What did this experience mean to me? That's always my big question. When it come to
guaranteed experiences, the thing you ask yourself is: How will this affect me? How will I change from these events? I loved reading everyone's reports back so I'll start with my experiences and then move on to how I want to or will try to use them.
The first game we played was Find the Spot. When finding a spot the criteria are: secluded, quiet, comfortable and magical. I wanted to find a spot with a lot of magic, one of those places in the woods that looks like you designed it for yourself to find. Its funny to think I was holding the forest to such a high standard. I believe in the ceremony of it, the consecration of our sandwiches and doing them in a place that demands respect. When we found the tree on the hill I wasn't into it. It was secluded but not comfortable nor magical. I felt the need to move on. Scott hipped me to my mistake. I wasn't looking at it from the right perspective. Should I be waiting for the forest to show me magic, no that isn't why we had traveled all this way. We should be discovering it everywhere. I looked out from the next to the tree and I saw forest for miles. There was some magic, I just wasn't open enough to see it.
Stomachs full, we shoved off to find the lake. Many twists along the road, passing over a small creek and a few manmade water canals and we find the lake. A family is seated right at the shore so our group makes our way to the other side. The lake is that crystal clear mountain water you always imaged would be up there. We find a path down to the shore opposite the entrance and things begin. We skip rocks and make jokes as the sandwiches begin to make their presents known.
The mountain is colder than imagined and the open space over the lake invited a steady breeze that beckons a change. We move up the hill to warmer territory. Among decaying trees and large comfortable rocks, our group spreads out on the ground. Truly in the swing on nature, the drawing begins and the laughing. A number of times I saw Deanna's words be thwarted by hordes of smiles. The foreign swarm was too much and language bowed down to laughter. The infectious nature of surrender invaded me as well and I intern became hysterical.
The art continued and the watching. Looking at the world in it glory and augmenting it. I began to draw the veins on Adrian's hand and then adding color to the rock. I combined stick and paper in a dramatic piece that exposed to futility of industry and the duality of nature. Then the crisis occurred. Now, I'd like to point out this is from my point of view as I am me and in the matter especially. I did not see this as crisis. There was no emergency in my world. In fact, I felt our experience lacked structure and randomness. Lounging in a shady spot to draw is no adventure, its us in the living room any given day. I craved initiative and this
crisis gave it to me. To the lake!
Once down the hill, I approached a tree line adjacent to the shore. The day was late and the sun sent golden daggers through it's tall, glorious children. I paused to admire the sight but then thought differently. Why am I pausing? What is different about this image than any other? Is the world not magic if you're open to seeing it? I didn't want to separate myself, stand back and observe beauty. I wanted to acknowledge that I am a part of it. Nowadays every sunset is met with a million lenses. Mankind has an infinite stockpile sunset images should we ever have to without for a period. Why? Move through beauty and acknowledge that it is swirling around you every unthoughtful, meaningless moment of your life. More importantly, acknowledge that you're part of that beautiful nature as well, some great being may be loading their cosmic camera to get a glimpse of you. Move Through beauty, breathe it in everywhere you go.
Finally, a chance to get in the water! I rushed to take my shoes off and roll up my surprising tight jeans. (Side Note #1: A strange thought popped up, I wanted people to approach the lake and see me in it. Maybe I thought it would enhance their experience to come upon the lake with new context, maybe I wanted to look cool. That added awareness can really cloud your judgment. I have to remember sometimes, I want to go in the lake because I want to, fuck everything else.)
Once I was in the water, it all happened. The bottom exploding in slow-motion my feet dragged up soft sand, the shirt swirling and dancing in the heavy, cold water, the sunlight twinkling through dropplets as I ringed out saturated shirt, bright green trees smiling fondly, the warm sun touching my face. It was all I had hoped for, completely revitalizing.
Adrian joined me and began washing his backpack, his anxiousness was now more apparent to me. The clothing was laid out and naturally we were joined by the rest of the group. Deanna and I were looking at a patch of green grass. I recall thinking: our eyes are slaves to a nervous brain that is constantly scanning for danger, we never let them look at what they want to look at. Not 100% sure I understand that thought but I'm working on it. Thoughts?
That thought, although not digested, did spark my next chapter:
Art and the Act of Seeing. I consider this the most pretentious and practical part of my adventure. Some how I had come into possession of both binoculars and a phone. This combination was endlessly entertaining. I began thinking about how sterile movies are and how they lack innovation. To hell with square frames, why not play out action in small vignetted bubbles. I began to formulate a plan. I would make a super artsy movie, the combination of iPhone video through binocs and timelapses to be shot that night. I was scheming, I was manic, I was really into movies. During my genius period a bunch of decisions about leaving and moving on where happening, what was I to care?! I had ART! And honestly, I don't think I had felt that much excitement for make images in a long time. That excitement has stayed with me and I hope continues to do so. Making stuff is fun! As Nietzsche say, "Creating: that is the great redemption from suffering". Practical and pretentious, I can handle that sort of duality.
My creation episode waned and I found myself by the lake with Josh and Rich. Now that I was back to looking, I saw pure magic. I saw the lake as a giant water dropplet and the trees and people on it as temporary moss. The expansive space between me and the opposite shore became malleable. I could convince myself the trees were just feet in front of me and feel that space move in my skin. The sky was darkening and I saw the lake grow a great black spot in its reflection. This must be the refection of space, growing gracefully, content that in time it will swallow all.
