Five years ago, I got an Instagram message from Chris Assaad. He’d seen a video I posted about attending David Sutcliffe’s three-day men’s intensive called Artist Warrior King. Chris wanted to know more, so we set up a Zoom call for the next week.
The call went well. We connected over our shared desire to do deeper, more meaningful work with men. Toward the end, Chris floated the idea of starting a men’s group together. I’d already had similar conversations with a few other men that summer, but every time, they flaked out or just never followed up. So, when Chris brought it up, I couldn’t hide my frustration. “Are you actually going to do this?” I asked, “Or is this just talk?”
It was our first real conversation about the idea, but Chris didn’t flinch. He met my fire with his own and replied, “Yeah, I’m going to fucking do it.”
An hour later, Chris sent me an email. That’s when we started planning our first in-person men’s group.
We agreed we wanted this group to stay small, intimate, and carefully curated. We each vouched for one other man we knew would bring something unique to the group, and the first gathering happened at my loft. I had high hopes for this first session together, but they came crashing down within the first hour. The chemistry was off. None of us were really gelling, and there was way too much posturing in the room. It felt like this might be our first and last session together.
Then, something unexpected happened. One of the men, Ben Dussault, let down his guard and shared a vulnerable story. For the first time that night, we felt his heart. And in that moment, the rest of us followed suit—lowering our own guards and letting ourselves be seen.
By the end of that two-hour session, we knew we wanted to meet again. And we kept meeting. Five years later, we’re still here.




This isn’t the type of men’s group where we sit around only saying nice things to each other. It’s the kind of group where you’ll get called on your bullshit. We know when one another is hiding, playing small, or holding back—and we’ll confront it. But it’s also the kind of group where we aren’t afraid to cry together, ask for help, and share the hardest parts of our lives.
Over the last five years, we’ve witnessed marriages, divorces, births, deaths, and so much more. We’ve shown up for each other during life’s hardest moments and celebrated together during its best.
These three men have brought love, honesty, artistry, and so much ALIVENESS into my life. And this weekend marks our five-year anniversary together.
As I write this, I remember a version of myself from before this group—someone who was convinced he’d never truly feel accepted by other men. I thought I was too sensitive, too different, and that I’d never really belong. So, I shut that part of me down and pretended it didn’t matter.
Looking back now, I can see I wasn’t showing up as my true self with other men. I was showing them a fraction of who I was, pretending to be something else. And when you do that, it’s impossible for people to truly love you, because they never really get to see you.
Today, I’m grateful to my brothers—Chris Assaad, Dane Oserio, and Ben Dussault—for five years of unconditional love, unrelenting honesty, and more hilarious memories than I can count.
I love you brothers, always and forever.
This Week’s Journaling Playlist
This Week’s Inspiring Video of The Week
Do yourself a favour and watch this incredibly inspiring video. Thank you Adrienne Weir for sharing it with me.
Love you, artists!
Big love,
D
Darius Bashar
HEARTshots™ Photographer + Founder
Artist, Creator, Meditator | ArtistMorning.com™
PS: Once a year, the CollaBROS (that’s the name of our group) go away to a cottage up north for some quality time. We make meals together, go on hikes, meditate, and often partake in deep plant medicine journeys. But we also play, sweat, laugh our asses off, and make music together too. It’s a dedicated time for us to go deeper as brothers, as men, as souls having a human experience. This weekend is our 5th CollaBROS retreat together.
Each retreat, the men (who are each incredibly skilled facilitators) bring new gifts and offerings to the group. In past years, I brought the Community Camera, my looper for music making and voice freedom, and this year I’m running a Last Breath Meditation. The photos in this post are from my first ever Community Camera experiment, and there are hundreds more that are a lot more personal and raw.
Want More Artist Morning?
Did you know I teach 4 classes a month where I share my very best lessons and strategies on building creativity, confidence and community?
The classes are a part of my Deep Divers paid membership —> Click here to learn more.
Wow D! This was such an amazing and inspiring post. Thank you for sharing what’s possible when we have a desire to call in community that is infused with depth, love & honesty. 🥹💛
Beautiful D