How to write a Purpose Statement for your life:
Why write a purpose statement? It will keep your goals for yourself on track. If it goes on a footer for your email for instance, you will see it every time you send an email, thus reminding you of your greater purpose. It can go on business cards, flyers and other advertising. It can be a mantra you say to yourself every morning or at dinner. Essentially, it will help you stay the course of your life.
Here is mine: “By using compassion and empathy I create a world without enemies.” So, breaking it down: noun: compassion and empathy; verb: create; preposition: without; noun: enemies. So, by following this literary pattern you can create a statement of purpose for your life.
Initiation:
From the earliest times imaginable masculinity has been about defining energies peculiar to males, be this father to son, friend-to-friend, or athlete-to-athlete. This defining process has changed little throughout the centuries, as well as through the men as they have lived it. No individual possessed the knowledge as to where masculinity came from. They all seemed to inherit something. It was a process of exploration as well as the occasional exploitation by powerful ruling elite’s or subtle shamanistic rituals. Rather than a clear and rigid definition, our roles were defined by the need for survival. Necessity too dictated the creation of many of our cultural institutions. These institutions maintained and reflected the definitions of masculine behavior of the times as well as restricting new or alternate codes of conduct. Along the way, much disappointment, as well as thanksgiving, recorded the passing of this something from father to son. Many cultures ritualized this disappointment and thanksgiving into initiation ceremonies of the young male into manhood. In the West, early European cultures relied on war and bravery in the face of challenges to bestow a fiercely sought-after manly mantle and in the fascination the possibility of the crown of immortality through sacrifice. Although the immature male found the world a confusing and frightening place, unconsciously he knew that without a guide or a rite of passage he would be lost to himself and be of little use to his family or his tribe. To this end initiation ceremonies fulfilled this deep unmet need. This need is still there in modern males; young men sense a need-but the initiatory heritage is lost to them. Instead, some seek it out in the streets or the gaming rooms online or in drugs and violence. Others look to their fathers for a sign of manliness, sometimes finding it, sometimes not. It is hard to find clear meaning in the day-to-day struggles for survival. The broad vision of the experience of humanity is the ongoing story of history and requires years of study to even grasp minor details. Yet it is still worth doing.
In our confusing present times attempts at initiation do exist. The mythopoetic men’s movement is one that embraced initiation more than most, with its primary spokesperson, the poet Robert Bly. In his pioneering book, “Iron John” he tells the story of a boy who stole a magical key11 from under his mother’s pillow. He asks us to describe the significance of the key. Over time I have come to see that the father has a key as well, hidden somewhere for the son to find and steal. What does Bly mean by this key? Why do we have to violate our parents like this? No good son wants to be a part of this. If this defiance does not occur the son will never mature to think on his own feet. He will remain a child under parental influence his entire life. Yet it is natural for the mother to be unwilling to give up her influence so the son must “steal” it from her. It is similar for the son’s relationship with his father. The son must understand the limits of his father’s realm. If he does not experience it he will live forever in his father’s shadow, and again be useless to himself and his community. This initiation process may have worked well in a pre-industrial society. However, in European cultures during the Industrial Revolution something else happened that short-circuited this process by taking the initiatory experience away from the young male and forcing a “work ethic template” onto his soul instead. In other words, the real need is still there and has not been addressed adequately in modern societies. This is a critical understanding; the modern male has only been partly initiated and we must be prepared for the consequences.
An uninitiated male can be like a bull in a china shop. He has no idea what he is doing and can be a danger to himself and his community. The reality of this is shown by the prevalence of young urban but often-ghettoized males forming into gangs that are an ongoing reality in modern cities. Along this line of thought I am reminded of a conversation I had with a friend who recently returned from Ireland. He was there just after the conflict between the Catholics and the Protestants had cooled down. He noticed considerable numbers of angry young men roaming the streets with nothing to do and nowhere to go. Nobody could figure out how to deal with them. They were still angry and causing trouble wherever they went. I suppose in their minds the memories and the anger will never fade. Their desire for revenge must be overwhelming. But break the cycle of hatred they must. If only they could reach a catharsis with their emotions. From men’s studies I have learned that the best way to get the attention of any man is to thank them for what he considers is his most important contribution to society at the time. If it is laying his life on the line in civil conflict or helping his children learn to read, it can only be a meaningful honor if it means something to him. The angry young man seeking revenge, or a release of frustration is all too common in mainly poor underdeveloped countries or ghettos of the wealthier nations. What is his driving purpose that takes him into the streets? If you had seen your sister raped, your father killed and your home burned to the ground, a possible driving purpose would be a search for fairness. Seeking fairness in an unfair and violent society that demands its young men to fight for the nation and then to stifle those feelings is an unreasonable and nearly impossible expectation to lay on them. Without thanks for their contribution or acknowledgment they may very well stay angry the rest of their lives, however long it might be with that kind of powder keg inside them. Young men are truly wonderful and their willingness to help is outstanding. You just talk to them, letting them know they are important, and they will respond to you in the same way. By your wisdom you initiate them into adulthood.
