The Good Men Project

Posted an article here:
http://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/a-lover-and-a-fighter/

It is a re-write of an early post. Check it out if you get a chance...

I wish it could have been different...

This father’s son passed away while he was incarcerated. This is his letter to him.

Dear little [name omitted],

 I am writing this letter to let you know I have always loved you and will always remember you.  I don’t think I will ever forget you. I am sorry your real father wasn’t in your life like I should have been, but I was addicted to the lifestyle and substances. I didn’t want to expose you to my lifestyle. I was really close to seeing you a couple of times, but I backed off and made the decision to let your mom raise you until you were 18. As you know, I was incarcerated when you turned 18 but my lawyer and I decided I would contact you to see if you wanted to know your real father and we could have some type of relationship. I raised you until your were two years old but your mother and I drifted apart. She picked the good lifestyle and I picked the bad lifestyle. I was so far gone that I thought that I could never be able to get back and live a righteous life. As you know, now I am in touch with my higher power more than ever and he has allowed me to get through your death.  I am hoping and praying that the Holy Spirit steers your mother to talk and let me know what happened in your life and what happened on the evening you went out. I know you played football and track. I played football too but not track and they couldn’t catch me like they couldn’t catch you on the football field. I know in my heart that your mother raised you the best she could but I just wanted to let you know that I am sorry that I wasn’t there for you. But now that you have been deceased for a year I have to let you go to Jesus and move on with my life. I know that you are up there watching me right now and that you will always be watching me.  Ask Jesus to help me stay clean and sober for life and not return to the bad lifestyle.  I know you can’t answer but I will be talking to you when I’m praying with my Lord Jesus Christ. You are up there with your real grandmother, your real grandfather, uncle and other relatives. I’m hoping in the future that your mother will let me see some of the football tapes and pictures of you. I have some but I want more. So ask Jesus to let the Holy Spirit steer her and let us sit down and talk and I will be able to see you when I die and come home. I love you little man. You are my only son and I wish it could have been different. I will always remember you as 18 and I was so, so close to us meeting again. I think we would have been able to have a good relationship, but Jesus had something else in store for you and so he brought you home. Your mother will always have a part of my heart and I hope and pray someday that we will be friends. I wish her the best in life. I can’t wait until we meet again. I have to say goodbye now, but not forever. I have my Jesus and my sobriety to hold on to. I will be thinking about you and remembering you always.

 Love you little man,
your father

I heard this read with my children around me – my son was on my lap. I can’t imagine the regret. I can’t imagine how often that regret comes rushing back into his soul unexpectedly each day reminding him relentlessly.  I appreciate his ownership of this regret due to his choices and actions – his heart longing for reconciliation to whatever degree he could be blessed with – the glimpses in his words of desiring his son’s admiration. Desiring the admiration of another, while at times narcissistic, is also a sign of love. We all desire the admiration of those we love.  He seems done running away, although in part it is too late. In a sense that makes it more admirable. Being too late is a perfect excuse to continue running. But, redemption and overcoming are not the fruits of running.  They are the fruits of courage and surrender.

learning to shudder...

***This post is part of a series which started on April 12^th. This series is an exploration of masculinity which I think is  valuable to both sexes based off a book about men titled Iron John by Robert Bly with quotes in italics.***

“The Descent” will bring change and there is a particular change I want to discuss here. Innocence is often seen as naivety. Overcoming innocence is therefore considered a part of “growing up.”  But, innocence is not always naïve as “experience” does not always bring maturity. Often “hardening” to one degree or another is considered a sign of the development of the masculine soul.  This “hardening” is more than increasing one’s capacity to face the brutal harshness of reality.  It is seen as distancing from childhood sensitivity, but it is often simply a wall built between you and your heart. It is watching the news without feeling the weight of it.

When I talk with friends that I have not seen or spent any amount of significant time with in years, it often seems as if they are talking to a corpse buried somewhere in my past – a person becoming increasingly unfamiliar to me.  They expect me to be somewhat callous, unsympathetic, cynical, ridiculing of others, insensitive, strictly politically conservative, main stream Christian (unless they have read my blog occasionally)… but I am not anymore. I’m not different in every way, I still don’t trust most authority and I take pleasure in shirking it, and I hope (or humbly say I know) that these negative attributes are not all that they expect from me. The Descent, along with parenting and other life developments have broken down this wall between me and my heart. Oh, in the past I slipped through the window in the wall and snuck into the room built for my heart every now and then and it felt good, but the wall was always there. I often slipped through the window when I was speaking, but it never turned into a door that I could walk through freely. Thankfully, my Descent blew a big hole in that wall instead of reinforcing it separating me even more from my heart.  For a long time I didn’t have enough courage to face the pain that comes with tearing the wall down so I defended it.

