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Robert Bly: Tribute to a Radical
By Shepherd Bliss

Poet Robert Bly, now 89 years old, is a radical, by which I mean he returns to the roots. Haydn Reiss has captured him in his new, moving film “Robert Bly: A Thousand Years of Joy.” It will be shown Dec. 12, Sat., 7 p.m., at the Episcopal Church of the Incarnation, 550 Mendocino, Santa Rosa, by the Numina Center for the Arts and Spirituality. A discussion with the film-maker follows.

Watching the film was a trip down memory’s lane, dating back to meeting the National Book Award-winning poet during the sixties. At that time, I was in training at boot camp at Ft. Riley, Kansas, home of the Army’s First Division, the Big Red One. I intended to follow our family tradition, which gave our name to Ft. Bliss, Texas. I was on my way to the American War on Vietnam.

Bly and others in the group Writers Against War, including poet Allen Ginsberg, came to Kansas and traveled the county with their poetic, prophetic message. They initiated my doubts about the America’s War. Bly spoke from military experience, having served in the Navy during World War II.

I eventually resigned my officer’s commission, accepting the consequences, which included alienation from my military family. I consider Robert to have possibly saved my life, and certainly my soul, if I had gone to war those 50 years ago.

Bly seems to have been a life-long radical, which this film documents. His deep roots are Norwegian, farm, Mid-Western, Minnesotan, and Lutheran. Bly is an uncle figure to many. He provides an image of a deep, nurturing, strong masculinity, distinct from the rigid military model under which I was raised. His male model was militant yet caring; it emboldened my courage to reject war-making.

“Why don’t we lift our voices and cry over what is happening today,” Bly lamented during the first American War against Iraq. I echo this today, as the U.S. continues to widen its war-making, which will have far-reaching consequences.

Robert Bly Has Made a Big Difference

Robert Bly has made a big difference in many ways in the lives of many people for many years. His significance has been and will be long lasting. He brought a contentious, creative presence into his prophetic work and our lives. He looked like my Norwegian Uncle Dale, who farmed in Iowa. Both are large and have been described as having a certain Viking-like quality.

Bly brought the reverent, oral tradition of taking a poem into your heart and soul, memorizing it, and reciting it, to the delight of thousands. He wrote his own great poems, as well as essays, edited books, and supported peers and young poets and writers. He translated Chilean Nobel laureate Pablo Neruda, who appears in the film, and many other lesser-known poets, expanding their readerships. Many poets and writers attest to Bly’s importance in this film.

Bly helped create contexts within which people could grow, including the Great Mother Conferences and men’s gatherings in the woods. I remember a time when Bly did not agree with one of my Neruda translations, which I did not change to please him. My Spanish is better than his. ☺ I think that he appreciated my standing up for my translation.

The first of many Bly’s gatherings that I attended over the years were the Great Mother Conferences, where he honored mythology and the feminine. I was dazzled by some of his co-teachers, such as novelist Ursula Le quin and Gioia Timpanelli, often called the “dean of American storytelling.” Bly collaborated with many over the years.

Robert was not an easy man in the decades that I had regular contact with him. He loved a good challenge, and certainly did not avoid conflict. We argued, as I did with his key collaborators--the psychologist James Hillman and the drumming Irish-American storyteller Michael Meade. Michael still leads inspiring events around the country. They practiced the dialectical process of thesis/antithesis/ synthesis, as well as engaging in spirited, friendly male banter. My arguments with them were often about gender.

The Men’s Gatherings

Few American poets have sold many books or become famous during their lives. Bly’s best-selling book Iron John, an analysis of a Grimm Brothers story, brought him fame and drew men to his gatherings in the woods. Bly often taught from mythology and ancient stories. I first met the noted mythologist Joseph Campbell at a Bly gathering in the forest.

Bly invited me to teach with him and others at one of his men’s conferences in the Mendocino Woodlands. I came prepared, not only with words, but with buddies—Capt. Ray Gatchalian, a green beret medic in my vets group, Doug von Koss, a San Francisco artist, and Larry Stefl, a musician with The Sons of Orpheus.

I anticipated that Robert would challenge me. When he did, my side-bys Doug and Ray merely stood up at my side. They did not need to say anything. Much of male intimacy is side-by-side, as well as covering someone’s back. My long-time musical collaborator, Larry, played Black Orpheus on the guitar and led the whole room in singing (scatting) along. Strengthened by their firm masculine presence, I responded.

I do not remember what the issue, the challenge, or my response to Bly were on that day. What I do remember is Ray, Doug, and Larry backing me up. Bly understands the importance of music, which he included in his readings, playing an harmonium, as well as wearing bright, colorful vests. He had his own distinct, memorable style.

“Wake up” has been one of Bly’s essential poetic, spiritual, and political messages. “Don’t go back to sleep,” he would quote the 13th century Sufi poet Rumi, whom he translated and brought forward into American culture. Bly calls us “to disappear into the wild.” He translated the great Spanish poet Antonio Machado, who ends a poem with the words “what have you done with the garden entrusted to you?”

Hayden has made previous films that include material on Bly, including the following: “Every War Has Two Losers,” about poet and conscientious objector William Stafford, and “Rumi: Poet of the Heart.”

I am fortunate to have had Robert Bly as one of my primary teachers. Bly created contexts within which people could evolve, change, and mature. I have not always agreed with him, but I have always gratefully appreciated and respected him.

Trailer here.

Tickets: $10, www.numinacenter.org. This event will probably sell out.

(Shepherd Bliss {[email protected]} has operated the Kokopelli Farm since 1992, contributed to 24 books, and recently retired from college teaching.)