Our impatience with the elderly is another key indicator to this loss of the initiatory experience. Indeed, if the elders in our communities are no longer respected as examples for the young to emulate, or they do not feel it is their duty to initiate the young, we not only lose their wisdom, but we do not know who we are, what our place is or where we are going. In essence, we are lost. The elders originally performed the initiation ceremonies, so if there is no historical connection, proper respect cannot exist.
However, to get a man in his eighties to stand up and speak his wisdom of the years of his life seems a hard thing to do these days. It’s as if the old guy feels he won’t be listened to even if he does speak up. After all, who cares!
Historically elders of a tribe were responsible for passing on the legends, history and values of that tribe to younger less experienced individuals. What happened to our Western culture? Why don’t the young go to our elders anymore? By the way, where are all the elders of our culture?
Well, a lot of the men probably worked themselves to death, or died of alcoholism, or suicide. The rest are mostly in nursing homes with only their memories to give them meaning. Of course, there are always exceptions. Many elderly men managed to save a whole whack of money for their retirement. Many more did not, however.
When I talk to an elder, he is a lot more than his memories or what he did for a living. Mainly he is a storyteller. He may talk about the past, but in a way that shows he was there. Something I can never do; that is, until it’s my turn. I mean, just the fact that the guy has silver hair says something about success! He survived that long. There’s got to be some value in his life somewhere. Yet who is listening?
One of the great pleasures of being a member of the Island Men Network was the occasional men’s gathering that occurred at Goldstream Park. This is a place of tall ancient cedars, a rushing river, soaring eagles and rushing salmon. Whenever an elder man came to the event, I made sure he was acknowledged by the gathering and asked to speak about his life. Often the look on their faces as they stepped into the circle was one of great surprise as well as great pleasure. You could see clearly the feelings coming from a few moments basking in the light of the younger men. Then, a few words of his life . . . Those moments were special for me, just to see them honored. (I’m reminded of an honoring my father received there one winter night) It was clear to me as well as to the other younger men that the effect on our male elders was an essential and ancient part of being human. To be present to hear how the old ones lived is one of the great opportunities in life and is not available to most of us. So many men regret the lost closeness they had with their fathers and never mended those bridges. It is never too late though.
The great German poet Rainer Maria Rilke14 warns us of this lack of actual available wisdom from an elder that may be closer to home than we realize:
Sometimes a man stands up during supper and walks
outdoors, and keeps on walking, because of a church that stands somewhere in the East.
And his children say blessings on him as if he were dead.
And another man, who remains inside his own house, dies
there, inside the dishes and in the glasses, so that his children have to go far out into the world toward that same church, which he forgot.
Translated by Robert Bly
The image of “dies there inside the dishes and the glasses so that his children have to go far out into the world” is the key idea in the poem. Young men having to go far out into the world to find themselves suggests there is no father or initiatory experience from elders to be had near the home. Without the wisdom of these elders, the young men will look to other young uninitiated or poorly initiated males far out in the world for ideas or experiences of how to survive. Hence a basis for gangs and lost youth is created. The consequence down the road is that some of these young males end up heading large corporations that do unprecedented ecological damage or displace tribal peoples on a grand scale. More commonly we see lost individuals spending a lifetime in prison or be trapped in a drug-induced haze. These things have been witnessed or experienced by many of us. Yet few take responsibility for our own lack of vision. They cannot because they do not know what they are missing, and probably never will. If they can be exposed to the understanding of their elders and traditions, they might begin to understand their own isolation and immaturity. This understanding of elders and other initiated males has been so belittled and ignored in contemporary society that it is no wonder male silence exists to such a level in modern culture. They are not leading themselves in any initiated way and as a result are led instead by genetics, bio-cultural survival urges and in the wealthy industrial nations, the economic dynamo of market manipulation.
