Standing in Awe of the Thundering Ice—The 2026 Winter Minnesota Men's Conference

Standing on the quiet shore of Lake St. Croix, where the Winter River rests, sealed in ice, we listen for something other than the snarl of a snowmobile or the grind of hard rubber on frozen gravel. Beyond the hum of the cars crossing the bridge (which links the lands of two states bound by shared forests, waters, soil, dairies, fisheries, and long memory) there are other sounds, deeper, older, wiser, enchanting.

Crossing these still waters too quickly by motor, we may miss the splintering sounds of thunder snapping sideways through the great sheets of ice—a sound that can awaken old stones. Coyote's yip summons those who still listen, to gather under the boughs of the northern forest cathedral, coaxing the ice to sing the old hymns. Some may neglect or even forget the sounds of winter's chorus, those who remain awake through the long dark: the lamenting of the wolves, the whispering hooves of deer, the ascending sky-hunters and the cunning squawk of corvids. And through the augured fishing holes or the places where rock and sun conspire to soften the river’s crystal skin, we faintly hear the murmur of the underworld—the slow gurgling, ached moaning, and shifting echoes—the resonant sounds of the soul.

In the depths of these quiet mysteries, when our shadows cast long, we may deny the faint whispers of an exiled voice, longing to be remembered. Here, the old teachers—ice, thunder, hoof-beat, and the unseen currents of the deep waters—remind us that the quiet wandering voice within, remembers us.

This winter, we are called by the thundering ice, to listen...listen for the forsaken, abandoned, forgotten, and the disenfranchised voices that move toward us, that call us back to them, guiding us to the water's edge, to the edge, to our edges. Welcome them all and "Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond."

January 30, 31, and February 1, 2026 (Friday afternoon to Sunday afternoon)

Men of all backgrounds and traditions are invited to join us at the conference.

Who We Are

The Minnesota Men’s Conferences are unique gatherings of men dedicated to embodying what it means to live a life of character, depth, and consequence amidst the noise and chaos of our times.

We believe that words matter. We witness how the old stories carry a source of nourishment that can give a man a depth and heft that is as rare now as it is invaluable. We set loose upon the fields of our imaginations wild poetic verses that buck and kick and upset conventional ways most men are taught to see and feel—and not feel.

MINNESOTA MEN’S CONFERENCE ARCHIVES FUND

Our friends at The Fifth Direction, (an Australia-based organization dedicated to soul work) have created a GoFundMe site for the Minnesota Men's Conference. The purpose is to fund the archiving and eventual publishing of selected recordings from conferences and events.

Almost 40 years of groundbreaking thinking, poetry, story, and song, from prominent, and not-so prominent, fellows have been recorded. We need to archive, index, and edit this material (so the personal and private material does not go into the public air). This is an important endeavor for our non-profit organization as we simultaneously protect privacy and share the wisdom of so many soulful men.

 Please consider making a contribution. Thank you!

Poet, author, teacher, elder, and founder of the Minnesota Men’s Conference Robert Bly has passed to the ancestral. Robert’s insight, wisdom, and imagination have been and continue to inspire people. His work has helped to deepen the lives and awaken the soul of countless people. Those of us who knew and worked with Robert will recount that he provided an ongoing lesson in how to give blessings. He had a way of taking an interest in the people he encountered and saying just the right words to awaken their souls. The Minnesota Men’s Conference has been introduced, through Robert, to many brilliant teachers. Each of us who have attended the conference over the years carries with us a trove of stories, ideas, and poetry that Robert provided.

Robert, may your sweet soul abide in the ancestral lands. You will remain for us an inspiration, an ancestor of the soul, and a beloved teacher.

Here is a poem of Robert’s that reveals best how we remember him:

Gratitude to Old Teachers
When we stride or stroll across the frozen lake,
We place our feet where they have never been.
We walk upon the unwalked. But we are uneasy.
Who is down there but our old teachers? 

Water that once could take no human weight—
We were students then—holds up our feet,
And goes on ahead of us for a mile.
Beneath us the teachers, and around us the stillness.
—Robert Bly

“Reclaiming the sacred in our lives naturally brings us close once more to the wellsprings of poetry.” 

2022

— Robert Bly