be whole now » men

what there is to love about a man: journey

rachel — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 15:22:51 +0000

This excerpt is from my out-of-print book, What There Is To Love About A Man.
The art is by British artist David Preston-Earley, who adds,
” This image is about a mythical journey where the people of the world
are carried on the back of a turtle. The turtle is a symbol of
fertility and long life. To the Native Americans
it was associated with the lunar cycle and also female energies.
The spirit of the turtle can also teach us about our relationship with time,
it does not move fast, the turtle knows it has all the time in the world.”

Journey, by David Preston-Earley

When a man goes on his true journey,
it’s hard to know who might return.

His quest requires that he strip down to his authentic core,
that he litter his pathway with the baggage he no longer agrees to carry.

He will pass through uncharted territory with no map
and little understanding of where he’s headed.
The trees will be covered with thorns
Large, lumbering dragons will appear without warning
and breathe hot fire into his face.
Winds will shift
and golden fruit will hang just out of his reach
when he is starving most.

It is a pilgrimage he must make alone,
though able guides are recommended.
He begins when he is ready,
When he can no longer tolerate who he’s become.
When his only choice seems to be
implode or explode.

Loved ones, wait patiently.

When the journey’s complete,
the pilgrim is reborn.

what there is to love about a man: conflicts

rachel — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 03:09:58 +0000

Excerpt from my out-of-print book, What There Is To Love About A Man (Sourcebooks), which honors and celebrates masculine qualities of body, mind and spirit. Used and imperfect copies can be found here and there on the Internet, if you feel like digging.

Turbulence, from www.physicscentral.com

How can I show you who I really am, when I don’t even know myself? How can I share with you my vulnerable side, when everybody told me I had to be strong? What if I want to spend the rest of my life with a man? What if I want to spend the rest of my life with a woman? How can it be that I’ve trashed my marriage vows all in the name of love? Who’s going to teach my son how to love, when his father can hardly figure it out for himself? How can I become my own man, when my job and my church and my country always said I belonged to them? How do I stand in my personal power without stepping on other people’s toes? How can I let go and not lose everything I’ve worked my whole life to get? How am I supposed to listen to that still, small voice inside, when the rooftop chatter in my head just gets louder all the time? What if I change — really change — and you don’t like who I become? What if I don’t, either? How do I follow my bliss and still pay the bills? How much longer can I keep doing the same things in the same way — and expect everything to turn out differently?

the 7 words of well-being for men (redux)

rachel — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 02:16:29 +0000

The ground is shifting under the feet of us all, but perhaps even more so, for men determined to release themselves from old ways of being. Someday, the gender distinction will likely prove itself irrelevant. Until then, this feels like a good time to revisit this post, which originally appeared in April, 2008.

* * * * * * * *

Even though my books and writing may be labeled “for men” or “for women,” these distinctions often reflect publishing-world realities more than anything else.

Each one of us resides (and from time to time, slides) along a masculine/feminine continuum. Much of the work we undertake to be whole now, involves integrating our inner masculine and inner feminine in a divine marriage. Liberation from cultural and family oppression and repression is not the province of any particular gender or lineage: It’s Universal (with a capital Y-O-U).

I culled these 7 words from my out-of-print book, What There Is To Love About A Man (Sourcebooks, 1999). My prayer is that women’s anger and the culturally acceptable male-bashing of the late 20th century are behind us: Let us now see our own reflections in the eyes and hearts and spirits of others, variations in body parts notwithstanding.

The 7 Words of Well-Being for Men

Fire

Something inside a man sizzles. Red-hot coals lie aglow in his belly, waiting for the breath of inspiration that will set them aflame. This is the fire that lives in a man. These are the roots of his passion, his fervor, his fuel to create a well-tempered existence. Herein lies his tinderbox, awaiting to arouse a man to a luminous life. When his fire is tended and nourished and fed, a man can kindle a revolt of his spirit, and awaken a brilliance as bright as the sun. He need only build the proper hearth to channel this white-hot intensity into the energy of action. To build and to dance; to begin and to be. To radiate a light that shines from within and enlightens all in his orbit — and nobody needs to get burned. A man has the power to be a firebug for his very soul, but first he must find his own matches. And then, he must play with his fire.

Fertility

This is not about sperm counts. This is about the potent fruitfulness that lives in a man. It lives in his fertile imagination, in his prolific mind, in the seeds of innovation and initiation that he gently scatters like milkweed on the wind. A man’s heart is fertile when it gives rise to acts of perfect love and radical forgiveness. When it sows the seeds of peace and justice. When it flowers and drops its petals in receptive soil strengthened by the sun and nourished by the rain. A man walks upon fertile ground when his every thought and his every action favor compassion over contempt and amity over animosity. This is more about productivity than it is about reproduction. This is about begetting a future void of old, obsolete ideas, and bringing forth new ways invigorated by new truths. This is about creating; this is about life.

