How to be a better dad.

Want to be a better…

Father?

Mother?

Partner?

Leader?

A better you?

No. Stop for a second. Sit with it. Do you really want to be better or do you just want to say you want to be better?

I’m going to give you a big fat useful key for improvement in all of those roles but you and I both know that you could read this blog and then ignore what I have to say. The slacktivism version of self help goes something like, “I read the book so I’m better now.”

Don’t read the book. Read this blog and then get out and fuckin’ do the thing.

A key ingredient to being a better you in relationship and leadership is…

Play.

When we are forced into a box where our decisions are made for us there are two things that happen. First, our brains stop working. Second, in some situations we become less emotional. You might say that becoming less emotional is a good thing but it really just means you’re dying inside.

When we allow ourselves to be creative, to try new things, to take risks we activate our brains and bodies. And when we invite our children, our partners, our employees and teams to play we send the following vivified message: “I want you! Every part of you! Who you are makes a positive difference in my life more than what you produce.”

We often associate the concept of play with children and childhood but if we step out of the domain of play in adulthood we excise a significant part of who we are and put it in a museum to watch it rot like one of those shrunken heads from the cannibals. We can walk through that museum with our partners, children, and the people we lead and announce like a tour guide - “here’s where my playfulness is, it died 40 years ago and its mummified carcass lies in this exhibit, a memorial to when I had fun and allowed myself to fail in the pursuit of beauty and awesomeness.”

Here’s where kids come in. As our teachers.

I have the distinct honor and pleasure of taking my two year old on hikes a couple times a week. He loves it and will take off down the trail without any concern for whether or not I’m following him. Almost every time we go out he falls. Sometimes the falls hurt more than others and he will often cry but not always. The one thing that remains unchanged is his commitment to continuing to hike. At no point does he say “you know, Abba, every time we go out I fall. This is silly, why should I keep walking?”

He doesn’t say that because his body intuitively knows that play, exploration, movement, and risk are all key activities for his survival as a human being.

We on the other hand get messages from different places that say we need to keep our shit together and we believe those messages and so we stop risking.

I’m not saying failure should be fun. Failure sucks. I don’t enjoy it at all. But it must exist in a comprehensive gestalt context of life experience not as an experience in and of itself.

Play is risky and creative. The alternative is early death.

You choose.