How Do You Know If You've Earned Another Man's (Samson Or Otherwise) Respect?

When men begin sharing intimately regarding their passions, you've earned their respect.  And this is particularly true when their passions DO NOT ALIGN WITH YOUR OWN.  

Why is this relational development such the bellwether?  

When a man loops in another to something HE KNOWS his friend isn't necessarily interested in, he's increasingly risking rejection (to some degree or another) by doing so.  There is nothing men fear more than rejection from other men.  As such, risking that with someone he's very much not wanting to ward off, implies that trust is concretizing between the two men.

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It was right around this time of year in 2015 that I acquired my first Silas.  Not long afterwards, he had my family over for a New Year's dinner party.  I remember this so vividly because my father-in-law had passed away not long before (the previous month), and though I wasn't at all close to this man, my wife certainly had been.  As such, she was still in an emotional fog.  Regardless, she did her darndest to be present / interested, but overall, she did not care to participate therein relative to this exciting (MY FIRST SILAS!) time for Rob.  

Why was this (dinner party) a big reveal for my Silas?  

He had an outrageously large family (I, of course, knew this going in, but seeing is believing).  So large, in fact, that there was great risk that we would react (understandably) in a way that was obviously uncomfortable / stigmatizing to all of / in front of them.  But we did not.  Instead, we had a lovely time, and from there, his trust / comfort level in me grew exponentially.

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A year or so after this, I became a Silas to a much younger man who'd been so brave to seek professional help for his ongoing struggle with chronic Internet porn consumption.  This fortunately had led him to our in-person Samson Society group.  

Eventually, he and I both began attending a spin-off face-to-face Samson group, and in tandem with that routine, each Sunday afternoon, in advance of this meeting, we'd rendezvous at a local restaurant in order to hang-out.  

At this time, I was busy studying for Securities licensing exams.  Therefore, I'd often situate myself at this eatery well in advance of his scheduled arrival (in order to study).  

But it was this regularly scheduled hanging out that he no doubt loved.  It taught me that there's truly an art to hanging out (even as an adult).  

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Pursuing a position of church leadership was another Samson guy's present passion.  We talked extensively about whether he rightly should be qualified therein.  From there, he submitted himself to the process of being examined before (or maybe after) being formally elected by the congregation.  I learned a tremendous amount about what it meant to be Presbyterian even though he attended a Baptist church. 

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Tattoos for some guys, particularly law enforcement types, are integral to their identity as masculine men.  I served as a Silas to a Samson guy who immediately made this crystal clear to Rob.  He would talk about not just the designs themselves but when and where and how (experientally) he received the inking.  And it was the latter that was truly sacred to this man.  For those experiences were tactile, supercharging the intimacy involved during the hours and hours it took for them to be executed.  In turn, this made these designs precious in his eyes.  

Photos that he would text to me of men who were inked were respectfully received.  For though I'd no real interest in tattoos, I learned so much about him via the sacredness of this portion of his identity as an officer of the law.

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I'm a teetotaler, but I drank my fair share of craft beers whilst serving as another man's Silas.  He knew and appreciated craft beers to the degree that I do automobiles (which is fairly extensively).  To him, craft beer represented the ultimate in an uber-cool, relaxing, refreshing beverage.  Nonetheless, I never could successfully down an entire container, but I never once struggled swallowing - my very intentional gulps of - what tasted (to me) like burnt water.

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Never in a million years would I have imagined the opportunity to tangibly support my officiating Silas.  Whether it was a single or double-header, I'd stay to watch him make calls relative to the high school / community college baseball teams competing.  He even once officiated in the Mississippi Braves stadium (good times!).  This same Samson guy introduced me to CrossFit, even allowing me to accompany him to a CrossFit competition in South MS during the heart of the pandemic.  I took the opportunity to take a number of crappy photos of he and his partner competing well, enjoying my time outright all the way up 'till their team were declared the victors. 

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Whether it's music, sports, fitness, booze, hunting / fishing, inked body parts, writing (poetry, essays), and on and on, all of these passions may very well qualify relative to the complicated makeup of your friend.

If you're smart, you'll recognize the opportunity when it's presented via respectfully embracing this portion of your friend at face value by asking curiously about its personal origins.  From there, attempt to insert yourself therein as a means to tangibly support this powerful identifier.  Respect will then begin to deeply take root.  Trust me, it never fails.

Let's Not Forget To Consider The Unlevel Playing Field

Adam Young was our keynote speaker during the 2023 National Samson Society Retreat.  I did not attend either of his sessions (I continued to man the registration table during Friday evening's session), but I did slip in at the tail end of the second one (Saturday morning).  During those few minutes, a Q & A session was underway within the packed auditorium, and Adam was navigating those queries with answers that landed beautifully each and every time.  Also, he was really humorous with many of his answers as he sveltely circled back to accentuate previous bullet points that were no doubt key to his talk.

During those final minutes, I felt he was summarizing much of what he'd shared earlier on.  For he was emphasizing the importance of approaching loved ones who'd done the traumatizing with the request to bequeath them (opportunistically) with how they'd actually been hurtful.  For example, if a parent had said something traumatizing in the past, Adam urged audience members to timely return to that parent before asking respectfully if they might "revisit" the lingual trauma (what they'd actually said / tone, etc.) in detail (with the ultimate hopeful outcome being to receive healing via enlightening the ignorant traumatizer and thereby granting a sincere, sympathetic acknowledgement / apology).

