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The Men's Centerof Raleigh and Wake County |
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The Men's Centerof Raleigh and Wake County |
September 1997
Marcus Copelan
In July, Marcus Copelan participated in the week-long wilderness Leadership Training Program offered each summer by the Men's Council Project of Boulder, Colorado. Tom Daly, Jeffrey Duvall, and Keith Fairmont led this annual men's retreat with profound commitment, deep hearts, and honed skills. In the following vignette, Marcus captures a hint of the abiding change resulting from his experience.
I arrived at Sapphire Canyon feeling alone and fatigued. I left feeling connected and vital, with a powerful blood line to men I had not known before--twenty-six new brothers whose stories, honesty, strength, vulnerability, and commitment to their paths had renewed my spirit and helped me find my way once again.
My packet of information had included a list of items to bring, including information about clothing in a changeable climate. Wool cap and mittens for thirty-five-degree nights, shorts and sun block for eight-five-degree-afternoons at an altitude of 8,500 feet, and a rain parka for the sudden thunderstorms that are the hallmark of the Rockies in summer.
For once, I used every item of clothing I packed. One chilly night the wool cap, mittens, socks, and L.L. Bean long johns kept me cozy in my sleeping bag when the temperature dipped into the low thirties. Each morning when we arose at 6:30, the air was brisk. Standing around the kitchen area drinking their first cup of coffee, men were layered and capped. I would hold my cup to my face to relish the rising steam on my skin.
Each day began that way--around the kitchen where two of the men prepared scrumptious meals that filled our bellies as abundantly as the camaraderie, challenges, and rituals filled our souls. Morning warm up exercises in a circle ended with blessings for the day, for the men, for the beauty of the place.
Sapphire Canyon is an hour outside of Boulder and not far from Estes Park. On two sides magnificent rock cliffs rise, barren of any growth. They are splendid palates for the sun as it passes over, painting the craggy walls with subtle hues that mark the changing hour and moods of the canyon. Proud spruce and erect Ponderosa pines stand out among the trees that grace the canyon with their presence.
Keith, from New Orleans, introduced me to the Ponderosa. "See that tall pine with the reddish bark up there? Go up to it and smell the bark. Pull off a piece to get the full aroma." I climbed about twenty feet up a gentle slope at the base of the canyon wall and embraced the tree to steady myself. As I pressed my nose close to the bark, a scent resembling vanilla, but more pungent, less tame, filled my nostrils like ancient incense. Every morning as I crawled out of my tent, I would raise my eyes to this proud tree. It became a symbol for me of rootedness, strength, and beauty. Bits of its bark lie on the top shelf of my computer stand, drawing me back to the skies, the cliffs, the spruces of the place--the canyon.
All the men participating in the Leadership Training this July had been sent a packet of materials to guide us in preparing for our experience in the canyon. It included a reading list, a model for conflict resolution, and crystalline summaries of the four archetypes-- Lover, Warrior, Magician, and Sovereign--the best descriptions I had come across. We had each written a brief statement about our intentions for the retreat. So we all came with a focus, not matter how fuzzy, of what we wanted, what we needed, and what we had to share.
The first evening after dinner, in our first council circle, we were asked to consider what we might want to leave here in Sapphire. What impediment, what harness that bound us might we be ready to give up? We were offered four venues in which to give up what encumbered us: earth in which to bury, fire in which to burn, water in which to set free, and a final possibility--a sturdy beech bound with stout raffia to which we could tie ourselves. As our turn came (if we chose this venue), we would pronounce what we needed to cut ourselves from, then sever the binding rope.
I knew immediately I would choose the beech and the ropes. As it turned out, most of the other men made the same choice. It was potent and exhausting leaning out from that beech, holding the rope taut as each man spoke with intensity about what bound him, what held him in suspension in his life, what thing it was from which he needed to free himself. With tears, sweat, anger, fierce joy, we each in turn made our statements, our pledges and cut ourselves away from what bound us. Even as I write weeks after this ceremony, the intensity of the moment swells over me, and I breathe freely, for I left there at the base of that beech a strangling noose that had choked me for years.
