Men's Group

A storm is threatening our very lives today; If I don't get some shelter, man, I'm gonna fade away..."

So that was that. Men's group done and dusted. I made every effort not to know what was going to happen and probably that's just as well. It wasn't what I thought, but I don't know what was. If I'd have given it any thought... Forget it. I didn't. I think it helped that I don't have any issues about the masculinity thing. Though having just said that word I also admit that there's not a lot about that word I understand. Maybe that's my gift, maybe it's my curse. I don't know. I'm not a male in the old sense - in my father's sense - but I'm not not a male in that sense either. I provide the cash. I pay the bills. I take care of things. I think in general we follow the old Jewish tradition - you know, the old joke: The man makes all the big decisions - whether we're going to war, what the interest rates are... - while the woman makes all the small decisions - where we live, where the children go to school, what we're going to eat tonight.
There was a lot of chat about 'the masculine' and there was that word that Matt picked up on - besieged. I'm not sure about any of this. Most of the language that was used was language that, in the greater world, would be described as 'feminine'. It was tender and warm and loving. Even the words that don't necessarily have a female connotation, words like strong and brave and noble... why are these given a gender? Aren't these just traps we fall into? Why must we assign words and feelings to gender. Listen, Graham cried and we metaphorically applauded. Yet crying. Isn't that a girlie thing to do? Surely the only way forward is that we leave al that labelling behind and just consider ourselves as people? I don't mean to discredit the notion of a 'men's group' nor do I intend to because most if not all of the exercises we did were either interesting or valuable, but all this did make me question the validity of our exercise. The agenda is set by the agenda of the people involved. Of course.
Having said all that... what a lovely opportunity to spend some time with a group of men, talking about things that were important to us, listening to each other, caring for what each other says. When was the last time anyone had a conversation where the person speaking gave 100% and the person listening gave 100%? It doesn't happen. But here it happened and that was fantastic. Spending time listening and talking and just being in a completely selfish way. This is my time. It's a fantastic luxury.
Also, it wouldn't have worked if it had been cross-gender. I don't know why - and that's something I'm going to have to think about - but I just know that not only was it easier being all-male, but it made it possible to be honest. Talking of honesty, I was frankly amazed at how quickly everyone got with it. There seemed to be no settling in period, no testing the water. Everyone just seemed to jump in. I was surprised and I think that the idea to fill in that initial questionnaire was a masterstroke. It immediately helped focus the mind, helped concentrate thoughts. Would it have made a difference if we'd have known that no one was ever going to see them? No idea. The other smart set up was getting us to put blindfolds on before the Sweat. That whole thing - the blindfolds, the walk outside holding hands... - was the perfect way to both concentrate your mind and take your mind off what was to happen.
A downside? I felt there was a certain pressure to say things when really there was nothing to say. I'd liked to have had a bit more outside stuff, a bit more fresh air and nature. And - and this is something I've not thought through at all - but what might it have been like to have an exercise that was intensely physical. You know, get us all absolutely shattered physically and then... then we talk. That state of being physically spent, I dont know how you'd do it but it's an interesting state. Wrestling?
Another downside. There was too much of an air of solemnity. It was all - understandably - very serious. I felt discouraged from making gags, from being a smartarse . Probably a good thing.
The initial exercises about our fathers... My feelings about my father came as no surprise really. It's a bitch that he died. 20-odd years on, I still can't believe it. But there's nothing to add here. No new thoughts. I know now that it was a relationship that was supposed to be an adult thing, that if have hung around we'd have been mates - proper mates having a laugh and stuff. It was never meant to be an adult/child thing. By all accounts he had that with Stephen.
It's a strange relief to find that everyone's experiences are so similar. The absent (for whatever reason) father was a fantastically strong image and as a father it made me realise the importance of being there, both physically and emotionally. This was a good realisation because I'd been having problems with my decision to give up work and the strains that was putting on the family. Was it a selfish 'sacrifice'?
The actual sweat was a strange one. In the build up, I was so concerned about the physicality of it all that I didn't give much thought to it. But it was amazing and my first instinct was that impulse that Teletubbies tapped in to so brilliantly. Again, again. The heat I didn't find a problem, though there were times when James was throwing water on the 'grandfathers' when I though "OK OK enough bloody water already". (Thought: why are they called grandfathers? Must remember to ask James). It helped that I stuck my hand outside, just that psychological safety net - there is an outside. I can't see anything but there is an outside. It was a curiously thrilling experience and one I'd like to repeat again soon. I know that the next time I won't be so fearful of it all and that will help my flow. I was pleased that I didn't feel the need to take on another persona. No judgements - if that's what other people want to do, fine. But it's not me. There was a time when I'd have felt pressured to follow suit - "Er, hello. Squatting Donkey here...." But I just went with what I felt. And that felt good. It's very easy to say things like "Be honest" and "Be true to yourself" but it's not so easy to do. It's easy to say that "the energy in the Sweat wouldn't let you be anything other than true to yourself, but - while that's true - it's still bloody hard.
The fire after was fantastic. It was curious. I felt wonderfully post-coital, that afterglow. It was like we'd all just had great sex, were spent and were now sitting around doing the cigarette thing.
I came away thinking that everyone there was a good person, a sweet. But I guess that's what happens at places like this. Will any new friendships bloom? Doubt it. Will any of the taking names down and "We must get together" stuff happen? Doubt it. Will even the names get passed around? We'll see. I'd like to be surprised, but what do you think? None of that means anything really, It's just the way the world works. I'll stay friends with Graham because I am friends with Graham and that's cool too. He surprised me. I was incredibly touched by him showing emotional cracks during the gown exercise. It was brave and real and very human.

