Pieces & Memories

The Importance of Vulnerability In Genuine Masculinity

Yield starts its adventure off with its two main characters, named Erik and Sigurt, sitting in a helicopter.

Erik is a middle-aged war veteran who has already spent two decades traveling the world; Sigurt is his teenage son.

Together in this scene, they are passengers who paid a civilian service to ferry them to a specific, remote location in the Alaskan mountains.

As even today, much of the state remains unexplored, there are various services that really will helo-ferry you for a certain price, as some form of airfare is practically a required method of transport outside of any major city, considering the state’s terrain.

But the setting isn’t just rugged—it’s lethal. Each season has its own unique threats, but it’s revealed to the reader through Erik’s dialogue with the helicopter pilot that a blizzard is coming in—heightening the stakes even more than they otherwise would be.

Still, Erik remains calm—almost bored, even, in some dimension of his stoically disciplined, but positive and forward-looking attitude.

Erik is a living legend to his son, who tries to impress him by acting fearless.

Erik, however, sees straight through his son’s foolish facade. He asks Sigurt critical, psychoanalytical questions that penetrate his son’s emotional armor and expose the vulnerable, green, soft inner heart of what is simply an eager, young boy who wants to overcompensate for his lack of strength and experience before his dad.

However, he doesn’t do this to hurt Sigurt’s feelings, to invalidate the boy, or to make him feel small or inferior. In fact, he actually does it for the opposite reason: To empower him specifically through the value of connecting with and relating to his son.

By establishing a genuine, fatherly connection through vulnerability, Erik creates the emotional pathway to transfer wisdom that, if mastered, will catalyze Sigurt into developing genuine and useful courage, rather than wasting the emotional and mental energy needed to maintain a performative, fragile, and false idea of masculinity.

Embracing One’s Fear Turns It Into A Superpower

The modern world teaches men that fear is a weakness; Erik teaches the opposite.

Too often, the modern world tells men to suppress their fear—to puff out their chest, square their shoulders, and pretend like they have it all under control. Erik, instead, teaches his son to channel his fear—not suppress it.

To understand its purpose and how to convert its energy into competence and power.

Even the specific Norse code of honor that Erik follows explicitly forbids him from ever showing fear to his enemies. However, there is a grounded, sustainable way of genuinely upholding that ideal, and an unsustainable, narcissistic way of attempting to uphold it.

Throughout the opening conversation of the story, Erik teaches the former while referencing the psychology of ancient warriors, like Miyamoto Musashi—who has been commonly regarded as the greatest swordsman in Japanese history.

Musashi’s anxiety before duels didn’t hinder him; it sharpened his preparation.

And in a moment that is quietly cinematic, Erik admits to his son his own fear, making that connection through shared vulnerability between father and son.

Erik speaks with the seasoned voice of a man who has faced down death, held the line for those he loves, and lived long enough to know that courage without fear is just theater.

Fear, Erik says, is not something to be hidden. It’s to be mastered. “If you’re not scared, you’re not brave,” he tells Sigurt, dismantling the myth that stoicism means numbness.

Instead, Erik teaches that fear is the sacred fuel of preparation. That a master of fear uses it to sharpen his senses, warn him of danger, and if properly wielded—save his life.

Later, as their boots finally hit snow upon dropping from the helicopter, Erik turns to his son and says:

“Much of the fearful thoughts you have are not yours but my own… My fear is my gift to you—use it. Consider it part of your generational wealth.” — Erik, Yield

That line is not just for Sigurt. It’s for every son who’s ever looked at his father and wondered if he’d ever measure up.

It’s for every woman who has wished to see her husband, brother, father stop posturing and start modeling real strength that makes her feel emotionally safe. And it’s for every woman who’s ever ached for a kind of man who doesn’t lie to himself about what he feels.

Erik doesn’t train his son in delusions. He hands him tools.

And the first chapter of Yield makes it clear that its philosophy begins with Stoic honesty with oneself in the pursuit of self-knowledge.

…because that’s the only way they’re going to be able to survive what’s coming—and Erik knows it.

Do you agree with Erik’s take on fear—that it’s not weakness, but a gift to be passed down and mastered?

Do you believe the next generation needs more men like that?

If something in you stirred while reading this… and you want to explore these themes more deeply—send me a message.