The daily dad by Ryan Holiday, a book review

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Title: The Daily Dad - 366 Meditations on Fatherhood, Love and Raising Great Kids
Authors: Ryan Holiday, Nils Parker

Publisher: Profile Books Ltd
ISBN: 9781800815025

Modern life means you are inundated with visual and sound stimulants wherever you go. You can’t escape ads galore from billboards, radio, TV and now podcasts, by whose flavour, or poison, you’re indoctrinated into thinking you have a semblance of choice, since you choose something yourself.

Many of us who own smartphones listen to podcasts at some stage, especially frequent users like me. These days I can’t remember how, before podcasts, I did my domestic chores like cooking or cleaning the house and car; and just chilling with a drink on the lawn or the balcony now demands that I listen to one. I don’t even mind traffic jams when I am listening to my favourite podcast, because it affords me the opportunity to pay deeper attention to it. I only draw the line when on the gad. I like to meet the world with all my senses when I go walking, especially if it’s on mountain hikes, which I adore. Podcasts are how I first heard of The daily dad.

Somehow, the Apple algorithm thought it was something I would enjoy, based on my history, I suppose. I had long disabused myself of the notion of expecting privacy when using a smartphone. I suspect the deduction the algorithm made was not only based on my podcast history, but my iBooks collection also. I have a decent collection of philosophy books there, especially from the Stoic thinking branch. So, it did not surprise me – or rather, I was wonderfully surprised – when I learned that the owner of the Daily Dad podcast, Ryan Holiday, has also written books on Stoic philosophy and lives that followed it. It didn’t even surprise me too much that I had never heard of him, because not only is he American, but he’s from Texas – who among us doesn’t regard those people with a healthy suspicion. Holiday is also a bestselling author. Bestsellers, to me – pretentious, serious writer that I hold myself to be – draw red flags of commercialised hype, so I don’t normally pay attention to them. But I was willing to try his podcast one day when I realised I had exhausted the recent episodes of my usual ones.

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What caught my attention first on his podcast was his claim that he drew wisdom from ancient philosophy and modern psychology.
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What caught my attention first on his podcast was his claim that he drew wisdom from ancient philosophy and modern psychology. Though still sceptical, I took the first bite and was wonderfully pleased with the flavour – and sometimes with the content. There were no cramped rhetorical formulas, or disquisitions in house-style tones; nor was there the usual prancing of superficial knowledge you find with some modern presenters, who receive their material regurgitated into pulp by a myriad of researchers they or their media houses employ to give a suggestion of superfluous, undigested intellectual knowledge. There was just a clear flow of eloquence, with lessons obviously learned over years through the trial and error of applying ancient wisdom to living situations. Within no time, I was hooked.

I was also lucky enough that I had never studied philosophy at varsity, thus escaping the misfortune of being made to hate it by pedantic teachers. I studied it by Montaigne’s way – the insatiable astonishment at the mystery of my own life. I carried into it this attitude he writes about in his seminal Essays:

My footing is so unsteady and so insecure, I find it so vacillating and ready to slip, and my sight is so unreliable, that on an empty stomach I feel myself another man than after a meal. If my health smiles upon me, and the brightness of a beautiful day, I am a fine fellow; if I have a corn bothering my toe, I am surly, unpleasant and unapproachable.

Initially, fatherhood scared me no end. To think that with my unsteady, clumsy footing I was trusted with the stewardship of other living beings, when I had not even figured out the means of supporting mine and finding its purpose, brought awe and trembling to my soul. Discovering Holiday’s The daily dad made me realise I was not alone in my fears; other people feel the same, even as they carry on with brave faces as if they know what they are doing. With his short excerpts and explanations of various thinkers, including our own stately Nelson Mandela – who, like me, was glaringly aware of his failings as a father – I find the journey of fatherhood to be tolerable, even enjoyable some days. It now feels like, with my kids, we’re all growing into maturity and figuring things out together as we go. Their souls, whose biological birth into this world passed through my own genes and blood, fascinate me no end also. It is such a privilege to watch the formation of their characters in front of my eyes. I shall be eternally grateful for this hallowed privilege.

Ours is an age obsessed with self-help book guides (fake and otherwise), whether in the form of influencers, life coaches or others. We are never short of success gospel preachers who are poor as church mice. It is understandable that most of us who despise the fallacious glamour of shortcuts and false gold manuals feel overwhelmed with all of it and try to avoid them. But The daily dad is something different. I would say it is what Thomas à Kempis’s The imitation of Christ was to the Christians of the 16th century, who themselves were deafened by the cacophony and fury of guides on how to be a better Christian during their time. Hopefully, after the chaff of the guides of our age has been sieved, the likes of The daily dad will remain as the real wheat to be consumed by the generations that come after us also. With the very words of Holiday, I would summarise the message of the book as follows:

Your children follow behind you. They see everything you do. If you go astray, so too will they. ... If we behave unethically or cynically, they too will begin to cheat and lie. ... Our kids have our virtues and our vices ... we are here to help them become the best possible versions of themselves.

Try both the book and the daily message from the podcast to see if you won’t thank me later. I bet it would also make a great buy as a Father’s Day present if you’re looking for suggestions.

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