I don’t find pleasure in ridiculing others as I did before, although I am not always innocent of it. I am no longer dismissingly judgmental of the poor or harshly critical of the non-Christian. My statements are increasingly cautious and less matter of fact. Hearing biting opinions dripping with bitterness even when not aimed at me cause me to flinch.  A day or two ago a mom was smoking a bit too close to the bus stop. Understandably, I didn’t want her smoking too close to my kid, but I wasn’t immediately full of anger towards her for this obvious self centered act of poor judgment. I know her. I have observed her life and other decisions that she has made.  She put out her cigarette, the bus came and she walked past the other mothers on her way home. They were disgusted with her and let her know it with their faces and dagger stares. Somehow their reaction to her felt worse than her unhealthy habit affecting me and my child. Being resolute and intolerant of certain actions does not have to be void of compassion.

This reconnecting with heart, Bly calls “learning to shudder.”  The masculine soul is not either tough and strong or soft and weak. If it is one or the other, it is dangerous. The soft and weak as we said before are not “life giving.”  Those who are only tough and strong are “numb, undone, unfinished men.”  These are the ones capable of pedophilia, genocide, using rape as a weapon of war as in the Congo, the shrugging of shoulders at the news of civilian “collateral damage”, drive by shootings, corruption…They are the CEO’s and investment bankers who made it out of the economic meltdown with millions while everyone else paid the price. On a lesser scale they are the loud mouth parents at little league games and teacher yelling at his second grade class at the top of his lungs.  “When [one] learns to shudder, he is developing a part of the masculine emotional body.”

One of my favorite scenes from the movie “The Patriot” is when the sons witness the father, Mel Gibson, brutally killing an enemy in defense of his family. The boys look at him as if they had no idea that their father was capable of such fierceness. It is a look of astonishment, some fear and yet a comfort in his protection. The other day my daughter asked me what I would do if someone broke into our house. I told her I would kill them. She said that didn’t really make her feel better. I toned it down a bit. The masculine soul of the Radiant Man isn’t always safe, but it is good. “Learning to shudder” is when a man can embrace the brutality of a battle as well as allowing the aftereffect of the shaking of his body from adrenaline to remind him of “how frail human beings are.”

Those who have not learned to shudder hate those who do. They marginalize it as weakness, naïve innocence, purely feminine, and they threaten to “put them out of the community of men.”  They are incapable of seeing the superior strength it takes to wield a sword while being connected to your thriving heart. 

I think I shared this story in a previous post, but it fits again. While living in California, some of our friends took us into Tijuana for the day. They told us that there would be a lot of beggars and children sent out by their parents selling chiclets – basically asking for money. I was determined not to give into it. I wouldn’t be taken advantage of and I can’t be emotionally exploited. At one point a little girl followed me down the side walk refusing to give up and even tugging on me to buy from her. I told her no and didn’t acknowledge her again until she gave up.  I hadn’t learned to shudder. I hadn’t developed a love for children. The poor were a nuisance and it was their fault anyway.

The non-shudderers think the shudderers “can’t handle the truth” and that “we need them on that wall.” Remember A Few Good Men? The truth is that we need more radiant men in our families, governments, businesses and communities who have learned to shudder and have developed a more complete masculine soul. Men who can write songs, sing and dance, and yet be resolute, protect and work hard.

did I get shot or shoot myself...

***This post is part of a series which started on April 12^th. This series is an exploration of masculinity which I think is  valuable to both sexes based off a book about men titled Iron John by Robert Bly with quotes in italics.***

It really all seemed to happen before I knew it even though it had been coming for a few years. “Did I get shot or shoot myself” is a lyric written by Jon Foreman and it is a question I have asked myself many times. The answer is “yes.” I went down at the hands of life (perhaps God) and by my own hands.  Bly explores different “stages” in the life of the masculine soul. These do not come in a preordained order, but they often are found in a particular sequence.

