A Day In The Life

We love the legends on which we were weaned: Go, achieve, stake your claim, get to the first-down sticks. But those habits of mind just aren't useful at bedtime when there's a monster on the roof, Daddy. Consider sneaking these serenity thoughts from the East into your hard-driving Western heart.

Stand tall at the door. Every night, when you come home from a day's work, which was, if you're lucky, full of obligations, pause for a moment at the threshold of the castle. Pinch your shoulder blades back toward each other and feel your spine straighten. Take a cleansing breath and feel the urgencies of the day dissipate as your lungs refill. Resolve to enter your house unhaunted by ghosts, with only your alertness and affection to guide you.

Peer at an ear. The future and the past rob us, says the Buddha. Torn between regret (chewing over old mistakes) and longing (planning tomorrow's triumphs), we lose the taste of this moment and of this red-haired boy, who is right now frightened or enthused about something or other. Inevitably, sometimes the routine of fatherhood stupefies us so much that we drift over the top of the gig. Take a few seconds every now and then to look closely at a detail of your son's face, to note the shape of his head. Sharpening your attention will enliven your dad glands.

Crave smarter. According to Buddha, the source of suffering is craving for … you name it: beachfront property, custom-fit irons, thy neighbor's wife, John Lobb shoes. He wants us to stop craving cold turkey, but we can't do that—we're men! We can, however, domesticate one of the things we want: admiration. Sure, the devotion of the madding crowd might be nice, but the real opportunity, our best chance to matter, isn't out there in the marketplace; it's asleep upstairs, wearing Batman pajamas. Crave a place in that heart, and the nod from the nimrods in corporate will follow.