“I’m going to bed,” Margot says without acknowledging me. Ted stands up to help her.

“You should feel free to go ahead with the event, but I have to stay with Margot. Just in case,” he says.

I lead Rick, Adam and Joe outside to the circle of mats on the front lawn.

“The sky isn’t as clear as I’d like, but the rain is holding off and we can see the moon,” I say as I remove Ted’s spot and re-space the three mats equidistant from one another.

“Lie down on your backs. Make yourselves as comfortable as possible. Bend your knees deeply so that you might bring the soles of your feet together, legs fluttering like a butterfly. I’ll come around with these yoga bolsters to prop up your knees because as men your hips were not designed to open that wide.”

“Praise the women who give birth,” Joe says.

I wonder how good Joe is at his job. He comes across like he’s speaking in sound bites. It’s off-putting to me, but is “politician speak” one of those things where you fake it until you make it? It’s possible not everyone who leads is born with a confident tone of voice.

I walk around to the three men, making sure they are properly set up.

“To be in your feminine means to be receptive, and that begins with your physical body.”

Adam stares up at me as I walk past him. He doesn’t seem shaken by the deer encounter, which is good.

“Close your eyes. Place one hand on your belly, the other on your heart. Take a few deep breaths in through your nose. When you’re full, hold for a beat and then exhale out your mouth.

“Random thoughts may begin popping into your mind. That’s a sign that you’re quieting yourself, opening up, being receptive. But at this point I want you to let those thoughts come and go. Don’t dwell on them.”

I let the seconds stretch out into minutes, leaving them alone with their thoughts. After three minutes I provide them with the mantra for the Moon Men event.

“Now that our bodies are prepared, we can begin to share. Sharing is a vital part of community, receptivity, and the divine feminine. Before we begin, I want you to tell the person to your left that he is safe and that you are here to receive.”

“Can we go the other direction?” Adam asks.

“No, the ritual must move the energy in a counterclockwise direction. We’ll start with you, Joe.”

“Rick, you are safe and I am here to receive you.”

“Great, now Rick.”

“Adam, you are safe and I am here to receive you.”

“This is too hokey,” Adam says. He sits up and kicks his legs out straight. He could not look more uncomfortable in his skin, exactly as I’d expected.

“Please lie down and continue the circle. We cannot have a break in the energy.”

“Joe, you are safe and I am here to receive you,” Adam says.

“Now we will have six minutes of silence. Six minutes will feel like an eternity. You will suddenly find yourself overwhelmed with an itch on your leg or a tickle in your throat. Hear me when I tell you that most of these sensations are not real. It’s your brain trying to distract you from receiving the collective energy.”

“So we shouldn’t scratch ourselves?” Joe asks.

“This exercise isn’t about doing or not doing; it’s about listening. Attempt to discern what is real and what is not. Your six minutes begins now.”

The men all squirm. Adam coughs. Joe swats at an imaginary bug crawling on his arm. Rick is able to maintain the most stillness of the three. A gentle alarm signals the end of the silent time. I surreptitiously press the start button on my voice recorder and slide it into my pocket.

“At this point in the exercise, one or two thoughts are nagging at you. Something you said in high school that left its mark and you’re still mortified. A situation where you wronged a friend. A time when you used your power to take advantage of a woman.”

I walk around the outside of the circle, standing above each of their heads as I offer examples.

“If it happened recently, that’s too fresh to be a real wound. I want you to go deeper, back in time to that one thing you convince yourself you are past, but intrudes on you now in this quiet, safe, receptive place.”

“And what do we do with this thought?” Joe asks.

“I want you to share it.”

“I’ve got nothing,” Adam says.

“I have a hard time believing that,” I say, trying to keep my tone light. “Every human on Earth has a moment they would take back. More than one.”

“Sure, I’ll think about it,” Adam says.

“I speak from years of experience that everyone harbors secrets that lay dormant and threaten our happiness,” I add.

I let the energy from our conflict settle. A minute later Joe clears his throat.

“When Farah and I started dating, I was in a relationship. It had run its course for me, but I hadn’t had the tough conversation. Politicians shouldn’t be alone. It’s not good for our image.”

“Good, Joe, doesn’t it feel good to get that out? The Universe can help you carry that burden now. When someone has shared, we repeat the opening mantra. Joe, you are safe and I am here to receive you.”

Rick and Adam repeat.

“Adam? Did you think of anything?” Rick asks.

“Nope, not yet.”

“I have something, then.”

“Go ahead, Rick,” I say.

“Something happened with a woman.”

“It’s important for you to say the words,” I encourage.

“It was ten years ago. We were both drinking. Heavily. It was a pub crawl. Afterward we went back to my place. I thought we had a good time.”

“So why mention it, Rick?”

“Her sister sent me a bunch of harsh messages, ripping into me. Saying that I took advantage of her sister. That she was blacked out and I should have known. I lost my shit. I wouldn’t have sex with someone who was passed out. Never.”

“When did you say this happened?”

“Ten years ago.”