What we have been doing in Victoria: A bit of background:
As a young man I knew something was not right for men. In my elementary school in the early 1960’s our grade three class was herded into the gymnasium for a dance during the lunch hour. I recall as a rule we came into the gym in long lines, the boys in one and the girls in another. Nobody talked for fear of a detention. As we entered the gym the principal stood on the stage behind a podium with his microphone. He told the boys to line up on one wall and the girls all the way across the gym to line up on the other. He then told us boys to go and ask a girl to dance! Well, I thought, you mean we have to go all the way over there and ask some girl we don’t even know to dance? Are you nuts?
Why was it up to the boys and why did they fall for it? I was thinking. Why don’t we just meet in the middle or draw straws or something? But no, we had to go ask some girl her permission to dance; yuck! This event changed my life. From then on, I knew something was very odd in the lives of men.
Through all my childhood traumas, which included schoolyard beatings, beatings by teachers, competition for girls, the last boy chosen for the team and other humiliations I made a decision: I decided to understand what was going on. I was eleven or twelve at the time but somehow, I knew if I was going to get to the bottom of this, I was going to have to concentrate all my energies on the topic. I laid on my bed for about an hour thinking through all the weird things that had happened in my life up to that point. Suddenly as if a light went on in my brain I had an answer-it was not my fault! I somehow had taken on the feeling that challenging the standards of behavior for the times was wrong, and that being myself was wrong too. Knowing this I realized as well that my bullies were probably victims as well, no doubt suffering as deeply or deeper that myself. They had not yet got to the point of questioning their conditioning. Hopefully one day it would come for them too. So, on that day I learned compassion for men.
All the other strange experiences could also be explained, but that understanding came much later. Somehow I knew I would have to make the attempt to understand our occasionally tragic and often heroic existence.
Later, having finished high school and working out of a hiring hall I witnessed many unsafe work environments, I watched other men steal, saw men engage in prostitution, my own involvement with drugs and on and on and on, it seemed life couldn’t get any stupider or more confusing. Dealing with men and masculinity issues was still my largest challenge since most of the images of men I saw at the time I did not like very much-the killer, the controller, or the taker, were all enigmas to me. These were big issues for me, and I had to resolve them. I could see them all in me, in my revenge fantasies, my sexual lust for women, my desire to overwhelm women with my “awareness” such as it was. I had a lot of fun, but in the end, I hurt a lot of women and got hurt by just as many. What would drive us men do this?
The only people who said they had answers of any kind were so conservative and anal retentive that I could not stand listening to them. They could not appreciate that I needed to question these things, they felt that the act of questioning was somehow my problem and that it needed fixing. I came to see that the questioning of their reality was really the problem they felt needed fixing. They could not stand my questioning of their standards. Earlier in my life it was my own guilt or fear of challenging the norms that existed before I was born that kept me ignorant. How dare I challenge my elders! This time it was my elder’s fear of that challenge that attempted to stop me. This was all very confusing, but it didn’t work.
I became a hippie, hoping to find people whose word meant something and that they really practiced the high morals I had heard about. I suppose you might say that I was a believer in the good of human nature. But as I watched, many other hippie’s fell into the competition trap of who could appear the most enlightened. I knew then this was another dying reality, so I withdrew from the counterculture and got really depressed. Fortunately, I wanted to live for another blue sky, so I dragged myself into therapy and slowly worked out some of my bigger problems. My biggest ones involved not having a meaningful job and poverty. Eventually I found work and by then I was beginning to think about men again and wanted to start a men’s group. This was 1976 and at that time just to mention such a thing you might be immediately spurned or looked upon with disbelief, or you know that long silence some people indulge in when they think you’re “weird” or gay. I eventually came to see that many men’s lives had similar twists and turns as mine, but the one thing lacking from the whole mess was the stark fact that men did not talk about their pain, or for that matter their joy. They might talk about their winnings or joke about losing money at the track but emotional highs or lows, forget it. It was only referred to as an afterthought, something that happened in the past and not something going on now, and definitely not important. Yet, I had resolved early in life that my emotions were important and that if I felt something, another man might as well, if he could admit it that is. Life really is about being able to hear, to acknowledge other people’s words, to feel, and acknowledge our own feelings, to stand our ground or give way, to find a win/win solution or suffer the consequences, and to honor the process as a part of living successfully.
