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Naturally, I am not so much a man of action. I am more of a thinking man.
I would even go so far as to say that if you’d point to an actual addiction I have, it’d be capital T, Thinking, or better said, overthinking.
To avoid overthinking today’s piece… (heh), I won’t be discussing all the reasons for overthinking, such as fear of failure, a lack of self-acceptance, health issues, and all that jazz.
What I will discuss today is my choice of mate, of all things.
Even though I have learned to stop overthinking (as much) and embrace uncertainty, taking action is something I have had to learn (and am still learning).
This process of becoming a man of action is a bit like forging a seemingly useless piece of metal into a functional tool or majestic weapon. In the raw iron ore lies the ultimate potential, but it needs hammering and shaping to come into being.
Still, even though a blacksmith can forge great things, at the beginning, he is very limited. He can only make great works by using the right tools. Tools he must first make with lesser tools. And with those tools, make better tools. So, by definition, his first work will not be as great as his potential. Though working onward, making better tools, and in turn using these tools to shape even greater work, he can achieve the best work he is able to.
Only then may he achieve his potential.
The first tool he needs to make is a hammer. At the start, though, a piece of stone could suffice as a hammerhead. So he’d shape a metal hammerhead by pounding on it with a piece of rock.
At this time, I wouldn’t fault you for thinking the hammer is the most important tool for a blacksmith, but it’s actually not.
“What is it then?” you ask.
Well, it’s the thing to pound on, like another (bigger) rock. But a rock is brittle and will break. It’s much better to have something that doesn’t break under pressure. Something level and firm, so the newly forged tool can be straight and true. Something that can take the heat from the blacksmith’s inexperienced, heavy-handed beating.
The best is a strong steel anvil.
My wife is that anvil
No, not because I’m beating her, you silly! (Though she won’t say no to a good “pounding” that sets sparks flying. 🥵🙈)
And no, also not because of her weight (she weighs less than 54kg/120lb).
No, it’s because, for one, her last name is Steel…
I kid you not.
More importantly, and true to her name, she is the steel anvil on which I forge my tools of action-taking.
You see, she is very much action-oriented. On a Thinking-Action spectrum, we are each other’s opposites. Meaning, for me, she’s the best teacher in taking action that I can have. Day in and day out, I am confronted by her inclination to take action.
Here’s a simple, real-life, but telling example:
I’m excessively planning and overthinking, again, on some maintenance on the house.
She calls me out and tells me to just get to work on it.
Me, ignoring her, dive deeper into the details of what to do, but don’t pick up the actual maintenance work.
*time goes by*
Then—and this is most confronting to me—she picks up the hammer herself to do the maintenance!
Oh the shame!
Did you know that a near-perfect anvil is so steadfast that, if you’d drop a piece of metal on it, it bounces back with nearly the same amount of energy as you hit it with?
Like a true anvil, she bounces back with exactly the action-taking energy that I put into my (over)thinking.
I’d even say that my falling in love with Gigi over 16 years ago was partly due to my natural intuition in finding an equal but opposite force to my overthinking.
And now, having finally married a few years ago, I can truly say I’m her “Man of Steel” (as opposed to “Boyfriend of Steel,” which she was pestering me with for 14 years)!
But not merely a “Man of Steel” because I’m Steel’s husband, but mainly because, with her help as my Steel anvil, I have been forging myself into a better action-taking tool to pursue my potential.
And finally, as many of you know, “Man of Steel” is also a name given to Superman…
I only hope I can aspire to be her Superman. ❤️
PS. I have an actual 600-pound anvil in the backyard, which I bought when I was moonlighting as a blacksmith 10+ years ago. Here’s the crazy story of how it got there:
Anvil Adventure — Home is where the heart is (#2)
·“I saw that this rusty 82-year-old blacksmith wasn’t fucking around.”