I need to get in touch with 'The Warrior'. I don't feel those impulses at all. I should, I think, take up a high pressure sport. I listened to Matt talking about surfing and the other water stuff and it was properly inspiring. I'm sure there's benefit to be gained from that, an energy to tap into. Listen, if nothing else I'll get fitter, but there's every chance a new door might open and that would be to everyone's benefit.
For me, one of the most interesting things was the drum beating exercise. Beating out the rage and the anger. One by one, different men came and went, banging the drum in their own ways and letting out deep primal roars and screams. I looked on as they did and, of all the exercises we'd done, it seemed to me the strangest. When it came to my turn... I was going to pass – after all, that was every man's prerogative – but I wanted to just be in that space, I just wanted to hold that drum. To see how it felt. So I went into the centre of the circle, kneeled on the cushion, held the drum. Nothing. I stroked the drum. Nothing. Tapped it with my fingers. Nothing. It was a strange thing but even though I'd been with these men for the best part of two days and I’d been through all sorts of psyche-stripping exercises with them, I felt a huge rush of peer pressure. Bang and scream. That's what everyone else has done. That's what they’re waiting to hear. That's what you’re supposed to do. When I started I was quite self-conscious. It took a while for me to get out of my head but while there's were times when, in truth, I might have held a part of me back I didn't’t ever respond dishonestly. What’s the point? And apart from anything else, everyone else would have seen through it. I’m not sure you can hide in these situations. Anyway – the point is, that I wasn't’t going to bang the bastard drum now. I wasn't’t going to start being dishonest at this stage of the game. So I was holding this drum, trying to locate the rage and the anger within, thinking of what to do when James said to me "How would express passion?" This took me by complete surprise and, frankly, I didn't know what to say. To say that it came from left field is... accurate. I thought we were banging drums, expressing anger, outing rage. What had that got to do with "How would express passion?" In that classic way that you always think of the smart retort after the event – you know, the classic put-down – I now know I should have just shown James that my passion comes from a hug, a kiss, a smile, a warm embrace. Not banging a drum and screaming. Now – and here's a thought – does that make me a unimaginative, passionless lover? I don't know. Anyway, the smart retort escaped me and I just return to my cushion. There was a muted "Ho" from the assembled menfolk. Did they understand? Did they know what I was thinking? Did they think I was hiding back? Interpret it as an emotionally constipated response? I sat there thinking about all this and – by now I knew the score – knew that we would go round in a circle and explain 'how that all felt'. Should I say? Maybe in retrospect I should have had a bit of a rabbit, but at the time I just felt that I didn't care what people thought. I was secure in my response. Really. I feel really comfortable writing that, knowing that it's not a lie or a cover-up. I think that also maybe I felt that if I wasn’t really careful it might come across as sounding smug – I haven't got any rage. I haven't got any anger. I deal with it before it builds to that.
One final thing. I was incredibly touched that James gave me that picture of "The King". I've no idea whether it was a deliberate act, whether there any thought involved - and if there was, what that thought might have been. I've no idea whether James thought I was the oldest there or the most deserving or the what. Maybe I was the nearest. Maybe they thought I was the most needy. You know, I didn't know then and I don't care now. If it wasn't a deliberate act then I'm going to tick the box that says Nothing Happens By Accident and say that it 'was meant'. There. That's even better for this bastard ego.