Our institutions are distinctively perpendicular, top down, Babelesque and male. They’re modernity’s dinosaurs, owing their existence to fear of the feminine. And it’s an entirely counter-phobic fear—paranoid, aggressive, ritualized and conforming. Challenged on their dysfunction, they say they’ll change the culture. Sure. When fish ride bicycles.
“I was just thinking that!” This is not a coincidence; it’s a commonplace. Our minds are linked as trees are by their root systems. We gather in arenas to savour our sameness. We watch television. We look at our devices. We’re stunned into silence by an original thought.
On the inner journey, we encounter two enemies: comfort and convention. “Foxes have holes and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to rest.” And convention? In 2020, our position remains that men in suits know what they’re talking about.
Some men are not just well-adjusted; they’re over-adjusted. This has been accomplished at the cost of an interior self.
If I am dogmatic, I have identified myself with a fixed position. My position is the position and that’s that. Some men are so identified with their mental positions that they clericalize them.
Men's Work 