Amplifying a message of hope
I’ve been involved with various support and recovery groups for decades. Perhaps the most powerful and impactful is my Mankind Project integration group (I-group) in which six to ten men show up every other Monday night to support one another through every form of challenge that life throws at us. Ours is the longest running one in Texas—31 years, the Lone Man Mountain I-group, hosted by Walt Stewart at his property near Wimberley, Texas.
When Covid hit, we migrated to the Zoom-o-sphere and continued as best we could, though our “work” is best done in person. We were all surprised that the depth of our processes, with accompanying emotional breakthroughs and resolutions, could actually be communicated and guided on-line with almost no loss of intensity. Furthermore, we could invite in men from distant locales, which we did … welcoming new brothers from Michigan, Virginia, and Oregon.
That’s the background from my point of view: regular ongoing magical work (and play) co-produced by men committed to healing the planet one man at a time. So when I heard my friend Walt mention something about a song he had written, and the accompanying post production he and some others in our I-group were working on, I didn’t take too much notice, for this sort of collaboration was not unusual among our creative group. But when I heard that there would be a video promotion for this, his latest composition, I inquired further.
“Oh yeah, Ben. We’re gathering in a couple of weeks to support Ukraine. Stay Strong is my way of sending them strength, to help them withstand the Russian invasion … to know that they are not alone.” Well, I quickly realized this effort was considerably beyond Walt’s usual local gigging. Simultaneously doubtful and inspired, I asked for details. He told me that Tom, our Michigan brother, would be handling the sound and on-line production, and that Mark, one of our Austin brothers, would be directing and managing the video shoot, I began to consider attending this happening.
I’ve run for office several times, and I love to go deep into political and philosophical issues, but I was frankly blasé about the intent of Walt’s song when he first spoke about it. I was wary about jumping in with a bunch of “woke” slogan-slinging trend-following political wannabes. I condemn the Russian invasion, of course, but not necessarily more than any of the other invasions and large-scale atrocities that seem to pop up around the globe every other year. I despise group-think and refuse to be part of any herd.
Walt’s genuine desire to peacefully and joyfully help people in need on the other side of the world, and his childlike faith and confidence that his efforts (and ours) would not be in vain, broke through my cynical stance. Though I live three hours away, I was no longer able to smugly decline this opportunity. Even then, I held on to my low expectations and doubt until I drove up the long gravel road to the entrance of his 20-acre Reconciliation Ranch. With one car entering in front of me, and two behind, it was clear that others had heard the clarion call of Walt’s vision and responded with commitment.
So I tucked my doubts and my reservations back in my pocket, jumped out of my car, and made my way to the check-in table where I saw another brother from our I-group talking and laughing with attendees and volunteers who had just arrived. When I made my way to the back of the property, not too far from the stand of trees within which we hold a quarterly Lodge, I came upon the beginnings of a campfire … a bonfire actually … a big one. Men and women of all ages, as well as a few teenagers were already being asked to gather more wood for the fire and rocks to line it. I joined in.
Hustling back and forth, Mark was already in director mode. No sooner did he tell several small groups what and where he’d like them to focus their efforts, he then walked to the far end of the field to consult with the professional videographer who was readying his bad-ass drone for the aerial shots. Everybody present knew Walt in one fashion or another, or his wife Joanna, another pillar of the local community. It was a groovy eclectic crowd from Austin, Dripping Springs, Wimberley, and surrounding small towns. The attire was Hill Country casual, but with hints of extra flair to reflect that this was a special gathering with a special mission. I told my friend John, from Fredericksburg, that I was envious of his pants—custom made in Nepal on his recent travels. They had these wonderful symbols woven into the fabric that I could only imagine stood for Buddhist tenets like peace, beauty, acceptance, harmony, etc. Perfect for the occasion.
As the sun got lower in the sky, 50 or so people gathered around the giant pile of wood for the ceremonial lighting. Greg, another I-group brother, was in charge of playing (and replaying) specific choruses of the already completed Stay Strong on a hand-held Bluetooth speaker, and thus we were directed to rehearse and then perform various actions that would later be edited to synchronize with the video before final release.
Somewhere between carrying wood, placing stones, and just getting to know people, I began to feel Walt’s energy infuse the place. Because he had sent out his lyrics via e-mail, we all knew the song. But only when we began to sing it together, over and over, did I begin to feel the power of his message of support for the people of Ukraine. Between the huge bonfire and the giant peace sign we had fashioned out of rocks and flowers, there was a very cool setup of an old pickup truck, with bales of hay, another smaller fire in front of it, and two flags: USA and Ukraine. They looked really good waving together in this micro-United Nations set.
As I sang the chorus along with the others, I began to feel a connection, fleeting at first, but then stronger and more consistent, with Walt and all that were gathered. Then, as we were directed to wave and sing, and maybe salute or blow kisses in the direction of the hovering and rising drone-mounted camera, I actually felt a connection and kinship with those in that faraway country. For all the differences between our nation and theirs, I imagined that the average Ukrainian was no different than the average American—we all want peace, we all want freedom, we all want to be left alone to build better lives for our families and friends.
As the sun set, we sang our last set of choruses, and then were shushed by Mark so Walt could utter the final words, hoarsely and with full conviction: “Stay strong!” The camera receded into the sky for the finale—the whole group gathered around the peace sign. I was grateful that I had shown up, that I had risen to the challenge of adding my energy to Walt’s vision. I drove home with peace, pride, contentment, and hope—not just for our brothers and sisters in Ukraine, but also for our communities here at home. I reflected on how just a little bit of effort, a little bit of hope, a little bit of action can be magically multiplied and grow exponentially when it is championed and communicated with persistence and love.