Feeling this flexibility in vision and understanding, deep questions of consciousness burped out of me. Where does our consciousness live? When we take in the world with vision, at what part of the process does our consciousness begin? Are we the screen the information is hitting; the lens of our eye projecting that image; or are we the projection. Are we the universe observing itself, the great everything deciding on a place and time from which to see? Why does it all see so manipulatable?
Rich went to catch up with everyone, josh and I stayed. It got a little darker and we saw glowing spots in the water. We couldn't decide if it was trash or bioluminescence. Could it be both? It was around then that we noticed something: it was real dark.
The Existential Play.
Its going to be hard to tell this part of the trip. Partial because it takes place in soul swallowing blackness but also because the feelings I felt at the time were so pure and unique, I have no experience writing about them. I don't have trouble saying "I was scared" or "I thought I might die" but to have you understand the feeling behind that is a stretch. I had never experienced darkness like that. I had never lit paper aflame only to see that light couldn't even reach the hand holing it. I had never walked and not known if I was going uphill or down hill or if the next step would be off a cliff edge. I had never held onto a voice in the abyss.
Don't panic and don't stop moving. That was my montra. Josh and I talked the whole way, I think it kept us sane. We saw an unreal star begin to shine as the last blue faded. It didn't seem real. We walked and walked. We kept a good pace at first but as objects in front of us slipped off into nothing we had to slow. Soon we found ourselves stopped completely. I remember turning around and then turning around again. I had no idea which was we had been walking. I spoke out to Josh and his voice seemed more distant than expected and we realized we had lost each other for a moment. We quickly found each other and two important decisions were made. Holding onto each other is only way to stay together and we are lost. Admitting it was a tough barrier to break through.
Linked up, we walked. I wont bore you with every detail. There was the sound of water to our right, a landmark. A fork in the road, another landmark. All such important pieces to fix together. In that thick black night, we found ourselves navigating through memories. The better we visualized our walk up the hill, the better we could see down. We continued to talk throughout. We wondered if Rich had made it to the group, if they were worried about us. We talked about how our existential play was going, how dramatic the sunset is. We imagined young cavemen out too late after a hunt, lost just like us.
If we stopped for a moment we would loose our heading. The only way we kept in one direction was using the stars. If we kept track of the big star we could see if we were going in circles. The big star kept changing directions. First it was ahead of us, then behind and then ahead again. Switchback! What a great word? Some words just feel better, they feel like home or civilization. Switchback, it just feels so good to say. We were on a switchback, head down the mountain.
Fork in the road and we turned right. A short time after that turn and we had stopped. I don't know which of us stopped first, at this point I couldn't tell which voice was talking. We stopped because we were about to enter true darkness. Before this we had the stars. The stars didn't give us much but we could see when the trees were blocking them and when they weren't. That plus the feeling under our feet and we could kind of make out a trail. The path we were on was about to take us into a valley without stars. The only thing in front of us was the sound of rushing water. Its death. Maybe a cliff, a waterfall or a big river looking to sweep us away. (Side Note #2: I know someone who died hiking at night. He was alone, in the woods and he walked off a cliff. He was a tech at The Camera House, he taught me how to clean tripods.) We turn back. There's no way to know if we are moving uphill or downhill but we go in the other direction.
Sometime around then, I started to call out. I yelled "hello" and "anyone out there" and then eventually "help". I though, perhaps there is a group, maybe our group, on the path right below us or around the bend and they'll hear me. It couldn't hurt at least. To be honest though, it didn't make me feel any better. It reminded me of being a little kid and yelling for you parent but they're asleep in the other room. Just made me feel more alone.
We hit the fork in the road again. This feels wrong. We can't not go in the direction we believe to be the way home because we're scared. We had to face death. I held onto Josh tight and as much as I could acknowledged that I could die very soon. I wouldn't say I was ready but as prepared as I could be. We walked into total blackness. Our dotted canopy vanished along with our big star. Blackness seemed to close in and constrict over us. My foot slips over a stone and we slow our pace to a crawl. The ground is very different suddenly. And then, splashing. I see a swirling glint in the ground. It's water, moving water. The creek. We had forgotten about the creek! This was the landmark we needed! We walked through the water slowly, hoping it wouldn't get any deeper.
On the other side, I think we felt embolden. It meant we hadn't been walking in circle for hours, we had made progress. We had made it all this way, we could make it further. Then in the darkness a car passes. Tiny headlight illuminate a road and then quickly its black again. We debate moving straight to the road but ultimately stay on path. I don't know how long it was from then but soon a fire. A fire and the road in front of it. I want to approach them and borrow a flashlight but Josh wont have it. We make our way further, more fires. The campsite. As a final act of douchery the forest puts pricker bushed in between us and the campsites. We push through and start asking around about campsite numbers. I use my car keys to flash my lights. Overwhelmed with doubt for the last hours, we have trouble believing we've found it but my car lights flash and we see the camp fire. The relief of seeing everyone safe is hard to describe. The round of hugs around the fire say enough.
Food, star and cuddling. That's where the trip ended. What I'll be taking away from this experience? A lot of memories for sure. I still feel invigorated to make art. I still remember the feeling of being lost in that darkness. Knowing that feeling elevates all other. And I definitely feel like this post is too long but too late for that. Oh well. Guaranteed experience.
TL;DR Water good. Night dark.