And then Adam brilliantly stated this (paraphrase):  "You're going to get either one of two reactions (from the traumatizer) when you attempt this.  And via those, you'll know immediately if you're dealing with an outright wicked individual or a garden-variety Christian".

What he was implying there was that wicked people react harshly / survivor's instinctively by deflecting their responsibility whilst garden-variety Christian's react (even to the smallest degree) sympathetically / towards reconciliation once they've clued into what's being asked of them and their supposed part in it.  

And that made a lot of sense except Adam missed an obvious third traumatizer category outright. And this surprised me.  But, Adam probably has never been to Mississippi.

That third category is the low intelligence traumatizer.

Therefore, let's review.

1.  Wicked traumatizer (self-centered / self-absorbed asshole)

2.  Garden-variety Christian traumatizer (genuinely caring, sympathetic / biased towards reconciliation)

3.  Low intelligence traumatizer (emotional / intellectual retard)

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A level playing field between communicators can only exist when intelligence between those involved is closely matched.  Intelligence (more or less than) drives an individual's ability to utilize / interpret all manner of language (& arguably emotion) to express themselves with accuracy (whether they're being truthful or not).  

Arguably, it's not fair to expect a low intelligence traumatizer to be able to either react firstly (to the offer from you to bequeath) nor hear secondly (that which you've said, felt, experienced) with any degree of accuracy.  And that's where the problem lies.  For if you don't take the traumatizer's intelligence into account, you're likely going to unfairly categorize them (wicked?).  When, in actuality, they're simply a dumbass. 

And, oh my goodness, there're so many dumbasses in this world of woe. 

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This unlevel (intelligence) playing field can surely manifest itself as a dumpster fire within familial relationships if individuals aren't careful.  For there's a baked-in expectation / hope that SURELY THIS WOULD NEVER BE amongst kinfolk.  But it does occur at times.  And as such, there's one of two ways to manage it.

1.  Prioritize humility relative to the asymmetry.*

2.  Begrudge your situation in order to consistently maintain / be reminded of your superiority.

*whilst giving yourself full permission to see / acknowledge the humor within the sad situation.

The first option takes an almost superChristian outlook.  An outlook, I would argue, that's only achievable via hard, hard personal work that's centered on the harsh reality of the situation.  And this work likely could take a lifetime to wrestle through, coinciding with various stages of maturation between the two parties involved (parent / child, etc.).

For no one truly wants to face up to the reality that their loved one is an imbecile.  It's just so fatalistic to consider.  It's a tough, tough reality for those who're living it.  For most who've endured close-knit relational trauma would gladly take a wicked perpetrator over a dunce.  For there's simply so little hope for reconciliation / proper acknowledgement via the latter.

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A Man's Greatest Aphrodisiac Is His Perceived Ability To Provide A Woman With Security. Enter Prince Coitus.

During my high school days ('88-'90), there was a late-weeknight call-in "sex talk" show that was broadcast on cable television.  Mind you, this show wasn't available via premium channel, and it was not filmed in front of a live audience.  Instead, it was perhaps on some fledgling network in a fairly nondescript studio (similar to Larry King Live!).  Very rarely would I be up late enough (11 PM CST) to chance upon it (too the male host was incredibly obnoxious), but one night I do recall paying it heed due to there being a very handsome young man on set as an "in-studio guest".  

What intrigued me most about this particular broadcast was how this handsome bachelor proceeded to coolly articulate his rationale behind his (& other men's) nonchalant approach to promiscuity.  From there, he took it a step further and explained his thinking regarding how his female lovers choose to perceive him as a playa.

And this guy may have been prostituting himself to women.  I honestly can't remember.

Nonetheless, as a 17-18-year-old teenager, this served as an excellent lesson regarding cheap, hetero, sexual relationships.  As such, it truly has stood the test of time as I've lived out my life.

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The cul-de-sac we've lived on for 23 years is home to ten other "garden (small) homes".  Six of the overall eleven are 3-bedroom while the remainder are 2-bedroom.  There're three (not Medicare-age) singles living within these single-family homes, two of which are "relationally active".  

What I mean by that is both have significant others that visit often, and it's not unusual for them to stay overnight, even for weeks at a time.  

One of these two "relationally active" homeowners is female and other male.  Both have children, some of which pay a visit on occasion while others seemingly come and go at will.  

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Prince Charming is how the young, handsome in-studio guest (late-night '80s sex talk call-in show) described his harem of female lovers imagining him to be as they chose to participate in relationally non-committal intercourse.  

As we know from the fairy tale, Prince Charming was Snow White's savior.  He restored her health, having come for her during her time of "eternal sleep".  Therein, going forward, it's implied that his presence radically transforms her existence which leads to abundance, joy, and eternal happiness.  It's a fate that's fit for a Disney film, and it is deeply ingrained within the psyche of our culture.

