Let me follow-up on yesterday's
post. In a late morning conversation today with a wise elder from outside my faith
community (and tradition) I was given these words of insight: "at this
moment in your life, take a look backwards to some of the crossroads and see
what the roads not taken might be saying to you today." Serendipitously,
that is part of what has been unfolding in my soul over the past 18 months -
but not consciously or intentionally. Not surprisingly, I found myself flipping
through a small volume by William O. Roberts, Jr. entitled, Crossing the Soul's River: A Rite
of Passage for Men. Two thoughts began to bubble to the surface:
+ First, I have long been
interested in the soul work of men. Maybe this has its roots in
being conscienticized by the emerging feminist movement in the 70s (thanks be to God for Martha B!) It is certainly connected to the intellectual and artistic work of key women in Western culture - everyone from Robin Morgan and Germaine Greer to Laura Nyro and Joni Mitchell - during those formative years, too. And I owe a debt of gratitude to the wisdom that emerged from the mythopoetic men's movement - Michael Meade, James Hillman, Robert Bly and Sam Keen - who offered me a light in the darkness. I remember like it was yesterday discovering Bly's translation of Rilke's poem, "Sometimes a Man Stands Up During Supper," in a bookstore in Cleveland and breaking down in tears.
being conscienticized by the emerging feminist movement in the 70s (thanks be to God for Martha B!) It is certainly connected to the intellectual and artistic work of key women in Western culture - everyone from Robin Morgan and Germaine Greer to Laura Nyro and Joni Mitchell - during those formative years, too. And I owe a debt of gratitude to the wisdom that emerged from the mythopoetic men's movement - Michael Meade, James Hillman, Robert Bly and Sam Keen - who offered me a light in the darkness. I remember like it was yesterday discovering Bly's translation of Rilke's poem, "Sometimes a Man Stands Up During Supper," in a bookstore in Cleveland and breaking down in tears.
Sometimes
a man stands up during supper
and
walks outdoors, and keeps on walking,
because
of a church that stands somewhere in the East.
And his
children say blessings on him as if he were dead.
And
another man, who remains inside his own house,
dies
there, inside the dishes and in in the glasses,
so that
his children have to go far out into the world
toward
that same church, which he forgot.
For at least 25 years I've been
saying: Maybe there will come a time to do some soul work with men - and rites
of passage work with young men - as an expression of gratitude and culture
care. Maybe now is that time, indeed, as it jives with both my musical
passions and spirituality.
+ Second, this is a unique
moment in my later stage of ministry - one saturated with the call to intimacy
- that is calling for expression. In Wilson's text, he summarizes
Erickson's "stages of development" for women and men and notes a few
key differences. "As males and females, we pass through the childhood
stages pretty much together. If we are cared for, then we will develop trust as
infants. We both start saying no and become autonomous as terrible two-year
olds. We develop autonomy and industry as children." Then, however,
some developmental changes take different paths for men and women:
in adolescence, Erickson suggests, men tend to seek an identity
and move toward generativity while women "yearn for intimacy (first) and
then move to generativity. This means that in midlife, we come back to the
other's adolescent tasks: men yearn for intimacy and women seek
identity." His chart is instructive:
Most men
Most women
Trust
Trust
Autonomy
Autonomy
Initiative
Initiative
Industry
Industry
IDENTITY
INTIMACY
GENERATIVITY
GENERATIVITY
INTIMACY
IDENTITY
Ego integrity
Ego integrity
This means, at the very least,
that men in midlife are working on developmental drives that are the polar
opposite of women. "Men are neither graceful nor
often successful in this quest... further this task is something we
are not yet good at. We did not learn how to be sensitive and gentle and
vulnerable in high school. We learned instead how to bang our heads and bodies
into the opposing teams... we learned how to score, not how to know another
person deeply or be known." And so another clue starts to take
shape and form, yes?
Last night I kept wanting to play an old, old Beatles’ song, “I’ll Be Back.” It is one of their unplugged tunes from 1964 that Lennon wrote for “A Hard Day’s Night” that was never used in the film. I love the opening chord shift from Bsus to A that quickly becomes Am. So I spent about an hour practicing and loving it. Then, after my conversation this morning, it hit me: I’ll be back, indeed. Apparently I will be back to some of those crossroads that I haven't considered deeply for decades. Here's a version of last night's song that has been carefully updated by young women - and that makes my soul sing, as well.
Last night I kept wanting to play an old, old Beatles’ song, “I’ll Be Back.” It is one of their unplugged tunes from 1964 that Lennon wrote for “A Hard Day’s Night” that was never used in the film. I love the opening chord shift from Bsus to A that quickly becomes Am. So I spent about an hour practicing and loving it. Then, after my conversation this morning, it hit me: I’ll be back, indeed. Apparently I will be back to some of those crossroads that I haven't considered deeply for decades. Here's a version of last night's song that has been carefully updated by young women - and that makes my soul sing, as well.
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