A SEED WAS PLANTED
- Margo Awanata
- Aug 2
- 2 min read
Some time ago, I was blessed to witness the sacred work of Oskar and the men he works with. .
Men who had dared to face their fears.
To look at their own shame.
To feel the grief carried in their bones.
Together.
And as a closing of their path together, they stepped, naked and real, into the river, one by one.
Not to escape.
But to anchor the path they have been walking.
To let the water bless their journey.
A little further down the riverbank, three young boys were watching. Ten years old, perhaps.
Laughing. Pointing.
Shouting things boys say when they see something they don't understand.
Later, I saw them again.
Closer this time.
I felt the call in my heart to speak to them. To open a door.
So I walked over and asked:
“Do you want to know what’s happening here?”
Two of them looked away.
But one nodded.
All 3 came closer
I told them.
That the men who had walked into the river had also walked through fire.
That they had faced the parts of themselves most people try to run from. That they worked with their fear , shame and pain and grew into manhood. In a healthy way.
And that this was a moment of celebration.
In brotherhood.
I told them they were welcome to come closer.
And they did. Curious.
No more shouting.
No more laughter.
Only clapping For each man who entered the water.
And as they rode off on their bikes, I overheard them say,
“I get it now. It was actually really good.”
“Yeah… it was really good.”
And my heart cracked open just a little more.
Because maybe a seed was planted.
A remembrance.
That being a man can look like this too.
That strength can be tender, vulnerable and powerful all at once.
That men can support each other as Brothers.
Maybe the boys will forget.
But maybe not not.
Maybe one day , when life brings them to their own edge .
they may remember the day they stood by a river
and watched men rise,
not through battle,
but through brotherhood.
And maybe then....
they will step through the fire, and into the water themselves.
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