I suppose partly because I’ve been spending so much time outdoors lately I’ve been experiencing a lot of feelings of camping nostalgia. There’s just something about running (or hiking) a forest path that weaves through drenching sun and the shock of an almost chilly cool under a deep tree canopy and the combination of sunscreen and bug spray fragrances (both of which, by association, I actually absolutely love) that feels like home and fulfillment to me in a way that seems almost apart from time.

Today, though, I felt inspired to consider how different my earliest camping trips felt compared to later ones I was tasked with leading. As a child, I loved learning through immersion in nature and, even more, enjoyed adventuring in the company of my friends. (Somehow, we were able to find humor in practically every single thing one another said and did, and made-up activities like naming individual lightning bugs who flew by was far more entertaining than television or movies. Especially because the names were so absurd and tended to pair words like “light” and “butt,” we were such eloquent poets.)

But as we were prepared to take on more responsible roles, each was required to go on what was termed a “solo,” or individual overnight involving being blindfolded and driven to a mystery location with only five small items that could fit in his or her pockets – no tent, no sleeping bag, and no means of communicating with anyone else. It wasn’t, of course, that anyone failed to recognize the value of these items; but we had been trained to know we did not need them and could make do without them if we had to by fashioning soft spots to sleep out of nearby vegetation and keeping a fire going throughout the night to ward off bears and other animals. And, as a confidence-boosting exercise, it worked. In a subsequent year, I remember so vividly a days-long group hiking adventure that seemed plagued by surprise inconveniences – including a drought-dried stream bed, a broken water purifier, and a too-small supply of backup iodine tablets – but that still ended up going smoothly after my co-counselor and I discovered a miniscule trickle of water we could take turns collecting to boil and cool for our campers. I love the memory, not of a fearful wondering is this going to work out?, but, instead, of a more confident resolve to be receptive to the answer that would and did become clear.

There is a purpose, after all, to solos.

I’ve been giving a great deal of thought, lately, to ways of discerning between the proverbial motes and beams we all need to address in our lives as, sometimes, it seems difficult to know the difference. But I love what I have been learning about determining how to approach various types of problems based on the way I am feeling about them. If I myself am feeling angry or sad or afraid, it is so helpful to address those feelings early on in order to be able to feel able to get a clear sense of what I am to do next. And, like everyone, I am so grateful to be able to study the life of Christ Jesus in his demonstration of a perfect ability to refrain from being thrown off balance by reacting emotionally to even the worst imaginable situation and to, instead, forgive and allow his center of gravity to remain still. “None of these things move me” we are told Paul asserted even in the face of a myriad of temptations and pitfalls. None of these things trigger me, I wonder if he would say in modern-day language; and I further wonder whether this kind of immunity has principally to do with Paul’s many solo experiences, or, opportunities to learn that, despite appearances, he did not need to lean on anyone or anything other than God.

There are a multitude of benefits to having a robust support system in one’s life, of course. But, recently, I have been considering some of the surprisingly helpful centering lessons that can come from seeming to need to go without, at least for a time.

On to the theme of my blog, I was a little bit surprised this past week to see presidential candidate RFK, Jr. absorb the double impact of not only exclusion from CNN’s massively hyped debate but a Megyn Kelly program focused on dark aspects of his family’s history. I, of course, do not know this candidate, and, for anyone who cares, I am not even attempting to endorse him; but I believe his exclusion from full consideration for the presidency is wrong. I had also emailed Megyn Kelly Tuesday about not only Mr. Kennedy’s exclusion from CNN’s Thursday debate but possible connections already mentioned between numerous national broadcast personalities’ high-profile firings in recent years (as a significant caveat, I did soon limit access to this email pending answers to several questions I still have about Megyn Kelly Show communications protocols, but I actually felt my email’s subject line was informative in and of itself) and thought the previously unannounced, book-based, Kennedy history segment Wednesday seemed, more than anything, like an attempt to torpedo RFK, Jr.’s candidacy by associating him with his relatives’ wrongs. But why? What purpose could this possibly serve at this time but to pile on to a man whose message is unique for the way it bravely calls out the corporate media sector this program’s host arguably symbolizes for the purpose of silencing his message?

While, again, I am by no means an expert on the man, I’ve found it reassuring to see someone running for public office express such steadfastness in the face of opposition, including from his own family. It’s not, of course, that this information is unimportant; it’s just that I’m not sure what could be called this program’s 1962 project disqualifies Mr. Kennedy from being given a fair opportunity to run for office any more than the 1619 Project disqualifies America from existing today. Along the lines of many people’s critiques of corporate media-encouraged self-hatred in the United States in recent years, I’m by no means arguing against addressing historical wrongs on the way to reconciliation – obviously. Nor do I by any means claim that history doesn’t matter. But is there no room at all for the present? I believe it’s essential to remember that we can’t hold one another hostage forever and have to come together by forgiving all that stirs so much emotion in us.

Last night I loved seeing my first lightning bug of the season anyway (who I called a dignified name, of course). Increasingly, I’m grateful for the contemplative opportunities feeling so sidelined by goliath-like organizations in recent years has afforded. I can hardly imagine what it must feel like to bear the amount of vitriol public critics of numerous mammoth corporate sectors face. But, at least at this time, I find listening to mavericks like Mr. Kennedy not only refreshing but comforting, especially as he has seemed to persist so consistently on behalf of others even when doing so relatively alone. And I do believe this sort of solidarity with the voiceless, broadcast, is one of the central benefits of the type of stand this particular public figure is taking even though many of its benefits may only be inwardly felt.

Although I am still only learning about it, I also find passages encouraging in the Course in Miracles text asserting, as I understand, that once a person has devoted himself or herself to service, or, “chosen what they cannot complete alone, they are no longer alone,” and that, through increasing channels, they can expect to feel love and companionship from “the Father, Who alone is … Help.”

After passing such a test, after all, one usually doesn’t walk alone for long.

Perhaps that’s the whole point.