Letting Go, Letting In (1)

So often we feel lost.

So often we feel alone

     Feeling alone might just be singularly the most painful human experience there is. Many of us yearn for a deeper sense of connection, of community. Not just because we are gay men, but because we are human, first and foremost.

     Western culture is quite narrow in its individualist and thus isolationist orientations and objectives. Although it has nobly popularized self-help, ‘retreat’ and various processes of self-development, this all too often takes the form of solo activity, whether in the therapist’s office or on the yoga mat in a tropical paradise. And so, while great personal healing, restoration and transformation may ensue, often this is at the cost of further widening the gulf between one another.

     Moreover, as men, we are taught culturally to be independent problem solvers; that although we may be surrounded by relationships of one sort or another, we (should) only have ourselves to rely on for help – for to accept, welcome and even seek out support (especially from other men) is to admit weakness and even defeat. Indeed, cultured to constantly assert ourselves in the pecking order of other men and thus internalising the belief that other men are not our equals, it is rare that we come to view men as relational supports we can trust and rely upon, and for whom we can feel honoured and called to do the same.

     For gay men, this gendered standoffishness, at best, can manifest as only seeing other gay men as opportunities for sexual release. At worst, it can combine with our own internalised sense of shame for our queer ways of being in the world and manifest in the sub-cultural sport of sarcastically and competitively cutting other gay men down – projecting a sense of self-hatred onto others and aggressively playing offense so as to protect ourselves from a world that has already directly and indirectly abused us too often, institutionally or otherwise. It is no wonder then that some of us are quite suspicious of other gay men and close ourselves off from more vulnerable and enriching connections with them.

     I, myself, have never doubted the potential for deeply symbiotic and soulful companionship with women, but I too have often in my life been suspicious and closed off from similar potential with men. I’ve come to experientially learn more recently, however, of the immense resource I have in fellow men and, in particular, my queer/ gay/ bi/ two-spirited brothers.

Over the last few years, I’ve been blessed to have come across some strong, loving and intentional gay men’s groups. I also have the honour of working in gay men’s health and wellness and am moved and inspired by the men I speak with on a daily basis. My participation in other intentional gatherings has equally left me with profound experiences of healing, community and connection.

     I’m oh so humbled and grateful for these experiences although I recognise that other gay men out there may not have knowledge about and thus access to such communities, gatherings and experiences of fellowship. I also sadly recognise that many gay men may feel alienated, intimidated or outright excluded from such groups, unless they are specifically invited. And so, I feel called to organise a gathering for other men like me.

     If you grew up cultured as male and identify as a queer, gay, bisexual or two-spirited, I invite you.

You belong.

You are not alone.

You are honoured, revered and welcome.

Your presence, your stories, your earnestness, your tears and laughter are all welcome.