Life as a Warrior: A Guide for Winning, Conquering Adversity, & Overcoming Challenges

By Michael A. Lesesne Jr.

Life As A Warrior is a groundbreaking treatise on strategy and competition. Borrowing from such classics as: The Art of War, The Book of 5 Rings, and On War, Life as a Warrior delves into such themes as focus and determination, discipline and self-control, as well as an emphasis on building from past experiences to achieve future success. Life as a Warrior will benefit not only those who are in competitive situations, but also anyone whos striving to incorporate strategic thought and vision into any endeavor. Simply put, Life as a Warrior is a must read for anyone who wants to win and succeed in life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493187669

Michael A. Lesesne Jr.

Michael A. Lesesne Jr. graduated Valedictorian from Surrattsville High School in 1995 and received his Bachelor of Science Degree in Biology from Susquehanna University in 1999. He has been a student and aficionado of books on strategy and competition since starting a mentoring group called The Young Warriors Circle (YWC) in 2007. An educator by profession, Michael has mentored dozens of local young men, some of which have gone on to be recruited by D-1 schools on full football scholarships, graduated valedictorian of their respective high schools, enrolled in programs for dentistry and medicine, and otherwise made tangible contributions to their communities. Michael lives in Prince George’s County Maryland. This is his first literary work.

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Copyright © 2014 by Michael A. Lesesne Jr.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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Rev. date: 03/24/2014

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Contents

Introduction & Background

Lesson 1: Vision

Lesson 2: Timing

Lesson 3: Knowledge

Lesson 4: Self-Control

Lesson 5: Focus

Lesson 6: Determination

Lesson 7: Flexibility

Lesson 8: So, who wins?

Lesson 9: Home vs. Away Conditions

Lesson 10: A Note To Coaches & Mentors

Lesson 11: A Note To Student Scholars & Athletes

Conclusion

Appendix A—Photos

I wrote this book for anyone who’s ever felt like the underdog.

My inspiration, aside from God Himself, came from the many sons

placed under the umbrella of my care by God. I dedicate this book to all of you, wherever you might be in life. I would also like to thank the Guardian Angel God placed over my life to keep me grounded and focused. Mom, I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for you. And finally, to my mother, who sacrificed so much to make me the man I am today, I love you and also dedicate this book to you. God Bless.

Introduction & Background

Hi. My name is Michael Angelo Lesesne Jr. And, I am a warrior. I. AM. A. WARRIOR. What is a warrior you might ask? Well, the dictionary defines a warrior as: a person skilled in combat or warfare. What is warfare? I’ll define war as a conflict, or tussle, between at least two sides with the goal of overcoming the opposing force. I like how Carl von Clausewitz defines war in his classic treatise on battle entitled, On War. He says, and I’m paraphrasing, that war is a conflict between two belligerents, in which one tries to impose his will over the other. I like the word he chose: belligerent. When you describe something or someone as belligerent, your intent is usually to paint them out to be hostile, combative, or aggressive. However, the word comes from the Latin belligerantum, which literally means to wage war. So, unlike the traditional colloquial use of the word, being a belligerent in war doesn’t mean you’re the aggressor. What it means, is, you’re an active participant in a combat to overcome what’s attempting to overcome you.

Miyamoto Musashi, the 17th century Japanese warrior of Harima province, and author of the book of strategy entitled, The Book of Five Rings, says that the path of the warrior is the path of excellence. So, when I began my introduction by boldly declaring—I AM A WARRIOR—I was really declaring: I AM A PERSON ON THE PATH OF EXCELLENCE. Now, combine that with the aforementioned definition of war, tweak it a little, and here you have my mission: I AM A PERSON OF EXCELLENCE ACTIVELY ENGAGED IN OVERCOMING EVERY OBSTACLE AND CHALLENGE THAT I MAY FACE. It really doesn’t matter what the obstacle or challenge you’re facing—trying to overcome a bad habit, getting in better physical shape, nailing that critical interview, winning in competitive situations such as sports, or even writing your first novel—adopting the mentality of a warrior won’t guarantee you’ll succeed 100% of the time, but it will, from my experience, give you the BEST possible chance for success from the start.

Before we proceed, I want to give a brief history of how I became deeply entrenched and involved in the topic of war, warfare, and living life as a warrior. Caveat: The follow sequence contains a description of an event I experienced of a graphic nature. I am in no way glamorizing what happened. Rather, I’m intimating this incident to give insight into what molded certain aspects of my personality and character. I grew up as a typical kid in Washington, D.C. during the Reagan era. So, I guess you can call me an 80s baby. There was nothing particularly fascinating about my life or my family at the time, except maybe the fact my mom conceived me when she was just 16 years old. That meant that my grandma, whom I view as my guardian angel, would naturally be the one caring for me most of the time while my mom worked, went to school, or otherwise tried to figure out her own life. Don’t get me wrong. I love my mother. I love my mother deeply. But, being so young when she brought me into the world meant forcing her to grow up faster than any kid should. And, any issues that my mom had at the time would have to take a back seat to raising a new baby boy. That seems an awful lot to ask of a teenager, during any era. On top of that, my biological father, Michael Lesesne Sr., was no where to be found. So there you have it, a 17 year old girl, a new-born son, no father, and, no immediate prospects of life getting any easier. Fast-forward 7 years. The year was 1984. My family, which now consisted of my mom and her then boyfriend David (whom she would later marry), still lived in Northeast D.C. My grandma lived on 18th street Northeast at the time, and I would spend weekends with her. I remember vividly playing pots and pans in her kitchen, hiding under the sink, and watching Saturday morning cartoons as a kid. I loved spending weekends with my grandmother and absolutely hated when I had to leave. In fact, I used to cry every time my mother would come to pick me up on Sundays to prepare for school the next day.

