Gathering Around The Fire
A Year in a Virtual Men's Group
“I don’t believe you.”
I had just shared an update on a work opportunity I was exploring. I felt tense and a bit tired, but thought I’d given a compelling overview. I wondered—Did I not provide enough context? Did I not highlight the benefits well? I asked— “What do you mean?
The other guy doubled down— “It sounds attractive, I just don’t think you actually want to do it. I didn’t feel any connection or excitement when you spoke.”
In most contexts, I’d be taken aback by such direct feedback. But this was a part of why I was here. It was a Tuesday night in late August, and I was gathering on Zoom with a group of 8 guys who meet each week in a men’s group facilitated by Alex Olshonsky.
At that moment, I was more relieved than offended. I felt my chest loosen and my shoulders relax. I noticed I was smiling. He was right.
I had joined the group back in February. My motivation was partly theoretical and partly practical. I’d read books on modern manhood and masculine archetypes that made me curious about men’s groups. My wife and I were about to have our second kid, and I figured I could use some extra support. I hoped the group could help me balance my commitment to my family and my excitement for some emerging work pursuits.
When I chatted with Alex before joining the group, he asked me what I wanted most from the experience.
The question nudged me deeper: “I want to show up authentically and be seen by the other guys. I want them to challenge me and to challenge them back. I want to be more vulnerable and feel more connection.”
He smiled and told me I’d find these in spades within the group.
Despite his warm confidence, I was skeptical. It was hard to imagine a video call would deliver this. I was coming in with significant zoom fatigue. I’d tried to find a local in-person group and was frustrated that one didn’t exist.
As we hung up, I noticed some fear bubbling up. I was about to step into a group that all knew each other. I was about to be the new guy.
Would they accept me? Would they like me? Would I like them? Would it be worth my time?
A quick picture of the virtual room and the gallery of guys looking back at me:
Tech leaders, executive coaches, creatives, entrepreneurs, and advanced meditators. Dads with multiple kids and men exploring relationships with new partners. Guys a decade older and guys a decade younger than me.
Some are ramping up their career aspirations. Some are ramping down their professional pursuits. Some are very into woo stuff. Some are barely into woo stuff.
We share brief updates and Alex leads us through some guided exercises. Sometimes, someone asks for more space, and sometimes, someone is called into the hot seat.
As I leave my first meeting, I’m struck by how we’re all so different yet so similar. We’ve shown up with vastly different histories, experiences, and stories. We’ve come for different reasons. We’re experiencing different challenges and bringing different goals.
Yet there’s something that connects us and binds us together. I can’t place it yet, but I already feel a strange familiarity and comfort. I feel welcome.
As the year progresses, some guys leave the group, and others join.1 There’s an energy and excitement with each change in composition. A freshness and dose of unknown.
The milestones we experience together are significant: Guys get new jobs, make career changes, explore new relationships, become dads, have more kids, face health challenges, lose loved ones, explore spiritual edges, go on retreats, and so much more.
It feels refreshing to have a group ready to celebrate our wins together. It feels even more essential when we gather and support someone through darkness.
Underneath these big moments is the simmering reality of each of us wrestling with who we are as men in this complex modern world. We share our aspirations and our fears. We nudge each other to go deeper, to see blind spots, to think bigger. We share our experiences of each other, offering back curiosities, questions, love, and fire.
Each week, I learn a bit more about the other men. Each conversation reveals more of who we are and what we care about.
The picture grows wide and deep. It’s not abstract philosophical ideals or curated reflections. But a real-time, raw, unfiltered view of how we move through our lives. We wrestle with emerging situations before they are resolved, revealing how we truly feel emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually in the moment.
There’s immense power in the context these weekly glimpses provide. None of the conversations exist in isolation. If we say something is important but then don’t take action, the inconsistency is obvious. So, someone inevitably challenges us on it.
I learn that providing this kind of blunt and sometimes painful feedback requires a lot of trust. Trust in ourselves and our own experience of the situation. Trust in the other to receive it in good faith.
Each time I push through the discomfort, it feels more natural. I notice how often it lands with appreciation. How what felt hard to say is received as a gift.
But even more so, I recognize how much I value and appreciate when other men have the courage to challenge me, sharing their experiences and perceptions for my benefit. It helps me unwind false stories, expand my perspective, and open more possibilities. Even when the specific message doesn’t land, I feel gratitude.
Getting this form of honest challenge makes receiving love and support land deeper. Once someone is willing to give tough feedback, I trust their encouragement more. Once someone has the courage to name a weakness of mine, I believe their reflection of my strengths more.
As I continue in the group, I remember an observation I once heard: Women tend to prefer face-to-face interactions while men often engage in side-by-side activities.2 This stuck with me because it rings so true in my own life.
I often gather with my guy friends to watch sports, go golfing, do a hike, or work on a project. The action of the activity is the focus, and the conversation is secondary.
My wife, on the other hand, will orient many of her activities with her friends, so the dialog and emotional connection are front and center.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with this. Many of the deepest and most enjoyable discussions I’ve had with friends were late into a round of golf. There’s something magical about sitting side-by-side for hours on a golf cart or a long road trip.
But it means that it takes an intentional container to push many of us men outside this comfort zone. To turn and fully face each other. To be eye-to-eye, belly-to-belly, and drop the masks.
