The Martyr and His Vanishing Act

I reclined on the couch, buried in a dogpile of children as we watched Pirates of the Caribbean, At World’s End for family movie night. I hadn’t seen this film for almost fifteen years – since my first viewing I have married and had 5 children.

The difference in my experience shocked me. The lens of adulthood, but more importantly fatherhood, sharpened a fun and spooky adventure franchise into a cutting allegory of the perilous journey of raising strong children without losing yourself.

The kiddos enjoyed the antics of Captain Jack Sparrow and howled with laughter every time the undead monkey popped onto the screen (whoever wrote the scene where they launch the monkey from the cannon, you were the hero of the night), but to me these characters were just getting in the way. I kept mentally craning my neck around them to make room for the real story – the story of William Turner and Bootstrap Bill.

Feel free to skip the movie recap in bordered below:

For those of you who haven’t seen the movies recently (tsk tsk), William Turner is an industrious blacksmith-apprentice-expert-swordsman-runway-model with an eye for the British governor’s daughter. He is roped into a mythical adventure trying to save Elizabeth Swan while fighting undead pirates, sea monsters, etc.

But that changes midway through the trilogy, when he learns the truth of, and eventually finds himself face to face with, his long lost father “Bootstrap Bill” Turner.

Bootstrap Bill, after leaving his family for a life of piracy, finally paid the price for his sins. Cursed with immortality but strapped to a cannon sunk to the bottom of the depths, he was in a literal and figurative hell.

That is, until he met Davy Jones.

The legend himself, the man destined to an eternity of ferrying souls lost at sea to the afterlife past the end of the world. Davy Jones offers Bootstrap Bill escape from his hell, and in return requires of him 100 years of service aboard the Flying Dutchman.

This is where William meets his father, who by this time has spent many a year on the undead ship, and is showing signs of decay as he and the crew are slowly becoming literal parts of the ship (and the sea).

William, then in a moment of incredible stupidity gambles his eternal soul for a small bit of information (which could have easily been intuited) and his father steps in to take upon himself the debt his son was about to incur during the dice game with Davy Jones.

Bootstrap Bill’s loss of himself is what piqued my interest. Towards the end of his character arc he has lost most of his cognition and memory, and has physically fused to the ship. He is a total slave to his ship, to Davy Jones. So the question we must tackle – what does the ship represent? Who is Davy Jones?

It seems to me that the story strikes a deep and meaningful chord in my soul when I recognize that the ship represents the duties a man faces as he enters marriage and fatherhood.

The ship must be tended to, it must be kept right and on course, lest the seas overturn it and kill all aboard. These duties revolve primarily around a father’s responsibility to provide food, shelter, and love for his wife and children.

Just like Bootstrap Bill volunteering to cover the cost of his son’s gambit, most fathers take on the burdens of their children’s needs without second thought. This is good. This is a noble thing, we feel it in our bones that it’s the right thing to do. It’s a partial fulfillment of several of the archetypes that build a man – the Warrior, the King, the Hero – it hits all the right notes.

However, there is danger in the duties you’ve slung upon your back to carry. The responsibility can be overwhelming, work requires you to be a completely focused – and sometimes a completely different – person than you are at home.

I work remotely, and this is true especially in the digital age. Emails, chat notifications, video calls, global teams in a myriad of timezones, all offered up in the name of efficiency, are also consuming you as a person.

Even in less technologically involved occupations, your mind can linger on the problems you’re paid to solve for hours after you’ve returned home. And if you’re not careful, the distraction of pondering work’s problems too long will bridge directly with the evening dread most feel as they mentally prepare for the next day of work, coming speedily towards them.

And, during all of this unpaid mental labor you’re experiencing? Your kids are in front of you, trying to to focus your mental lens on them, trying to see through the clouds in your eyes.

It’s at this point you’ve started to become a part of the ship. Rather than tending to and directing the vessel that carries your family forward, you’re merging with it. You are losing your identity as a man.

Your responsibilities at work, and your coworkers, are determined to have all of you. You can give them your attention while present, but do not give them your identity. You are so much more than the work you do for the life you provide.

If you do, you’ll either disappear entirely into the ship, or you’ll become the horror Davy Jones himself, a heartless tyrant slave-driver, forsaking the navigation provided by purpose and following whims of an angry and purposeless soul.

Without active thought and reflection, that is what it will become: a decision between becoming the Martyr, or the corrupted Tyrant.

Your children and spouse, with all their needs, need neither of those. The best version of you as a father requires that you retain as well-rounded an identity as possible, rooted in your individual experience and world-view.

Action items.

Do not forsake the things that make you, you

Hobbies are not just hobbies. They are a part of your passion as a man that gives others an insight to how you perceive the world. We get a glimpse of a more true version of yourself, outside the burdens of family care and providing. You owe it to yourself to maintain this light in your eyes, and you owe it to your children. I can promise you in most cases, they will care little about what your occupation was while you raised them, and more about what you did in the spare hours of the week when work wasn’t raining down upon you.

Make your presence at home your second (or third?) job

I found that even though I work from home, I still need a “commute” – for me a walk around the block – in order to detox my mind from all the problems that persist past the 5 o clock hour when I’m supposed to clock out. Create a routine that allows you to put down your problems so your hands are free to hold and play with your children, or free to pick up a broom and help your wife.

Surround yourself with like-minded Men

Isolation will almost never work in your favor when slogging through the hard parts of fatherhood. The greatest misunderstanding of men is that they don’t require male connection or friendship. Community drives purpose, and helps men consistently hold higher standards for themselves and their families. You need to choose your crew carefully when embarking on such a grand voyage. (If you’re struggling to find such a community, please consider joining us at dadsneedfriends.com)

These action items are, of course, over-simplified for the sake of brevity, but the message remains true.

This is a warning call for you to check yourself. Who are you? Outside of work? As a person?

Do not give the corporations and businesses your identity, you do not belong to anyone. You are a complex miasma of ideals, perceptions, relationships and responsibilities. You are so much more than the ship placed in your charge. So sail on, captain the ship bravely as the unique individual you were created to be, so your sons and daughters can see who you are and learn to do the same.