I had not clearly framed what I needed to do in Sapphine Canyon. Or at least, I had no precise understanding of my intention for the retreat. But my experience there unfolded as perfectly as if the script had been written and revised to perfection. I had come there ready for new space in my life, in my soul. From the moment of the first ceremony and that cutting away from what had bound me for so many years, a clearing began in my chest, in my heart, in my guts for new breath, new life. A space opened in me to receive the gifts of the canyon--the craggy cliffs which I would climb on my solo day for a vista of snow-capped mountains; the spruces, ponderosas, wild flowers, and sage which I would breathe into my hungry lungs; the stories, the accents, the failures, the truths of the men I would hear and carry in my soul.
Just three months earlier I had said to Bill Rose (who had come up from Orleans for the Spring Gathering), "Bill, I just can't afford to go to Sapphire Canyon this year." "Marcus," he responded with a quiet knowing, "you can't afford not to go."
How right he had been!
As the actual time in the canyon with my brothers recedes, the experience stays with me. I am different now. Something shifted while I was there. Something changed permanently for me. My clan brothers are with me every day, sustaining me in ways I cannot name. I am blessed daily by the beauty of the canyon, the love of my brothers, and the spaces within me that are now open to new life.
--Marcus Copelan
In the following article Frederick Whitmeyer interviews Bob Irvine, who attended a creative movement workshop led by Dale English. Bob shares his thoughts and feelings about the experience.
FW: How did you feel when you completed Dale's workshop? Different?
BI: What was most different about me when I completed this workshop was the fact that I did feel. This was so new to me at that point. I had spent years not feeling things. I would push them down until they were no longer accessible to me on a conscious level, although they still did their dirty work through my subconscious. At this workshop, I experienced without shame fear, panic, curiosity, acceptance, honesty, discomfort, apprehension, safety, creative freedom, laughter, tears of joy, tears of sadness, nurture, love, paralysis, kinesthetic freedom, openness, bonding, touch, pleasure, ecstasy, playfulness, awareness of my body. I felt unfettered, unashamed, and authentic. Now is that different? Let's just say that the fear and panic, the discomfort and apprehension, the sadness and paralysis were all things I knew well. But as for those other things, a grown man isn't supposed to feel those things. What would other people think if he enjoyed touching and being touched, moving to the music inside him, turning loose of years and years of shame and guilt and finding out who he really was? I didn't know until then.
FW: What did you think about your experience at the workshop?
BI: I don't believe I did think about it. That's one of the glorious things about the weekend. I quit thinking. Hear that? I quit thinking and began to listen to what I was feeling. And it didn't matter what those feelings were. They were OK, were honored, welcomed, and validated.
FW: Did you experience personal growth? change?
BI: Yes, definitely. I was transformed by the weekend. I am not the same person today that I was then. Now, not all of this happened at once, as a direct result of this workshop. But the workshop was the key that began to open the doors to the growth I have experienced with the help of some wonderful friends. I learned that I have inherent worth. Even when I wasn't the one moving, I felt I had an awesome responsibility to witness the other person's movement. I was able to validate what the other people were doing and feeling. And at the same time, I was validating the places where their movement took me. No two of us experienced the very same thing, even though we all witnessed the same movement. Our personal histories shaped our personal interpretations of what we saw. I was finally able to turn loose of so much that I could laugh until I cried. As for change, well, there is no going back now. I've had a taste of what life can really be like. There are moments when I'm down, or I revert to the old critical ay of looking at myself, but that's just what they are--moments along a greater continuum. They pass and I go back to realizing how much of my potential had remained untapped before.
FW: How was Dale as a leader/facilitator of the workshop?
BI: Dale was excellent. Without Dale's gift for unconditional acceptance of where each person "is" at any given moment, I would not have benefitted from this experience as I did. He greeted me with a firm handshake, looked straight into my eyes, introduced himself to me, and within minutes his warm, friendly, honest manner had melted my discomfort and apprehension into an unbelievable feeling of safety. I told him things I had vowed to myself I wouldn't disclose to anyone, and yet I never felt pressured into doing so. Rather it was as if he had given me the permission I needed to release the bonds that were holding me as a prisoner within myself. The fact that he is so willing to share himself on such a deep personal level helps others to do the same thing. I knew he was there for me, to guide me, to protect me from all harm (including the harm I could do to myself), to help me find the true self that had been in hiding for too many years.
FW: How would you evaluate the workshop? Was your money well spent? Would you take another workshop from Dale?
