Every other Tuesday

We appreciate newcomers, and we don't take attendance. We average close to twenty guys on a Tuesday right now. We meet in a well-appointed room in the Wende Museum which really suits our needs, but we've hosted sessions in different venues, including outdoors.

Occasionally, we meet on a non-Tuesday, for a hike or a breakfast. We call these Field Trips.

The group was formed around a general need to connect more, to spend time in a group that wasn't focused on ventures, endeavors, sports or kids. Friendships have happened. I'm often surprised how quickly new-to-the-group guys immediately share what's really happening for them in their lives.

Sometimes people will ask me what happens at Tuesday Men's Club, so I wrote this up. Let's start from the end of the night, first.

~8:45, Ice cream* in the parking lot

One of our members, Zane, will bake cookies for ice cream*. He's working his way through this cookbook.

We moved ice cream* to the parking lot because we left crumbs in the room once, and because guys will linger. Ice cream usually starts around 8:45 or so. Sometimes guys are still chatting at 9:30. I leave, I need to get to bed. So the parking lot works for extended debriefs too.

~8:40, The huddle

Before ice cream, as we end the meeting, we do a little huddle. Like a set of JV football players. I offer something; it's part recap and part blessing. There's a sense I have that this is the last chance I have to say something that will stay with these guys until the next time I see them.

~8:30, The Grab Bar

~7:30, The sit

The meditation is now usually led by me, but I want to find a meditation leader that I can defer to.

Every session is different but we often start with getting a restful posture, some light body awareness prompting, some pranayama breathing and then moving into vipassana-like prompts around anchoring our attention to the present moment. We end with some metta, lovingkindness practice.

Some men enjoy it. Some sleep. Others have a hard time sitting quietly, but they often come back again and again. Meditation is not an optimization. We haven't seen any guys levitate. No one has pitched a perfect game yet.

We try to be present with each moment, in the sit, in the room more broadly and if we can help it, in our lives. We’ve learned that sitting together can have a different feeling than sitting alone; it hits differently.

~7:10, The start, the preamble

Deep things come up, but so do more day-to-day stuff. Often a guy will talk about a job thing, or a loss of a close friend, followed by a guy talking about his love for long days of watching football, or a familiar recitation of what just happened on this particular Tuesday. Dino once shared that he hates pumpkins. I liked that. It all rates.

Outside of TMC, saying what is happening to us can feel encumbered. The room isn't a spouse or a partner, with a bunch of history, and lines for each player. It's not a best friend that lives far away, where the biography and the play-by-play often feels important to get through. It's not a total stranger either, we all have a sense of each other, even if it's the first time we've met. I find that the room really can be a release, and a relief, from the other parts of our lives that often feel constricted.

And there is no strategy in sharing, how to share or what to share. This is a part of the day that doesn’t rely on us managing information or even responsibilities. Blessedly, there is no test.

We ask, in the preamble, for all the guys to listen intently. But we don’t really need that line, because any time anyone shares something material or personal, challenging or uplifting, the whole room leans in.

7:00, The door

6:40, The car

Lastly, I haven't shared this with anyone, but there is one more element that happens every session. After I get the ice cream (if it's my turn), I pull into the parking lot and park. And I record a little video of myself, in the car before I get out. It's a way for me to be most honest about how I am really doing in the moment. It is a release valve. The words are un-premeditated.

So that's what happens in a typical session.

I get other good questions:

Why do guys come? Or, some with a side-eye, why do they come back?

Men come for many different reasons. Ones we've heard: my wife forwarded it to me. I have been looking for something like this. During Covid, all my friends moved away. I lost my job. I got divorced recently, five years ago. I don't watch sports. Someone begged me to come.

Why men come back seems to be very personal. Some men get different things out of it. I don't have a good answer to these questions.

A guy gave some feedback once about why he wasn't going to come back: "I'm not very social, I've never done anything like this. I really tried." And I appreciated that so much. I think guys come back because they are really trying.

Why do you do it?

This one is easy. I feel bolstered by the group. And I feel buoyant by what happens in the meetings.

Life can be hard. Many Tuesdays, including the nights when we have meetings, are not easy. Sometimes for me, even getting to the meeting feels hard.

Blessedly, in the room, rarely, does it feel hard. There's too much to do, too much to listen to. I am the most present version of myself for 90 minutes. I like and fit into this role of begrudging, kindly, open, affirming guy. I try not to summarize. I try not to put a bow on anything. I work hard to say true things, even if it takes me longer to speak than usual. I don't dare check my phone.

But getting there, and the thirty minutes beforehand, it can be difficult. I've found that this ‘getting there is hard’ experience rhymes with other things in my life; the preparation and time just before the good stuff can be the most brutal. Doubt can be very present for me. But each Tuesday thus far, some part of me gets past that feeling of 'what am I doing here?' to get out of the car, and just start.