too, tell the youth what is possible and what is valuable as they do things we wish we had the time and courage to do.

Thought: Why not ask some elderly people what made life worth living, and what they wish they could have done. (If you do ask, please share with us)

It occurred to me, that I may read books about history to learn from others' mistakes, but why not ask living people about the things in life they never got to finish...