Bly often refers to “flyers.” These are usually young men who are

“grandiose and naïve…shiny faced, expectant, hopeful, dandified, a prince. One day he is in college being fed and housed- often on someone else’s money- protected by brick walls men long dead have built, and the next day he is homeless, walking the streets looking for some way to get a meal or bed.”

This is the Descent.  This is where one goes from an upward momentum driven by successes and an expectation that the ascending trajectory will continue because of who he is and his ability to make the right decisions. At times, a blessed life can become a demanded right. In part, my demand for blessing came through faulty theology that simplified the Christian life to a formula driven by morals: know right + do right = be right. God must honor the formula or what good is an attempted “relationship” with Him?

 Then, the descent comes. “After the Descent, an old man takes the place of the prince. It is as if life itself somehow discharges [you]”  It can feel like an unavoidable force lurking around the edges of your soul moving in and covering more ground with each attempt to resist it. If you haven’t been there you have no idea what I am talking about. Seven years ago I didn’t.

I’ve been a flyer, felt like a prince and expected to conquer life quickly, admirably and continually. But, my climb up the track turned out to be the roller coaster’s beginning hill that is necessary for the big drop.  I’ll spare you all the details of my sad story in fear that you will either question the very existence of God in the face of my horrible plight or you will call me a whining baby (We only respond in extremes right?). The Descent causes questioning. As I alluded to before, it can take place at the hands of others, the nature of life itself, the discipline of God, or one's own mistakes. Usually it is a mixture of all of those. I find my self cautious in talking about the Descent in terms of God doing this for my own good. That can be true and Hebrews 12 explores it, but so often we say that in a self serving way as if our own ugliness isn’t the real problem and that God is just doing it for a greater purpose. He has a greater purpose indeed, but don’t let that fact gloss over the parts of you that are not of His original intentions. The Descent is necessary because you have a problem(s).

We avoid it, plan against it, pray against it, deny it…”we refuse to go down and so a hand comes up and pulls us down. People know immediately when you are falling or have fallen: doormen turn their backs, waiters sneer, no one holds the subway car door for you.”  I remember one time during a 6 month unemployment approaching a wealthy business man at church asking him to keep me in mind if he saw any opportunity not only for an opening but for a simple side job that needed done here or there. I didn’t expect him to have something to offer right then and there, but I did expect at least a simple “I will and I hope things will work out for you soon.” He didn’t and his look and reaction felt like a kick to the gut when I had no self-respect left to block the blow. In the Descent, expectations are a downward escalator.

The Descent does have a purpose. The only way out of it is through it. We often “transfer weights from one pocket to another in order to keep the boat balanced”, but the weight remains the same. There is not just “something to learn” in the Descent. It is where transformation needs to take place. The youthful naivety of “flying” needs to be replaced by an older soul. “The naïve man who flies directly toward the sun will not be able to see his own shadow. It is far behind him. In the [Descent] it catches up.”  

Avoidance of one’s shadow prolongs the Descent or one simply arrives at a state of “numbness.” This is where the masculine soul of many has gone to whither. “Some women feel hurt when a man will not ‘express his feelings’ and they conclude he is holding back…but it is more likely that when a man asks such a question of his chest, he gets no answer at all.”  

The Descent will magnify the dark or shallow regions of your soul and demand a response.  The Descent demands a “heroic exit through [it]. For young men who have graduated from privileged colleges, or have been lifted upward by the expensive entitlement culture, their soul life often begins with this basement work in the kitchen.”  Many who love you will try to shelter you from it, convince you that you are ok and it is mostly in your mind, and most will wonder what is wrong with you.  Don’t listen to them. Listen to the voice that come along side you as you go through it. Listen to a guide who demands you face it and yourself as well.

I have felt the invisible pull of the Descent and wondered if God was bent on ruining me. He was. I have been naïve and even numb, avoiding my shadow and convincing myself that its’ haunting was just my imagination. I do not believe the Descent is over as if my soul has found the extent of its depth or as if that quest will ever be completed. But, at least three things have taken place; my masculine soul has become less numb and naïve. I have found more inner peace, joy and soulfulness through this deepening that is not a result of outside circumstantial comfort and I am able to “go down” more willingly and face the task of exiting through the Descent instead of the destructive work of trying to avoid it.  When I see a younger man on the brink of it, I am afraid for him.

lines in the sand...

