Every month I will write a personal blog to put down the thoughts in my head. This blog is my therapy, my self-awareness, my catalog of life. It doesn't need to be perfect. It isn’t written for an audience. Though I invite you to comment, critique and cheer if you so wish.
The past 46 days has been busy. I battled a pretty serious head cold. I worked with Experience Tukwila to create three tourism videos. I attended two pageants. We met the new Seattle Police Chief (solid guy). I travelled to Brussels for my uncle’s honorary doctorate. Celebrated two thanksgivings. I wore a suit and tuxedo.
I flew to Tampa for my cousin’s graduation. All this was possible because of the sabattical I’m taking from rugby. November is when preseason training kicks off. Instead, I am living a normal life, I think.
The one thing that stayed constant during my adventures was the pile of laundry. Through so much change, it was most important that I checked in with myself, and the simplicity of life that gives life. Eating regularly, balancing water-alcohol-coffee, doing laundry, working out, checking in with loved ones.
Our resilience begins to crumble when we neglect the core. Managing myself is the key to my future success. What I hope to take from my sabbatical in 2022 is a routine and sense of sovereignty to govern myself.
Watching my cousin graduate college was quite special. Watching a young man transition from childhood to adulthood. It brought back memories of my highschool graduation.
Attending the Miss America competition was life changing. I was in Connecticut for five days. The first two days the ladies from each US state competed in the categories of talent, social cause, interview question, and evening gown. Their poise under pressure, their lifetime preparation for this moment, their sheer talent and skill were all on display. Watching the young lady, Emma of Alaska, get crowned at the culmination was breathtaking.
I wondered to myself in all of the glitter…where is Mr. America? There is a bodybuilding competition that bestows this title, though it is a one-dimensional award in comparison to the all-around talent Miss America commands. In a world desperate for mature masculinity, there is a need for Mr. America. And not just a competition, an institution to groom men on how to wear a suit, self-identify talent and passion, develop public speaking skills and cultivate a fraternity of men who hold themselves to a noble standard.
After a long period of travel and new experiences, I am content to be home. We are eleven days out from a new year. The coronavirus continues to evolve and plague mankind with the omicron strain. Homelessness and poverty continues, war and hunger, pollution and plastic all multiply, and the good guys have their work cut out for them. With a mountain of hell before us, I am hopeful for the future. All of us today were born for this moment. Though we face challenges that our ancestors could not, nothing is new under the Sun.
So, future Eric. I charge you to grow and adapt to this ever-changing climate. I challenge you to be better than you were before. And I pray that you keep God close to your heart and ever present on your lips. Live not for your own glory, live for the glory and greatness of our Lord God. Bless those whom you come into contact, and chase your dreams.
Peace and Love,
Eric M. Duechle