When I was about ten years old, my dad bought an antique motorboat. It was not a big boat, maybe eighteen feet long, wooden, with a decrepit old Johnson outboard motor. I do not think there was anything fundamentally wrong with the motor, but those old engines are finicky. One of the first days we took it out, the weather was perfect. Sunny, warm, almost no wind. We were out exploring islands in Georgian Bay. On the way back, the engine suddenly stalled for no apparent reason. We still had plenty of fuel, well over half a tank. My dad could not get it started. We stopped for a moment to think about what to do. We had paddles and could paddle back, but it would have taken hours. As we were thinking, we noticed a massive storm brewing in the distance. It looked far away, like it was still hours off. Unfortunately, it was not. Within half an hour, the rain started. Around that time, we saw a newer motorboat heading toward us, coming from the direction of the storm. If you kept going the way they were headed, you would reach the docks where we were going. If I remember correctly, it was someone we knew. They slowed down beside us and said we had two seconds to decide. Either jump in with them and abandon our boat, or stay behind. A terrible storm was coming. My dad thought about it and said no. He believed he could get the motor restarted. The other boat took off at full speed toward shore, and we went back to trying to start the engine. Pull after pull, it would not start. It was not flooded. It had fuel. Everything looked right. We had no idea why it refused to run. Then a massive waterspout formed behind us, right at the edge of the storm. It was maybe five or six hundred feet away, about two football fields. It made a horrible sound as it sucked water up from the lake. It looked like something out of a movie. Then the rain came hard. It was not just water. Small fish were coming down in the rain, sucked up from the lake and falling back down on us. Finally, my dad got the engine started. The boat was not fast to begin with, but he pushed it as hard as it would go, partly because higher throttle made it less likely to stall again. We headed straight for shore. As we ran for the docks, the storm and the waterspout followed behind us, getting closer and closer. We came into the docks at full speed, which you are not supposed to do. We jumped out, tied the boat, and ran. By the time we reached the docks, the waterspout was maybe a hundred feet behind us. I had a lot of adventures as a kid. Many of the most dangerous ones were on the water. Freshwater lakes, especially Canadian lakes, are incredibly treacherous. They are cold. You can have a beautiful sunny day and an hour later face a storm of the century. When the waves come, they do not roll like ocean waves. They come close together and relentlessly pound whatever they hit. At the same time, it is some of the most beautiful country God ever made. Clear water. That day, the water was so clear we saw a massive bass, the biggest I have ever seen, about thirty feet down. You could see every scale on its body at that depth. The water was as clear as glass. I suppose the point of the story is this. I take risks in order to enjoy life. And when you take enough real risks as a child, you become more resistant to unnecessary fear responses as an adult. (The boat in the image is very close to what we had.)

Do you ever feel like a rubber band that’s been stretched too far? Do you ever feel overworked and lazy at the same time? Do you find yourself exhausted, yet still judging yourself for not doing enough? If so, there’s a good chance you’re a high‑conscientiousness person. View Article →

One of the clearest indicators of a dysfunctional marriage is not the presence of conflict, but the absence of a workable method for resolving it. Conflict is inevitable in any marriage. What determines stability is whether disagreements can be processed productively rather than allowed to accumulate. Couples with even very serious problems, money, sex, extended family, parenting, can remain highly stable if they have a reliable way to resolve conflict. Over time, issues get addressed, renegotiated, or adapted to, and alignment is restored. By contrast, couples who begin highly aligned but lack conflict-resolution capacity tend to deteriorate. Each unresolved disagreement adds friction; resentment accumulates; communication degrades; and eventually the couple deviates so far from one another that the marriage breaks down. This is why, in practice, no substantive marital issue can be solved before conflict resolution is solved. Chores, finances, and life logistics are unsolvable if a couple cannot even have a structured disagreement without escalation or withdrawal. Until conflict becomes productive, every problem threatens the relationship itself rather than contributing to its improvement.

A lot of what we are calling 'mental health issues' are immaturity issues that society has pathologized for profit.

Far too many men end up as servants in their own household. Life is far too short to spend it being your wife's houseboy.

My wife and I went out to dinner. We came home, sent the babysitter off, and my youngest boy, Henry, walks up to me: “Daddy!” He hugs me and presses his face so hard against mine to kiss me. He confuses the strength of his hug and kiss with how intensely he feels about you, so he presses so hard it hurts, because he is just so happy we returned. He is clapping his hands, jumping up and down, absolutely thrilled. His brother, on the other hand, did not say much, he has a flu, half-awake and half-asleep. But Henry always makes you feel so happy to come home.

Almost every marriage that's on the rocks could be saved if the couple would just have more and better sex. As little as 2x or 3x a week would restore the relationship.

“I feel like I never get a break. The cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, the kids needing something every minute, it never ends. I am always on duty, and no one sees how constant it is.” “I am tired of carrying everything for the family. Working long hours, paying every bill, fixing what breaks, keeping the house and yard in shape, handling the decisions and the pressure, it is relentless. I wake up knowing there is always another task waiting.” Women often express frustration about the repetitive nature of child care and domestic work, just as some men express frustration about the constant demands of providing, protecting, and leading. Both sets of complaints treat the cyclical nature of these roles as if repetition itself were a flaw. A healthier framing is that these responsibilities are privileges, not burdens. They are the core expressions of being a wife, a husband, a mother, or a father. Parenting is not endless. The period in which children need us daily is brief. They grow, they become independent, and the direct responsibilities fade far sooner than most people expect. The very tasks that feel monotonous are part of a short, irreplaceable window in which parents have maximum influence. To resent that window is to misunderstand its value. Far better to treasure it while it exists. Similarly, the care spouses provide to one another is not unilateral sacrifice. It is reciprocal exchange based on comparative strengths. Each person gives what he or she is naturally better at giving and receives what is needed in return. When understood properly, that exchange is not a drain but a source of stability, intimacy, and cooperation. The problem is not the work itself but the framing. Treating repeating duties as “endless drudgery” blinds people to the meaning embedded in them. Seeing those duties as privileges clarifies their purpose: a chance to build a family, support a spouse, shape children, and create continuity. The work repeats, but it does not imprison; it enriches us.