When Taking Advantage Of Your Own Self No Longer Makes Sense

Hello to new Rob.  Or at least complete Rob.  The Samson Society retreat gifted this to me, and I can see that clearly.

So, why isn't my private behavior reflecting this change?

I believe it's due to my mind not yet catching / syncing up with my body.

The completeness that I feel is bodily.  Like an aura or energy field that's all around me emanating enough light to illuminate my surroundings clearly.  And in turn, allowing me to see clearly who I am in turn.

But, what of my mind?  That sophisticated organ that manages my body and retains all of my memories - if not my understanding of Rob's identity.  What about it?

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I sucked my thumb 'till I was in 1st grade at Madison-Ridgeland Academy.  What convinced me to cease this behavior was me deciding to emulate my older cousin, Tate, whom didn't chew on his fat digit under any circumstance.

My mind is all about routine and therefore constantly second guessing it's surroundings - even if they're newly and subsequently more sharply illuminated.  Lots of rutted neural pathways to re- route, if you know what I mean.

So, how to begin this process?

Prayer.  First and foremost.

There's no overcoming my mind, no planning a re-wire without God's intervention and guidance.  He created my mind and knows it intricately.

So, I have faith that he'll lead.  It may take much more time than I'd like, but I know that in his time, my completely understood identity will take root within my head.  And therefore, my private self (& behaviors) will then clearly reflect this new man.

"Hello, Mr. Turner. We've Prepared A New Mirror For You."

I believe most men can see themselves fairly accurately, or at least, I'd like to think they can.  Men tend to compare themselves constantly to other men (based on what I've observed), especially within certain settings, therefore how can this occur if one isn't cognizant of his own value / makeup?  That's essentially my logic.  I suppose this may not be the case for certain races of men, but as a middle-class white guy, I can certainly vouch for my own sphere of influence and subsequently, what I've learned through the years via those relationships.

For Rob, when I've looked inward, all I've seen is a void.  I describe it as having a mirror that's shattered and therefore useless to me.  Hence, I tend to be hyper impartial whilst meeting a new friend, making few assumptions, and therefore needing to ask numerous questions.  And this is all well and good, but it leaves me sitting squarely alone.  For knowing one's own self is key to understanding who you are within a community of other men, particularly as it relates to the gospel.

So, how did this occur?  This inability to see myself.

I believe my mirror was shattered by shame, and that it occurred right around the age of 13 when I came to realize that I was right in the thick of facing intense homosexual attractions.

During a concrete pour for a building's foundation, standard testing procedures demand that a series of "test samples" of that concrete be poured into cylinders for later testing within a laboratory setting.  The same can be said for asphalt that's used on roads.  These tests often consist of applying high pressure to the hydrated cylinder 'till failure.  And it's at this failure point that designers can determine if the material specified was actually delivered to the job site for installation.  One critical component relative to this process is that you must have an independent testing engineer available to analyze the results in order to make comparisons to what was supposed to be and actually what was.  If that individual isn't available, the end result is a failed cylinder alone with no real understanding of what was actually shipped to the job site and installed.

I believe as men, we're that independent voice who must make peace with the results of who we actually are, and I believe that process should be well underway during our adolescent years.  But for Rob, this role as adjudicator was either abandoned or hijacked.  Either way, I describe it as the aforementioned shattered mirror which left me - throughout my life - unable to see my worth within the community of men.

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Considering all of that, I'm pleased to report that this past weekend's Samson Society retreat in Eva, Tennessee began to change all of that.

Yes, we discussed 

Arousal template(s)
Play
Shame &
Trauma &
Recovery

We also delved into

Worksheets

the real-time Pirate Monk podcast &
the gospel presentation

I was privileged to meet one-on-one with

Gerald (twice)
Chris
Mike (sorta one-on-one)
Paul
Michael (& another guy whom I can't remember his name during worksheet review time)
Alan
Jason
Charlie

And I picked up 2 awesome T-shirts!

[During the car ride, we made a point to learn some architectural terms.  Those were

Clerestory
Piano Noble
Vapor Barrier

,and we also learned an awful lot about termites.]

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So, how am I feeling as of late?

Really blessed and so grateful I attended.  I really like what I'm now beginning to finally see, and I never thought it might be possible to be at this place.

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In closing, we're having a new roof put on our abode today.  The roofer is a friend of mine who, years ago, worked with me on another re-roof project (mother in-law's rental property) down in south Mississippi.  His and his crew's work is solid.

But, I'm an architect.  And we're talking about my abode here.  The one I've lived in with my family for the past 20 years.