Work

It doesn’t matter how many jobs a man may have, unless he’s found his work. Not just the work that pays the bills, but the work that feeds his soul. The real work of a man goes on 24/7/365. The work to define his place in the world, and to help create that world. The vocation that fits him like a glove and that no one else can do exactly like him. If he listens, work will call to a man. But until he’s found right livelihood, everything else may feel wrong. He can work for money or love or sheer satisfaction. He may wear a white collar or a blue collar or a pink collar or no collar at all. He can work for wages or work for himself or work for the company store. A man can work with his hands or his head, but to work at what he loves, a man must work from his heart. He must give freely of the gifts that only he can give. Until he steps into his one true calling, a man’s work will never be done.

Eros

Cupid pulled back his bow and hit a bull’s eye, and now the man is real, real gone. He’s leaking love all over the place and sucking the deliciousness out of life. He’s stopping to smell the roses and sticking around to taste the dripping flesh of a ripe and juicy mango. He sees lovers cavorting in the clouds and alongside the road and he’s trembling with runaway lust. Suddenly, all is sensational! Birdsong sweeter than he’s ever heard lilts across meadows more lush than he’s ever seen. A light rain sprinkles his face and he rises up into rapture. He trades in flannel for silk, and cotton for satin, and finally chucks it all to run naked ‘neath the moon. Love songs spill out of his lips without the slightest provocation, and he stays home from work on account of desire. He craves deep chocolate ice cream with hot raspberry syrup, passionfruit nectar with a twist, and Pavarotti twenty-four hours a day. He’s washing in rosewater and soaking in ylang-ylang. He’s been struck by an arrow, and he’s taken it to heart.

Voice

Listen to the voice of a man. Hear it cry out for freedom and call out in triumph. Hear it keen and bellow and moan and wail. His is the voice that exploded in battle; his is the howl that ignited the flame. Beneath all the babble, he spoke sotto voce ; his basso profundo enveloped the hall. You can hear the entire world in the voice of a man. The bit of brogue, the touch of twang, the patois of the plain, and the elocution of the noble. The changing voice of a boy becomes the unwavering voice of a man. A full-throated man voices his fears and his deepest yearnings. He voices his anger as he voices his joy. If called upon and ready, he voices the conscience of the people. The strongest men’s voices still strain to be heard, while somehow, the lesser are heard over all. Listen to the sound of a man’s voice in all of its glory. It just might be a god, with the voice of a man.

Truth

There’s a lot more to the truth than just facts. Or consequences. Truth be told, it matters little whether a man tells the truth, unless he also lives it. Unless he lives the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth of his life. The genuine article; the very life he was born to live. It is one thing to stand in a court of law and swear to be truthful; it is something else altogether to stand in front of the mirror and commit to live a life without lies. When a man creates a life in tune with his deepest knowings, he lives in his truth. When a man forsakes the agendas of others and lives according to his highest values, he can truthfully say he is living an authentic life. The truth is sometimes bitter, and often strange. To get to the naked truth of his own existence, a man may have to peel away lifetimes of layers of lies. When he does, he will find his truth, his way, and his life.

Sanctuary

In the woods, beside the creek. High on the mesa, beneath the ruins. Down in the cellar, behind the furnace. At his desk, late on Sunday. Back at the woodpile, chopping, chopping. Out on the range, running the horses and racing the wind. Over at the levee, skipping stones. Hangin’ at the garage, tinkering with tools. Men without women. Men deep within. On the floor of the library, flipping through art books. Up on the roof, watching the sunset. At the tip of the island, building castles in the sand. Down on his knees, surrounded by Spirit. Underwater. Alone in his den, gathered at the lodge. Lost in his music, seeking the silence. Finding his song, quelling the voices. Behind the wheel. At the controls. On the road. Off the grid. Below the surface. Beyond the din. Far away, men go within.

what there is to love about a man: tears, treasures

rachel — Wed, 24 Dec 2008 14:03:00 +0000

A pair of Words of Well-Being(tm) from my book, “What There Is To Love About A Man,” which, alas, is currently out of print. Used or imperfect copies are available here and there on the Internet.

Just a heartfelt collection of waxings poetic by a woman honoring and celebrating masculine qualities of body, mind and spirit. Glorioski! Imagine that!