** Taking a short break this week from my series on masculinity to participate in this: http://rachelheldevans.com/rally-to-restore-unity"

 

I often describe my heritage as contentious. It wasn’t the only ingredient in the soup but it was the broth everything else stewed in. Sure, I am a jaded product cranked out from the assembly line of Modernity Church Inc., but it is what it is, eh?  I’m past it, but the residual odor of it fills my nostrils frequently and sometimes it is coming form my own pits.

In Iron John by Robert Bly, when describing a particular type of “man” he writes, “Unless he has an enemy he isn’t sure that he is alive.” (page1) Too often we are defined by our enemies or what we are against. To be fair, that is unavoidable to some degree, but so often in the past when someone would ask about my heritage, my response was often about how and why we are different from other “churches”.  Our tag line was “defending the faith.” Unity exists in my heritage, but it is often only possible in conformity of thought and doctrine. Yet, even that unity was fragile. The unity ship could quickly find itself at the bottom of the sea, a sunken victim of the smallest torpedo of diversity (and by diversity I mean diversity undetectable to the naked eye) leaving a few in life boats and all the others out of luck.

I investigated a little of what Jesus had to say on the topic and found some over the top ideals. Imagine that. His prayer in John 17 is full of “are you serious?” type statements with one of the best ones being a remark about  his disciples not being of the world even as He is not of the world (verse 14 and 16) He puts them on the same level of non-worldliness as himself!  Really? He moves on to pray not only for the disciples, but for those “who will believe through their message” (20).  He prays for “oneness” which sounds a bit more intense than how I typically hear the word “unity” and more than that, he asks for the same type of “oneness” he has with the Father. Impossible! That cute little idealist.  This “oneness” is not the type of default unity we sometimes claim. You know the type. “Well we already have unity whether we like it or not. We are all unified in Christ by default even if we don't recognize it or even want to be.” I don’t think that is the unity Jesus prayed for. That sounds less like unity and more like an arranged marriage.

Why does he ask for this? Two simple reasons; one to let the world know that the Father is the one who sent Jesus and two, to let us know that God loves us AS MUCH as he loves Jesus (23). But, let’s face reality. Don’t we even argue about what those two things even mean and how they play out or who “us” even is? Yes. Yes we do.

He says something else that is even more elusive than the idea of oneness. “I have given them the glory that you gave me.” (22) From what I can gather this word "glory" means a good opinion or estimate of, most exalted state, magnificent, splendor… Wow! He shared His glory with us? Are we fitting of that? And if Jesus claims to have “given” it to us, should we be mindful of whether or not we are making him seem naïve? Maybe before we speak, act or write we should hold up a minute and remember the esteem that Jesus holds us in and ask ourselves "Is what I am saying or doing something Jesus would give me a smile, nod and  thumbs up for?"

I have no answer on “how to restore unity”.  Isn’t that typical of us mystery loving, post-modern wishy-washers? However!!! Even though I am not smart enough to figure out how to "restore" it (did we ever have it?), Jack Johnson told me one sure way to destroy it.  A lyric he wrote says “You draw so many lines in the sand, lost the fingernails on your hand." Brilliant! Maybe a place to start would be to cut down on the amount of lines we draw. But, I can hear the response, “we must stand up for truth!” Indeed. The Pharisees thought the same thing until one day they found themselves on the wrong side of a line drawn in the dirt with Jesus and a promiscuous woman standing on the other side. That’s right. I have figured out that mysterious mystery of mysteriousness about what Jesus wrote in the dirt; a line. And I think it is the only one he ever drew.

the poison of passivity...

***This post is part of a series which started on April 12^th. This series is an exploration of masculinity which I think is  valuable to both sexes based off a book about men titled Iron John by Robert Bly with quotes in italics.***

It is interesting to me that the Hebrew word for man is “adam” and the word for ground is “adamah.” In the creation story this connection is easy to make as man was described as being created from the dust of the ground. But, I do not think is stops there. Many of us (whoever us is) are moving away from an escapist – “this world is not my home I’m just a passing through” theology to one that embraces the story of God creating everything and saying it was good. Instead of throwing all of that away He will restore it – He will return all of creation to His original intentions. (see Surprised by Hope – N.T. Wright) Wrestling with that theology isn’t the point of this post, but it acknowledges what I believe is an undeniable truth. There is a masculine soul connection with creation. It is not a worship of creation, but an acknowledgment of being a part of it and that it was and is “good,” although, we have participated in creating as well and unfortunately a lot of what we have manufactured is not “good.”  I cannot convince anyone of this connection, but I am sure that a majority of us know it well and celebrate it in various ways and in varying degrees. We worship the God who designed it and celebrate our soul union with it.