Yet when we do, something special happens.
Nothing made this more clear than when our group finally gathered in person in late November for our annual retreat.
Meeting people I already knew so well for the first time felt surreal. The air was buzzing with energy, and the house became a container of trust and connection. We turned off our phones and embarked on a long weekend that transformed us in different and beautiful ways.
I won’t bore you with the details. In many ways, I don’t think they matter.
What mattered was that each and every guy was willing to show up fully. To share their truth and be seen as themselves. To bring love and fire to the other men.
For me, a pesky self-limiting story I’ve been wrestling with most of my life unkinked that weekend. Surprisingly, it was from a short observation that our newest member shared on our last morning. In just a few simple words about his own experience of me, he shared exactly what I needed to hear. I’ve felt lighter ever since.3
As I drove home from the retreat, what is so transformative about participating in a men’s group finally clicked for me. Everything occurs in relationship. We can’t hide our habitual patterns, faulty perspectives, or beautiful gifts. We can’t run from our challenges. We can’t shy away from our dreams. It all bubbles up naturally.
As we returned from being physically together to meeting on Zoom, I worried it would feel less fulfilling.
In my head, I’d always thought my time in the group wouldn’t last longer than a year. I figured by this point, the weekly commitment would be too much. I assumed I’d have gotten as much as possible or would be ready for something new. I imagined that my responsibilities as a dad and commitments to other pursuits would pull me away.
Yet now that I’m here, entering my twelfth month in the group, all of that feels strangely beside the point. My frame has shifted.
It’s no longer just about what I can get from the group; it’s equally about what I can give. The other men matter to me. I want to show up for them. I want to hear what unfolds in their lives and support them on their journeys. I know my time to move on will eventually come. But for now, I just want to keep gathering around our virtual fire every Tuesday.
There’s something about this container that just feels so natural and important.
We’re supposed to gather like this. Ideally, not on Zoom, but certainly in some form. It taps into something primal. Perhaps our ancestral roots in early human history of a small tribe coming together at the end of a long day.
In today’s world, we live such isolated lives. Our communities are fragmented. We rarely see our neighbors. Many of us don’t leave our houses to work. Few attend church or participate in local organizations. Less families have three generations under one roof.
I’m blessed with a wonderful family and friends. I have great male friendships with guys I admire and enjoy being with. I see some occasionally and talk to others every week.4
But it’s often a struggle to fit these relationships into the pace and constraints of the modern world. We all talk about how we want to spend more time together, but our commitments seem to get in the way. It often feels like we’re updating each other on our lives rather than truly living them together.
So, my experiences with this group remind me of the deep value in making the commitment to and showing up for our people. It highlights ways to bring our whole selves to the table, even if we’re physically apart.
After the last twelve months, it’s clear that deep connection doesn’t happen by accident. If something is important to me, it’s on me to create the container for it. Values aren’t what we say, they are what we embody and live each day. And sometimes that means simply showing up week after week for the people who matter in our lives.
Thank you for reading. If you’re interested in Men’s Group, Jonny Miller has created a great overview on starting your own. And Andrew Horn has also published a helpful guide.
If you want to learn more about joining an existing group, I encourage you to reach out to Alex Olshonsky, who can share more about SONs and other options.
My deepest love and appreciation to each and every guy who has participated in the group with me this year.
Upon looking up this observation, this side-by-side vs. face-to-face theory originates from Deborah Tannen, a linguistics professor at Georgetown. Here’s an article that highlights more about it.
Perhaps I’ll write about this self-limiting story and shift once the dust settles more.
Some friends like Lou Tamposi have a knack for spontaneously creating depth and connection. He’ll call me out of the blue on the way back from a hunt or dropping his kids off and we’ll be instantly immersed in meaningful dialog. In today’s hyper-scheduled world, there’s little I love more than an unplanned phone call with a friend.
Glad to be mentioned here, Sam, and grateful you (almost) always pick up the phone! As you know, I’m a huge proponent of those spontaneous calls, even if I’ve only got 5-10 minutes in the car. I find more frequent check-ins, even if short, allow for deeper conversations — since you’re not worried about covering months worth of ground in one conversation.
My wife gives me tons of grief after I talk to one of my other buddies — we’ll have a half hour conversation and she’ll ask me a basic question about the health and well-being of his family, and I’ll have to respond with “I have not idea… didn’t come up!”
This is awesome Sam and thank you for sharing. I appreciate reading your perspective and how the journey has unfolded over time. To me, your share gives me the opportunity to take a sneak peek into a man's group ( I already do that a bit as my partner also has one and I am often in conversation with men) but I believe this is super important in this moment in time. That women have a deeper understanding of men and vice-versa. My way of doing this is by creating the "fishbowl" part of my substack. A space for people to have a look inside what happens in sacred space. My last one was this: https://theclab.substack.com/p/the-dance-between-the-private-and. It's always a fine line trying to share more widely what happens in intimate spaces and I know that the way I am doing is tricky (through recording videos), but I feel it's necessary as many of us hold strong projections on the other sex and when we get a chance of seeing what is really happening our hearts tend to soften and our minds can create a more accurate image. Anyway...I'm not sure how I ended up subscribing to your substack but I am happy to be here. :-)