Volume 11, Issue 10
2.29.2016 A PUBLICATION BY HOLDERNESS STUDENTS FOR THE HOLDERNESS COMMUNITY
Alone in the Woods Without a Map
Emily Perkins ‘16
W
e come out here in search of something. It could be the fleeting courage that escapes us so often in our daily lives; or perhaps it is the solution to the problem we try not to face—always pushing it deeper into our minds, trying not to solve it until we have the answer. But out on the trail, there is no rule, no structure; the woods are as vast as exploration is endless. Outside the context of the world we know, there is opportunity to find ourselves in the skin only we know, to share light in times of darkness, and to ultimately create our own map outside the structure of the road maps that bisect our lives. Courage is notoriously contagious, and can come to grace anyone when they need it most. On Mt. Carrigain one of our group members found her inner strength waiting for her just a little way up the trail. We had been slogging up the switchbacks for hours when suddenly, I looked up and she was gone; the green backpack that had been my con- stant companion for hours had sped off somewhere into the distance. I stopped bewildered, and consulted with the people behind me about what possibly could have happened. Her tracks carried on up the steep slope,
scrambling and sliding up the treacherous terrain. A minute ago, she was huffing and puffing with the rest of us, but now she was just a symbol: a compass in the fog, a glimpse of a steady face in a mirror. The motivation to catch her distracted us from our own personal pain. We rallied, using our lost group member to ignore the deepest pain of all: the fear that we may not be able to do this. Unknown to us, we had another companion that day: it was hope, and it propelled us all the way to the summit. In the woods, on the darkest nights, one can find great comfort in the smallest glimmer of light. On the third day, we arrived in camp late and night was falling fast. Morale was low, and as the sweat sealed our seams, we began to shiver. The snow below us seeped through our many lay- ers, its frigid fingers grasping our flesh as if threatening to take us down with it. But then, a match was struck and the air began to roar and crackle, warding off the negative thoughts and the impending doom of darkness. The fry- ing pan began to sizzle, fending off the threat of ice cold solitude, bringing us the simple comfort of humanity in the vast wild. As we brought the communal food to our lips, we shared in the strength we needed for tomorrow’s journey. We talked and laughed, and shared in the age
The Picador: Volume 11, Issue 10
old security that we lit a fire capable of fending off a whole sky full of darkness, and learned the lesson of what a single spark can do for an entire fire. Outside the comfort of a group and the comforts of society, we are challenged to find the most true comfort of all, the comfort of solitude. We fear the woods because we fear the unknown, and we fear solitude for the same reason. But so often, in the world that we know, there lie so many unknowns. We push them away—under our beds, to the bottom of our closets, and to the backs our minds; but still they lurk. Heading into Solo I carried my backpack, a trash barrel lid, a tarp, and 10,000 thoughts, questions, and insecurities. I lay down my backpack, and over the course of three days let down some of the many ideas reverberating around my head. Although it is hard to be alone, it is necessary to be able to reconcile the world outside and the world inside. There is an inverse relationship between being physically lost and mentally found. Out Back embodies this rela- tionship, allowing for greater exploration of self, and the discovery of one’s core. We come out of Out Back, not lost but found, guided by the map inside of ourselves.
Courtesy of OutBack Tumblr
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