“You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know.”
―
There’s a point at the end of final night, after the day of activities, after the gymnastics flips, the dance moves, and the drama skits. It’s after choice period, when the swim lake was full, a hilariously competitive camper/counselor basketball game, a final lunch of tacos in a bag, one last rest hour, and a few hours spent packing and hanging out with friends. It’s after the amazing final banquet sports tailgate that the Sparks so thoughtfully plan, after the sugar rush and eventual crash from consuming homemade cake and Cheerwine. It’s after the quiet walk in the light rain through the pasture over to the final campfire. It’s after the rain picked up and we made a quick pivot to the Rec Lodge so that we could hear the thoughtful wishes given, sing some songs and light our candles, together.
At the very end of the evening, while the entire camp is gathered in a circle, holding a lit candle, and holding even tighter the ones we love, we close with the words of the Illahee Prayer:
Help me, I pray, when these joys are behind me,
when down to the flat-lying city I go.
Take me in spirit back, back to the mountains,
to rest in thy presence, be still and know.
Amen.
The return tomorrow to those “flat-lying cities” is a reality filled with mixed emotions for many of our campers. They’re no doubt excited to see their parents, their friends, siblings, pets, and the wonder of modern A/C. They look forward to a season of sports, school, plays, trips, and more. There is joy in leaving this place. And yet, there is also sadness. For many, this coming to these Illahee hills is a peak experience. It’s what they look forward to all year. They might echo the words of Peter atop Mount Nebo, voicing to Jesus after the transfiguration “Lord, it is good for us to be here!”
However good it is for us to be here, we are reminded that “you cannot stay on the summit forever.” Rene Daumal was a French writer who reflected on the relationship between the external mountains we climb and our internal quest for truth, understanding, and fulfillment. This quote from his book Mount Analogue captures so much of what makes camp powerful. Camp is far too great a commitment for it to only be an experience that impacts a few weeks of a camper each year. Similar to summiting a mountain, camp is a short-term experience with long-term effects. It’s a perspective-shifting adventure where the outcomes might only be realized months, even years after the fact.
Gardner and I know this. It’s why we do what we do. It’s why we wake up early and go to bed late. It’s why we make fools of ourselves on the daily and surround ourselves with the best team of directors and counselors we could ask for.
My hope and prayer now is that when you pick up your daughter tomorrow, you will also come to know and see the effects of this mountain. The same person you dropped off a few days or weeks ago will not be the one who returns. As disorienting as this might be, this is the good news of camp.
Because my belief is that she will be more confident, more kind, and more connected to the world around and within herself. It will be a girl who has climbed the literal and metaphorical mountains of Illahee. The one who reached out, overcoming the fear of rejection to make a new friend. The one who tried mountain biking, kayaking, climbing, or horseback riding for the first time, and discovered the thrill of doing something so kinetic, so intentional that your heart just might skip a beat. It’s the one who enjoyed a desperately needed month-long break from that little screen in our pocket that constantly tries to tell us how much or how little we matter. It’s the one who, for the first time in a while, feels like a kid again, loved, belonging to this family of Illahee now and forever.
The day is done. The session is done. We’re grateful to you for following along on this journey and for trusting us with your most prized possession for a time.
Fare thee well, July and Mini 2. I hope that you may always remember this place and know.
Lucas