I've been home all morning, in order to make myself "available" to the crew in case they unearth something unexpected.  Not surprisingly, I haven't heard a peep out of them (except for the constant banging).

It's hard to have faith in men.  That's my biggest challenge going forward.  And not necessarily related to the small stuff but the big.  I believe the root of that harkens back to my identity problem due to the fact that ultimately I'VE NEVER FULLY TRUSTED MYSELF.  My hope is that as I continue to understand who I am, this faith / peace towards mankind will grow.

Thankfully, my closest friends get this about me.

Please be patient.  That's all I can ask.

Burning Men

The annual Samson Society retreat is this upcoming weekend in Eva, TN.  Friday evening through Sunday morning we'll be together there at the church conference center, all +/-100 of us from all over.

The point of the weekend is to learn but to also connect with men you've not seen (or possibly heard from) in some time.  Nate Larkin will serve as our host with Aaron Porter shadowing behind him.  Neither of these men pretend on any level to be anything more than regular guys who're there to enjoy the company of everyone else.

It's truly the most informal, unsuspecting event I've ever been a part of.  It's essentially the antithesis of a Promise Keepers event from the standpoint of drawing men who're willing to admit their weaknesses and essentially bank on those weaknesses as they engage.  There's no posturing.  No sizing up.  No expectations.  It's essentially a holiday to an abandoned Themyscira but for Samson men.

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Anytime I see an article during the late summer about Burning Man I click on it.  And sure, it is partially not unlike when I was a kid leafing through the National Geographic magazines looking for photos of semi-nude, body-pierced natives.  But, there is a part of me that's fascinated with these +-80,000 folks who travel to the desert to get naked and have sex with strangers.

This retreat has some similarities to that as well except that everyone keeps their clothes on.

I remember my first Silas (pre - Samson Society) using that analogy to how quickly he and I spilled our proverbial guts to each other.  We were sitting on the miniscule porch of his starter home ranch house underneath the glare of the factory-grade wall sconce, and he declared our triumph at having parlayed our way through a one-night stand.

And that's exactly what (I believe) it felt like.

Awkward.  Uncomfortable.  But extremely freeing as well.

They'll be much of that resonance throughout the weekend if the weekend is a success.

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So, where does God fit into all of this?

For Rob, it's part and parcel me taking more and more baby steps towards making peace with who I am today.  This weekend.  As an almost 50 year old man.

And I think that's where many Samson guys get hung up on what wasn't bestowed on them during these events.  For they're expecting a destination in lieu of more process.  Well, it's not that at all.

There will be no party favors to take home or scribbled within workbooks to refer back to.  Just memories and many more questions and absolutely more stubble and sleep to catch up on.

I cannot wait!

My Isolation Default

I'm an only child, therefore isolating as a child was my normal.  My father and I had a nonexistent relationship, and of course, I wasn't a girl, therefore Darlene wasn't about to be anything to me other than mom.  I've known boys who were very close to their mothers, even as grown men, but that's never been me.

I believe one of the reasons I survived architecture school at MSU was due to my penchant for isolation.  As a BArch student, you're pitted against +/-45 other (mostly) young men and women in your class as your work is adjudicated (somewhat) communally.  Therefore, being adept at isolation, in so many ways, is a precursor for academic survival.  Hence, most of my colleagues changed majors well before the conclusion of our freshman year due to the fact that isolation is typically quite hard for the average student.

My relationship with fantastical sexual sin at this point in time was at least as strong as it had been in high school.  Every day was a day to masturbate and that self pleasure was fueled by illicit sexual sin (fantasies).  Weekends were particularly bad as my roommate inevitably would abandon campus to spend time with his folks (including his younger brother) back home in south Mississippi.

I believe I've said this before, but I'll say it again.  If you could quantify the amount of ejaculate Rob has orgasmed over the course of his 48 years, it would no less amount to filling of a 55 gallon drum with over 3/4 of it being amassed during my college years.

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Fast forward to the present.

This past week, I hit a wall of isolation.  It had been some time since I'd dialogued with my Silas, and come Wednesday night, I chose to delve into Internet porn.  I did so not for what historically was my desire (lust) to, but in order to engage within a facsimile of community...which just happened to be made up of some incredibly sexy individuals (porn models) who were somewhat convincingly pleasuring each other sans any clothing.

A day later, I went all out and engaged my middle-aged imagination in an intense sexual fantasy with a "street person".  Essentially, this was an individual who I've rubbed shoulders with occasionally over the past few months, and subsequently found sexually attractive.  And this absolutely harkened back to my college days.

So, I knew I was not in a good place.  How then to escape?