In the first post of this series, I used this quote Iron John; the radiant man (wild man) “is not opposed to civilization, but he isn’t completely contained by it.”  We have not only overlaid so much of this creation with concrete, but have done so with our souls through our modern systems. “Men and women alike once called on men to pierce the dangerous places, carry handfuls of courage to the waterfalls…now the wild boars have turned to pigs in the stockyard, and the rushing waterfall to the Museum of Modern Art courtyard.”  So many of us long for the wildness, adventure and the danger once required to live, protect and survive. We now find ourselves in soul killing cubicles often daydreaming about a fuller life.

With this, Bly dives into the danger of passivity against the formidable foe of our culture systems which seem insurmountable.

“During the last thirty years men have been asked to go with the flow, taught how to follow rather than lead…how to adopt consensus decision-making. Some women want a passive man if they want a man at all; the church wants a tame man-they are called priests; the university wants a domesticated man-they are called tenure-track people; the corporation wants a team-worker and so on.”

This isn’t to say that we can escape it all. To do so would be to give up our responsibilities and to be reckless with the lives of those we are responsible for. So, it is this fine balance perhaps of “not being opposed to civilization and not completed contained by it either.”  Yet, passivity as a response renders one a hopeless slave to how things are and the radiant, wild soul dies. At this point, again, we will become “life preserving” at best, but never “life giving.”

This passivity, when adopted, can work its’ way into different parts of our psyche. When we fail to get free from whatever system, person or opinion is attempting to define or control us we can turn to sulking.  “When a man sulks, he becomes passive to his own hurts.”  As discussed in the last post, ignoring hurts or denying their impact has typically been seen as “manly.” Bly suggests, and I agree, that facing our wounds, talking about them and allowing expression of emotion as opposed to suppressing them and becoming passive to our hurts is part of cultivating the masculine soul.

As well, this passiveness can carry into intimacy. “The passive man may not say what he wants and girlfriend or wife has to guess it.”   Through passiveness we ask our wives to “do the loving for us.”  We sit there unengaged, uninspiring, not actively loving. Maggy Scarf writes in Intimate Partners “the woman wants more intimacy and the man flees from that; she runs after but not quite fast enough to catch him, and he flees but not quite fast enough to get away.”  It is an unfulfilling cycle that is all too familiar. We wish our relationship was better only to eventually wander off to “fulfill our longing” in someone or something else, but when we remove the cover, emptiness is our fate again. We never realize that we are the common denominator in the equation.

Passiveness can show up in parenting - again, as non-engaging. Engaging  includes a feeling and depth in the relationship with the child, but also, as Bly suggests “in doing all sorts of boring tasks. Taking children to school, buying them jackets, attending band concerts…checking on who a child’s friends are, listening to the child’s talk in an active way…”  As parents we obviously need to rely on each other often demanding responsibilities be divided up. Schedules can dictate one parent or the other being absent from certain tasks, but some men allow their passivity to take this to unhealthy levels. For some father’s if something were to happen to their wife, they would have a lot of catching up to do on day to day tasks and details. Some father’s can’t even make a child’s lunch, do their laundry, or take over their care for a day with any measure of patience or capability while their wife gets away for a day or simply an evening.  We can blame our corporate culture for this, but that again is passivity and a lack of ownership and vision.

The last realm of passivity that Bly touches on is “passivity of vision.”  Whether it is within a relationship, personal direction, soul cultivation, work balance…men may know what they want today or tomorrow, but a vision for 3 or 5 years out is often nothing but void space.  We become paralyzed by our sulking, wounds, or inability to love or be truly intimate.  We stay in the unhealthiness of the job, drag our guts behind us ignoring that they are there, or simply “wishing” our relationship was better yet with no vision for where one is going.

These things are easier said than done as my failures attest. It does take “bucket work.” That is why passivity is poison to the masculine soul.

draggin our guts behind us...