BI: This workshop began a process that has completely transformed my life. I am not the same person today. My relationships with my inner self, with my spouse, and with my friends have all benefitted from participating in this workshop. I had been in traditional therapy, and had made good progress, but this unlocked the body that was sheltering all those feelings of shame and guilt and that prevented me from working with them and through them. Now they no longer have their captivating power over me. This workskhop would have been a bargain at twice the price. The facilities and meals were wonderful. The serene setting and the peaceful demeanor of our host made the weekend even sweeter. I have already registered for my next workshop with Dale. I am looking forward to beginning this one where I left off last time. I am ready to leave my fears and shame at home and bring a willing and eager student to the next workshop.
FW: Would you recommend Creative Movement workshops and Dale English to others?
BI: I have already told everybody who knows me about this workshop, and what it has meant in my life. Many people were very curious, but some of them were a bit reserved. I think my enthusiasm and honesty may have made them a little fearful. I know that if I had realized just what I was going to accomplish at this retreat, I probably would have found some excuse not to attend. Change can be so frightening! I was much more comfortable with the familiar hell in which I was living. I only regret that I didn't have the courage to do this three years earlier when I first heard about Dale and his movement workshops. Perhaps I wasn't ready to receive his gifts at that time. But I know that if people will come to his event with an open mind, a willing spirit, and a trusting soul, great things can happen to them, just as they happened to me!
--Frederick Whitmeyer
Leadership Council in Action
On August 15 and 16, the 1996-97 Leadership Council of the Raleigh Men's Center met in retreat at Frederick Whitmeyer's home near Greensboro and passed the torch to the incoming Council. In attendance were Frederick, Marcus Copelan, Don Azevedo, Bob Boyd, Vaughn Clauson, Lee Elliott, Jim McMahan, Ron Blankenship, and Art Kirwin.
In an opening ritual in the woods, each member of the outgoing Council voiced the things he had learned in the past year, as well as the things he wished to pass on to the new Council. We ended the evening with a ritual smudging.
On Saturday, after a ritual circle and reading of poetry, we began to take up the business of the council. We determined the criteria that would decide which events the Men's Center would sponsor, which it would endorse, and which it would announce. The criteria would be detailed in a manual of some kind.
We agreed that the membership should be encouraged to take a more active role in planning and facilitating Men's Center functions. There is an abundance of talent among our members--riches we have not yet tapped. We decided to ask Elders to invite MC members to join committees and to carry out certain tasks and responsibilities. One committee, for example, would devote itself exclusively to planning the monthly programs at Pullen.
We created a new position on the Council--that of Information Manager. His main duty would be to gather reports from the various comittees and bring them to the president a few days before the monthly LC meeting.
Concerning the newsletter, we decided that the editor would have final say as to its content. If a reader were moved by an article, he would be asked to respond with a single letter to the editor. The author of the article could then respond with his own letter.
Our morning meeting ended with an overview of the 1997-98 Council year. We agreed that, if we focused on our power as human beings to grow and to communicate, our goals will emerge from that strength. These goals, we agreed, would be set during our first Council meeting, September 4.
After lunch, we sketched out the major Men's Center events for the coming year--the Duvall Spirit Camp, the Fall Feast, the Spring Gathering, and more. Then we moved into ritual circle. There, each outgoing and remaining member of the Council spoke of what he had learned during the past year that might be of value to the incoming members. He also addressed each man present and praised that man's gifts--what were most remembered and admired.
After determining the positions each member would hold on the Council, we concluded our retreat with the calling of the directions and a sumptuous feast.
--Art Kirwin
September Monthly Meeting
Guest speakers for our September program will be Johnny Kerr, Director of Partners, and Adam Tunick, Program Coordinator for REAP. Both men will speak about the mentoring programs of their organizations: for Partners, mentoring of young men and women; and for REAP, mentoring of families, especially those without men in the home. Partners, a program of the Capital Area YMCA, pairs youth with adults who invest time and care in forming a suportive mentor relationship. REAP is a federally funded, community-based initiative that helps families to determine and achieve their own goals, including the successful nurturing of children. Both programs provide opportunies for men who wish to volunteer as mentors.
Lacy Wall, you a sellout.
Look atcha.
You wear clothes that fit.
You enjoy school.
You talk about all these goals.
Man, who are you trying to be?
Lacy Wall, you a sellout.
