Fourteen men, screaming at the top of their lungs, pounding the floor, raising their hands yelling “We celebrate Ray bunch” over and over again for several minutes.
Here’s how that happened:
Last night I accepted an invitation to a Men’s Group in Newport Beach called The Savages and Saints. Fourteen men, most under 40, gathered in a yoga studio, seated in a circle on various kinds of pillows. Gentle background music, the Leader, a therapist of some kind, speaks us through a guided meditation. We are asked to get as present as possible.
The prompt is to check in with the “Rose” structure. Tell us your name, the rose in your life that you are proud of, the thorn or thorns that are tormenting you and the blossom that you are growing into.
By volunteer only. A young man opens up and is proud of his home life and supportive wife. His thorns are in his work and limited future. The blossom is his applying for and getting accepted into a professional school.
The Leader asks him if he would like to be celebrated for his school acceptance. He says, “Sure”.
All fourteen of us erupt in a cacophony of yells, floor stomping and cheers of celebration. The young man glows.
This continues around the circle. When my turn comes, I share, “I’m an old fucker, 77 years old and my best friend for the last 47 years, Ray Bunch, just died”
“Ray took me to my first Men’s group 34 years ago and I have participated in various Men’s groups ever since.”
I share details of our relationship, our walks, sharing, sobriety, drumming, camping, family and I cannot stop crying.
I look up and the Leader says, “Well, it’s time to celebrate Ray Bunch.
For a long, long time these Men, most who never knew Ray, cheered him completely.
It is a beautiful thing to be celebrated with loud, boisterous enthusiasm.
