Call to Battle

I stayed home yesterday (preparing myself, right?). After watching a bunch of movie previews (Paprika! Yes, please. Must I wait until June? Michele?), I took a long nap in the sunshine with my cats, read, cleaned the kitchen, made dinner, and watched the first two episodes of Trinity: Blood (sadly, it was not worth it).
On Tuesday we had our final birthing class and with all the techniques and advice she gave us I find myself rather looking forward to giving birth. Weird or what? If you know me, then you know that is just an amazing thing for me to say. I have been terrified for so long. Think about it though – who really wants to try pushing a watermelon through a hole in their body? But, strangely, we are designed for it. And if we let go of all inhibitions – perhaps the toughest part – women get to do what most men in the western world can’t… transition. John and I were talking about this the other day. Modern men don’t get a right of passage.
I’m not necessarily talking about transitioning from child to adult. The line is certainly blurrier than in the past (Is it graduating from school? Getting the first job? The loss of virginity?), but we basically know when we are adults. The right of passage was a test of capability. It acted as a gauge of self-worth, of the ability to survive, and as a bond to others who underwent the same test (Yes, I know what you went through. Let’s drink.). Men, perhaps, need this most of all. I don’t know why.
Thus the appeal of military training, of the solitary trek across the Rockies, the obsession with extreme sports?