Finale Backpack with the Firestalkers at Lily and Lizard Lakes

We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.

-T.S. Eliot

Centuries ago in feudal Japan there was a state that was ruled by a lord who always seemed to be declaring war. In order to keep the wars going, the lord regularly sent troops through villages and selected able-bodied men as conscripts for the next series of battles. While the lord needed troops, he was also aware that his entire state depended on the work of villagers to keep everything going. So, instead of pulling men into the Army immediately, selected villagers were served notice one year in advance and directed to prepare all of their personal and public business for their absence and potential death.

One day, a man who could owned a very small and simple shop was served such a notice. Once the notice was received, he knew there was nothing he could do but obey the orders and prepare for his entrance into the Army in one year.

He began the long process of going through all his personal relationships, his material possessions, his unfinished business, his duty toward his family, his finances, his obligations to his community, and any other duty he had to do before his departure. Day by day, he still worked in his shop and bit by bit he prepared every little thing. His family grieved, he slowly passed on ownership of the shop, he made sure that all of his loved ones were taken care of, and he did his best to mend any outstanding trespasses he'd committed on others. These things took time, and though he had one year, and though he was relatively organized and steadfast in his preparations, the days passed, then the weeks, then the months.

Throughout all this time he was fixated on these preparations and had little time to spend physically preparing for his coming service in the army. It was only when he was about to fall asleep at night that he would have time to think about what it meant to him personally to go to battle and, most likely, to die there. Each night as he lay in bed and his wife passed into sleep, he would begin thinking about his impending death. And each night he would put his mind, heart, and soul into imagining the full experience of one possible death. Night by night, he imagined dying in a different way.

Many months past this way. It was only at the beginning of the 12th month that the man had finally prepared all of his relationships and all of his business for his departure. When this was accomplished, his mind turned toward physically preparing for battle. It became very clear to him that he had never lifted a sword in his life and that it made good sense to at least become familiar with it before being forced to use it.

This man was fortunate, because just outside of the village on the edge of the mountain side lived a great sword master. This sword master had a school and was known throughout Japan as being one of the best. The villager knew that the sword master would rarely take a simple villager like himself, but the master was known to have a kind heart and, if the man explained his situation, he thought he might have a chance to at least learn some basic techniques.

He went up to the school and after some persistence was granted an interview with the master. He explained his situation clearly and respectfully to the master and asked for any assistance the man might grant him. The master considered for some time and, out of the kindness in his heart, agreed to show the villager some basic techniques that would help him in his coming battles.

He told the villager to come back the next day.

The next day the villager arrived and the sword master was waiting for him. The master handed the villager a sword, showed them the proper stance, and showed him the first and most basic technique. Once the master had demonstrated, the villager was told to try. The villager took the stance and performed the technique with utter mastery.

The master was taken aback. He looked very suspiciously at the villager. “Who taught you this technique?” He asked.

“No one. I've never used the sword before in my life,” answered the villager.

The master could see that the man was telling the truth and, though very unlikely, he considered it possible that the man had an astounding natural gift. So, he accepted this and decided to show the man a much more advanced technique. The master took a stance, whorled and whipped his sword, and landed a blow with perfect accuracy at a selected point in space. He stepped aside and asked the villager to do the same. The villager took the same stance and performed the exact same technique with just as much mastery.

Now the master’s suspicions deepened. “You have clearly used the sword before. Who are you? You've been sent by another school to learn the techniques, haven't you? Tell me the truth.”

The villager was astonished. With every honest bone in his body he told the sword master that he had never picked up a sword before in his life. He explained that he owned a small shop in town, had a family, and had many obligations. There was no time for him to ever learn the sword, and no one but the master in his area to teach him.

