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According to an article in the March-April 2013 edition of Utne reader titled "Why won't men get help?" men account for 8 of 10 of the suicides these days.

Without a loving INSIGHTFUL and sometimes very patient woman in their immediate environment many men do not take very good  care of themselves.  Partly about no role models save for machismo, absence, distancing, abandonment and abuse and no time for core level self nurturing due to economic survival, emotional armoring and stuffing their feelings with unresolved sadness, feelings of inadequacy and toxic shame.
Healing the father wound in us seems more needed now than ever.  Hope this helps.

Fathers and Daughters

Her hair up in a pony tail, her favorite dress tied with a bow

Today was Daddy's Day at school, and she couldn't wait to go

But her mommy tried to tell her, that she probably should stay home

Why the kids might not understand, if she went to school alone.

But she was not afraid; she knew just what to say

What to tell her classmates, on the Daddy's Day

But still her mommy worried, for her to face this day alone

And that was why once again, she tried to keep her daughter home.

But the little girl went to school, eager to tell them all

About a dad she never sees, a dad who never calls

There were daddies along the wall in back for everyone to meet

Children squirming impatiently, anxious in their seats

One by one the teacher called, a student from the class to introduce their daddy as seconds slowly passed.

At last the teacher called her name, every child turned to stare

Each of them were searching, for a man who wasn't there "Where's her daddy at?" she heard a boy call out

"She probably doesn't have one," another student dared to shout

And from somewhere near the back, she heard a daddy say

"Looks like another deadbeat dad, too busy to waste his day."

The words did not offend her, as she smiled at her friends

And looked back at her teacher, who told her to begin.

And with hands behind her back, slowly she began to speak and out from the mouth of a child, came words incredibly unique.

"My Daddy couldn't be here, because he lives so far away.

But I know he wishes he could, be with me on this day."

"And though you cannot meet him, I wanted you to know All about my Daddy, And how much he loves me so."

"He loved to tell me stories, he taught me to ride my bike.

He surprised me with pink roses and taught me to fly a kite."

"We used to share fudge sundaes, and ice cream in a cone.

and though you cannot see him, I'm not standing here alone."

"Cause my Daddy's always with me, even though we are far apart.

I know because he told me, he'll forever be here in my heart."

With that her little hand reached up, and lay across her chest

Feeling her own heartbeat, beneath her favorite dress.

And from some where in the crowd of dads, her mother stood in tears

Proudly watching her daughter, who was wise beyond her years

For she stood up for the love, of a man not in her life

doing what was best for her, doing what was right.

And when she dropped her hand back down, staring straight into the crowd

She finished with a voice so soft but its message clear and loud.

I love my Daddy very much, he's my shining star,

and if he could he'd be here but heavens much to far."

"but sometimes when I close my eyes, it's like he never went away.

And then she closed her eyes, and she saw him there that day.

And to her mother's amazement,  she witnessed with surprise

A room full of Daddies and Children all starting to close their eyes.

Who knows what they saw before them, who knows what they felt inside

Perhaps for merely a second they saw him at her side.

"I know you're with me Daddy," to the silence she called out

And what happened next made believers, of those once filled with doubt

Not one in that room could explain it, for each of their eyes had been closed but there placed on her desk, was a beautiful pink rose.

And a child was blessed, if only a moment, by the love her shining bright star and given the gift of believing that, Heaven is never too far

A father is someone that
holds your hand at the fair
makes sure you do what your mother says
holds back your hair when you are sick
brushes that hair when it is tangled because mother is too busy lets you eat ice cream for breakfast
but only when mother is away
he walks you down the aisle
and tells you everything's gonna be ok


Enough money within her control to move out...
And rent a place of her own
even if she never wants to
or needs to...
Something perfect to wear if the employer
or date of her dreams wants to See Her in an hour...
A youth she's content to leave behind....
A past juicy enough that she's looking forward to
retelling it in her Old Age....
A set of screwdrivers,
a cordless drill, and a black lace bra...one friend who always makes her laugh...
And one Who lets her cry...
A good piece of furniture not previously owned
by anyone else in her Family...
Eight matching plates,
wine glasses with stems,
And a recipe for a meal that will make
her guests feel Honored...
A feeling of control over her destiny...
How to fall in love without losing herself..
When to try harder...
That she can't change the length of her calves,
The width of her hips,
or the nature of her parents..
That her childhood may not have been perfect...
But it's over...
What she would and wouldn't do for love or more...
How to live alone...
Even if she doesn't like it...
Whom she can trust,
Whom she can't,
And why she shouldn't take it personally...
Where to go...
Be it to her best friend's kitchen table...
Or a charming inn in the woods...
When her soul needs soothing...
What she can and can't accomplish in a day...
A month...
And a year...
Written By:Pamela Redmond Satran


Fathers and Sons
"Fathers, like mothers, are not born.
Men grow into fathers-
and fathering is a very important stage in their development."
~~By David M. Gottesman.~~

I miss you, but I cannot make you miss me.
I need you, but you do not know my need.
I want you, but I cannot make you kiss me.
I suffer, but I cannot make you bleed.
I beseech you, but you will not be beguiled.
The door's locked, and you will not let me in.
You're my father, but I cannot be your child.
I've lost you, and I can't take back my sin.
Like an earth no longer with its sun,
Shooting towards eternity alone,
I no longer circle anyone,
An aimless, mindless, wandering piece of stone.
Ah, father! It would be so sad if we
Would journey through to darkness separately.

