Rim people. That’s what we called them. As we walked from the truck toward the edge, there were folks standing along the North Rim. They had no intent on going over the edge; they were content to stay on the rim, look at the grandeur and snap some photos. That’s where we felt we’d been living for some time, on the metaphorical rim - in our lives as men, in our jobs, marriages, friendships…no real challenge or risk, just a placid existence, marked by the initial twinges of Thoreau’s quiet desperation. Thanks be to God, we had the wherewithal to notice those twinges for what they were…and they scared us. Let enough of that desperation that’s quiet accumulate in your heart and you wake up one morning with clogged arteries of the soul. You can be successful, hardworking, have a great family and drive a Harley on the weekends with your buddies, but beneath that…you’re hollow…nothing inside. Death’s not far behind that, literally or figuratively.
We strode in front of a few men and received nods of affirmation…and envy. In fact, one older man spoke to us with his eyes: “Please, knock me unconscious and put me in your pack…for God’s sake, take we with you.” We quickly noticed his wife and heard her eyes: “Take your pied piper backpacks and keep movin’ boys. I know my husband has wanted to cut the bloody cord for years…but it ain’t gonna’ happen. Life’s just fine…here on the rim.” And then it was as if the man’s eyes hurriedly interrupted her: “Guys, don’t listen to her eyes…”
It reminded me of something I read concerning one Native American tribe’s insistence that after a certain age, the young men must not make eye contact with the mothers or women of that tribe. There’s just too much that can pass between the female and male eyes…there’s the mothering thing, the sexual thing…stuff that can turn a man to salt, or at least, mush. When I pulled out of my driveway to make this trip, I waved to the family, but tried to avoid the eyes of my wife. Look in her eyes too long and you’ll pull the car back in the garage, get out, and say, “Aw, I can make this trip another day.” You’ve got to remind yourself they’re in God’s hands, kiss ‘em and hug ‘em good, and then drive away. You’ll be a better man, husband, and father when you return. And she knows it. She may not like it, but she knows it. If you’re a man, then you know what I mean. If you’re a woman, then you probably don’t like it…but you know it too.
Listen to Bly on this one: "Initiation asks the son to move his love energy away from the attractive mother to the relatively unattractive serpent father. All that is ashes work. When a man enters this stage he regards Descent as a holy thing, he increases his tolerance for ashes...learns to shudder, and follows the voice of the old mole below the ground." I believe, for many men, this "initiation" happens time and again throughout life; at least, the opportunity presents itself. It's a chance to go over the rim. But you have to step away from the "attractive mother"...and that's hard. You have to regard Descent (going over the rim) as a "holy thing." We had heard the old mole calling...and so we began our Descent...
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