No. 7 Time to bait your own hook.

No. 7 Time to bait your own hook.

No. 7 Time to bait your own hook. 800 800 Keir Tayler

Time to bait your own hook.

A desperate Knight, in search of his true self and in order to find such, must rid himself of the rusty armour in which he was encased. The armor that had served well the purpose of the warrior in combat has become a prison in normal “peacetime” relationships. In order to begin ridding himself of this heavy armour, the knight must encounter his own pain. A pain brought on by the effects of war.
The knight had lived in his armor so long he had forgotten how everything felt without it. It was like a cocoon. It took a tremendous blow to his head by the ‘blacksmith with an axe’, or by ‘Juliet with the nearest vase’, before he noticed even a twinge of his own pain, the pain of others went unnoticed as well.
The proverbial blow to the heads bring us to our senses.
What is at the core of this soul or sense sickness?
There is a “tear” in the masculine soul – a gaping hole or wound that leads to a profound insecurity. Society has torn the soul of the male and into this tear, demons have fled – demons of insecurity, selfishness, lack of identity and despair. Masculinity is no longer respected, or lived. Consequently men do not know who they are, rather they define themselves by what they do, told what to be, who they know and what they own.
Does he blame society, woman movement, politically sensitive definitions, or even the failures of his father.
Death of fallen man is essential to finding life, Gal 2:20
Knights/soldiers would tell you what society does not know that. As one war veteran said, “Profound moral distress is the “real horror” of war, yet its effect on those who fight it is rarely discussed. In a war, in a firefight, you’re both victim and perpetrator at the same time. At its heart, a trauma, and especially a war trauma, leaves a wound to the human spirit. When I came back, my spirit was pretty well shredded and ripped. I’m wounded but am not slain, I will lay me down for to bleed a while. And go again”.
The unhealed wounds of men are more devastating on other men, than upon women. They become hunters of others – in themselves. They lost something out there somewhere and are still looking for it.

“It is time you bait your own hook”.
A young boy goes fishing with his Grandpa. Off to the favorite place, and he baits his grandson’s hook and his own and throws them in. After a while  the boy pulled his line in and found the worm was nibbled away. So he asked his granddad to bait it again, but he said, “No it’s your turn to do it”. Bravely he attempted to put the worm on the hook. It looked so easy when grandpa did it. With one final desperate stab he speared the wiggling worm right through its body and into his finger. There it was, barb and hook deep in the boys finger. Tears, a yell and panic for the little guy as to what was to happen next. Grandpa said, “Don’t cry”; and in one swift moved located some pliers and gently pushed the hook deeper and finally out came the point and barb. He then cut the shank near the eyelid and slid the rest out. All done. Then the blood flowed. He took out his clean handkerchief and wrapped up the trembling little hand. “This happens when men go fishing”, he said. Later that day arriving at home the young boy ran up to his parents showing the good catch of fish and oh yes, the sore finger.

It is painful to watch a young boy become aware that the world is not just joy and happiness, to watch the disintegration of his childlike beauty, faith and optimism. This is regrettable but necessary.
This is a simple story but it illustrates what happens when pain unexpectedly comes and we don’t know how to go through it. Instead we remain in the pain and walk through life with undealt-with hooks in us. We use the experience to justify why we are wounded and therefore are entitled to have extra care because – we have refused to deal with the instant situation. Or we have refused to listen to grandpa’ and grandmas who have gone through things. The result is for the rest of ones life there is never a clear, balanced understanding. All experiences are filtered through ones own failed outcome. So humanity becomes paralysed dysfunctional because we cried and needed to, “don’t cry”.
Some boys give up and never catch fish and become co-dependant for life. They don’t ever go fishing with men again.
Where are those grandpa’s who know what is needed to mature society and a nation?
Have you been taught to carry the pain and wear the scars and get up and go back into it? To be a man is to carry the pain and wear the scars it is a part of life; learn to live with it. Go fishing again.