The Little Chap Who Follows Me
A careful man I ought to be,
A little fellow follows me,
I do not dare to go astray
For fear he'll go the selfsame way.

I cannot once escape his eyes,
Whate'er he sees me do, he tries;
Like me, he says, he's going to be,
The little chap who follows me.

He thinks that I am good and fine,
Believes in every word of mine
The base in me he must not see,
The little chap who follows me.

I must remember as I go,
Through summer's fun and winter's snow,
In building for the years to be
The little chap who follows me!

A Dad is a person
who is loving and kind,
And often he knows
what you have on your mind.
He's someone who listens,
suggests, and defends.
A dad can be one
of your very best friends!
He's proud of your triumphs,
but when things go wrong,
A dad can be patient
and helpful and strong
In all that you do,
a dad's love plays a part.
There's always a place for him
deep in your heart.
And each year that passes,
you're even more glad,
More grateful and proud
just to call him your dad!
Thank you, Dad...
for listening and caring,
for giving and sharing,
but, especially, for just being you!
Happy Father's Day
Perhaps we'll never understand each other.

Loving doesn't mean that we agree.
Loving doesn't mean that we agree.
If that were so, then I would say, why bother?

But there are things I know I'll never see.
I'm sure your heart knows what I don't yet know:

The pain of loving a reluctant son;
The anger, coming fast and building slow,
Of being helpless to control someone.

You want only that I grow up right,
But you know what right is, and I still don't.

I have to learn to wield my inner light,
And if I follow yours, well, then I won't.

I'm sorry for the anger in the air;
Though we fight, my love is always there.

I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father's protection.  
- Sigmund Freud

My Dad's Hands
Bedtime came, we were settling down,
I was holding one of my lads.
As I grasped him so tight, I saw a strange sight:
My hands. . .they looked like my dad's!
I remember them well, those old gnarled hooks,
there was always a cracked nail or two.
And thanks to a hammer that strayed from its mark,
his thumb was a beautiful blue!
They were rough, I remember, incredibly tough,
as strong as a carpenter's vice.
But holding a scared little boy at night,
they seemed to me awfully nice!
The sight of those hands - how impressive it was
in the eyes of his little boy.
Other dads' hands were cleaner, it seemed
(the effects of their office employ).
I gave little thought in my formative years
of the reason for Dad's raspy mitts:
The love in the toil, the dirt and the oil,
rusty plumbing that gave those hands fits!
Thinking back, misty-eyed, and thinking ahead,
when one day my time is done.
The torch of love in my own wrinkled hands
will pass on to the hands of my son.
I don't mind the bruises, the scars here and there
or the hammer that just seemed to slip.
I want most of all when my son takes my hand,
to feel that love lies in the grip. 
By David Kettler

I wait upon the love that waits for me
Unknowing as I grow within the womb,
The creature of an unheard harmony
Between the voices of my dawn and doom.
Half of me is you: how strange! Yet more
Uncanny is the fact that we are two.
I live within a room whose only door
For good or ill must open onto you.
Be there for me, father*, in your heart,
As I for you will be the child you will.
Play with all your love the father's* part,
And I will with my love your dreams fulfill.
I will rebel, of course, but pay no mind:
Years of love will stand against the wind.

"If you're gonna act that dumb, you'd better be awfully tough."

Even though we've lived apart,
I do not love you less.
There's provision in the heart
For storing tenderness.
There's a love that like a star
Must reconfigure space
To turn the far-flung wanderers
Towards some predestined grace.

Time matters not, nor pain, nor death,
Nor fate as hard as stone.
This truth needs but a single breath,
And that we now have known.

Ah, Father! What a joy to live
With love at last expressed!
Life has no greater gift to give
Than that with which we're blessed.

It is easier for a father to have children than for children to have a real father.
- Pope John XXIII

The Golden Braid a poem by Mike.

From Mike: What's this to do with breathing?  Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. 

Recover natural breathing lost to anger, sadness, trauma, poor habits and almost anything else.

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The breathing improvement techniques, practices and products outlined in this publication are extremely gentle, and should, if carried out as described, be beneficial
to your overall physical and psychological health. If you have any serious medical or psychological problem, however, such as heart disease, high blood pressure,
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