Monday, June 20, 2022
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Tuesday, June 14, 2022
Saturday, June 11, 2022
Shirtless Frat Boys To The Emotional Rescue (The Graciousness Of Mutual Respect)
Back in the summer of 2015, the Jackson, Mississippi Samson Society (+/-12 guys) took a weekend jaunt to Seminary, Mississippi for an overnight stay at the Okatoma Outdoor Post. Earlier that Saturday, we'd kayaked / canoed down the Okatoma amongst the throngs of rednecks / coonasses. & when I say throngs, I mean drunk / high white people EVERYWHERE on this narrow river.
It was truly one of the most memorable (soon to be annual) weekend retreats for our (somewhat still) fledgling Samson group. And included therein was a nasty summer thunderstorm that us (& everyone else on the river) found ourselves within, just a few hours into our trek.
The first Samson guy I ever had the privilege to serve as a Silas also made most of this trip. He & I never truly formally connected (as Silas / Silee), but after that first out-of-the-blue telephone call, I knew he needed (& seemingly trusted) Rob. & this was both humbling and delightful to experience.
This young man was jaded. He'd seen his entire thriving career explode due to his intense neediness relative to seducing women. & his looks / persona provided many opportunities for seduction therein, as he would "work the system" via social media and other tech tools - at his disposal - to lasso in his (soon to be) wet pussies.
Whilst looking back, I believe the majority of our Samson group, at the time, simply saw him as a massive loser, particularly taking into consideration how exceedingly handsome / well-read he was. And I say this because he so loathed being involved in therapy (w/ Mr. Don Waller) alongside "group" (immediately following his private sessions). Every moment of it (for him) reeked of retardedness / freakishness / failure. And this attituded effervescenced from this guy like cheap cologne.
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There were only three of us Samson guys that kayaked / canoed down the Okatoma River that Saturday shirtless, two of which were me and my aforementioned cynical Silee.
And this guy looked even better shirtless, though he'd zero chest / stomach hair - which was unfortunate. It could have definitely added some dimensionality to his pale flesh. He and Mr. Don Waller shared a canoe that day, and I vividly remember it tipping a number of times, leaving both of them and their stuff thoroughly saturated.
For me, being shirtless in public wasn't easy at all. Hence, having him follow suit put a sizable grin on my mug along the way.
Upon our return to our routine lives the following week, I emailed my Silee, acknowledging how lovely it had been for him to also de-shirt. In response to this, when we next chatted (he never replied to emails), he made it very clear that I had crossed a line with him. I vividly remember tearing up over the phone as I felt waves of shame pour over me, even to the point of asking this young man if he'd shared my email with Mr. Don Waller (out of paranoia).
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Being involved in Samson Society is going to make you quite emotionally vulnerable, and this is due to the nature of said community. Firstly, most men who actively participate are in deep personal doo doo (crisis) when they start attending meetings. Marriages are faltering or have completely collapsed, careers have been wrecked, laws have been broken and on and on. Combine that with, at times, a haughty, entitled attitude towards the community, and you have a recipe for off-the-charts sensitivity / emotional unpredictability to the most unintentional slight. Hence, you'd better be prepared to dole out some grace if you're truly willing to ride out this (at times) "Island of Misfit Toys" relational whirlwind.
My Silee's situation (loss / trauma) was worse than any I'd seen up to that point. Hence, I did feel compelled to help, but too, I so appreciated any crumbs (even if they were accidental) that he might toss my way.
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Fast forward to yesterday.
My youngest daughter and I kayaked the Okatoma River in Seminary, Mississippi. We set out about (10) AM from the put-in and had a lovely, quite peaceful initial two hours. With it being a weekday, the river was sparsely populated.
But then, distant thunder motivated us to disembark to a perch above the water. We ended up a short incline from the shore, tucked beneath the ever present decidedly thick tree line. From there, we waited for the inevitable.
A week prior, I'd invited a friend and his son to join us on the river, and he'd agreed. But, barring the forecasted thunderstorms, they backed out at the last minute (his son is younger than my youngest daughter and has zero experience on the river).
It's important to know that back in the spring of '21, my two youngest daughters had accompanied me on this exact 7-mile kayaking trip down the Okatoma. Hence, for Laura, the unscriptedness relative to said trip was not unexpected for her.
