Here ends “Men’s Work.” A writer is not a writer who is not read, so thank you for reading me. I extend a special word of gratitude to my female readership. Endings are numinous. That said, there is work being done to turn the core of what has been written over the last nine years into a book. When that happens, if that happens, I will let you know. In the meantime, and all-ways, blessings and peace.
Men's Work
Notes from a men’s counsellor
Men's Work 
Keith, I will miss the daily thought. I look forward to the book. Take care.
Thanks for your “thoughts” over the years.
Keith,
I’ve appreciated your short, insightful, intriguing, sometimes challenge blog posts. Thank you. Look forward to reading the book that emerges.
Adieu,
Michael
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Blessings and peace to you Keith. I’ll miss your daily thoughts Hugs Marilyn Campbell
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Thank you Keith. Your “Men’s Work’ has been a constant, interesting, amazing! helpful companion. I look forward to the possibility of a book.
Yikes! May I please pre-order your book? Thank you so very much, Keith. I will certainly miss your daily sharing. Yr. “Fan” Friend, Robin.
I’ve been reading your nuggets for a few years now. I wrote you a nice letter a month or so ago, but the email bounced back (😞). Get this, I often found your posts to be prophetic. I think you’re a prophet. You exemplify certain shades of one at the very least (when I consider the gift of prophecy as per what Paul and co. write of it). Somehow, something in your posts would coincide with some issue I was going through. I mean… the very particular. I could be reading something that Lao Tzu or Jesus had said, and you’d expound about it the next day. Very eerie! So eerie that I would tell this to my partner and she’d get the goosebumps. And often, I would tell her stuff like, This guy knows, he “sees”, he gets it, he’s not hustling, he’s the anti-thesis of the “world”. And so, you had replied to me about a year ago or so, you had been in the hospital and recuperating, licking your wounds into gratitude and such (so to speak), and here I was replying to you recently. I had written a nice email, about a month ago or so, spiritual and syrupy and stuff, but I do recall asking you if you wanted to engage in an exchange of letters of sorts on something like Substack, a kind of Letters to a Young Poet (Rilke), maybe call it “Letters to an Old Therapist” as a kind of apotheosis… but only since you considered yourself “old”, and wasn’t envisaging a new book (I asked you again if you were writing a new book since I deeply enjoyed your last two and had to give them away). Incidentally, glad to hear a new one might be coming! At any rate, Keith, let it be known to you that I’ve scoured far and wide the wisdom of the ages, from the Gitas down through exotic, gnostic alleys, from Taoism down through hardscrabble, esoteric valleys (namely because ending my own suffering has been my primordial jam since around the day you threw me out your office, then consequently discovered Vipassana only to land face to my face with my mess of a mind, hehe)… and so, it was a true pleasure to read you every day. Truly (getting tears here). A diamond in the rough. You match up, dude, you really cared about reducing one’s suffering in life, like Lao Tzu did, like the Buddha did, like JC did. The big guns. You played with the best toys because you’re cool like that. My hat goes off to you. I’d sometimes tell my partner that it was an honour reading someone as wise as you (by both experience and book) while you were alive. Honestly, my email inbox is a veritable minefield, and you were that lonely lily in the corner, waiting to be enjoyed, you know? And now, no Men’s Work… yikes. Well, this man (me) read you and kept you in his back pocket throughout his hill-and-valley days, up until today. You honestly exemplified the following: those who truly embody power understand a wordless exchange (Lynn Andrews). And like Lao Tzu, you understood (or juggled rather efficiently, I should say) this kind of paradox in this material duality that requires words, this paradox of Shut your senses, which includes your mouth, and listen for once (while I talk). You truly are a pearl on a shore full of gritty sand particles passing themselves as shiny (just because the sun shines on their head) and worthy of only being glued together in a second-hand disco ball, you know? I mean, I’d be reading N. Maharaj one afternoon, and you’d be commenting on him the next. Like, wtf! Not many call out the world’s bullshit with this amount of eloquence, acumen, and wisdom. I truly mean that, Keith. I’ve read both of your books, inside out, they are priceless compared to what sells or is recycled (or is pooped out) at Soundstrue and Hay House and stuff like that. So priceless that you gave me your book for free. A true gem! Stay tough and true and beautiful, brother. A big, big salute to you. Looking forward to the book or whatever else comes from you. Be well.