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In the week leading up to this training, a man who was much loved by many people on the island, had taken his life. His presence was regularly brought into the circle, and his funeral was on Saturday afternoon, right between the two days.

We were near the end of our two days together. Janet: “Is there anything left, that needs to be addressed?”

Sourcing her archetypal lineage, Janet had the impulse to propose all the men bring their chairs forward into the centre of the circle, and rather than look outside the room for how to relate to the wider community, we explore with those present in the room, to discover what was needed.

We circled up and one of the men made a joke. We all laughed. It was an opportunity to reflect on a typical strategy men use to throw off feelings and keep things superficial. Without needing anymore analysis, the deepening began.

While the women created a second ring around us, we navigated our way, exploring awkwardly but honestly, the old patterns of communication, and assumptions and expectations, of what it means to be a man.

The men shared how alive their bodies were, tingling with feelings, that would spill out into words.

Janet intervened just enough, to guide the men to focus and address others in the group directly, using “I” rather than “you” and “we”, and staying with the feelings that were alive and magnified. When we veered off into philosophical discussion about relating to men in the wider community, she would call us back to the circle of nine men.

I noticed a larger gap between myself and the man to my left, and that he was further out of the circle than the others, and proposed we tighten up and sit closer, ensuring every man was equally represented. The closeness magnified the feelings I’d had from the moment the circle first formed, and the sadness burst forward. As tears ran down my face, I declared with my anger: “It’s OK for men to cry with one another!” My body burnt up with intense internal heat.

Nick was sitting opposite, and shared how seeing me, in turn opened him up, and this led us to explore what somebody called the ‘bro’ code – the unspoken agreements we have, to keep things superficial. Manuka took this moment to ask for agreement from the men in this group, whenever they sniffed something going on with him, to probe and interrupt him, to ask questions, and invite him into intimacy. The other men echoed this call and asked and offered space holding when they sensed or were feeling something that needed to be processed. They declared their intention to deepen intimacy through asking dangerous questions of one another.

This process went on for about 45 minutes and I became intensely aware of the circle of women standing around us holding the space with such a powerful silence. When we stood up, embraced and held each other’s gaze, I asked the men to notice this and when we declared we were complete, we turned around to face the women who were holding up their hands, fingers moving in the gesture of silent appreciation for what they had witnessed.

In the closing circle, one of the women spoke about how seeing men be that vulnerable with one another, gave her a deep sense of safety, a sense that these men have her back, a sense of the strength in this emerging men’s culture.

A portal opened today, and a giant seed has been planted firmly in the heart of the Great Barrier culture, with effects that will ripple out into this community.