It's just life

This weekend, I had *the* workshop of my life. I've done many workshops, courses and retreats in my time, but this is the most real, down to earth, loving and - for me - absolutely necessary workshop I've had. And there wasn't a single woman involved.

We were thirteen men and two facilitators. I was the youngest, the next one up was thirty-three and the oldest was approaching sixty. Men from all walks of life. Men of different sizes, tempers and perspectives. Normally I would've said that most of these men wouldn't have much in common with me, but the raw emotional truth of what I've seen over these three full days has changed my perspective on men forever. Truly, we are no different.

There were plenty of exercises, the most commonly used were what our facilitators called dyads. In these, we were turning ourselves inside out answering the same question in monologue form over and over again. It was an emptying out exercise used to let us discover what was at the bottom of our buckets. I've never done something like it before, but this extremely simple practice was very powerful. I felt as if I peeled off layer upon layer of emotional and psychological crap and reached something far truer than most meditative experiences have ever yielded. I reached the core of my humanity. And make no doubt about it - I'm a man.

The course reached its climax at the end of the second day when we had our “wounds ceremony”. We covered our bodies with tape - red for physical wounds and black for emotional wounds. We were then led out of the course building, a mesmerizing place by the way. When the facilitators opened the doors again, they had transformed the circular room into one of the most sacred spaces I've ever seen. Candles were burning everywhere, beautiful music was playing in the background and these two men that we had come to respect something tremendously - they were truly giants among men - greeted us. The red carpet drew a straight line into the middle of the room as we lined up beside it. And then started the walk of wounds. One man after the other went into the center of the room, in front of us others and told their stories. The stories that were revealed were so heart-wrenching, so painful - stories of neglect, sexual abuse, betrayal and torture, yet they were presented with such dignity. And the understanding grew in me that we are all wounded, hurt at the core. And that connects us. It was beautiful.

As I stepped up, I repeated the greeting the others had offered before me. “Hi, my name is Eivind and these are my wounds”. The feeling of standing there - faced with all those brave men I already felt a brotherly love towards and opening myself to the raw emotional truth of my life - was awesome. Terrifying yet awesome. I gotta tell you, it's fucking impossible to describe. But I stood up straight, supported by these other men's loving faces and got through it. There were tears, sure, but there was dignity to it. And when I finished, just like the others, I walked under the raised arms of my brothers - arms raised in respect for what I had just done. My face was wet and still I felt like a knight.

Afterwards, I felt a deep longing to express love to a woman. Profound love. I now felt free to do so. I had said to my lover that I didn't want to see her that night because it would disturb the process, but my heart was really longing to see her. So she came. And even though the time we had together last night was brief, it was such a tender and loving moment. I was open, broken open with love from other men and from the letting go of old wounds and I felt fucking vulnerable. “I don't have much libido right now”, I told her. “I just want to be close to you”. Yet we proceeded to have the best sex we've ever had. And I wonder if I have ever been more masculine than last night. In a few hours, my understanding of what genuine masculinity is was blown to bits. I still don't know, but at least I know it's not about being “hard”.

What I've seen now is that a true man, the true warrior, is vulnerable as fuck - and that's what makes him strong. He's an open, longing, loving being. But those qualities are backed up with a fierce strength, a tremendous and undeniable life force that can blow through anything on its way to that which he is longing for. The man who is not vulnerable is not powerful.

But more than anything, what I've seen is the beauty of men. I've seen the huge wounds that have been inflicted on us by rampant feminism. I've seen the raw emotional despair, the outrage of being branded as insensitive brutes, rapists, wife-beaters and emotional imbeciles. The stories of terrorizing mothers, outright nasty and abusive wives and girlfriends, of men going to places to support the female agenda and being chastized and under attack by the very women whom they came to support - just because they asked to have the male side heard. I sensed that much of what remains of the feminist agenda is a betrayal against men (and thus against women), a battle against perpetrators who lived decades if not centuries ago. When I saw the other course participants carry the wounds of this trauma with dignity - despite their terrible stories, I admired them. And I felt a terrible sadness for the current state of society.

I really feel changed from this experience. I have discovered that deep down, in the heart of hearts, every man is my brother. And for this I'm eternally grateful.

The second weekend course in the three part series is in October. I'll be there - ready to bring masculine love into the world once more.