Early on, I learned being a man is ordering your martinis shaken, not stirred. It’s about building a fire and drinking John Dickel Whisky on top of your guitar. It means being a menace to yourself and a danger to your credit. But in this grizzly bear cave of life, I seldom ask myself the question, what does it mean to be a man, which was why I nervously signed up to take part in a workshop at The Sanctuary billing itself as a men’s workshop.
On The Feminine Energy of The Sanctuary in Thailand
“There’s a strong feminine energy here,” said a frequent stopperoffer to The Sanctuary, on Koh Phangan, off Thailand.
Women there seemed poised and sure. The men there open and earnest. To say a place has a strong feminine energy is maybe another way to say there is a balance between masculine and feminine here.
In much of our constructed world, the rigors of our social structures, the heights of our hierarchies, phallic skyscrapers anyone, our militaries, it’s clearly El West.
While there is archeological evidence of a greater balance between masculine and feminine in human prehistory, the road to progress has at its worst been a road to women as property.
Part of what makes The Sanctuary a welcoming place is the unrepentant strength of its feminine side. People feel comfortable there and this is a staging ground for some pretty serious, and from what I witnessed, effective, self work.
This is good for the gals, but maybe all the more important for the fellows, since we too are human and so sometimes we hide behind a false strength and seclude ourself from support when it comes to our woes.
The men’s workshop is led these days by Jason Usher, a Canadian traveler who frequently washes up on the shores of The Sanctuary. “What does it mean to be a man?” He asked our small group of one Canadian, two Americans and an Australian. We all bowed our heads. I was wearing a floral bathing suit I’d held onto for 16 years. To me being a man was being loyal to a bathing suit.
“What does it really mean to be a man?” To help us endeavor the answer, we gave each other new names and we chanted in guttural bellows in a yoga hall bordering the jungle.
We filled a whiteboard with various descriptors – Men are builders, we are providers, and we are protectors.
“As men we must acknowledge that we are also responsible for a lot of pain in the world,” Jason said. We all nodded, insects hummed outside.
“You have no idea what it’s like to be a woman traveling in Latin America,” said a female friend of mine who I caught up with recently in Cambodia, “The constant cat calls, wondering if every tuc-tuc driver is going to make an advance.”
Women are more in tune with the gulf that separates the sexes. They have to be, since sometimes to be a woman is to negotiate through a world of rules constructed by and favoring men.
That the introspective yoga mat is favored by women and punching bags usually hit men by men is something to think about.
Women are better at talking about these things, but from our men’s workshop it seems there is a hunger among the masculine to have these types of conversations in open and honest environments. The jungle is one such place.
Okay, but what did you really talk about at the men’s workshop?
In our discussions at the workshop, the Aussie talked about a time when a woman made him feel emasculated when he opted not to have sex with her one night she extended an invitation. We discussed the predatory nature of the barroom dating scene. We touched on the darkness of pornography and the unhealthy attitudes it imparts to users.
We talked about not just what it means to be a man, but how to be better at being a man and live more harmoniously with women.
As a Midwestern boy by birth, I come from a place where men rarely talk about this things. Getting in touch with one’s feminine side is fighting words round these here parts.
After the workshop I found myself at a dinner table of eager women.
“What did you guys talk about?”
“I’m not supposed to tell,” I said. But they forced me to.
I listed the general themes discussed and this led to a healthy conversation between the sexes about the sexes. Our table agreed both sexes hide behind the masks society has helped us construct to face each other and that things would be a lot simpler if we could just talk as we were now about “the issues.”
Part of le magic of The Sanctuary is it invites you to set your masks asides and get started on the important work of figuring out who’s underneath it. According to one pervading and ancient Asian tradition, no one.
I left the men’s workshop and ordered a coconut. I drew a face on the shell and used a banana peal for a wig. Then I signed up for my next workshop, Romi’s Writing Workshop. Stay tuned.