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Also last week was an annual 4th quarter meeting with my largest client.  This meeting is pivotal in me keeping their business, therefore it's usually quite long and never not intense.

Now, I do meetings well.  Having executed hundreds of them over the course of my career, I have both the stamina and the ability to navigate a group as we move from topic to topic.  It's not a gift, just a learned trait.  But, meetings like this one do stress me.  So much so that I tend to sweat a lot.  Literally.

It's usually an hour or so into the dialogue, and I can tell my deoderant isn't necessarily keeping everything deoderized under them arms.  But, I think to myself, this is normal whilst putting yourself out there.  And frankly, I can do that with aplomb, but you know dear reader.  Albeit, there are plenty of voices who've decreed that I do it a little too "graphically".

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So, what to do about my isolation default?  Where to turn for help and how exactly to ask for it?

Same question as above.

Samson Society is first and foremost for men who're determined to escape isolation.  It's written in our charter.  And not through social media or becoming a deacon, but literally by marrying yourself to a specific man.  Now, that word marrying may be off putting to you, but I would argue that it's applicable here.

I meet with my Silas once a week on the same day, at the same time, and within the same venue.  We'd missed our last scheduled meeting, therefore it had been 2 weeks since our last juncture.  In anticipation of this, I knew I needed to tell him what had been going on and why, but I didn't want to.  Not that I was ashamed of my actions necessarily, but I knew in tandem with this "coming clean", I needed to give him some specific insight into how he could better meet Rob's needs [cringe].

Needs [cringe again] that will better stave off my propensity to isolate.

I DESPISE ADMITTING TO HAVING NEEDS!

But, I did it anyway.  Even though, by admitting to them, I now run the risk of him not meeting those needs.  And yes, I definitely perspired moreso than usual during this 20 minute personal exposition.

And you know what?  I did the right thing here.  But, how do I know?

My Silas isn't perfect, and he can't be expected to be.  But, my God is.  And I believe he desires for us to admit to our vulnerabilities.  To him first, and to our brothers in Christ next.  And we should do this out of respect for the seriousness of our sin problem, and the beauty of what can happen relationally through vulnerability.

In closing, if you read through the gospel of John, you see Jesus clearly.  John paints a holistic picture of God's son that's both captivating and truly shocking to behold.  All because of just how vulnerable John made Jesus out to be.  Over and over again.  If, as men, we're to follow Christ's lead, we need to be opening up to our brothers more often than not to exactly what can be done to assist us righteously - day by day.  No amount of wishful thinking or otherwise can substitute the efficiency of effective communication.  Psychic Silases don't exist.

Facing Your Feelings During A Samson Society Meeting - One Year Anniversary - Emotional Lightning Rod

Samson Society for Rob is a way of life, having been "indoctrinated" back in late summer of 2014, but I vividly remember the one year mark for me and how it seemed both extraordinarily milestonish and terribly burdensome.

Let me explain.

To be committed to a Samson Society meeting for 12 months is not easy for any man.  There's the time commitment, but primarily, it's the gamble of what exact dynamic you're going to encounter whilst there during those +/-52 meetings and how in turn they "average" together within your mind.  Samson meetings are not at all reliable from the standpoint of attendance or atmosphere, therefore it's inevitable that an hour spent won't necessarily provide the payoff / results you'd been hoping for.  Plus, over time, you're going to get to know the regular guys really well.  Perhaps too well in some instances - for your taste or comfort level.

Too, there's the notion of becoming an alum of an organization that's known for "sex addiction", keeping in mind that heady phrase.  My pastor at Lakeside Pres (where I facilitate a group) tells me that he cannot summarize Samson any better than "guys who struggle with porn".  Well, as we all know, that's not an accurate descriptor.  It's much more than that, but overall, there are many men who engage with Samson who are sexually broken, and that can lead to sexual sin in the form of online pornography usage, etc.

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Now onto the terribly burdensome part.

It's hard not to be a critical thinker whilst presented with other men's stories via a Samson Society meeting.  Especially over time.  And this can lead to criticism and dissonance due to the internal, very fluid dynamics within the group.

Let me explain this too.

Tangential dialogue inevitably goes on outside of meetings - and this is typically about attendees, though I wish it were more along the lines of critiquing the interior decor of the meeting space(s).  As we all know, it's entertaining to obtain / give one's opinion on another man's situation / attitude / persona / demeanor / intelligence, etc.  And it's difficult, over time, not to do this.  Especially when their situation / attitude / persona / demeanor / intelligence, etc. is seemingly in contrast to your / our own.

