On Self Respect.

It's hard, but if you think about it, there's no harm in having high standards.

Photo by Kyle Johnson on Unsplash

Character, a quality of demeanor, a cultivated propensity of the spirit, as intimated in a pas de deux between a wise mentor and a pupil of tenacious spirit, unfurls the personal narrative, an echoing corroborative sentiment to Joan Didion's poignant crystallization — "the willingness to accept responsibility for one’s own life."

Learning and training oneself in this art of living, and accountability for anything good and bad happening throughout one’s existence are the constant variables to a good life. Or at least a life without regrets. A man is thus the author of the events occurring due to his own mistakes and also responsible for how he responds when he encounters what is beyond his control. And self-respect, that brimming pride of veritable command, bidding him to hold himself in high esteem and enjoy the confidence that he can take care of himself and his people whenever anything bad happens or demand heaven on earth and actualize it, is the all-season fruit.

Character, the golden masterstroke on a man's canvas of life, and the grand theme of self-worth are irreplaceable and everlasting. The tempest-tossed seas cannot erode a stalwart spirit; it is the philosopher's stone, breathing meaning into the pallor of existence, transmuting life's base lead into golden lessons. It enriches the dramatic arc of a man's story, standing as the stage for the play, for within its spectacle, resides the potential for our metamorphosis, our vibrancy, our power. It is the guiding lantern in the halls of time, illuminating the path of loftiness, as the languor of a mediocre existence is but a bland dish to the palette of those who sip life from the intoxicating chalice of passion, whose insatiable lust for life casts shadows over their awareness of mortality. Self-esteem is the grand tribute to oneself, demanding and deserving of only the supreme thoughts and actions from within.

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There exists no possession as fruitless, so soaked in anxiety, as that precariously bound to the caprice of luck. When one loses it, it inflicts a manifold agony, akin to a clever seductress whispering sweet assurances only to vanish come the morning. The unsuspecting holder, dumbfounded, finds himself stripped of a guide in these unfamiliar vistas, uncertainty his only companion.

In contrast, there lies great dignity, a subtle beauty in the dedicated cultivation of good character, a task thoroughly within one's power, unlike most passive entities e.g. physical beauty or a bequeathal, which renders one merely a slave to the often cruel dice game of birth. A strong character stands resolute, ever the formidable commander within the battlefield of existence, as elusive to adversaries as a shadow in the dusk. It perceives opportunity where others perceive impediments, maintaining its royal disdain for the transient specters of pleasure and pain, belittling death itself, allowing even the humblest man to wear an enigmatic smile, glorifying his unwavering refusal to bow to any form of tyranny.

It’s a man’s character that adorns good and evil to the bounties of luck, not the other way around. For it’s what nurtures the spirit of gratitude, enjoyment, and multiplication of material goods in the wise and it’s why fools are unable to appreciate their worth, and thus quick to squander what they possess. So, the soul is the source that the beauty or ugliness in the world imitates and thus preempts conscious cultivation and refinement above the acquisition of anything else.

When one views oneself as a prince among paupers, an individual of worth, he strives in harmony with the life he aspires to lead, a life brimming with happiness, tranquility, confidence, and abundance. This royal self-regard serves as the rudder in the tempestuous sea of life, often volatile and capricious, strewn with distractions and trials. He who considers himself noble, pays no heed to whispers of quitting, begging, jealousy, or being lazy, for they are the language of the lowly, beneath the dignity of a regal spirit.

In the feast of life, self-respect demands of this noble soul, the task of making wise choices amid riotous desires; one must discern with wisdom when to savor on the sweet berries of immediate satisfaction, and when to sow the seeds of delayed gratification for a richer harvest later. He who is touched by this divine authority stays ever alert to the weaker elements of his character, ever ready to wage war on his infirmities. He strives to be a general in his own soul's battlefield, upholding the banners of discipline against temptation, courage against self-doubt, and patience against petty grievances while steering towards enduring victory instead of fleeting triumphs.

This higher resonance further invites him to heed the counsel of the sage residing within, while silencing the whims and caprices of lower instincts. The self-embrace serves as a beacon of reassurance, radiating the belief that in the flux of life's changing affairs and shifting alliances, a man can always find in himself — solace, strength, stability, and power when circumstances change. Or people leave. This self-belief is the firstborn of the eternal war to nurture a good inner reputation, a beacon of pride in the surrounding darkness of life's perpetual struggle.

