Iron John

The job of the initiator, whether the initiator is a man or woman, is to prove to the boy or girl that he or she is more than mere flesh and blood. A man is not a machine only for protecting, hunting, and reproduction; a woman is not a machine only for protecting, gathering, and reproduction, but each carries desires far beyond what is needed for p

When we hear the phrase, “the Wild Man,” our fantasies move toward a monster, or savage, but it is clear now that the Wild Man is closer to a meditation instructor than to a savage. In part he resembles a rabbi teaching the Kabala; in part, he resembles a holder of a mystery tradition; in part, he resembles a hunting god.

accepting an initiatory task is more important than succeeding or failing at it.

The story implies that we, as human beings, are not the only source of ordered intelligence and conscious awareness. “The eyes in the water” can be regarded as an emblem of the consciousness in nature, the intelligence “out there.” We know that neither consciousness nor “intelligence” is quite the right word. Human beings invented the word “conscio

The person who gazes in the mirror receives an awareness of his other half, his shadow, or hidden man; awareness of that hidden man is a proper aim for all initiation. The experience teaches him that the eyes he sees are not just “him,” but some other man, not included very well under the name his parents gave him, Edward or Lance or Kerry. These e

Ritual space gives something back to the man or woman who, prepared by discipline and quiet, enters it.

If a human being takes an action, the soul takes an action. When a hair enters the water, the soul adds gold to it. That is what the soul is like, apparently. This spring water, with gold snakes and fish in it, is the soul itself which does nothing if you do nothing; but if you light a fire, it chops wood; if you make a boat, it becomes the ocean.

When the boy in our story then inadvertently dislodges one hair that falls into the spring, and it turns to gold, we could say he learns these things: that sexual energy is good; that the hunting instinct, which mammals possess without shame, is good; that animal heat, fierceness, and passionate spontaneity is good; and that excess, extravagance, a

Men are taught over and over when they are boys that a wound that hurts is shameful. A wound that stops you from continuing to play is a girlish wound. He who is truly a man keeps walking, dragging his guts behind. Our story gives a teaching diametrically opposite. It says that where a man’s wound is, that is where his genius will be. Wherever the