I was sitting by the fire the smoke was trading places from right to left as the currents of air shifted so softly that I could not even feel them. The entire camp was circled around our fire. Darkness had descended upon us, the high desert air was crisp and clean. An occasional snowflake fell from the heavens and at the dingoes campfire we were sharing the thoughts of our hearts while we listend to each other. I sat there in silence remembering the last words of advice given to me as I left the field office. We were driving out of the driveway when the executive director came toward our vehicle, I rolled down the passenger side window as the driver stopped the suburban, he leaned in and spoke to all of us, one staff member and four trainees. With his gracious smile he bid us a happy farewell then he gave us a word of advice: “listen to those kids! Some of those kids have never had anyone listen to them so if you will just listen to them it can change their life! ” I thought of that for the next 2 hours while we drove to Utah’s west desert. And so I sat there by a vibrant campfire, as a visitor, while seven dingoes spoke from the heart, and I listened! We all took turns going around the circle sharing. When it was my turn I said: “if you really knew me you would know that I love horses.” And on the second round I said: if you really knew me you would know that I wrote a book. And I kept sharing each time it was my turn so that the group could get to know me better. It was fascinating to hear the things that the dingoes shared as each member of our camp began their statement with the sentence: if you really knew me you would know that….. Some of them shared very vulnerable things that you would only share in a group that you trusted. And I remembered the voice of the executive director and I listened closely to each member of our fire knowing some of these children had never shared some of these things that they were now talking about. Trust was given that night and trust was received. At the conclusion of the sharing the therapist debriefed with the group about the importance of trust and how sharing helps us grow and also makes us vulnerable. And how it is inappropriate for people to use things we have shared against each other. She gave good counsel to end the session and every dingoes eye was upon her. One boy who had been in the desert for a long time opened up and said: “I can’t wait to go home!” At first it sounded like a complaint, but I remembered to listen and I placed my judgment behind me and I really listened. He went on: “I just want to get out of this stupid Utah desert and go home and finish school and get a job and live my life.” It still felt like a typical teenage angry response, then, because I was listening to him, I heard something profound come across the smoky fire from his lips. Instead of preparing a rebuttal in my mind that I could justify as good advice for him I simply listened and his next sentences went like this: “There is nothing I have ever been asked to do at home by my parents or by my teachers or by anybody who ever gave me a job that was as hard as what I have had to do here in the wilderness. So it will be easy to do my school assignments, and it would be easy to do things my parents ask.” I looked up from the flames into his eyes. I saw vulnerability, accountability and sincerity. He paused, looked around the group as if expecting a fight, and no one spoke, many eyes were upon him giving him respect for his words, and he continued speaking: “how hard can it really be to get up in the morning and go to school on time? I mean think about it, here in the desert we get up and it’s the same thing every day it’s dirty and cold if we can’t get a fire going then we stay cold unless it’s an emergency but there’s never an emergency so we have to work so hard just to have a fire so we can eat warm food. This dosent even compare to life at home. At home we get to choose what we eat we get to have a hot shower everyday we have our own things that we love, we can see our friends, and I actually really miss my family. I think the wilderness has taught me that I just want to go home finish school and get a job because those things will be easy compared to being out here. This has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.” We all sat there quiet looking at him. Finally one of the adults in the group said: “thank you for sharing that.” I sat there grateful that I had learned to be a listener and my mind thought about my own life, my love for the wilderness classroom I have attended on hunting trips and fishing expeditions and taking my kids camping. And I wondered if I had ever learned the lesson this youth just shared with us. I thought about my own business at home and my customers and I remember a moment just eight days before I entered the dingo camp while working with a client and in the back of my mind I had a complaint about my lot in life. I was trying to solve my problem by changing my life and possibly changing my employment when I realized from this boy’s observation I had a great career. My “lot in life” helps thousands of people to reduce their stress levels, and helps them be more productive in their own careers, my craft helps to heal people’s bodies and brings them from pain to productivity. I did not change my attitude that night I just found myself different somehow. Instead of my work being something I must do as a necessary thing in this world suddenly I loved the thing I do. And this change happened in the classroom of the wilderness mentored by a boy in therapy who will probably never know his words change my life. The dingoes got up from the fire and went to the tent with their leaders but I remained at the fireside looking into the coals. I listened to my heart. I looked at my hands, I listened to them, they seemed to speak to me and I knew what I would do.