The young, handsome in-studio guest went on to describe how he could sense this mirage each and every time he'd achieve participating within consensual intercourse, based on the woman's receptiveness towards him.  He did, in fact, acknowledge his physical attractiveness (which perfectly played into her fantasies), but made it clear that each of the women he'd engaged with sexually were unwilling to spread their legs out of a raw desire to fuck (which was his MO).  Instead, they were perpetuating a romantic fantasy throughout coitus that was hinged on safety, stability, and hopefulness (that he'd surely bring abundance, joy and eternal happiness).

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Our home is positioned at the entrance point of our cul-de-sac.  As such, we have more frontage than any of the other ten homes, by far.  Therefore, me being in and out a fair amount, I can't help but see who's coming and going at all hours of the day and night.  Loverboys (& girls) make their way to our neighbors' abodes regularly, all the while never acknowledging Rob as they do so.  I find myself, at times, attempting to make eye contact when they pass but to no avail.  Me thinks this is the case due to fact that I'm no doubt a REAL, LIVE HUSBAND.

Men absolutely crave wet pussy.  As much as they can get and as often as they can get it.  Women want security.  Even if it's fantastical security.  And they'll (oftentimes begrudgingly) jettison their chaste in order to compromisingly receive it. 

What's fascinating to me is the power of the fantasy.  Females are taught, from an early age, to firmly believe in Prince Charming in tandem with what romantic love looks like.  

My question is, when do they become more involved with the fantasy, thereby removing their better judgement relative to reality?  In other words, knowing that they'd be better off, for all parties involved, to steer clear of perpetuating yet another sexual relationship, why do they allow themselves to not see men's intentions clearly (zero long-term commitment / artificial security)?  

Fantasy, within women's minds is amazingly affective.  I have to wonder if intercourse (resulting in orgasmic pleasure) doesn't further concretize the illusion as the brain releases hormones in line with the sex act itself.

Prince Coitus?     

Answer: I'm Content With The Status Quo. My Recovery Is Going Just Fine. As Such, I'm Not Interested In Retreating.

Here's the 2023 Samson Summit (10th anniversary of National Samson Society retreats!) itinerary / workshop breakdown:  

The Summit Schedule

On Property Activities Schedule of Availability: Tree Top Towers: 9 am - 12 pm and 1-3:20 pm Ziplines & Hatchet Throwing: 9 am - 12 pm and 3:40-6 pm Canoes & Giant Swing: 1-6 pm

Workshop Descriptions

WORKSHOP OPPORTUNITIES: SESSION ONE Processing Spiritual Abuse with Chris Inman If you’ve ever felt that you were a bad person in your spiritual life, then this breakout group is for you. Join us as we address many of the shaming aspects intertwined in religion. We will root out these lies while sharing an experience of God’s unconditional love and acceptance. In doing so you will see how to disempower much of your addictive struggle and take a great leap forward your recovery journey. Curious and Compassion: An IFS Approach to Addiction and Trauma with Don Williams Internal Family Systems (IFS) recognizes that as men created in the image and likeness of God (Imago Dei Self), we have parts that try to protect us from trauma and unwanted feelings. Instead of treating our addictive impulse as the enemy, we can learn to access Self so we can get to know the addictive part from a place of curiosity and compassion. Join us to learn how these parts make you whole and lead to healing. Rebuilding Marital Intimacy Through FANOS with Jim Ozgunduz It is very difficult to heal a marriage after betrayal. FANOS is a tool that has helped build trust by providing my wife and I a way to be vulnerable with one another. I am grateful for the opportunity to share how this tool can help you. Finding the "Why" In You Recovery with Patrick Peters Do you know why you're leaning into recovery?  Not why anyone else says you should, but why you want to do all this work?  Starting from Simon Sinek's "Start With Why" (the 3rd most popular Ted Talk of all time), we'll adapt those principles to recovery. Divorce, Recovery, Singleness and the Desire for someone to Play with Your Penis with Aaron Porter and Mark Shelley Recovery is challenging enough on its own, but what happens when you add in divorce and being single again? How do you navigate things like doing recovery just for you? Or dating and recovery?  Join us to share some stories and hopefully a bit of wisdom. WORKSHOP OPPORTUNITIES: SESSION TWO Complex Trauma and the Origin of Unwanted Behaviors: How What Happens Before Your 21st Birthday Sets You Up to Struggle and How to Get Your Life Back with Scott Cone This engaging and fast-past workshop will teach you about attunement, affect regulation and attachment…the three developmental A’s…and why these are so critical to to the formation of our minds, identities and relationships; what happens to us when these needs aren’t met and how this sets us up for turning to unwanted behaviors; and, walk you through practical strategies, processes and tools designed to help you heal the effects of trauma and recovery your authentic self. From Victim to Ownership - What does ‘Do the Work’ actually mean?” with Scott Tomlin Moving from understanding to application. Scott will discuss his journey and how he has made application to his daily routine, which has provided safety and healing for him and the primary relationships in his life. Processing Spiritual Abuse with Chris Inman If you’ve ever felt that you were a bad person in your spiritual life, then this breakout group is for you. Join us as we address many of the shaming aspects intertwined in religion. We will root out these lies while sharing an experience of God’s unconditional love and acceptance. In doing so you will see how to disempower much of your addictive struggle and take a great leap forward your recovery journey. Process Addiction" or Distress Reduction Behavior - Understanding the Differences and Why it's Important with Roane Hunter Process addictions are not the same as substance addictions. While substance addictions involve the use of drugs or alcohol, process addictions involve compulsive behaviors in the areas of sexual compulsivity, eating disorders, money (gambling/shopping), technology (iPhones, gaming, social media), reactive aggression, and reactive avoidance.  These behaviors have been labeled "process addictions" when, in reality, they are emotional distress reduction behaviors.   Addiction to a chemical substance has life-threatening physiological effects as opposed to distress reduction behaviors that produce negative psychological effects. The reactive avoidance trauma model is a theory of how trauma can lead to the development of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The model proposes that when a person experiences a traumatic event, they learn to associate the event with danger and threat. This association leads to the development of a fear response, which can manifest as avoidance behaviors, hyperarousal (anxiety), and intrusive (unwanted) thoughts. This workshop will help you understand the difference between addiction (chemical) and distress reduction behavior (emotional).  We will examine the roots of how reactive avoidance is based in emotional dysregulation, disattunement, and impaired attachment. Understanding Shame: We'll delve into the intricate layers of shame, its origins, and its impact on the recovery process with Roe Hunter Participants will gain valuable insights into recognizing and addressing shame in their lives. Building Resilience: Discover practical strategies to develop resilience in the face of shame and judgment. Through self-compassion and self-awareness exercises, you'll learn how to cultivate a resilient mindset. Distress Tolerance Techniques: Addiction recovery often brings about intense emotional distress. This workshop will equip you with effective distress tolerance skills to manage cravings, triggers, and challenging emotions without resorting to problematic behaviors. Group Support: Connect with others who share similar experiences in a safe and supportive environment. Share your challenges and triumphs, and draw strength from the collective wisdom of the group. Mindfulness and Self-Care: Learn mindfulness practices and self-care routines that promote emotional balance and enhance overall well-being. Discover how these techniques can be integrated into your daily life. Setting Realistic Goals: Explore goal-setting strategies that align with your values and recovery journey. Create a roadmap for your future with confidence and clarity. Interactive Activities: Engage in interactive exercises, role-playing, and group discussions to reinforce your understanding and application of shame resilience and distress tolerance concepts. Personalized Action Plan: Leave the workshop with a personalized action plan tailored to your unique recovery needs, helping you implement what you've learned in your everyday life. Whether you're in the early stages of recovery or seeking to strengthen your resilience along the way, "Embracing Resilience" is designed to support and inspire you. Reclaim your life, heal from shame, and develop the skills to tolerate distress without turning to addiction. Join us for this empowering workshop and take a significant step toward a brighter, healthier future in recovery.

