I know Walt Stewart through my association with the ManKind Project, formerly known as Men in Mission, but originally New Warrior. My initiation in April of 1993 into what I call the Great Circle of Brothers took place when I attended my New Warrior Training Adventure (NWTA). These intense experiential weekends of healing and transformation were created by three men in Wisconsin, spread to Houston and Chicago, and are now on five continents in over 20 countries. I believe Walt signed up for the first Houston event, and I went through about a year later.
When I recently attended and participated in Walt’s music video shoot, the setting of which was to be the building of a bonfire in order to send support to the people of Ukraine, I was trying to recall how we first met. Gathering around a fire–building a fire–then I remembered the scene…
In 1995, he and I served on the staff of one of the early NWTAs in Texas. During these 48-hour intensive weekend programs, each man has the opportunity to confront his inner demons, reach deep within for hidden strength and resolve, and then forge a mission to guide his actions going forward. When I completed my own NWTA, as all staff must, I remember going through a wonderful several week period during which I felt ten years younger and 50 pounds lighter, so freeing and energizing was the experience. It was a body-mind-spirit revitalization and rejuvenation process. The weekend, of which I had been extremely skeptical going in, had been worth 100 times the price of admission.
That is why I immediately applied to staff, so that I could be a part of this amazing and magical process … and help produce a renaissance for “the next man.” Though Walt went through his weekend adventure a year before I did, his journey into the world of spiritual healing began at least a decade before that. In other words, he was one of those guys who already walked like he talked. When somebody pointed him out, I was impressed (and a little intimidated).
The specific scene that I recalled took place at John Knox Ranch, the site of a hill country summer camp and retreat center. The NWTA staff, divided into groups and teams, was very busy throughout the weekend, moving from one choreographed process to the next as seamlessly as possible. During the second afternoon, upon looking at the schedule with my responsibilities highlighted in fluorescent yellow, my heart sank. I was on the fire-building team—which pleased me, but it was raining. In fact, it was pouring. There was no way we were going to be able to have a fire that evening. This was a major bummer, for I had found this part of my own initiation weekend to be vivid and wild.
Nevertheless, five of us met out in the designated spot, a field next to the main hall. We quickly retreated to a small shed that offered little relief, and we stood there as the large rain drops soaked and water logged any hope we had of fulfilling our task … and to be accountable to the larger group and the leaders on the Weekend. Kevin O’Brien, a dear friend who succumbed to cancer a number of years ago, looked at me and shook his head. “Yep, we’re fucked. What’re we gonna do?”
Four of us looked, with open pessimism and resignation, at the man in charge, Walt Stewart. His expression was quite different: calm determination and ruthless optimism. Impressive as this was, I was still skeptical. We all were, but we followed his directions.
He had us huddle as close as possible to shield him from the downpour while he knelt in the mud underneath us. Fumbling with shredded newspaper, tiny twigs, kindling, and matches, he mumbled various things while we stood above him, staring at one another, shaking our heads and cussing the weather gods.
Two or three minutes later, he hollered over the din of the droning downpour, “Okay, she’s started!” Without taking the time to question, doubt, and dispute Walt, he directed us to protect him as he somehow transferred his small flame to the large pile of wood that had been gathered earlier in the day. Then, huddled once again, but with renewed hope, he transferred the spark and lit the main fire.
This was not rocket science, but it was equally astounding to me. Against all odds, and with no real help from us, Walt lighted the ceremonial fire that would welcome about 100 celebrants that evening, and insure that the two dozen newly initiated men would be able to burn in their memories in style. Indeed, Walt knows what he’s doing when it comes to lighting the fire.