18th street holds an abundance of memories for me, many good and some not-so-good. One enjoyable memory I have of that small block was the so-called big yard that flanked my grandmother’s building. As a kid, I would fill plastic grocery bags with leaves and trash and tie them to the big tree in the middle of the yard. From there, I would pretend to be Muhammad Ali or Sugar Ray Leonard or something, pounding that small bag of trash like it was a punching bag. In retrospect, when I drive past the "big yard’ today, it doesn’t seem quite as looming as it did all those years ago. In fact, it’s a down-right small yard with an unflattering rusty fence around it—not quite the recollection of a sprawling yard I’d envisioned as a boy.

Another fond memory I have of 18th street was playing outside with my friends and the neighborhood kids. As a child, I had an extraordinary imagination. I used to pretend to be one of the Thundercats—Cheetara to be exact—sprinting from 0-60 in 4 seconds flat! 18th street is on a large hill that runs all the way down to the intersection of 18th and Benning road, not far from Hechinger Mall. I can recall my stepfather David building me a skateboard out of wood and me racing it down that hill. And, perhaps my biggest fondest memory of 18th street was walking down to RFK Stadium in the mid-80s to hear Michael Jackson perform. It was me, my favorite cousin, and a couple of my aunts at the time. We didn’t get to see the King of Pop perform his greatest hits. But, boy did it sure sound great from the street!

Not every memory of 18th street, however, is one I can look back upon with fondness and affinity. An older neighborhood boy robbed me of my innocence when I was just 7 years old, still impressionable, pliable, and ultimately vulnerable. I kept that secret to myself for an agonizing 15 years before finally revealing it to my mom during an intimate conversation.

There you have it. The foundations of insecurity, fear, guilt, confusion, anger, and low self-esteem were cemented in my 7 year old mind. Then, add to that harsh reality the fact that I perceived my mother as emotionally distant—she never told me she loved me or showed physical affection—and you have young wings broken before they could even attempt flight. I felt inadequate, un-loved, and isolated as a result. Those feelings grew more persistent the older I became. By the time I was 19, I had attempted suicide at college by taking a razor to my wrists. Obviously, I was unsuccessful at that attempt. And, to be honest, I only made minor cuts to both wrists. But, that was the first time I’d gotten to the point of utter desperation and despair. I was screaming for help. Those feelings, which were now demons, of inadequacy grew in intensity and frequency. I felt as if something were seriously wrong with me. I hated the way I looked. I hated the way I spoke. In my mind, I felt like everyone who looked at me thought the same thing: DAMN! LOOK AT THAT ANGRY UGLY PITIFUL LONELY ASSHOLE WHO CAN’T GET A GIRLFRIEND OR HAVE FUN BECAUSE NOONE LIKES HIM. I believed that for a long time.

After graduating college in 1999, I took on various teaching positions in D.C. Some jobs went well. Some jobs didn’t. Those demons I’d tried to leave behind in college simply followed me wherever I went. I guess the old adage is true, Where ever you go, there you are. I still struggled with insecurities. I still thought I was ugly. I still felt alone and isolated, no matter how many people I was around. Then, I had the added weight of culminating failures on top of that. My life was a wreck. That is, until I took a teaching position at a prominent Middle School in Washington, D.C. For the sake of this story, I’ll call said Middle School Forward Academy Charter School.

I was hired at Forward Academy in 2006 to teach science. The first year went well. I established myself as a qualified, dedicated, and passionate teacher who could really motivate even the most willful students. During that first year, I was assigned an all-male homeroom. I believe the single-gender class arrangement at the middle-school level is an effective tool at deterring many issues adolescents face at that stage. In any event, I decided to form a boys’ group with some of the males in my homeroom. The purpose of the group was to teach self-control and etiquette. I brought in an etiquette coach who taught us how to properly set a dining table, eat in a formal and fancy restaurant setting, and even use chop sticks! It was fun. And, along the way, I became close to a core group of the boys who would later form a second group the next year. Fast forward one year to fall of 2007. We had a new principal and new staff on board at FORWARD ACADEMY. I was excited about the prospects. But, then, the reality of the change set in. We’d switched over from a block schedule—teaching 3 classes a day—to a