Copyright (C) 2023 Samson House. All rights reserved. -------------------------- Question:  Why aren't more Samson Society guys from Mississippi attending the 2023 Samson Summit in Van, TX?   (Bless our hearts.) Lagniappe More lagniappe

Hot Tub Time Machine / Reckoning With NOLA "Steve"

Our family (Angie & I and our middle schooler) just returned from a long weekend relative to my 8th grade daughter's fall break (coalescing with my beautiful wife's 53rd birthday).  As such, NOLA was our getaway vacation city, and it offered some interesting developments regarding my recovery (whilst also being incredibly refreshing / relaxing as a fall weather getaway).

I have a number of NOLA vacation childhood memories.  Mainly due to how easy it was to reach (3-hours) by car from Jackson.

During my senior year of high school, my parents and I took a trip to "The Big Easy" to see Ole Miss play Tulane in the Superdome.  The year was 1990.  At the time, the New Orleans Centre shopping mall was directly connected to the Superdome indoor arena.  It's important to note that this 3-story, marble-floored, skylight-lit testament to free enterprise failed to survive 2005's Hurricane Katrina due to extensive flooding via the storm surge.

It was during this football game that I slipped away from Bob & Darlene in order to "kill some time" wandering the retail storefronts of New Orleans Centre.  Nonetheless, (as most teenagers do) I had an ulterior motive.  

Having made a beeline to Waldenbooks, I very nervously purchased a clear plastic sealed copy of Playgirl magazine.  Immediately following, I took the escalators to the top floor of the mall, found as quiet of a corner as I could and began coolly perusing this naughty periodical.

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Last weekend, my wife and youngest daughter had the good fortune of staying right on the edge of downtown NOLA (adjacent to the river), and this particular resort hotel also had an integrated health club (members only / available to hotel guest who're within a certain points tier).  It was impressive, and I took full advantage of it during our 3-night stay.  

During the late afternoon of our arrival, Angie encouraged me to go check out the health club (she was familiar with it, having stayed at this hotel / resort a few times prior) for myself.

Whilst wandering around the 100,000! sf facility, I eventually made my way into the locker room.  (Health clubs can only properly be adjudicated via the luxuriousness of their locker rooms.)

This one was impeccably clean, though it was a tad tight.  As I made my way deeper into the space, I turned one final corner, only to land at the massive, elevated jacuzzi tub.  Surrounding it were several individual shower stalls.  

Immediately, I nervously exited the locker room and returned to our room.

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Back during the fall of 1990, the Playgirl pictorial that powerfully captivated me was of a white guy named "Steve".  He was a 5'-8" / 215 lbs, muscular, very hairy, and clean-shaven bloke with an impressive '80s mullet and beautifully tanned skin.  "Steve" was no older than 25-30.  His hair was medium brown and his eyes hazelnut.  

