JEWISH/mud

jewish men and the mud pit

i just spent seven days at easton mountain sanctuary in upstate new york as both guest and workshop facilitator. i arrived a few days early to meet up with my very dear friend tony who lives in tampa. he was also a facilitator at eros spirit camp. we intended to spend those preliminary days relaxing, catching up and planning. instead, we were invited with open arms and encouragement into the gay men’s jewish gathering that was happening that weekend. it was an extraordinary experience filled with singing, eating, dancing and the beautiful life affirming attitude of the jewish tradition.

one of my most memorable experiences of my entire easton mountain experience was the mud pit. i was in the lodge and someone came up to me and said, “are you joining the mud pit?” the mud pit!? i didn’t know exactly what it was, but found it impossible to say no. i darted out past the pool and ran barefoot up the hill to the edge of a large hole in the ground filled with a special clay-mud and 20 gorgeous naked men talking, laughing and generally carrying on. their bodies, faces and hair completely covered. it was a warm sunny day with perfect blue skies dotted with little fluffy clouds. i immediately stripped down, tossed my clothes into the grass and slid feet first into the mud. i was warmly welcomed with mud filled hands. within moments i was covered head-to-toe.

at one point the rabbi-- yes, the rabbi-- grabbed me by my wrist and slid me across the soup of naked men from on end of the pit to the other. there were limbs and feet and hands everywhere.

“whose foot is this?” someone asked.

“mine,” i said.

“no! that’s my foot,” the man next to me said.

“no, it’s mine,” i argued back.

“it’s mine!” he said.

turns out it wasn’t my foot. laughter ensued. and massage. and every so often someone new would enter the mix and the whole pool would shift and the “mudding” would start all over again.