And you feel bad for saying these things, but at the same time, you're not sure what else to do with it because it's become a burden - from the standpoint of pissing you off more and more each time you see this person.  And typically, men who choose to engage with Samson Society are "burdened enough", if you know what I mean.  Hence, the meeting itself can become an emotional lightning rod for some, and things can in turn get heated up internally rather quickly.  From there, that little voice may start whispering the following into an alumnus' ears:  "Pack your bags.  Cut this shit loose.  Break for it and run!  You're way above these idiots, therefore better ON YOUR OWN!"

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For a number of years now, Metro Jackson Samson Society has taken part in an annual rafting trip either to the Chattooga or Ocoee rivers.  The trip is a wonderful 3-day experience of close bonding and adventure that's highly recommended (by me and many others).  The first of these trips took place in 2016, and before that we did a canoe / kayak trip on the Okatoma river during the spring of 2015.  Such sweet memories for the +/-15 men who made up each group, me being in attendance of a total of two (not counting the Okatoma canoe trip).  Fun stuff indeed.

A few years back, I chose to not continue forward with these rafting trips, and this befuddled a few of my close Samson Society peers.  The reason I did so was tied back to what I've described above.

For Rob, a 3-day rafting trip is not unlike one full year of meetings condensed together hour upon hour upon hour.  Does that make sense?  Therefore, that experience TODAY coupled with my commitment to weekly meetings is just too much fodder for criticism / disrespect for this sinner's brain.  Plus, for Rob, it was that first rafting trip that was so new and fresh.  I still harbor grand memories of my time together with those men (but especially with my Silas at the time).

And it's taken me awhile to articulate that, but it's absolutely true.

Now, I will be in attendance in a few weeks, taking part in the Annual Samson Society retreat in Eva, TN, but that's different.  Way different from the standpoint of being grouped together with countless other Samson Society men from all over the globe.  At least for Rob, within that setting, I can step back into the shadows and observe without being "fully known".  And oh man, how I love to observe within these settings!

In closing, if you're one year in to attending a Samson Society meeting, congratulations!  Keep up the good work, but remember to take steps against / resist the meddling of our mutual Enemy.  Even if it means either taking a short break or "moving your membership" to another group (there are five, you know).

You Don't Have Unlimited Freedom With Your Tongue. Even Within Samson Society.

Feedback from Samson Society friends that's genuinely helpful / hits the mark is good as gold.  I had one of those moments this morning.

My mouth can be my undoing.  Just ask men who know me really well (or my wife).  Sensitivity is not a virtue of mine, therefore I tend to say it first and ask questions later.  And this can result in much heartache on the receiving end of my words, coming from an arrogant, almost 50 year-old asshole.

I told my friend (in response to his criticism), that I need to be listening a whole lot more and saying tremendously less.  That's Biblical, and I believe it's absolutely true for me today as well as into the future.

Therefore, I've deleted a number of posts within this blog as a result of this helpful feedback, and I plan to, going forward, not post within this www representative of our wonderful Metro Jackson Samson Society community unless it's appropriate to the following goal:

"Reinforcing the end goal of fostering authentic community amongst Christian men."

Of course, I'm readily available to be a recipient of more gold.  Bring it on!

Stupid Pleasure Purchases

Stupid is a verb.  It's a decision that's soon to determined as a mistake.  Rob has done plenty of stupid.

As a boy / young man, I gravitated towards identifying myself via my belongings.  I believe this took root in me being an only child even moreso since I had no siblings to speak of (or speak to).  For "only children" have no one within the household to look to (especially older) relative to what exactly a "family's child" is supposed to look like.  So, you end up winging it, and if you're not given much, if any, instruction(s) otherwise via mom and dad, consumerism can take root (here in our western culture).  At least it did for me.

During one particular summer, in between my sophomore and junior years of college, I worked for a local architect here in Jackson.  The year was 1992, and this sole proprietor (& his wife) were doing quite well designing million dollar + homes throughout the southeast.  I didn't necessarily have an interest in residential architecture, but I saw an opportunity to work there come to fruition and I seized upon it.

This couple had an only son who was 5 to 6 years younger than I, and this was one of the first times I'd witnessed (at this point in my life) what that familial paradigm looked like - from the outside looking in.  Their son was in high school but without a driver's license, therefore at times I'd be tasked with ferrying him from place to place around metro Jackson as he was out of private school for summer break.  Therefore, I was able to observe him closely during these occasions.  It was both interesting and humbling taking note of a boy who was also an only.  There were obvious similarities - many of which I certainly didn't want to acknowledge at the time, and thankfully some distinct differences.  Overall, I pitied him, and now that I think back on it, I imagine a number of folks pitied me as well as an only at that age.