"Steve" had a build that wasn't unnatural (juiced), though it was definitely athletic (he sort of looked like the infomercial SoloFlex guy in that regard).  Considering his genitals, there was nothing about them that was out of the ordinary (scaled).

As such, he never would have excelled today as a gay porn star.  Why?  Most are juiced (anabolic steroids), fully waxed and have grossly overscaled genitalia.  

There were perhaps 5-6 total photos of "Steve", one of which was a full-page spread of him standing - dripping wet - within a jacuzzi tub.  The tub was situated within a ski lodge-like set.  And it was this same set that each of the photos of partially / fully naked "Steve" were taken.  It provided a warm, very cozy atmosphere that effectively enhanced his '80s' seductiveness.

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The following day (post hotel / resort health club reconnaissance), I felt a tremendous amount of shame surrounding the thought of a post workout jacuzzi tub dip (for I had never done this).  That Saturday morning, throughout a shared meal with some family friends at one of NOLA's finest brunch establishments, I felt privately intruded upon ("WHAT DO YOU REALLY WANT ROB?") as we exchanged tales with our old friends.

These feelings of shame were centered around me questioning my true motive.  

Why exactly would Rob want to strip naked, post workout and enjoy the jacuzzi there with strangers?  

I knew it wasn't cruising.  Not at all.  Instead, it had something to do with overcoming and maturing forward.  All this in spite of my negative feelings that kept insinuating otherwise.

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Having now become absolutely smitten with the "Steve" pictorial, I eventually made my way to the closest mall restroom to masturbate.  From there, I took the periodical to my parent's Buick, hiding it (within the Waldenbooks bag) beneath the front seat.  Eventually, I made my way back to my ticketed seat, between Bob & Darlene, within the Superdome.  As you're likely assuming, I had little remaining interest in the game between the Rebels and Green Wave.  All in all, my emotions were powerfully conflicted (with the emphasis on powerfully).  I felt both simultaneously giddy and doomed regarding what I'd just accomplished.

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Eventually, it came time for Rob to make his way towards the hotel / resort health club now that it was mid-afternoon Saturday, (10/7).  I had changed into my athletic shorts / tank top within our hotel room prior.  From there, I slowly warmed up (stretching / light weights) before being strategic about using equipment that isn't readily available at our local Y.  

90-minutes of welcome strength training passed.  Though the ambient lighting within the space was less than stellar, the high quality of the equipment more than made up for it.  Eventually, I marched myself over to the men's locker room.  Doing so forced me to overcome feelings telling me that I didn't belong.  As I did so, I undressed before wrapping the health club-provided white towel around my naked waist.  Bracing myself regarding a potential encounter with other jacuzzing men, I traversed deeper into the somewhat familiar men's only space.  Before de-toweling, I carefully climbed the marble-finished steps and then down into the empty roiling waters of the (4-person max capacity) jacuzzi tub.  

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Within 3-4 days of relishing / marinating in my ownership of that particular Playgirl magazine (this was the first time I'd seen photos of fully naked men), I trashed it.  Before doing so, I ripped page after page of the periodical in protest to my faith and disgust in my personal captivation.  

From there, I didn't see fully naked men (photos) 'till my junior year of college and only due to my roommate's porn magazine stash (that I would covertly flip through on occasion).  

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Before making my naked ascent up the jacuzzi staircase, I had tripled-folded (a second) one of my health club-issued towels.  I did this before situating it like a small rectangular pillow within the corner of the tub that I'd gravitated towards.  Afterwards, I leaned my 51-year-old head back onto the damp cloth and closed my eyes.  I found the noise of the roiling, heated waters to be just as soothing as the water itself.  It was fantastically relaxing.

Having accomplished this feat, I realized I'd only done so by pressing all my emotions down - as far as possible.  As such, here I was.  Swoll and naked, post-workout.  With only my sweaty, silver-haired head sticking up out of the fray.  Yet once again feeling isolated.  And deeply ashamed.  

Eventually, I dozed off.  But when I awoke (I believe I was only asleep for a short while), I knew I was no longer alone.  Though I was still looking up, head reclined on my makeshift pillow, I sensed someone else had joined me.  I blinked repeatedly before sitting up, no longer feeling shame but embarrassment at having fallen asleep.  

The stranger sitting on the opposite side of the diamond-shaped tub grinned confidently as we made eye contact.  Weirdly, the din of the jacuzzi was far less now, though the waters were churning just as rapidly.  Too, I couldn't help but notice that the digital wall clock was displaying --:-- whereas before it displayed 5:05.  This unsettled me, causing me to jump when he spoke in a deep, masculine voice.  For it echoed distinctly off the surface of the waves.

"Hey Rob.  It's me Steve.  Welcome back to New Orleans."  

 To be continued... 

Give Yourself Credit Where Credit's Due / Look Towards The Future

The first Samson Society National Retreat I attended was during the fall of 2017 (I believe it was the first weekend of November).  The venue was a Tennessee state park smack dab in the middle of the Volunteer State.  The weather was perfect that weekend.  I vividly recall the fall foliage being spectacular.