You done sold out to the man,
tryin' to be everybody's friend,
tryin' to make my negatives positive.
Nigga, who do you think you are,
reading all those books,
taking all them hard classes?
Have you forgotten
what you are?
You must have,
because you ain't like me.
You a sellout.
Yes, yes, I am a sellout.
I've sold out to the future I'm making for myself.
I've sold out to being able to hold down a job
where I don't have to wear a plastic name tag.
I've even sold out to a family
I one day hope to have.
I've sold out to all these things,
my friend.
But I will never sell out
to being ashamed of what I am.
I am black
and very proud.
I am sure you are, too,
but there is a difference between you and me.
I am an individual.
I don't have to be like everyone else.
I don't have to depend on anyone
but myself.
I don't have to use my blackness
as a crutch for being lazy.
I will make something
of myself.
I will not let people like you
stand in my way.
I will work hard to help people like you
who say they are ashamed of me.
So, brother, yes, I am a sellout.
And I am very, very proud of it.
--Lacy Wall, III
The following letter was written in response to "Father to Son: A Letter Twenty Years Late," published in the June issue.
Dear Friend:
Thank you for telling me you were the author of "Father to Son" in June's newsletter. I am honored by your sharing that information. I've been thinking how I could best respond, then decided not to think, but to feel instead. And what I feel is best summed up in what I wrote last Sunday [Father's Day, June 15]. It was written from my heart to you--a man I love, a man who has recognized his own pain, isn't afraid to go through it, and allows it to help him become more authentic and vulnerable. A man who shares all of that with me freely and without any shame. Here's what I wrote to you that day, looking through the lenses of your beautiful letter:
Dear _________,
I've been listening to everybody around here go on about it being Father's Day. That doesn't mean a great deal to me. I've just kind of shut that one down! There's a lot of sadness inside me because I couldn't have the type of relationship with my dad that I've found recently with some of my male friends--relationships that have become so precious to me. And I believe I'm as sad for my dad as I am for me. Just think how burdened and lonely and frightened he must have felt, and he didn't have anybody to share that with, or to affirm his worth.
Well, things are a little different for me now--I've found a few very dear friends who aren't afraid to open up and allow me to see that they are as lonely and scared as I am. So I guess I wanted to tell somebody--namely you--that I'm glad my dad fathered me (don't know any other way I could have gotten here). But I'm even happier that I've got someone now in my life who can help me learn what it means not only to be a "father" (I know how that one works) but also to be a MAN! What a joy to finally figure out that it's OK to feel frightened, to cry, and to laugh and have fun as well.
I wanted to take this opportunity (on a day when most men are honoring their biological fathers) to honor a man who is willing to help me discover exactly what that means--TO BE A MAN! Thanks for your vulnerability, your honesty, your trust, and your love. Thanks not because you fathered me during some accidental biological happening, but because you're helping me find what many "fathers" don't ever experience--love of themselves and of others. I'm glad--and grateful--that you are more than my biological father: you are my fathering friend--and not by accident, but by choice.
So today I choose to celebrate HAPPY "FATHERING" DAY! Therefore, my friend, I remain another man's son, who is grateful for your "fathering."
-- Name Withheld by Request
"Eva Smiling" was not a poem about Hitler, but about the evil that can lurk in our hearts. It is about what James Hillman in "The Soul's Code" calls the daimon, and in this case it is a calling to do very bad things.
I have an advantage in writing to support John's literary musings, because I had the opportunity to hear his poem read in the Sunday Poetry Group. And in his reading, there was no mistake as to his disgust with the people he was portraying. Reading out loud allowed the voice in the poem to fly and express itself unmistakably.
As a Jewish man, I appreciate the bristling feeling the poem evokes. That shows you the power of the written word and the power of poetry to create an image and channel it.
The question is: Is Hitler a topic worthy of poetry? Evidently so. Is it not a credit to the poet who can turn a sordid, dark episode into verse? Yes. And John does it so well.
We often speak of the positive archetypes--King, Magician, Warrior, Lover--but have we ever mentioned the evil ones-- Killer, Gangster, Warlord, Rapist? We never do, yet they lurk inside us. They must, because the world is full of them. Let us neither condemn a man, nor censor him, nor make him say he's sorry, for refusing to deny his shadow. I applaud John's poetic skill as well as his sensitivity to the issue of evil.
--Hilton Freed
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