***This post is part of a series which started on April 12^th. This series is an exploration of masculinity which I think is  valuable to both sexes based off a book about men titled Iron John by Robert Bly with quotes in italics.***

As we attempt to engage in “soul work” we must start with “wounds.” Bly lists a series of “soul wounds” that are common among men: “Not receiving any blessing from your father nor adoration from an older man. Not seeing your father when you are small, never being with him, having a remote father, an absent father, or a workaholic father. Never being welcomed into the male world by older men.  Having no soul union with other men can be the most damaging wound of all” Sometimes the wounds from a mother “are a baptism of shame.  Beatings, slaps in the face (Bly calls the face the edge of the soul), verbal batterings, blows that lacerate self esteem, puncture our sense of grandeur, pollute enthusiasm, poison and desolate confidence…they damage and do harm. The police chief of Detroit remarked that the young men he arrests not only don’t have any responsible older man in the house, they have never met one.

There are few options in responding/dealing with our “soul wounds.” We can take the “grandiose road.” This seems to be rising above the wound which sounds positive but is more avoiding/ignoring it than dealing with it.  This can lead to overachieving as a means of escape resulting in a shallow soul. The stereotypical “Wall-Street man, junk bond dealer, high roller, private jet owner…”  These men are accomplished, but often selfish, empty pleasure seekers, and void of depth. This grandiose road can also produce a powerful defensiveness that reacts with escalated anger when an attack is sensed. Another road is the “depressed road. The victim accepts the crown of victimhood.”  The depressed road can lead to one becoming “an addict and never being in charge of [one’s] own life, shaming [one’s self] further.” “Some take a third road of paralysis, robot behavior, and seriously pursued numbness.” The grandiose path which leads to wound avoidance and a mindset that one has “arrived” or the depressed path which leads to a ”victimized helpless child mindset” can both end the pursuit of the radiant man (wild man).  

The Radiant Man represents “our own brilliance, bounty, wildness, greatness and spontaneity.”  Yet it is not within us as if we already contain it as it should be, but is more so it’s own being of whom we seek to be a student. I have often had times where I lived out of these characteristics within me, but only for moments. The need for mentors and present fathers is undeniable in our culture, but those can be often hard to come by. So many older men fail to be that for younger men because they either don’t know how, don’t care, or they have given up on this pursuit of the Radiant Man themselves.  Many men are in denial as Bly defines as “being in a trance –an oblivion.”

However, “if we climb on the shoulders of this [Radiant Man]”  Bly writes that three things will happen: “the wound will be seen as a gift instead of bad luck.” We will discover “soul water” and this will lead to a rediscovering of radiance and spiritual luminosity inherent in the masculine soul – the gold in us from the womb.

Typically we regard wounds that hurt “as shameful. He who is truly a man keeps walking dragging his guts behind him.”  This is where many men learn to not talk about their wounds, acknowledge their wounds, or even to think that it matters. Yet it takes more courage to face a wound then it does to carry it around and deny it is affecting you or anyone else. Bly cites the story of Iron John as having a completely different approach to wounds.  “It says that where a man’s wound is, that is where his genius will be. Wherever the wound appears in our psyche, whether from an alcoholic father, shaming mother…is precisely the place for which we will give our major gift to the community.”  This is not found in denying the wound or continuing to drag it around unhealthily. We can not simply excuse or deny our unhealthiness as “that’s just the way that I am” which is a cop out for wanting to stay in a trance of oblivion.  Yet the wound will not simply “go away” and it is a part of you. Allowing it to be a source of genius requires taking it to soul water.

Bly describes this process as “being a fish in holy water… being a fish is to be active; not with cars or footballs, but with soul.”  This isn’t implying that sport and hobby are bad in any way, but that they are not the soil in which one “takes hold of the wound instead of being the wound.”  Often sport and hobby can become a distraction. “This soul water does not heal our wounds, but it gives strength to the part of us that wants to continue the effort to gain courage” and live deeply. These are the moments where we investigate what is deep within us – where we face these wounds in an attempt to allow them to become scars full of great stories as opposed to festering pools of bitterness or numbness.

In the story of Iron John, everything that touches this “soul water” turns to gold. If you are somewhat aware of where your wound is or where your genius lies, have you ever felt moments of gold? “The fingers holding the pen or brush turn gold. The athlete’s toes turn gold. The physics student with his teacher [works] an equation on the board with golden chalk or the teachers tongue turns gold while tutoring the student.”   I have felt these moments “of gold” and longed to live out of the deeper more vibrant places within me consistently – to be that radiant man more often – alive and life giving. The journey starts with seeing our wounds and “dipping them soul water”. But, this isn’t done in a day and there lies many more phases full of learning along the way.