The (earlier in 2017) email invitation which touted this retreat described it initially as a Samson Society meeting facilitators' retreat.  And it's important to note that back then, there were no virtual Samson Society meetings.  Every meeting across the country was face-to-face.

As the date for this 2017 retreat loomed closer, the description of said retreat changed.  What started out as a Samson facilitators' retreat morphed into a Samson Society retreat (come one, come all).  

I recall my Silas and I (who'd already signed up for the retreat) being disappointed therein.  For we were both fledglings facilitating face-to-face meetings at our respective church homes.  

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One week prior to our departure, there were three of us Jackson, MS Samson guys signed up to go (the plan was to carpool in one man's SUV), but at the very last minute, my Silas convinced one other longstanding / tenured Jackson, Mississippi Samson man to come too.  At this time, this man was having tremendous difficulties relative to his recovery, therefore my Silas, being the sympathetic man he was, felt compelled to pressure him to take this step / deep dive (as a last resort). 

This upended my plans to spend some quality time with my Silas during said 2017 retreat, and frankly, that greatly disappointed me.  For this fourth man would now be(come) the focus throughout the weekend.  I realize that sounds petty, but I honestly felt as if I was dealt an unfair hand regarding.  

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The Tennessee state park where the retreat was hosted had a motel attached to it.  Hence, these were our accommodations.  Overall, from what I recall, there were around 50 - 75 Samson guys at this retreat, and those who'd come some distance (as we had) stayed on site two-men to a motel room. 

I begrudgingly agreed to room with our Samson retreat straggler in lieu of my Silas.  And it was this lodging arrangement where the problems for me were centered.

This struggling Samson guy (fourth man) was an expat from Central America.  He'd lived in Mississippi most of his life but had family and numerous mistresses back in his native land.  In anticipation of his scheduled return to his home country (not long after this retreat). he was in the throes of sexting these mistresses in anticipation of his homecoming.  

I was privy to all this due to me inquiring as to why he was constantly using his pocket computer while we were there together (& otherwise) within our assigned motel room.  

I vividly recall wanting to vomit numerous times throughout the weekend as I worked hard to ignore his shenanigans.  

Keep in mind that my wife and I had dined with he and his wife 3-6 months prior to this retreat (they were 8-10 years older than us), therefore we'd had the opportunity to get to know his native Mississippi bride then (he was estranged from their grown children due to his serial adultery).  

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As you can imagine, I had to make the best of a really horrible situation.  As such, it tainted my outlook / turned the tables on my hopes for this initial National Samson Retreat experience.  It's important to note that I hardly even spoke to my Silas throughout this weekend (I was extremely pissed at him).

Like every Samson National Retreat I've attended, this 2017 retreat was no different in that it consisted of loads of free time.  Hence, due to my motel roommate's ongoing wretched behavior, I made a point to find any feasible excuse to vacate our shared space. 

One benefit of this venue (Tennessee State Park) was its proximity to a public golf course (right across the highway).  I recall heading over there numerous times to run the golf cart paths (thanks be to God I brought my running shoes).  Again, the weather was absolutely perfect for being out of doors during this particular weekend.

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After this 2017 retreat concluded, none of the other three Samson men attended another Samson National Retreat (except one guy in 2021 but only because he was asked to lead a workshop).   

Yet, I soldiered on by attending in 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, & 2022.  

Why?

In 2018, the venue changed (Methodist Retreat Center in Eva, TN), and that really was the deciding factor in motivating me to attend once again.  Two, I knew I'd not be a newbie going forward.  And three, our Jackson, Mississippi expat Samson colleague vanished immediately following the 2017 retreat.

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Many of you have had less than ideal Samson National Retreat experiences, and as such, refuse to even consider a return.

That being the case, please know that EVERY SAMSON SOCIETY NATIONAL RETREAT WHICH SUCCEEDED THE 2017 WAS FAR MORE ENJOYABLE FOR ROB.  

Give yourself credit where credit's due.  If you're like me, you made the initial attempt.  That says a lot.  But if your initial retreat experience didn't live up to your expectations, don't allow that to give you credence to write off future opportunities.  So many variables exist that are completely out of our control regarding these weekends.  Be open-minded.  Take another step forward, and please join us at the 2023 Samson Society National Retreat in Van, Texas (brand new venue!).  Who knows, this year's retreat may be an absolutely life-changing experience for you.  

Communication (Within Samson Society) Is A Key To Success

Saturday, (10/7) is slated to be the day Mr. Nate Larkin hosts the second official "Samson Society Meeting Host Training" via Zoom.  The first one occurred back in February of this year.  Throughout all my years of involvement within Samson Society (since August 2014), there's been nada training for meeting hosts.  Hence, this is a surprising, very exciting change that's immensely helpful to all of us involved.

Digital communications really took off within Samson Society in April of 2018 with the launch of the monthly emailed publication, "The No Bull Briefing".  This is an easy to read, snapshot newsletter that captures / informs really well.

But as of late, digital communications have been much more repetitious (there's been numerous emailed robo-emails touting the forthcoming 2023 National Samson Society Retreat).  These are all unique, fresh splash announcements that are eye-catching / engaging.  

Communication is a key to success.

