Atlas the Father

Posted under NOTEBOOK

atlas-dad-header

I remember seeing a towering statue when I was traveling through Italy as a young boy. The marble man’s face looked so determined, forehead wrinkled from strain, and his eyes set upon some faraway place. I thought the giant globe perched between his powerful back and open hands would fall at any moment. I couldn’t understand why he had been given such a hard job. A younger me just wanted him to let it roll down before he collapsed. Why couldn’t Atlas just put the world down?

I sit here hunched over a computer screen painting fluorescent light on my face with my shoulders bowed by weight and wishing it would roll off. This seems like such a frail activity, to look at it from the outside, because I’m not hunting food for my family. I’m not building a home with my bare hands. I’m just writing words. Poorly, I might add, while I, too, carry my own world as the sole provider for my family now.

I’ve rewritten this forty times and I need a compass. Do you have one? I wish you could help me hack through the brush. My imagination’s dense forest has become overgrown and I haven’t left my chair in hours. You could be so helpful to me in my journey. Won’t you tell me where to go? We used to have a set path toward mediocrity and success but that cultural conveyor belt has broken down. Is my responsibility to carry a universe of life like Atlas? I certainly don’t feel as strong as a titan.

These are the moments when I would ask my absent father for his word on the matter. He always had great wisdom to share, though he rarely employed any of it to himself. He could barely carry himself. Instead, I invent the answers for myself. I answer my own unending questions. I soothe myself. I probably look like a homeless person in the process, but half the fun of life is weirding people out.

The myth of an persistent Atlas is a message for fathers. I just know it. He is a titan carrying an entire planet and the cosmos, yet he holds steady even in the face of failure. I look at him now as a man with a purpose and not a slave to a job he was forced into. He understood himself and his objective in spite of the chaos around him. Because he was carrying someone else.

To become Atlas I have begun looking at how much I’ve already carried. Maybe that will help. As Rumi puts it, “You are what you are seeking.” I’ve carried death and I’ve carried love. I’ve carried my abuse and I’ve carried my name. I’ve carried victories and I’ve carried the blame.

I’ll carry a world, my sons. I’ll carry a world for you.

10 Comments

  • Bravo, sir. This article is well timed as I thought this to myself this morning as a pending new father.

  • James Hudyma says:

    These posts are the heart and soul of HTBAD. I love the funny visuals but I connect to these stories.

    I’ll never look at Atlas the same way. I feel the same weight as a teacher as well.

    Thanks for this post.

  • M says:

    Charlie, you, and your writing, are the reason I keep reading, the reason I keep coming back. I feel connected to your words and specifically, the way in which you say them. Keep finding that inspiration, that writer’s voice that wants to imprint its way onto paper (or in this case, computer screen :).

  • A wise man once said “With great power comes great responsibility.” Sometimes it’s a curse and a blessing. You are a strong person who has faced great adversity in his life, and everyone you come into contact with is a beneficiary of that.

  • Jo says:

    Admit, I come here to laugh, not to cry… Come on, Charlie!! Nah, I’m kidding. This I think to an extent is how all dads feel at one point or another. And I know I have as a mother… I too have struggled with abuse and abandonment and I have been shown love, mercy and kindness as well. You sir, are a fine man. I love your writing… and from what I can tell you’re a wonderful husband and father…

  • Jo says:

    Uuummm, that said Dammit, I come here…. when I pushed enter…????

  • Brewsurfer says:

    Well that is extremely timely. I have had an unbelievable string of bad luck, but I still have my health, my family, and my ideas. You have captured the essence of fatherhood, especially in the face of failure. At some point, no matter how much we fall, we still have to get up, rub some dirt in it and walk it off princess!!! Thank you for the commentary.

  • Tarl says:

    Charlie, I want to thank you for sharing this. I have been the sole provider for my family since my wife started having health difficulties while pregnant with our son 3 years ago. He also.was recently diagnosed as special needs, which added to our difficulties. I recently lost my job so I have definately felt the weight of the world. I have found solace in your site multiple times over the last few months. In some ways it is very cathartic to know that I am not alone in my struggles as a father and a husband. Thank you again.

  • Kyle says:

    Mother Trucker! I’m all reading along, saying to myself, “This is an ok article. Keeps me thinking.” POW. Those last two sentences… it took all I could muster not to start crying like a baby at my cube. My boys, and my girls, make each day brighter than the last because I see the wonder in their eyes, the wonder I had, but lost somewhere. They inspire me to be a better me for myself and for them. Thank you Charlie and Andy for such great writing. It makes me laugh, and always makes me think.

  • Angel says:

    I think this would apply to some of us moms out there as well. Thank you for posting this.

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