Through meditation I realized that it was the fear of the discovery that you are more aware in the here and now than living in the past or the future that keeps many people from exploring their inner natures. Staying in the dark about your life can be comforting somehow. People fear their inner wisdom. I did not always listen to mine, but I knew it was there. I played the enlightenment game too
It has only been in the last twenty-five years that I began the study of men and masculinity. Prior to this time my experience of men was largely observational and remote. Generally, I did not like men and found them arrogant and self- important. I had no idea why, even though I reminded myself of being victimized by bullies as a child. I had to learn to stand up for myself and it was a difficult process. I could not understand that if I told someone to f— off that this magic phrase would gain me a kind of respect. It seemed incredulous at the time that it would work. What it said to them that they could not ask for was, “Rod, what we really need from you right now is a show of strength so we can trust you”.
Another mystery to unravel, something to do with a survival mechanism. It only became clearer in men’s groups, and a lot of therapy, then I understood what that trust issue was about. It was largely about the protection or the survival of something, and that was culture, male culture. This is a created survival-based culture that needed an opponent in order to feel male, an “other” to smash up against. This was the basis for competition between males, this is how we test our mettle.
At the time it was largely impossible to talk to other men or guys my age to gain insight around this male thing. Talking to men about a problem was tantamount to asking for either humiliating criticism or never-ending lectures on manliness, women seemed far more compassionate, yet I still wanted contact with older men. It would be many years later, until I experienced this male mentoring from older men. This is a kind of blessing all men need, and it cannot come from women. Women do it for women, men do it for men.
This urge to join a support group for men kept raising its fearsome head and eventually I faced my fear and said yes. It was a group run by a psychologist and filled a deep unmet need I did not know was there. I was experiencing being re-born as a man by the mature presence of other men. I had sought it for years without really knowing it, I asked women to tell me what masculinity was, but they could not know this, it was impossible. Could I know what a woman was? Not in any useful way at least. I no longer idealized women, yet I still appreciate their beauty and everything else that is wonderful, and feminine. Consequently, I came to see goodness in being a man. I was no longer alone; my eyes had started to creak open. Through deep conversation, trust building exercises and group weekend campouts a core feeling began to develop, and my life felt “right” for the first time. I learned about ritual and ceremony to make events special, and women became more of an acceptable mystery than an idealization.
This led group eventually faded for me until I decided to leave it and start my own group out of a spiritual community I had recently joined. I decided I would invite all the men in this community and from outside it that I respected or admired in some way. It was a very difficult yet tremendously empowering experience for me. I learned so much about myself and other men. I learned about ritual and standing my ground with new trust exercises. These men could be brutally honest and yet still listen to my story. Then after almost twelve years in men’s groups I decided to do something different. Give back. I wanted to create the kind of Men’s community I needed for my self, when I was a young man. I got involved with a magazine called Island Men Journal. We wrote on the most bizarre aspects of manhood, from violence to pornography. We published about 15 issues, of which I still have many copies.
During this time, Island Men was also an event producing organization. We ran “Men’s Gatherings” held on Equinox and Solstice weekends four times a year for about four years. We used theater games, ritual, comedy, self-exploration and drumming to break down the barriers to emotion and the intimidating presence of so many men. One event brought out around one hundred men.
Often there was talk in men’s groups about the need for a men’s center. We could use it for meetings, father and son events and parenting courses for parents with boys. The potential was limitless, and the need was so great.
The Victoria Men’s Center did eventually open at the corner of Oak Bay Avenue and Foul Bay Road. We spent most of our time fundraising by doing car washes and garage sales. We were well received by the foot traffic, but government funding was an impossible dream. Without it we had to shut down after only eight months in operation. Worth doing, but it was a bitter disappointment. Men were not seen as a disadvantaged group, so government funding was not available. If we did workshops on men’s violence against women then we would get money and lots of it. But shooting yourself in the foot over and over was not the reason we had opened, so we closed the doors. In order to change this relationship between society and men, men were going to have to demand it just like all other social issues. Getting enough men to do this has always been difficult. It was a big deal for men to step out of the ordinary and defend men’s needs for support and a compassionate response from society, expressing your rage or joy in the woods is a lot safer than doing it in front of a politician or a neighbor.
