Ten sweaty men sit in a cramped room in the Sinai Desert, shifting uncomfortably. A fan is running loudly, stoically swinging from side to side, accentuating the tension and fear in the room. One guy says to turn it down because of the noise. Some mumble approval, others shift even more uncomfortably before one of them speaks up and argues that it will be too hot. Nobody’s voice is in the space. A solution is found by putting the fan outside the room.
The spaceholder does his thing, then men start taking turns to share. They share about their struggles. Some cry. I am struck by the stories these men unconsciously choose to live in. The main spaceholder opens the space for reflection after each share. I find myself wanting to give feedback and coaching, horrified by the lack of clarity, by the missing distinctions. Other men start to give advice, to resonate, to rescue, to share about their own experience with this topic, to give hugs.
At the end, I’m left feeling angry because I have the distinct sense that something else is possible. I talk to the men after the space. They all seem to like it, be fed and nourished by it. I get it, somewhat — the preciousness of men coming together. At the same time, I can’t help but see that it’s all about problems. Is there really transformation and healing going on? Perhaps. And there is definitely something else possible.
***
I go to this men’s circle for two months. I meet many men, make connections, and have many transformative experiences myself — first completely ignoring the context, then trying to land distinctions about the context, then fighting against the context, and then adapting to the context.
I don’t see the men shifting. In a way I do. Slightly. But not really. It seems to be more of a release, an aspirin, a space to vent and stop holding onto things, stop carrying things alone. Which is great — and only the beginning.
I feel glad spaces like this exist because they serve as stepping stone to spaces with a higher level of responsibility. At the same time, I’m fed up with the low Drama. It took me a long time to see the victim-rescuer dynamic, alongside competition of who gives the best “rescuing,” even when the spaceholder and the context explicitly state “no fixing.”
I’ve observed the same happening in “PM” spaces, especially when it’s a men’s space. One man is in a process and gets “stuck.” I and others get hooked into some story about the process having to be completed, to go well, etc. Unaware of my own emotional fear, I am blind to the non-linearity that is possible in every moment — the sense of creation instead of survival.
Every word spoken and every story made has a purpose. Every communication carries with it an energy shaping the shared space. It originates from a specific point of origin, from a level of responsibility.
There is no reason whatsoever, no matter what somebody just said, to reply to them linearly within the same level of responsibility from which they spoke. It takes presence, centeredness, an ability not to get hooked into whatever is being created in that very moment in the form of stories (are you hooked into whatever stories I am creating right now? Are you still centered, aware of the noises around you, with part of your attention on the field around you?), alongside sufficient matrix and lots of conscious anger to not adapt and hold my own context.
How then to respond to somebody unconsciously creating from survival? How to shift the space into what I want, into something where creation is possible, while staying relational, while being a bridge so others can make the leap from problems and survival to creation.
When I’m with people unfamiliar with PM, for example in the men’s circle, I’ve found that instead of trying to land distinctions, having meta conversations, or putting the poop on the table, it works better to go first — for example by becoming authentic about my inauthenticity. To reveal how I’ve been hiding, to share my fears of connection, and to speak my heart vulnerably, perhaps sharing what my Gremlin has been up to.
By peeling my own layers, more people seem to be able to accompany me in the journey to a smaller now, to a space of higher responsibility, where creation becomes possible — at least for a while.
As I do the work of freeing myself from my survival cramp, I am starting to experience more and more intimacy and creation with other men. Like a child learning to walk, this process is filled with much painful feedback and undeniable X’s on the map, and yet it is worth it, for every successful step is ecstatic.
***
The distinction of problem space vs creation space has been with me ever since. Through it, I’ve noticed just how subtle low drama can be. Not just in men’s spaces. When I’m with myself. When I’m with my partner. When I’m holding space.
I am creating in every moment. I can’t help it. I am a dissipative structure, with energy flowing through me in every moment. The question is whether I’m using that energy to create consciously — because if I don’t, it’s bound to be unconscious.
Love, Valentin
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