Weeping Man, Vincent VanGogh

Tears

Who first planted the idea that real men don’t cry? They tense and tighten every muscle, hundred-weight pounds of pressure to prevent the escape of that first tear, while the rest of us wait and root for the get-away water. Men’s tears slip out when they most expect them and never expect them at all. In the office men’s room, pink slip in hand; at the movie where the guy and his Dad reunite after thirty years; on the assembly line for who knows what reason; when his daughter stands up in front of them all and smiles and spells and speaks her mind; when his son does the right thing. Men’s tears are crying to touch the light of day, to spill out onto the telephone when he gets the call that his brother is gone, that his old buddy slipped away in the night. They gather in the corners of his eyes and seep out slowly when he holds his first-born, one and only, in his arms. Salty tears! It’s a wonder they haven’t crystallized after all these years, crashing and breaking instead of slipping, sliding, gently rolling tears.

Vishvarupa, The Cosmic Man

Treasures

He keeps them in cedar-scented boxes or bubble-pak envelopes or displayed where he can enjoy them every day. Sometimes they’re in his car, hanging from the rear-view mirror, or next to the seat where he can touch them anytime. The tiny note that was taped to the bathroom mirror the day he left. The shells he picked up at his favorite lagoon. The stones shaped like hearts that he finds whenever he takes the time to look. The military medal his Dad gave him when he was nine or ten. Dried petals from the one time someone sent him roses. The glass vial of dirt from the family land. Meemaw’s favorite china teacup, with the chip in the rim. The stale half-bar of chocolate they promised to save until next time. Pesos from Mexico, his lucky token from the Reno truck stop, the garnet that someone pressed into his hand moments before the crash. Pictures of everything that was perfect before it soured. Pictures of what’s perfect now. Rings returned and watches wound down. Collections collecting dust and trinkets turned to treasures.

your three words for today: question. push. empower.

rachel — Thu, 06 Nov 2008 14:06:19 +0000

Today feels newer, bigger, and more significant than just one word! Here’s a trio, all taken from my book, 365 Words of Well-Being for Women (McGraw-Hill softcover version, $12.95) / Words of Wisdom for Women (Barnes & Noble hardcover version $7.98). It’s for the feminine in us all, the masculine in us all, and every stripe and hue and gradation in between. Don’t let a few tiny pronouns get in your way of reclaiming your personal power and moving into a more expansive, more satisfying experience of life. Your local bookseller can easily find this book, too! Just ask.

Question

Never stop asking. Ask who you are, why you’re here, what your life’s purpose is all about — and be perfectly content not to know any of the answers. Ask Why me? Why her? Why not them? Question your motives and those of others. Is your intention pure? Question why the woman down the street with yellow curtains at her window makes you remorseful about your younger sister. Just question; the answer may take months or years to present itself. Question why others have what you so desperately want — and then question why you so desperately want it. Sit with not knowing, as difficult and frustrating as it feels. Sit. Without questions, how will you ever stumble onto any answers? Don’t rush toward resolution. At the heart of every question lies a greater quest.

Push

Sometimes now and then, you’ve just got to push. Push yourself to make it over the finish line. Push yourself to make your deadline. Push yourself up over Heartbreak Hill. Push yourself to stand without crutches. Push yourself to try! Come on, push a little harder. Push your body. Push your brain a little further. Push the limits of your endurance. Dig way down deep and push. Roll back the stone that’s blocking your way. Push! Push through the roadblocks — real or imagined — that say you can’t make it. Push! Push past indecision and confusion. Push on. Push yourself to get it done. Come on, push just a little harder. Everybody’s pulling for you, now push!

Empower

Empower yourself to take full and complete charge of your life. Reclaim the personal power that you never should have lost in the first place — and come to know that you never really did. Feel the breadth of your own power: the power to feel deeply, the power to trust your own voice, the power to create and bring forth life. Learn the true meaning of power: how to use it and not abuse it; how to stand in your power without stepping on anyone else’s. Join with others to empower each other. Summon up the inner will to co-create meaningful and joy-filled lives. Empower yourself to take control of your financial life and to prevent others from taking control of your emotional life. Remember: You have the power to empower, and anyone who tries to tell you otherwise has absolutely no power over you.

what there is to love about a man: humility

rachel — Thu, 28 Aug 2008 20:22:23 +0000

A humble man isn’t lowly; he just lives close to the earth. He bows and scrapes to no other man; he simply pulls himself down from the heights of pride and pretension and lives a life free of arrogance. A humble man is rooted in modesty. A humble man assumes nothing. When the spotlight shines on him, he quietly steps aside. When credit is tossed in his direction, he passes it to his teammates, his employees, his co-workers, his God. When he is asked to say a few words, he says a very few. When others call him a hero, he simply states that he’s a human being, doing what humans do. If singled out for salvos, he shrugs and says Hey, just doing my job. No matter how well others may think of him, he prefers to think well of others. When a man tells you just how humble he is, it’s safe to assume that he’s not.

