Older Now- Fathers and Sons.

Well, with Father’s Day tomorrow, I have been thinking of my own Father. Many years ago I found poetry a huge release as a way of writing out and contemplating the inner world. Robert Bly, John Lee, Sam Keen, James Hillman were all men that used story and poetry and that inspired me enormously to be courageous and go within, and write my own. To go inside, under the earth, to some dark and light places. It can be just as hard to confront your shadow, as it is to confront your heart.

My Fathers inner world was something he was quiet about. He was an Englishman. There was a time I even wondered whether he had one. I know now he certainly did. He just did not have the language to share it. I wished he had shared something with me about his inner life, and how important it is as a man to take time out so you can take time in, and just how important that is in becoming aware. To read something reflective, poetry, spiritual literature, stories of men, Earth, Love and Faith. That this time makes a man deeper, stronger, a better Warrior, Lover, Magician and King!

My father found his peace in the vegetable garden, fixing things in his garage, and brewing beer. He was peaceful when I remember him doing these things. He had energy for the family when he spent some time in those places. I know that feeling these days. It’s important to know when you need to take that sort of time for yourself.

My mother use to send him bush when he was retired when he starting getting antsy around the house.  He would go to metal detect for Gold. It was a hobby he picked up when we had all got older and left to start our own lives. He would usually pack up his things the next day and head off for a few days. Searching streams for gold, sitting around a camp fire on his own at night, it was his special place. When he came from England with his father on a boat, a six week journey back then, his first experience in Australia was jackarooing out west. I always thought these times in his retirement reminded him of the time he was free, horse backing riding, living with the energy and dreams of a young man. He made some of his gold into some jewellery for my mother. Now that’s a family heirloom.

The first part of my life I spent running away from myself with sex, drugs, and rock and roll. I didn’t start the journey within as a man that until in my recovery, after I had been clean a few years, dealing with relationships and Rage in particular that got me attending men meetings and weekend Gatherings. I changed from a female therapist to a male. Started reading men’s literature. Listening to Iron John by Robert Bly, John Lee’s healing the Father-Son wound. It changed everything. My life changed over a fifteen year period. I used to feel like a boy in a man’s body. These days I feel like a man in a man’s body. It does not mean I don’t have fun and hang loose and be a goose. It just means I have a better sense of when to be in the different spaces of being a man.

Tomorrow there will be two little boys waking me up with my Father’s Day gift. I already have an idea what it is, because they have “told me a secret”. They are four and two. Now we have a secret cause I told them not to tell their mother. (of course she already knows). I am looking forward to it.

Being a Father has been the greatest change of experiencing life on this planet I have ever under gone. Now I live for others. They rely on me, and my wife,  she focuses on their care. It’s a decision we have made. Our Priority. I take this role serious, more than any other role I have, and as a son I made a commitment to my Father two days before he passed that I will always look after Mother to.

This Poem I wrote when we had hugged for the first time that I remember. My Father told me once when we talked about that Hug, that he remembered being picked up once by his Father. He recounted his father picking him up and placing him on a bike. It was only in reflection that I thought that he would have been facing away from his father even then. That always stayed with me.

These days one of my greatest delights is playing with my two boys. Every time I do yoga after walking they climb all over me. Quiet moments at the end of the day when they lay on me and we watch cartoons. Touching them, wrestling, hugging them, being close I think is so important for boys. If we learn it when we are young, then we can get the need met for touch in more appropriate ways as an adult too. I want my boys to grow knowing that it is ok to be affectionate, loving, and supportive to both men and woman. That this is being a man.

So on the eve of my own Father’s Day, and in memory of my Dad, Alan Stokes here is Older Now.

Older Now.

We are older now.

My lines are beginning to match his.

We have talked of prostates, and old mates

Like it was not possible before.

He hugged me at Christmas.

We had talked about it,

And although it was not requested,

Just gestured.

I felt it melt something in my heart.

It was uncomfortable for two though,

For we did not know what do.

For both our Fathers

Had never done this before.

Since then, when we meet,

It is with uncertainty.

My one hand goes out to meet his two spread wide,

And quickly we reverse the positions

Only to fumble into each other’s arms

Friendly strangers,

Who share the same history.

Although mine is much shorter than his.

He asked me to go bush soon,

Just me and him.

I’m excited,

 but I don’t know where to begin.

So many questions.

Yet I have been fed silence for so long

That I am scared of the consequences of truth.

We are older now,

His hairs gone grey,

Some fallen away.

To his surprise I got my cut the other day.

Look more like a man he did say.

Everything changes to our dismay.

So we are going Bush, and who would think

My heart would long to be in sync

With a man I had run from as fast as I could

Away to adulthood, to prove that I could.

Now I know I share mistakes I’ve made,

From plans a wreckless youth outlaid.

He understood for he made the same,

He only tried to shield my pain.

So here we are, older now.

Each facing off a sacred cow.

His life is coming to an end.

Mine is taking another bend.

And we’re going Bush to find some Gold.

He’s going to teach me some things he knows.

And I am finally willing to learn instead,

Of thinking that I know it all.

S.J.S.