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The audacious individual, who clings tenaciously to his dignity by whatever means necessary, courting death if needs be, finds the highest pleasure in living. Reality gratifies the decisions he makes when results prove his adeptness at cause and effect dialogues, and his self-esteem is thus on a level plane with the gods. Having something to lose and thus protect he stakes this self-respect toward achieving a lofty goal. As such, he’s willing to endure hell gladly, if it's to his advantage.

This man doesn't consider himself a victim when life punches. A failed endeavor draws neither blame nor finger-pointing from him. In his grasp lies the knowledge that should a goal elude him, the fault may be his own — perhaps he succumbed to laziness or complacency, perhaps an entitlement finally caught up, or pride declared itself too high for the necessary toil. Or it may be that fortune deemed it not his turn, and yet, even in this he does not evade the responsibility to adapt, extract wisdom from the misstep, and strategize his approach for the next battle. To dwell in self-pity is a concept alien to this man.

His spirit would rather relish the thrill of the game and the mind's illimitable ability to resist submission to adversity. To lose a round only serves to inflame his strategic prowess for the comeback. A setback cannot snuff out his resolve to pour his lifeblood into the pursuit of his next venture. For he remains driven by the very essence of his being — his unyielding and dominant nature.

Whenever failure is this man’s fault, he knows by now that only fools keep doing dumb things and expecting different results. And he's tired, very tired of being one. Firmly grasped within his hands is a truth, hard-won from the mosaic of existence, a mirror revealing both the blemishes of his character and the boundless capacity for refinement within him. By this understanding, he wields a weapon as potent as any sword - the commitment to risk vulnerability for the opportunity to serve in a greater capacity. The instinct of self-preservation, whilst vital, he deems a hindrance to the immutable pursuit of empire-building.

A man who respects himself knows who he is, his strengths and weaknesses and he doesn't pretend to be someone he's not to cover for deficiencies or feel ashamed when he falls short of his ideals as he knows growth is a process, frustrations are inevitable and that with some practice he’ll become the phoenix that rises from the ashes and silence his enemies. Hence, he reconstitutes himself faster in case of insults because he learns and adapts to true and constructive criticism or ignores the masses if what they are saying isn't true — a feat that requires unwavering belief in one’s objectivity and reasoning powers. Above all, he finds a sweet satisfaction in the knowledge that the only blade that can wound him is his own dishonesty and the self-inflicted injury of a life lived beneath his potential. For him, the foundation of his existence lies upon the authenticity of his own perception, and a relentless pursuit towards the full flowering of his capabilities.

A central pursuit of advancement fuels this man’s spirit, thus, he seeks not the fickle admiration of the multitudes to affirm his achievements, knowing well the perils of becoming captive within their glistening snares of manipulation. They mold his joy and tranquility into their own visions, devoid of benevolence, leaving him in a torment of uncertainty over their shifting tastes, condemned to the perpetual need for validation culminating in discard. However, he does lend an ear to his enemies who highlight his missteps, and to friends of reason and good intention who argue for his betterment. And thus freed from the shackles of expectation, there is no one imposing their will upon him. He is his own master, guided by judicious decision-making on what benefits him the most, and prioritizing always for optimal results, in immediacy and the distant future.

This elite man stands as a sovereign entity, belonging only to himself, his conscience a sanctuary for him alone. He is the ultimate arbiter on the morality or wickedness of his actions, measured against his personal code of conduct. And, in doing so, he finds contentment in the affirmation granted by the deity within. Walking the path of self-honor, he remains loyal to his personal norms, vows, objectives, and anticipations as if dictated by divine decree from the burning bush — daily, at every moment, to the very end.

That’s what I want you to think about today dear reader, for nothing is so well suited to you as bathing in this power. Self-respect is to live in harmonious alignment with your nature as a man, demanding only the best by treating yourself as someone worthy of such, and living according to your principles, treating them as sacred pronouncements. It's hard, but if you think about it, there's no harm in having high standards. One gets only what they expect from themselves.