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A summarization of Samson Society resources (w/ hyperlinks):

Sustaining Member Sign Up:

https://www.samsonhouse.org/member-registration

Sustaining Member Sign Up Password: NoBullBrotherhood

Giving:

https://samsonsociety.com/help-us-reach-more-men/

Sarah Society:

https://sarahsociety.com/

Samson Store:

https://samsonswag.squarespace.com/

National Retreat 2023:

https://samsonhouse.regfox.com/samson-society-summit-2023

No Bull Briefing and Daily Encouragement Registration:

https://signup.e2ma.net/signup/1891992/1898197/

Pirate Monk Podcast:

https://samsonsociety.podbean.com/

National Suicide Hotline: US: 988 (Call or Text)

Canada: Call 1-866-585-0445 OR Text WELLNESS to 741741

Communication is a key to success.

Rob's Sobering Drive Home

I'm fortunate to live within a metro that simply doesn't have a snarled traffic expectation attached to it.  Hence, unless its holiday season (Xmas), I'm not at all constrained to come and go from home undeterred as I please.  As a result, Jackson, Mississippi and its surrounding suburbs feel more like a big-small town than a thriving urban metropolis.  As such, vehicular transportation flows relatively freely, and much of this can be attributed to the fact that a large majority of the city's (Jackson) impoverished (black populace) simply do not own cars.

Throughout the majority of my free-flowing drive home one afternoon this past week, I carried on disturbed, having spotted a couple exiting a (known) therapist's office, heading towards their parked car.  Obviously, this emotionally raucous (weighty) disturbance was centered around me knowing this husband / wife.  And not only that, but that knowing being rooted within the assumption that their marriage was no doubt Jackson, Mississippi upper-class white people picture P-E-R-F-E-C-T.

This couple has been married about as long as Angie and me.  We've known them for decades, having worshipped with them (same church) years prior.  But not only that, these two and their beautiful offspring have been featured repeatedly within print publications throughout the years.  Publications touting both their deep-seated faith and unconventional (yet obviously devout) approach to rearing their children.  To top it off, this couple is made up of two photogenically beautiful human beings, and not only from the standpoint of focusing on their health, but too, as it pertains to simply stellar DNA.  Intelligent, beautiful, charismatic = picture P-E-R-F-E-C-T.

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When Angie and I were first married, we worshipped with this couple and numerous others at First Baptist Church Jackson.  Angie at the time was working too for a massive international corporation that just happened to have a presence here in the Jackson Metro.  Hence, we found ourselves rubbing shoulders with the future "movers & shakers" of Jackson each time we stepped foot into that church.  Whether it was doctors, lawyers, accountants, heirs apparent to hugely successful enterprises, each represented crystallized perfection via how they dressed, where they lived and so forth. 

Yet, there of course, isn't any relational (& certainly not marital) perfection, is there?  

Marriages are tenuous.  Easily bruised.  Rarely solvent.  Under constant pressure.   

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What was so disturbing therein regarding my drive home was how unconvinced the wife looked compared to her beaming husband as they strode across the asphalt to their vehicle.  This woman has a powerfully emotive face, therefore I could read her expressions instantly during those few drive-by seconds.  

Perhaps her husband had launched a poorly timed joke that had fallen flat just moments prior.  I actually hope so.  Instead, what I saw seemed more of a potential reflection of what had transpired during the hour prior.

Very, very disturbing indeed.

What's that saying about a woman scorned?        

Should Samson Society Intensive Attendees Remain In Their 3-Day Huddle - Bare Chested (Weather Permitting) - In An Effort To Optimize These Relationally Rich / Affirming Weekends?

I had a feeling that blogpost title would catch your attention!

Firstly, it's important to note that -

Another Samson Society Intensive Weekend is fast approaching!  You can find info regarding it here:  Mens Intensive — Lifeworks Counseling.  It is highly recommended, especially considering the fact that this Samson Society specific weekend has gained as much traction as it has.

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During Labor Day 2023, I found myself swimming in the Ross Barnett Reservoir (a sizable lake close to our home) with a new friend.  His family joined my youngest daughter and me mid-morning there at the manmade "beach", and from there, we very much enjoyed the cool water through mid-afternoon.  Throughout the majority of the day, he and I sat up on our knees beneath the muddy flow and chatted under the blazing sun.  This was the third time we'd had the opportunity to do so since meeting providentially during one of our church's annual daylong mission endeavors.  That early summer event required that we caravan to north Mississippi, and fortuitously, we ended up in the same vehicle for the +/-2-hour trek.  This, I felt, was the perfect opportunity to interrogate.

This new friend & his clan are officially visiting Lakeside Pres, having grown up Presbyterian (mostly) in small town Mississippi.  What I found to be so compelling about him initially was his selflessness.  For he volunteered to join in on the aforementioned daylong mission endeavor sans knowing ANY of us Presbyterians.  That, to me, was remarkably brave of him.

What stood out to me about our Labor Day at / in the Rez was how our bare-chested selves testified to the relaxed nature of our dialogue.  Now, mind you, we didn't delve into heavy topics (taking our surroundings / lack of privacy into account), but we did do our darndest to "fill each other in" as to what exactly we'd been up to prior to our friendship taking root.  Having come from very different backgrounds, this amounted to a sizable debriefing.

