I've decided to take on writing on this blog as a way to achieve a mark on my transcript and that maked me realize a couple things. I'm in no way saying I wouldn't be writing if that wasn't the case, but something became screamingly apparent.
Right from birth, there is this predisposed idea that the only way to success is going to a good college and from there everything is just a way to make yourself seem more attractive to colleges. When I was in 7th grade, I really learned about the Ivy's. My dream was Columbia University. I love New York City- the bright lights, the never ending cycle of life, the excitement. As of then, in 7th grade, I decided I was going to do whatever I could to get there, no matter the obstacles. I continued to play soccer, which at the time I detested, I volunteered at countless beach cleanups, I attended a youth group so it would add diversity to my resume, as I was a proud atheist who rejected Judaism. I now realize how silly it sounded to go through something that wasn't benefiting me and to make things even more detached, using Christianity as a transcript boost. I than became obsessed with the idea of being a confirmed Jew. I never really attended Temple, but imagined how different my life would have been if I had a belief system. During 8th grade, I was forced to do a wilderness retreat through my school where we spent 24 hours in the woods, alone without food, just water and a bark shelter that we had built earlier that day. When I say I had never had a more enlightening experience, I mean it. I was no prepared in anyway. I was only 13 and had zero idea of the capacity a human being has for resilience and perseverance. I remember panicking on the drive up to the retreat, as I had gotten my period just that morning. Not only was I going to be cold in the winter air of Shasta but I was also going to be freaking bleeding- in the middle of a god knows where field. I swear, I hiked like 2 miles away from the main grounds to my bark tee-pee. I was competitive, and still am, and wanted to be the farthest away from the camp. I packed on 10 pairs of pants (I am dead serious) and 12 shirts along with a Californians 'winter jacket' and an old snow jacket that I wore in blizzardy Connecticut just a few years prior. Two beanies, 10 pairs of socks and Ugg boots. Talk about whitest girl in the woods. I got one bottle of water, a handful of hand warmers that I had hidden in my jacket, and an extra pad. I had a pillow and a sleeping bag. I had hoped to be able to bring a light or a journal or a book but nope. I set out at 2pm and didn't go back to the camp until a full 24 hours later. The first couple hours were easy until dusk.That was when stuff got scary. The darkening of the once vidid forest which seeminly engulfed me.
I had the most beautiful location, looking at the heart of Shasta (literally there is a heart on the North-West side of Shasta) and as the sun went down, the heart slowly disappeared and the sounds of the animals became the only distraction. In the Shasta area there are mountain lions and bears and just before we had arrived, the owner had informed us that there had been a mountain lion sighting the night before. I stayed up all night, which was recommended, but lots of people didn't. Sleep was a way to escape the fear of the world and the nighttime. When the sun started to rise, I remember slowly peaking my head out of my shelter and seeing a bear. A cub. Or what I thought was a cub. It's head was away from me and below my shelter and I remember feeling this emotion unlike anything I had ever felt. Complete and utter respect and a level of terror I had never endured. I sat there, waiting, scared that if the mother bear returned, it would obliterate me. End me. Rip me to shreds. Much to my chagrin and 4 hours of shaking and sweating in my shelter, it ended up just being a pile of rocks and bark. Silly right? The sunrise on Shasta was by far and away the most beautiful thing I have ever seen or even heard , and I've seen some and heard some incredible things. The ringing of cowbells in the adjacent field, the sound of the trees swaying and squeaking, the rush of the creek and finally the bellow of "HOO DE ATE" (I really butchered that spelling but it was just a phrase that was used) which signaled me and all 14 of my graduating class to return to camp.I felt sad as I trudged the 2 miles back to the main fire circle. Sad that I wasn't going to be getting another incredible experience for a long time. My best friends, all 14 of them, and I sat around the fire, along with my teacher Mr. O and the camp counselors, we all shared our stories and our locations. Some sat by one of the streams that ran by camp, others camped up in a tree house or even in an open field. It was an experience that bonded us all together, in an indescribable way. So why is it even important that I'm writing this lengthy commentary about a silly sit in the woods? Because it was then when I realized that doing mindless things to make your college resume look better didn't matter. It was what touched you. Yes, the trash clean ups touched me and made me feel better about myself and my contribution, but it didn't move me in a way that 3 years later I can write a detailed response to my 24 hour sit in the woods.
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