Celebrates all things male!

Excerpted from my out-of-print book, What There is To Love About A Man (Sourcebooks, 1999). New copies are no longer available, but used and imperfect (remainders) can be had for cheap on www.bn.com and other places as well. Or, just keep visiting this blog and you’ll eventually read most (if not all) of the pages right here! Click here to read my other writings honoring and celebrating masculine qualities of body, mind and spirit.

what there is to love about a man: rhythm

rachel — Sun, 17 Aug 2008 19:06:47 +0000

By Appalachian Folk Artist Cher Shaffer

To find his own rhythm, a man needs to discover the beat of his own heart. He begins slowly by taking off his watch, turning off the automatic coffeemaker, and finding the cadence that is his alone. He notices when the sun rises and sets, when the moon swells to fullness, and when the leaves begin to turn. He acknowledges — indeed, welcomes — the changes in his body as he ages, and the changes in those around him. In time, he will sense the cycles of ebb and flow that run through every segment of his life, and he will honor them without fear. He will find himself as one drop of water in an ocean of infinity, and he will feel whole. When a man can lie on the ground and feel the heartbeat of Mother Earth beneath his own, he will find himself in sync with the very flow of life itself. The passage of time will take on a new quality; death and rebirth will follow in their turn. Then he is free to add his own beat to the universal pulse. To join in the drumming, the rhythm of life.

what there is to love about a man: tenderness

rachel — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 20:00:22 +0000

When a man tends not to be tender, chances are he’s pretending. Does he think we don’t notice those quiet moments when he is gentle as a fawn? Does he imagine the nurses were too busy to hear him whisper so softly into his wife’s ear during her thirty-fifth hour of labor? Could he actually believe they all looked the other way when he held the young boy’s hands close in his own, and slowly told the news it was his job to deliver? We know what he does. We know that he pulls over and stops along the highway to bury road-kill animals with a prayer; that he gently stroked the silken ears of his best friend as the last sleep overtook her; that he murmured a Russian lullaby while changing his aged father’s soiled bedclothes. Not wanting to stare, we saw him lift his college roommate out of his wheelchair and lower him into the water with the most exquisite care. What a sweet, quiet joy, when a man stops pretending and allows himself to be powerfully tender.

what there is to love about a man: fatherhood

rachel — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 00:05:37 +0000

There’s a moment when a man becomes a full-fledged father, and it’s not when his child is born. It’s that first night the two of them are alone and he figures out that lying heart-to-heart with a baby is an all-around soother when everybody gets a little colicky. It’s being there the first day of kindergarten and the last year of college. It’s giving an unqualified No to all-night keg parties down by the graveyard and a tentative Yes to the new tattoo. Fatherhood becomes the man who shows up at the school concert even though he’s got work to do, and who finds time to play at the playground even though he was invited for tee-off at ten. It’s learning the times table together at the kitchen table, and staying up late to read The Hobbit out loud. True fatherhood is not how many children a man sires, but whether he has held a child under his wing until the child is ready to fly. It’s showing instead of telling, explaining instead of yelling, and knowing that when the time comes, the father becomes the child, and the child becomes the father.

Excerpted from my out-of-print book, What There is To Love About A Man (Sourcebooks, 1999). New copies are no longer available, but used and imperfect (remainders) can be had for cheap on www. bn.com and other places as well. Or, just keep visiting this blog and you’ll eventually read most (if not all) of the pages right here!

what there is to love about a man: scent

rachel — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 04:45:02 +0000

Musk and moss and a pine forest sunrise. Red-walled canyons and grass freshly mowed and sheets warm from the dryer or never washed at all. Diesel and motors, paper and wood and ink and feathers and bone. New leather, old leather, leather that his great-uncle wore to war. Bread baking and espresso, incense and eucalyptus, cognac and cigars, citrus of any kind, and yes, tobacco. A light breeze coming in from the coast, shaving cream and soap, or no soap at all. High-grade chocolate made in Switzerland and out-of-this-world frybread made at home. His father’s bathroom, his mother’s perfume. Baby powder and spit-up milk and diapers dried on the line. Dog, slightly wet. Cattle and horses and the subway and hard work and the smell of an opening heart. Art paints in tubes and turpentine and fresh-cut flowers, roses and lilac and lilies. Chiles, marinara, kielbasa, chicken soup, and burgers on the grill. Clean clothes, dirty clothes, bleach, a hint of fear, damp wool, and something you could never, ever name.

Excerpted from What There Is To Love About A Man (Sourcebooks, 1999), my out-of-print homage to masculine qualities of body, mind and spirit. Used and blemished copies may be found around the Internet in places like this and this.