Fifteen to twenty minutes pasted as we continued to peer down at the smooth current, yet the thunderstorm never arrived, therefore we disembarked, hoping no such threat would come.
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Within minutes of continuing on, we felt the wind pick up instantly, and we knew we were toast.
Thankfully, not too far ahead, we spotted a lovely sandbar. Stopping again was inevitable.
Before we knew it, we were caught in a deluge, and at this point, the lightening / thunder were becoming ever closer.
Upon disembarking from our two-man kayak, we made our way back into the woods where a tiny creek bed was. The sky had grown dark at this point, therefore that space was just a little too creepy as a result (she and I are presently screening the film, Jungle, having watched the first half last weekend).
Laura and I agreed to swim, with our kayak, across the river to its opposing bank. There a much tidier sandbar resided. And we made this decision too based on the cantilevered treeline above. This smallish sandbar served as a bit of a knuckle to the river, protruding into the sharp curve of the flow.
Once we were situated there, it was around 1:40 PM. As such, we both hoped (forlornly) that the squall would pass quickly as most Mississippi summer storms do. By 2 PM it was right on top of us.
Here's what I chronicled to my friend (who wisely backed out of yesterday's trip at the last minute) in an email this morning:
"The rains were torrential, and the thunder / lightening was spectacularly cacophonous. Laura wanted her poncho, therefore she clothed herself therein. And we waited quietly since we were unable to chat due to the noise of the storm.
Eventually, she and I turned to peaknuckle, the hand slap game, hangman and tic-tac-toe (with a stick in the sand). At least 45 minutes went by, and it was then that I began to feel incredibly alone. Almost to the point of abandonment, even though my 13-year-old was there with me and in decent spirits throughout."
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I went on to say:
"Out of the blue, we heard an aluminum canoe take the corner. In it were two young, shirtless college-age men who hadn't stopped to seek shelter from the storm. Behind them was another canoe with two more guys paddling along (also shirtless). What a welcome sight they were to us, just knowing that we weren't completely by ourselves! They cracked a few jokes as they paddled along in the storm, and we grinned in response as we waved.
Another ten minutes passed, and the rains began to slack off. We then disembarked from our sheltered spot, after emptying out our flooded boat.
Our kayak was much swifter than these guys' canoes, therefore it was easy to catch up. Plus, they were somewhat inebriated which made their canoeing poorly coordinated and therefore hilarious to observe.
Eventually, we made it to the last (& most difficult to navigate) rapid (immediately prior to the pick-up point), and both of these guys' canoes tipped. It was fun to watch them lose all their shit as their "reward" for surviving their treacherous trek.
As we were ferried back via school bus to the Outdoor Post, Laura and I sat quietly whilst listening to these young men reminiscence of their experience. I couldn't help but notice how athletically built they were with no ink (that I could see). I surmised that they'd likely become friends via their fraternity. It was hard not to wonder what it would have been like to have had such an experience (& to have looked like that) when I was their age(s).
In the not too distant past, my feelings towards these guys would have been conflicted, and mostly this would have originated from feeling less than. And not only due to my wonky internal barometer but also too, due to my past failures (which lead me into the Samson Society community).
But that was not the case yesterday. Yesterday, I felt perfectly okay being there, completely present for such a time as that. In fact, I would argue they likely needed me as much as I'd / we'd needed them. As such, when individuals are cognizant of needs being met, either consciously or sub - especially when it's mutual - respect tends to surface quickly.
In looking back, I know God orchestrated those four physically beautiful young men (also with no visible body hair) to canoe the Okatoma yesterday. I overheard too them chatting about driving eighty miles earlier that day to make this initial trip, and thusly bemoaning their return trip.
Their unique presence was no doubt our saving grace; for the back half of our adventure, though quite stressful, became even more meaningful knowing they were there with us."
All in all, community can come from literally out of nowhere.
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+/-3 years ago, I telephoned my first, aforementioned Silee. I did so with the intention of asking him (as a long since Samson Society retiree) to write of his Jackson Mississippi Samson Society experience via a blog post (or two).
His reaction was immediate: disappointment and disgust. I suppose he was offended at my not wanting to simply hear of his present state of recovery.
It's funny how God sometimes graciously rewrites some of the most acutely sensitive parts of (even our very own Samson Society) story, always making it a little too coincidental to actually seem true.
I'll never see the Okatoma the same.
Tuesday, June 7, 2022
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