279. Coach Dan John on the unfairness of life

This is my tenth episode with Coach Dan John and it is my favorite so far. Be ready to cry, laugh, and think with us during this hour. Dan is extremely thoughtful and insightful and I have been on an extraordinary journey with him in exploring the philosophies of The Sword in the Stone by T.H. White. I am fascinated by the parallels between the stories in the book and how it pertains to modern life. In this episode we explore a simple quote in the book: “It is unfair.” Those three words are the catalyst to an in-depth philosophical discussion on life lessons and education. I absolutely love this conversation and will be thinking about it for a long time. Coach Dan John is a world-renowned strength coach and mentor to many in the fitness industry. Dan has competed at the highest levels of Olympic lifting, Highland Games, and the Weight Pentathlon. He has authored numerous books and continues to educate through his coaching and workshops worldwide. One of the ways I am able to keep this podcast going is through the supporters on Patreon. If you have been enjoying these conversations as much as I have, you can donate to the show on my website or www.patreon.com/sifumimichan Thanks for the support! For comments or suggestions reach out on social media @sifumimichan Discussed in this episode: The Sword in the Stone, T.H. White Oscar’s Chris Rock and Will Smith controversy Dan John’s notes on the passage we discuss in this episode: “Oh, shut up,” said the Wart. “I’m sleepy.”  Kay said, “Wake up, wake up, you beast. Where have you been?”  “I shan’t tell you.”  He was sure that Kay would not believe the story, but only call him a liar and get angrier than ever.  “If you don’t tell me I shall kill you.”  “You will not, then.”  “I will.”  The Wart turned over on his other side.  “Beast,” said Kay. He took a fold of the Wart’s arm between the nails of first finger and thumb, and pinched for all he was worth. Wart kicked like a salmon which has been suddenly hooked, and hit him wildly in the eye. In a trice they were out of bed, pale and indignant, looking rather like skinned rabbits—for in those days, nobody wore clothes in bed—and whirling their arms like windmills in the effort to do each other a mischief.  Kay was older and bigger than the Wart, so that he was bound to win in the end, but he was more nervous and imaginative. He could imagine the effect of each blow that was aimed at him, and this weakened his defence. Wart was only an infuriated hurricane.  “Leave me alone, can’t you?” And all the while he did not leave Kay alone, but with head down and swinging arms made it impossible for Kay to do as he was bid. They punched entirely at each other’s faces.  Kay had a longer reach and a heavier fist. He straightened his arm, more in self-defence than in anything else, and the Wart smacked his own eye upon the end of it. The sky became a noisy and shocking black, streaked outward with a blaze of meteors. The Wart began to sob and pant. He managed to get in a blow upon his opponent’s nose, and this began to bleed. Kay lowered his defence, turned his back on the Wart, and said in a cold, snuffling,