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Posted by Elise Mitchell, BS, RYT, Health and Wellness Coordinator at Entrada on April 19, 2016

Elise MitchellSitting down to write, I can smell that distinct smell of wet creosote. It’s raining in the distance. That smell – wet earth and turpentine – is either alluring or repulsive based on personal experience. For me, it means 30 years of coming back to the desert when I’m feeling happy, sad, overwhelmed… any time I need to feel my roots under me again. Yes, the desert is my home.

And what is home… That word means as many different things as there are people on this planet. If we are lucky, that word might mean a place full of people who care about us. For others, it might mean drama and trauma. And still some, it’s a nebulous concept lacking substance and meaning altogether.

In the six years working for Entrada, one powerful shift I witness periodically is in those individuals that can move from “home” being a place to home being a sense, an essence, a space they cultivate and connect with at will.

Paul Epstein Quote

I'll never forget working with a small, frail, adolescent girl one summer who came from Canada and walked into camp from the transporter’s truck asking if there were cabins and showers. She cried repeatedly for the first few days. “I just want to go home!” Home included abusive boyfriends, 3 years of hospitalizations for a severe eating disorder, a mom who loved her more than air, and an absent father. She hated bugs, dirt, hiking… Week after week, I watched her sway between laughing with her peers and staff to crying to go home. Unknown by her, her definition of home was changing. She was exploring the faint possibility that home was ultimately insider her. Belonging could mean belonging to herself – not her boyfriend, not her friends doing drugs, not Facebook’s constant invitation to post the perfect selfie… but within her, there might be this place of quiet confidence and contentment.

One afternoon, anticipating a thunderstorm and dinner, G4 (adolescent girl group at Entrada) was busy making shelters when this same girl (eight weeks later) comes up to me to proclaim, “I love making my own shelter! It’s like… primal… it’s like my space… all mine.” I offered my perception of how far she had come from the girl asking for cabins and showers a couple months ago. She grinned, walked over to a mud puddle, dug her thin, weathered fingers into the muck, and smeared the mud like war paint on her cheeks. She marched back over, stared up at me through freckles, mud, and brown eyes, and growled. The mutual belly laugh that erupted was so loud, the group stopped to see what caused the cacophony. She was home… perhaps for the first time.

For most, this paradigm shift is tenuous and might only reveal itself in moments. Doesn’t matter, the seed gets planted. The wilderness therapy experience invites us to explore and expand our definition of home. We are asked to loosen our grip on the way we think life “should” look or the way things were. We are invited to get uncomfortable, express our deepest fears and desires, essentially cleaning the dirt and cobwebs from our internal home and creating space in which our soul, our true self, can rest and thrive.

And for those that see the wilderness as our connection to home, may the coyote’s howl and wet sage continue to call us in after a long day out there.

Comments

Beautiful post and so well written. Thank you for sharing that.

Posted by janine

Wow. Thank you for sharing the story The transformation of our children at Evoke is truly them feeling home for the first time I am forever blessed to have experienced it firsthand with my son Thank you so much

Posted by Kate Paletta

Thank you so much for your kind compliment, Janine.

Posted by Elise

Hello Kate,
It's my pleasure and honor to take part (even just a very small one) in such stories. I'm so glad you too have been a part of such a journey/transformation. I send my best to you and your son!

Elise

Posted by Elise

This could easily have been the story of my son, who for 6 weeks talked of nothing but going home. When I visited him in the wilderness, there had been a shift. Covered in dirt head to toe, sleeping outside under the stars in a different location almost every night, he was more at peace with himself than I'd ever seen him. He was, as you say, home.

Posted by Linda P

Linda P.

Thank you so much for sharing. Your words touched me. I am so glad your son found that space -- home. No matter his story going further, that seed has been planted. So awesome. Thank you. I send you and your son my warmest wishes!

Elise

Posted by Elise

I love this writing Elise. I am drawn to an epiphany at this very moment. A year ago, I decided I wanted a yurt. A special, safe space to be practicing health and meditation. With its construction and journey, along with my own personal journey, I have created "Be Well Yoga" in the Zen Den-my yurt. I am now a certified yoga instructor and offer donation based classes and a very special, safe space for people to "come home" to their truest self. What I didn't realized, was it is like unto a safe space I used to retreat to as a child in the desert to just "be"
I have found my way back home, delightfully.
Thank you.
Michelle

Posted by Michelle

Hello Michelle!

It's so great to hear from you! Thank you for your attention and comment on this blog. I deeply appreciate the connection you made to the Zen-Den, a space you created for yourself and others, as an answer to, or call back to, a natural instinct you had as a child. Like you, I found myself working in the wilderness with kids battling behavioral/psychological issues because of my own instinct to retreat into the wilderness as a child battling depression. Our inborn wisdom can be so powerful, right? Thanks for being another shining light out there for the health and healing of others!

I can't wait to visit the Zen Den someday soon! I send you my warmest wishes!

Regards,

Elise

Posted by Elise

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