July 4th, 2018

I walked, deep into the woods, with only one focus in my mind. 

“Fear not, for I am with you.”

The world around me was screaming, desperately singing a song to accompany us on our journey. There was speaking- bible verses, reassuring words, Ben Stratton telling one of the boys not to trip on a tree root- and in those moments, it was all that mattered. Words of faith, of hope and love and pure, utter blind trust took over my mind, only further reassured by the girl behind me holding onto my shoulders. Time was no more. In the present, it was only us and the forest, softly guided by our predecessors in tradition.

When one sense is dulled, the others are heightened in a biological miracle, allowing even those with a disadvantage to survive. In our case, the world was darkened not only by the blanket of the night sky, but by the blindfolds securely tied to our faces. Rarely, if I may say, do you see people saying it’s a phenomenal idea to be blindfolded. Even rarer do you see someone who actively recommends being blindfolded on an incredibly dark night, especially on a rather root-ridden trail where I had seen Alex “Not Levin” badly sprain his ankle on.

And yet, I have never felt safer. Truly, so much can be learned by abandoning fear and understanding the world around you, if only one has the courage to do so. After all, being shrouded in the blanket of pure darkness, I could feel myself learning more than the past seven years of wandering the trails.

The fireworks crashed in the air and the frogs croaked their post-rain song, adding cymbals and a wonderful bassline to the cicada’s summer songs. Usually, this symphony of sounds would be overwhelming- sensory issues adding to the already heightened senses from the blindness- and yet, for once, nothing. After all, zero times any number is still zero.

We paused in our trek, the world fresh on our minds. 

"Please take a moment to reflect on the day and on your goals before we continue." 

I took the allotted pause.

Time turned back. Truly, most of it doesn't matter to most- waking up, getting breakfast, cabin cleanup, morning activities.

Team building with Dom- one of the sole focuses of my evening.

That morning was Jacob's ladder, a high ropes course consisting of two 35ft tall ropes, with large wooden beams in the middle, but generally shaky enough to make most people tense up at the thought of doing it. Despite almost being too short to reach any of the rungs, one of my older peers managed to help pull me up, and sitting on top of that ladder, I had made up my mind. If I could do that (which most counselors struggle with) then I could do just about anything. I looked down at the forest, and the forest smiled up at me.

"Dom," I asked once I was on the ground, heartbeat mirroring the Independence Day fireworks that would be sounding off in just a few hours, "I'm getting my blue rag tied tonight. Would you be alright being my ragger?"

Truly, an honorable question. Nobody asks just anyone to be their ragger, after all. It's only a privilege provided to those you deeply trust, and even then it's truly a difficult decision to make. 

"Of course. I'll meet you at rest period and we can talk, alright?"

A perfect execution.

Lunch came and went as per usual, and so we went back to the cabins as per schedule, and after a few minutes, there he was, leaning up against a sabal palm. We sat at the picnic table next to the cabin- the russet benches never felt so comforting- and we talked, and I wrote in a journal, noting everything I possibly could. We talked of goals, of what to expect, how I could make the most of a semi-religious ceremony that had plenty of content that didn't apply to me, and just about life in general. Mostly, however, of goals, because that's what you do for a goal-setting ceremony.

The rest of the day was spent in a frenzy of excitement, an anxious moment that felt as if I were holding my breath.

Skip to the present- an exhale, a powerful release of tension. There was more walking to be done, and so we did.

Ben started to speak, and then Taylor, Abby Sprinkle, Ryan, and Dom. All of them spoke as I had never heard them before. More relaxed, more serious, as if the forest was guiding them through the movements they were making. 

Realization struck. I was, in all truths, surrounded by blind faith. Few things feel as good as blind faith; the act of entirely giving up the controls to your life and letting the reins be in someone else's hands for once. I'm not entirely sure what the other campers were feeling- was it terror? The same comfort I experienced? I couldn't tell. Serenity took over. Muscles that usually were usually so tense had loosened up, breathing slowing to a steady and relaxed pace, allowing me to take in all that the forest had to offer. 

Most say that magic isn't real. Sometimes I don't know what I feel, deciding between wanting to believe that our world is richer than we know, or firmly keeping my feet planted in the familiar grasp of science. If anything, I believe that it's just in small amounts around us, blessing us at the right moments with small bits of luck or information. A wise young woman once told me that if magic was real, then it would be in the forests we walked in that very night. She told me of tales of wonder happening in the bounds of my true home, ones that make me smile even today. If magic is real, then I believe I experienced it, allowing the pure faith in my heart to let that magic in.

The world was cheering- fireworks ringing out in joy, the after rain croaking of frogs, cicada's melody echoing through our bones. It motivated us to continue on, and after what felt like no time at all and yet all of the time in the world, we stopped for good. 

A circle, kneeling; the right knee damp with dew-laden soil. The gentle smell of smoke arose- it would reveal itself as a candle in a few minutes- and it quickly became apparent that our ceremony was coming to a close.

Footsteps crunched behind me, a presence drawing near. There was a hand on my shoulder, a reassuring touch of not only approval, but of pride. Accompanied by whispers of encouragement, the blindfold slipped off, turned over, and was tied around my neck. Upon opening my eyes, I was met with a place unfamiliar even to me, and I thought I knew the layout of the camp like the back of my hand. 

A circle of candles was lit, encircling a wooden square, which had a triangle and a square inside of it, softly illuminating the small alcove of the forest we were in. Out of all the places I had ever been at the camp- maybe even in my life- this was by far the most serene. Sound was almost entirely muffled the moment we took the blindfolds off. All that could be heard was Ben, who was reading a script that had been read out hundreds, maybe even thousands of times before in that very spot he was standing.

The ground we knelt on, which was definitely making my jeans rather soggy, had been knelt on by thousands before me. 

Some of these people who had gone before us were successful, thriving and succeeding in education, life, and all they pursued. Some were suffering, maybe of age, or financial ruin, or just spiraling out of control. Just as many had died.

It could be assumed that many of the campers who knelt with me from the 1940’s were gone from this life. Their spirits surrounded us, truly shaping the experience into what felt like a family reunion of the aunts and uncles that we actually cared about. The knowledge that so many that preceded us were cheering us all on was inspiring- we were not alone.

Ben stopped speaking for a moment to allow for a moment of prayer. I used it to reflect, to take in the world around me, and to be wholeheartedly grateful that I was kneeling in the dirt with a small group of complete strangers. 

As the fireworks burst back to life, we stood, jubilantly walking back to our cabins. Mindless chatter filled the air, excitement bursting through the seams of all of us. 

We returned, with only one thought filling my mind as I laid down to sleep.

Maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.