Asheville Sangha

Asheville Spirituality, Satsang, Meditation

Written on and in celebration of Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday
Just outside Red Hook, St. Thomas, USVI
Draft Version 1.5
© 2010 Howard McQueen

OUR MEN,
society manufactures and churns them out in droves.
The production line begins
with the anger and rage of fathers
rained down on their male children,
a constant barrage of obedience,
fealty, patriarchic control,
this breeding ground for Spartans,
culling and selecting
for stoic conditionings.

OUR MEN,
their childhood’s innocence,
nipped at the bud.
Work ethic and productivity
trumping and snuffing out joy and innocence.
The glimmer of capacity remaining within,
a vicarious projection to allow witness of other's children
experiencing innocence and joy,
their own hidden away, deeply buried, inaccessible..

OUR MEN,
often emotionally stunted, blinded by their forfeited adolescence,
suspicious of laughter,
assuming they have unknowing incriminated
and indicted themselves,
feeling the laughter
secretly aimed and targeted at them.

OUR MEN,
sometimes overly sensitive
touchy about being corrected,
advocating they would rather continue
making and living with the outcomes of their own mistakes,
than be corrected,
forced to face up,
to dredge up,
yet again
the brutal domestication of spirit
held in their childhood’s cut-short end.

OUR MEN,
often disdaining our compassion,
having zero tolerance for their own weakness.
They push away those bringing offerings
of solace and compassion,
to fill their wounded, gaping void.

OUR MEN,
when gifted with the ethics
of goodness,
of gentlemen-ness
and fair-play,
are generous to a fault.
When not triggered in projections,
our men give of themselves
as much,
if not more,
than anyone else.

OUR MEN,
who have lost their way,
unable to connect into their heart,
their emotions so numbed-down and distorted,
so much of their attention and intention,
their devotion, albeit fixation,
serving their God of Command and Control.

OUR MEN,
Inwardly caught
in a constant inability
to be genuinely at-ease.
Even the tasks
of preparing to enjoy … ,
so often undertaken
with a stress-provoking
self-imposing ticking time-bomb timetable.

OUR MEN,
even after nearly forty years
away from honorable military discharge,
their informal pre-military careers
already in full force and effect
since the age of four, five or six,
the training received then, even more relentless.

OUR MEN,
their selective domestication of spirit
playing such a prominent role,
becoming brittle,
defensive,
work-a-haulics,
throwing themselves into situations
designed to keep their hearts at bay,
closing down their own innocence, joy and radiance,
willing and ready to give CPR to others,
not knowing how to practice,
or even take the first steps
to revive the innocence in their childhood lost.

OUR MEN,
having no intuitive sense
that the invitation still exists
to open to their hearts,
their self-compassion so damped down,
so smothered and covered over.

OUR MEN,
they know nothing about this great letting-go
of the God of Command and Control,
what they have strived so hard to perfect,
they so fearful to release the helm,
judged guilty of paramount loss of control.
Standing at the edge of their false precipice,
releasing into freefall,
all the armor and hurt
choking, congesting and insulating their hearts.

OUR MEN,
they try to slake their spirit thirst
by contributing to the safety
and service of others,
to serve and protect,
to put their lives on the line,
r e p e a t e d l y,
securing the stormy seas
braving and taming the treacherous airspaces,
our homes,
our streets,
our neighborhoods,
are lit with their pride and devotion to our nation.
This is how our men have been trained,
this seemingly their only channel,
their single venue
to cultivate worth-of-self and extend their intimacy.

OUR MEN,
our quiet, cold war and current war humble, often wounded veterans,
proud to serve,
these Spartans,
these defenders of the peace
ready to take a bullet or knife
to put it all on the line
for those they love,
even for those they will never meet.

OUR MEN,
they simmer in their stoic dilemma,
they project and then push away
those carrying the gifts to make them whole.
they would seem unconsciously caught up,
locked in the ultimately mean
and perverse Catch-22 machinery.

OUR MEN,
Inclusive of, Yes,
we few men who have made the journey
and reached our heart,
know not to take these noble men’s push backs
as rejection,
criticism,
nor do we interpret their behavior as directed abuse.
We know first hand of the long lines of perpetuated suffering
our men have suffered quite long enough.
We few are ready to lead our Calvary back to home and heart.

OUR MEN,
held in the already heartfelt embrace,
of the feminine (sisters, mothers, grand meres, aunts, lovers and friends)
and these few already in-the-heart men,
we encircle these warriors
in love's embrace.
"We dearly love you"
our masculine (brothers, fathers, grand peres, uncles, lovers and friends),

OUR MEN are our messengers
bringing us the messages,
enabling us to refine and more deeply shore up
our unconditional embrace,
this divine, dynamic healing circle,
that mends and integrates,
the inherited,
manufactured
and bred
dysfunctions,
heretofore stymieing
and holding back
our struggle to evolve the human race.

The great opening and unifying of the masculine and the feminine, both contributing wings to the shared heart, cherishing each other, healing the ancient woundedness, resting and nourishing each other in Love’s embrace.


… ~~~ . ~ … ~~~
I have pulled from a composite of my own experiences as a male and my experiences with numerous male relationships to create this story and blessing

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