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I became a Christian at age 12.  I understood my depravity on a conceptual level, but my identity as a young man was really, really, REALLY negative.  And now that I think about it, I believe the younger man I mentioned above had to have been facing the same negativity.  That too seemed to lump us together somehow despite our age differences.

When you find little value in yourself, at least for me, consumerism can look like an easy fix due to the fact that stuff can seem to serve to decoy others into thinking you're something (as defined by the consumable).  At least, that's the hook I bought into (literally).

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Here, dear reader, is a list (in chronological order) of some of my stupid pleasure purchases, for your reading enjoyment (& yes, I purchased these with my own $$$): 

1.  Omnibot (retailer - Service Merchandise) - $200

In 1985, I was close to middle school and absolutely enthralled with the Service Merchandise catalog that sat - typically - undisturbed within the wooden periodicals rack adjacent to my father's mouse fur upholstered La-Z-Boy recliner.  The electronic toys section was what I gravitated towards within this sacred, telephone directory-sized tome, and it was there that I found my beloved $199.99 Omnibot.

It's unbelievable to me that there's a Wikipedia page in honor of this overpriced gimmick, but whatever.  I'm so ashamed to admit to having purchased this dust collecting, plastic "conversation piece", but thankfully, years later, I sold it online to a similarly gullible boy somewhere in the northeast.

2.   Honda Elite (retailer - North Jackson Honda / Yamaha) - $1,000

One of my best friends in high school won (via a sweepstakes contest at Record Bar) a Suzuki motor scooter.  She was already the coolest teenager I'd ever engaged with, but now, with this awesome scooter (motor-bike), she was off-the-charts cool.

In response, I decided to one-up her by not only purchasing my own motor scooter, but one very black Honda Elite.  And this in turn, gave me the ability to ride around Madison county at no more than 38 mph.  Yes, I said Madison county which is where I lived with Bob & Darlene.  Again, at no more than 38 mph.  It wasn't like I even had access to urban space upon which to ride my glorious black Honda.  I vividly remember riding the back-country roads whilst looking like an idiot and constantly praying for a strong gust of wind to speed me along.  Sometimes, if I was fortunate, I'd accelerate up to 41 mph if the downhill slope was steep enough.  I eventually got to the point where I'd only ride at night.

The icing on the cake though, relative to this free enterprise faux pas, was my purchase of a factory-grade, hideously ugly, iridescent electric-blue cover for the bike.  It screamed "QUEER" louder than anything ever made since despite the emblazoned HONDA logo.  I mean, it literally broke the mold back in 1989 / 1990.  What was I thinking?

My, how envy can ruin your life (& what little reputation you may have). 

3.  55 gallon acrylic corner aquarium (retailer - Petsmart) - $300

I'm ashamed to admit that I was newly married when this was purchased.  Angie and I were residing in an apartment in Ridgeland at the time.  The year was likely 1997, and I decided to purchase this as a birthday present to myself.  Not only did I have no knowledge / interest in fish, but we likely were breaking our lease agreement by having it within our 2nd floor flat.

I'll not soon forget the twice monthly cleaning ritual as I was determined to keep the water crystal clear.  What a huge, glaring mistake, which was impossible to ignore, as we sat in our apartment dining room staring at this chintzy, glowing, never-ending maintenance nightmare.

4.  Coffee table gay erotica book (retailer:  Amazon) - $40

I'm so sorry to have to admit this here.  Please pray for me and my wife.

Every time I snuck a peek of Freeman's black & white book, I was more concerned about the second coming of Christ - at that very moment - then the beauty and sensuality of the glossy photos.  What was I thinking?

5.  Aussiebum swim trunks (retailer:  Aussiebum) - $60

I actually wore these a handful of times to the pool.  Looking back, it's hard not to laugh.  I never imagined swimwear being so uncomfortable and hard to put on, and no, I didn't buy the available codpiece.  I'm now convinced that Aussiebum models have much smaller pelvises than the average man.

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In closing, as Christians, there's no excuse for not staying focused on your identity in Christ.  And for me, If I'm not taking stock (consistently acknowledging) of my sin nature via a support network like Samson Society, I'm eventually going to lose sight of my need for a Savior.  It's inevitable.  Considering that truth, Samson Society is a brotherhood which is awesomely wonderful for an only like myself.  Too, if you / I simply must "invest" in something for your / my own sake (pleasure), why not invest in the very thing that's always working on your behalf to keep you properly humbled as a man?  You can do so by going here.

Thanks for flattering me dear reader by reading.