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Here in central Mississippi, the temperatures over the summer 2023 have been oppressively hot.  That combined with zero precipitation (particularly the Jackson Metro) has made for an unusual three months of misery.  To summarize, everything here has been thoroughly scorched / charred.  Unirrigated vegetation (turf, shrubs) has long since died from heat exhaustion, and many smaller, understory trees have also succumbed to the relentless, stifling heat.

Now, it's important to note that our climate is not TYPICALLY unlike that of a tropical rain forest.  Considering the amount of heavy precipitation we're accustomed to, combined with the lack of diverse topography / low elevations (we're relatively sea level), our forests are dense with towering / soaring conifers / hardwoods that aren't unlike God's own mid-rise skyline.  

Hence, shade (often deep) is thankfully prolific and therefore not too hard to find.  

As a twice-weekly runner, considering these 2023 brutal summer months, this shade has been my refuge.  

There's a lovely Botanical Garden that's 1.5 miles from our abode, and it's served - for well over a decade - as my halfway "cool down walking spot" relative to my 5K runs.  

This past Sunday (late afternoon), I found myself, once again, at this beautiful spot, having finished my initial 1.5-mile trek.  

It's important to note that throughout this hellaciously hot summer, whilst running, no matter the time of day, I've been going at it bare-chested.  And this is a big change for me.  For I just have never felt comfortable running - in broad daylight - semi-nude.

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If I could properly describe for you how uncomfortable I was as a teenager relative to being bare chested, I'd likely do by sharing the following middle school tale:

An out of the ordinary scoliosis screening happened at my private academy during my 7th grade year.  This consisted of our entire class of +/-45 students marching single file to the gymnasium for publicly executed physical examination of our spines.  

The girls went first (perhaps within a separate room), each having their spines briskly examined (through their shirts / blouses), one after the other, via a small group of "scoliosis pros".  From what I recall, there were no callbacks pertaining to them.  Afterwards, they were sent to reside within the wooden bleachers overlooking the bare-chested 13–14-year-old boys as we took our turn.  

And who might have been chosen for the only humiliating callback out of the 7th grade boys but Rob?

I recall walking past the middle school girls afterwards (I'd put my t-shirt back on at this point) and being asked by the sassiest of the bunch as to why I was called back.  

I quickly lied by saying that "They'd made a mistake".

Immediately, my interrogator snapped back with, "No they didn't.  You have scoliosis!"

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I wasn't an overweight or overly unattractive 7th grader.  No, the issue was I'd become captivated by male bodies that were muscular, tan, hairy, and typically older than mine.  Essentially, bodies of adult men who were professional-grade athletically built.  These bodies became my idols, and I bowed to their whims via my heady (& very private) sexual fantasies with them.  These private fantasies grew more and more ritualistic in light of their purveyance.  As a result, what little bit of healthy outlook your average 7th grade boy might have dramatically diminished within Rob until there was not one iota left.  

I don't recall anyone (peer or otherwise) ever labeling me negatively relative to my body, for we were all in the same awkward, middle school boat.  

In the end, it was me unfairly punishing / labeling myself for something ridiculously unimportant / irrelevant.  It's so unfortunate I had no one to step in and privately advocate on my behalf regarding this confusion.  But, then again, how would anyone have known I was under such emotional duress?

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In closing, I want to bring us back to the present by finishing out my aforementioned tales.

I felt equal to Bryan (my new Lakeside Pres friend) as he and I chatted, waist-deep in the Rez.  Though he's a decade or so younger than me, my 51-year-old athletic build didn't physically reflect that offset.  

Bryan talked a lot of his father-in-law and how he's about to "un-retire" due to boredom.  He described a man who's obsessed with looking / acting youthful (mostly via the younger company he keeps combined with a generous amount of hair dye).  

As I recall this, I have to laugh.

For there I was with my thick head of silvering wet hair amongst a plentiful amount of similarly colored chest hair on full display.  And I wasn't at all unwilling to own those physical attributes via appropriately putting them on display for both Bryan and anyone else within spitting distance to take note of / admire.

In fact, I would argue our bare-chestedness only solidified our friendship that much more effectively as we talked / threw the football, hung out there in redneck Rankin County on Labor Day 2023.

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Fast forward to last Sunday, (9/10) where I found myself, once again, at the Reservoir Botanical Gardens midday through my 5K run.  You'll recall that I was bare-chested and super sweaty on that sweltering afternoon.

And lo & behold, who might I encounter therein but one of Lakeside Pres' elders who was there to walk his pooch around the .6 mile, deeply shaded loop.

Awkward.

This man is close to my age.  He and his clan have paralleled ours through the years within our church.  

We ended up walking together, and by the time we were onto our second loop, he divulged some of the most heart-rending portions of his story to unsuspecting, semi-nude Rob.  It was uncanny.  For never in a million years would I have imagined this man trusting me with said tales.  Much less unannounced / requested.

When our walk concluded, we stood by his vehicle for a few additional minutes small talking.  I could tell that he was having a difficult time there with my hairy pecs on full display.  Hence, we affably parted ways, him driving away and me making a beeline to the adjacent fire station public restroom prior to my run home.  

Bare chested has its benefits, for sure.  Thanks be to God for how markedly different I feel about this as a middle-aged adult.

Lagniappe