Men’s Meeting

I’ve not been in a group of people in nearly 9 months.  I dash in and out of the clinic and stores. I’m always there to do what needs to be done and I’m gone.  Tonight was different. I made it back to my men’s meeting. I’ve tried to go many times over the last couple of months but the thought of people close and the time sitting just left me cold. I haven’t been to church even. They are meeting outside and I’ve wanted to go but I was afraid.  Spiritual places. Spiritual people and me with faith but I can help others not myself. If I am sick I get really sick. I thought I was going to die when I couldn’t breathe early spring. It was like the underwater crisis when I ran out of air scuba diving. 

Air.

Oxygen.

Breathing.

I meditate on breath.

I now am afraid to breathe around others. Especially with these fires caused by more government mismanagement and pseudoscience, lies and arsonists. It was good to be with men I knew and admired. We’ve met for years and shared our experience, strength and hope. It wasn’t them I was afraid of .It was the stranger. The person who wants to get close. That man who tapped me on the shoulder early covid and got in my face wanting me to listen to him. I was afraid I’d punch him.

I like being alone.  I was out with a couple of girls who called themselves my ‘older sisters’.  I laughed to be ‘socializing’ ,missed the repartee around dinner parties and the conviviality but then I’d stopped going out to be among even friends because they’re all so easily offended.  Everyone knee jerk emotions and judgement and the world self appointed sheriff’s.  I just found it all so hard work with everyone so emotionally loud after my days of work with dangerous people.  I felt safe alone, with my dog, or my friend. 

Now here I was welcomed back by a group of men who I like and they seem to like me. We have a low bar in this group.  It’s comforting.  

I listened mostly though shared when asked, briefly.  I always worry I speak too long or say to much or go to deep.  The demand for perfection in my field has become overwhelming now that the police bureaurocrats have been sainted and awarded medals of supreme sensitivity and whatever they say is gospel, they say. 

I sometimes cry.  Tears well in my eyes.  I am ending my run. A long time doing the best I can.  Sacrifice and duty. Old words of disgusting relevance compared to the shiny words like ‘priviledge’ and ‘oppress’.  I can’t listen to the media. So much error lies and propaganda.

Not here tonight. Just truth, the old kind. The kind that keeps a guy a live.  Honest sharing. A man talks about his difficulties talking with his wife. Another man talks about his failings.  There’s no bragging.  I am just happy to be there. A way out. A reminder it was worse and worse was a long time ago. This too will pass.

I’m glad I joined the fellowship in reality.  Living in a virtual reality, zoom and such isn’t quite the same.  This was real. Thank you Higher PoWer