When I started raising a family, I was a pretty strict dad. As my children grew older, there were certain pivotal moments when I had to choose what kind of relationship I was going to have with each of them. I have always been a religious, church-going person. And in some of those key moments, I felt like I was having to make a choice between God and church on one side and family on the other. That if I were to choose "God’s and the church's way", I would have to put distance between myself and the child, as a way of showing them (or others, or God) that I disapproved of their choices. Think Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof, who disowns his daughter because she marries outside the Jewish faith.
However, I always chose family. At the time, making this choice was deeply distressing to me because I thought that God’s way was part of my identity, that it defined me. So making a choice counter to that felt like I was losing myself, and for a while I felt unmoored, like a boat drifting in the ocean with no solid ground in sight.
It was only after some serious soul-searching that I came to understand two important things. First, this was in fact not a choice between God and family; rather, I was choosing to relate to my children exactly how God relates with us in the here and now. I wanted them in my life, just as God wants us in His. I wanted my children to know that, just like God loves us no matter what, I love them no matter what. Central to this kind of relationship is accepting others for who they are, not for who we think they should be. I started to really know my children.
The second realization was that my identity was not something I should have been searching for, but instead something I had the power and responsibility to define. There wasn’t some “me” deep inside that I needed to discover to provide answers to the tough questions I was dealing with. Rather, I could choose who I wanted “me” to be, and in fact I was obligated to choose. This had a profound effect on me, and prompted a shift from a somewhat passive approach to life to a more active one.
It was because of these shifts in my perspective—and the resulting changes in attitude and behavior toward my children—that a new phrase started getting used at home: Dad, version 2.0. Because I’m a Software Engineer/Architect by profession, that nomenclature was perfectly natural. The feedback from "the customers", i.e., the family, was that this was definitely a better version than Dad 1.0.
ZEN: Gaining Clarity About What Truly Matters
This story reflects the ZEN pillar of the ZAG Matrix—the inner work of developing mental clarity, purpose, and resilience before any external change can take place.
At first, I was operating in a mental fog. Competing expectations about faith, parenting, and identity made it difficult to see what truly mattered. Through reflection and honest soul‑searching, that fog lifted. I came to recognize that the conflict I felt wasn’t between God and family, but between inherited assumptions and deeper truth. And even more powerfully, I understood that I had full control over my identity. ZEN begins by filtering out the noise—contradictions and false assumptions—to identify the real values and priorities.
That clarity reshaped my sense of purpose. “Dad 2.0” emerged not from trying harder, but from acting with greater intention and sense of responsibility. ZEN connects daily actions to meaning that can sustain difficult choices.
Finally, this shift required resilience. Choosing closeness over distance was uncomfortable at first, feeling adrift was agonizing, and my soul-searching was emotionally costly. ZEN doesn’t eliminate struggle, it builds the inner strength to move through it while maintaining (or, as in my case, determining) direction. That resilience became the foundation on which stronger relationships could be built.
ACT: Aligning Relationships to Create Momentum
With clarity, purpose, and resilience in place, I was able to bring into play principles of ACT—the pillar where energy, relationships, and systems are deliberately aligned to create momentum.
ACT’s Relationship component is about strengthening the connections that support growth under real‑world pressure. In my case, “Dad 2.0” represented a conscious redesign of how I showed up in relationships. By choosing presence over distance, I aligned my values with my behavior and reshaped our family dynamic into a two‑way support system.
Rather than relationships being something to manage or correct, they became the very mechanism that sustains growth—for me and for my children. This is precisely what ACT enables: when relationships are aligned, forward motion becomes possible even when plans change, or certainty is absent.
Conclusion
In retrospect, the phrase “Dad 2.0” is more than just a clever personal metaphor. The principles underlying the inner shift I experienced—clarity about what mattered, purpose that aligned belief with action, and resilience to endure discomfort—are directly aligned with ZEN. And my turning that inner change outward, by realigning relationships into a source of momentum and support, harmonizes with ACT. My evolution as a father created not only healthier relationships with my children but also a more grounded, resilient version of myself.