Though it made no sense, the sword master could not deny the man's honesty. He knew the man’s shop and recognized him as the owner. The master became quite confused. He sheathed is his sword and bid the man to sit down and explain to him everything he had been doing for the past year. The man quite calmly began explaining all of his preparations. He told everything with as much detail as he could. The master listened and nodded. The man described all of his preparation work with his relationships and his community, and then he described his practice of envisioning a death every night. He described all the events up until a few days ago when all his business was taken care of. He then said that at night he lay down in, bed closed his eyes, and waited for vision of his next death. But no vision came. He realized in that moment that he could conceive of no other way to die. He said that once that happened he felt a great calm come over him and he had since slept each night and lived each day in deep peace.

At this point, the master nodded and raised his hand to signify that the villager could stop telling his story. The master smiled as he looked at the man.

“Your training is complete,” the master said. “You are no longer afraid of death. There is nothing more I can teach you.”

This story came out around a campfire that was lit by a bow drill made by materials from the land and fueled by wood gathered by the Firesalkers. That night, Lily Lake was awash with the songs of frogs, the air was cool, the tarps all set, the water bottles filled, good food in our bellies. Earlier in the day, we had ascended from sea level on a trail that, two years ago, took about eleven hours to hike. This time we had arrived in the very early afternoon with time to set up camp, go exploring, and come back for dinner. This time, the Firestalkers knew what needed to happen and did most of it without any instruction. The weather was good to us. We didn’t break anything:) We played games, we took on some physical challenge, we explored the amazing cave system by Lizard Lake, we learned some more wild edibles, and we made decisions as a group quite efficiently.

The Firestalkers (mentors included) have changed and grown so much over the years. This group has always been the leading edge of Explorers Club, and they deserve to feel pride as they consider themselves to be one of the people who created this entire program. It would be impossible to measure all the time and effort, let alone all the heart and courage and learning that went into this group of wonderful people. We all grew, and we all made something unique, vital, and good. Parents, mentors, community members, and many more people worked together in this creation. The land created us. The plants, animals, sea, lakes, rivers, creeks, snow, rock, fungus, mud, wind, and sleet shaped us the way a rock face is shaped slowly over millennia. This group was molded by the land. Is it possible to list all that we learned? Is it possible to list all of relationships we’ve grown? Is it possible to conceive of how many beings were born and died over the years of our work together?

One thing that the land teaches strongly is that, in order for there to be birth there must be death. In order for a cup to be filled, it must first be empty. Each individual in the Firestalkers has grown and is growing so much, and sometimes big changes in life are a form of death- death that makes way for a birth. Grace has the opportunity to manifest when we greet these transitions, attend to them fully, and welcome the changes that occur afterward. Just like the villager, we must all face these little deaths (and some big ones), and we all have the opportunity to then live our lives.

That night turned out to be the last night for the Firestalkers. The group is going its separate ways. There are not enough people for the Pasayten Wilderness trip, so this was, indeed, the finale. One thing that Explorers Club and Four Shields has taught us is the importance of finishing strong, with our whole hearts. That night and the next day, Firestalkers were encouraged to share what the group has meant to them. We took care of business, ate, explored, and even played a big game before the final meeting. Two of our group were missing: Kyler and Marcus, and those two will be encouraged to share their thoughts with others at the Solstice Meeting. Our hope is that they both know that they were missed and that their parting words are important. The big finish came with drawing a line in the sand and having each person pass over it to mark the end of the Firestalkers… and to step into new beginnings. Though our group has passed, we are now members of a larger community. We are still connected. Each person knows that he can call on any mentor and he will find support.

Once we had stepped over, we hiked to Oyster Dome to admire the view: this time as equal members of a greater community. We had fun, bantered, stumbled a couple times, and explored here and there on the way down.

Let it be known that these emerging adults are among the finest people this Explorer has ever known. Let it be known that the parents are among the finest people this Explorer has known. This Explorer has grown alongside them all, and they feel like family.

Thank you so much, wonderful family, for creating me, each BEC mentor, each other, the program, and the land that gives us life.

Now, take a moment, if you will to look back:

Here is a link to our old Shutterfly Site with pics and a few old outing reports.

Here is a link to our current Photo Gallery.

Here is a link to the outing reports we have on file for the Firestalkers.

Enjoy the memories, but love the present moment.