Yet the Victoria Men’s Center closed due to a lack of funds–not a lack of programs or enough volunteers or even a bad location. It closed because a profit was not in the making by the very men who had benefited from our society and forgot that their wealth was not entirely from all their own doing. They had help along the way and now it was their turn to give back, but where were they? Real social change takes both: the big talk and the big walk!
I stayed on the Board of The Victoria Men’s Center as a Director, but the writing was on the wall, it was time for me to move on. I wanted to see a retreat center for men to be available. This would be a place where men of all ages could rest yes just rest. I thought if I went to all the social service organizations that help people, that they might see the potential. I got nowhere. Everyone was very nice to me and very encouraging but not on side at all. The generally perceived view of men at the time was that men were the problem in society. These groups recognized men had problems, but they felt they were of their own making. They felt if men made real changes the service agencies would be there to help. Well ten years later and many accomplishments here in Victoria that should raise the flag of change, little real support from the community is available. Some things had changed but not enough to really make a splash. I was becoming discouraged. Look at the homelessness problem in this city, mostly men.
Then, almost right away a friend passed on to me a phone number to a fellow that was in a small group of men who were discussing the idea of starting a men’s retreat center. That was in 1996. We began the search for a piece of land that could accommodate a secluded retreat center. It needed to be close enough to Victoria and Duncan to allow for reasonable travel time and remote enough that we could engage in building projects and outdoor activities without disturbing the surrounding neighbors. I personally was hoping it could be used for men to heal and regenerate from their crises, illnesses and difficult decisions. My plan, at least, was to provide services for these kinds of problems by making the cabins available to men on a short- or long-term basis.
Through our community networking we met a man who was a well-known supporter of community causes and arranged an appointment to meet with him. After listening to our vision, he offered us the use of 160 acres of forested land located on the top of the Malahat which he thought would suit our purposes perfectly.
Upon visiting the property, we all felt that it was an ideal location, and we immediately began the process of networking and creating the foundation of our society. The original vision was to assist men in crisis by building facilities to assist them during times of crisis with events, physical exercise, good conversation and great food around a campfire.
For over ten years we invited men and boys to come up and lend a hand, with an emphasis on those experiencing times of difficulty in their lives. A large part of our vision was to collectively build enough cabins and supporting structures that we might eventually be able to provide sanctuary to men in need.
As the project and property evolved, we were able to facilitate work-sharing events for fathers and sons who gained real skills working together with other men and boys. Some of the participants were in real need of a collective, non-judgmental and healing environment. Activities included: trail building, constructing cabins, construction of an all-weather longhouse shelter, road clearing and drainage projects. In this we were very successful and created a lasting legacy. We became known in the Shawinigan and Malahat areas as “The Mancuary” and often had individuals from the area visiting the shelter for wiener roasts with their families.
The center continued to thrive until 2005 when group members began to age and younger men to replace them became hard to find. I had mentored my two sons and their friends to come to many events and participate in our building projects, but they were not ready to take on a leadership role yet, so, while not their fault, the society foundered. The original vision I had was not shared by the other board members and I was unable to persuade them. I felt devastated.
So, partly out of severe stress and a painful sense of abandonment from my Board of Directors as well as other personal factors such as being a former heavy smoker, I developed throat cancer. Fortunately, I was treated and survived, but this was a strong message to me that trying to accomplish something as big as societal change is bigger than any one person. To be honest, I originally thought the board were in agreement with my goals for assisting men in crisis but only a few were.
Now in January 2022, I have finished a degree in Adult Education where I sought out and learned to create curriculum for course work. I have since developed a men’s course called Progressive Masculinity which I led twice with positive results. As of today, I am completing this website with a desire to lead the course again and with my graduation from a counsellor training program I can now provide mentoring to the community.
So, I am up to date with my involvement in men’s work. There is more going on here in Victoria than what I have covered, but that is what I was personally involved committed to and motivated to do. If you would like to add to this partial history, please email me and I will include it.
In conclusion, I have told this meandering and somewhat tragic and wonderful tale because this kind of grass roots non-profit work is hard. Hard but very rewarding and it does make the kind of changes progressive people want to see. It seems we must expect that difficulties will occur and that successes will also occur. Both will be triumphant and tragic, but these results should never stop a passionate leader from trying to do the right thing. Bravo to you for your efforts to make a difference. You mean so much-thank you.