Savoring Nature. Savoring Light. Savoring Life.

Every fall, to kick off the school year, we take a camping trip to Catoctin Quaker camp.  This year the entire middle school (64 students) and many of their parents all went together for two days of adventure and reflection in nature.

We hiked:

We searched for critters:

A sixth-grader turned over this rock and found a clustered ant colony underneath.

Two of many salamanders carefully caught by students

Fuzzy caterpillars were all over

A seventh-grader spotted these raccoon tracks and took this photo

We marveled at the natural world:

On our hike

This was noticed and taken by one of my sixth-graders

We lived in community:

Looking into the dining hall from a dark night outside.  It was full of the noise of laughter and clanging dishes.

Our tent village around the lagoon

On this trip, I noticed a sense of preciousness.  I notice how much we appreciate things when we think we might be experiencing them for the last time.  We have a large class of eighth-graders this year, six of whom have been at our school since Kindergarten.  They have been coming to Catoctin with their classes every fall for nine years; it has become a constant in their lives, as regular as the changing of the leaves.  They were acutely aware that this would be their last Catoctin trip, and I say that this awareness created an atmosphere of sweet, savoring, present-moment awareness for all of us.

After rousing songs, creepy ghost stories, and gooey s'mores at the evening campfire, we settled into a Meeting for Worship (a Quaker tradition of sitting in silence together in expectant listening for the spirit within). Slowly, the eighth-graders began to speak into the silence.  They shared all sorts of memories from Cactoctins past; some funny, some sad, some joyful.  They reflected on what is has been like for them to grow up in our community, and to share this yearly time in nature with their teachers, parents, and friends.

One eighth grade boy surprised us all with a long, thoughtful, heartfelt message about how he was choosing to be with this, his last year at Catoctin.  He shared that he has been thinking about and preparing for these two days since the school year began over a month ago.  He said, "I know I can't make these trips last forever.  I know it's time to move on.  So I am trying to savor every moment that I am here.  I'm trying to notice everything.  I'm making a picture in my mind that will never leave."

My tears began to flow in the presence of his speaking.  They continued to flow through the rest of Meeting for Worship.  They continued as we walked through the woods from the fire circle in silence, down to the lagoon where we would each light a tea candle in a red, plastic bowl and send it off into the water with our intentions for this year.

The candle boats on the water

I stood at the edge of the water watching the candle boats and letting my salty tears run down my face in the dark.  I stood there until after everyone else left for their tents and cabins.  Why such emotion?  I have done this for seven years now, and never had such a strong reaction to a campfire meeting and candleboats.  Perhaps I realized that, like our insightful eighth grade student said, I need to savor each moment.  One day, it will be my last Catoctin trip.  Maybe this year.  Maybe not.  We never really know when the last time is that we'll be doing something, because we don't know how life will unfold.

I thought of all of the one-of-a-kind encounters with nature that I had witnessed with students throughout the day.  I know nature as a teacher to all of us of present-moment awareness.  I know my students as teachers of life as precious.  Life as now.  I smile a teary smile at the red, twinkling lights before me.  I bow to them in gratitude for this unrepeatable moment.  And I "take a picture in my mind that will never leave."