The first three words from the bible. The first three words we usually use to describe origin and initial sources.
I don't think I ever mentioned it in here before, but when I was on one of my last SHIP runs of my high school career, I sat to speak with one of the people we were serving. He was a very intelligent and talkative individual. He engaged in my interests, weaving what I liked into the conversation and showing me different vantages to it.
We spoke of the power of spoken word, of the power of will manifesting - spiritual force in the words we speak.
"In the beginning..."
He had asked for the first three words in the bible. Honestly, for some reason, I stumbled with uncertainty in choking those three words out.
I didn't know that they'd basically circumvent my life after then.
We were in the gymnasium last I left us, right? Starting the retreat and all? Right. So let's pick it up.
Actually, let me go wash my hands. I've been eating chocolate. Great stuff.
So, right. In the beginning.
What's the first thing you think of when I say "beginning"? Was it when you woke up this morning? The creation of life, whichever what-way it was done? Or maybe you think about your mother giving birth to you - the beginning of your life? Even the beginning of lives of others around you? Maybe? Maybe not?
Well, whatever the case, there's always a beginning. True statement.
We sat on the floor of the gymnasium, sure to be more than a diameter of our wingspan away from anyone and everyone. Basically, for a few moments, people sat on the floor and swung their arms around them to make sure they weren't near anyone else. They said something, I didn't quite hear because of the acoustics of the gymnasium, but the lights then went out. I presumed it was meditation time, seeing as how people were sitting there, getting comfortable, and closing their eyes.
"...There will be people running around touching your head, so don't freak out."
I managed to make that out from the booming speakers. I had no clue what they were planning.
I would take a few seconds to actually close my eyes and listen to the blaring music that was soon turned down to accompany our inward contemplation. The music was pretty soothing. Then a voice started speaking.
"When I call your name, I want you to stand and follow the voice."
I peaked open a few times and saw people running about with cloths in their hands, their feet drowned in the ample cover of the music. An irrational though which had been embedded in me from my frightful mother crossed my mind.
I was going to die.
It was completely irrational. But I was admittedly a bit intimidated. I quickly closed my eyes and anticipated that they were calling particular people, that they were going to blindfold only random choice.
I heard a pair of feet approach me from my left, as I was sitting against the mats on the gymnasium wall. I leaned my head forth so that whoever it was could wrap the cloth over my eyes. I didn't know what was going on, nor did I think I wanted to know.
The feet left me there, sitting in the dark.
I opened my eyes to try and cheat the system again.
The system had found my loophole.
I suppose I've got to just sit here and play along, then.
That was my thought in passing.
When they called my name after a myriad of others, I had a sudden... resistance to standing. That same resistance, that uncertainty that initially coached me to not go to the retreat. But, rising to my feet, I remembered where the girl and boy in my path to the voice were, and did my best to maneuver about them.
After I presumed I had gotten beyond them, I didn't remember who else was in the way. I walked in the general direction of the voice, cautious, wary, and found that there were gentle fingers on my shoulders guiding me. They were soft and comforting, and I felt very secure in them. Of course, it was a person, but I got the angelic vibes. No worries.
The voice grew louder and louder, and soon enough, I could see a light pathway. There were other people being guided by people behind them, walking as calm and steady as possible. I let my arms down and left the rest to the person behind me - they had to know what they were doing, surely.
The twists and turns weren't that immense and grand and what have you. I was eventually led to a chair and assured to sit. And left there. A few moments later, I heard someone clamor into the seat beside me. Eventually, the voice, having called nearly everybody, soon told us to take off our blindfolds.
The setting was a room we would become very familiar with. As I'm writing this now, I recall the first and last talks, and I smile, missing it all.
From the ceiling hung brown paper, on a similarly tan changing screen, and from the "branches", hung leaves. Accompanying the many leaves was one, red paper apple.
I looked about at the others sitting with me in the audience. Approximate sixty kids, I'd learn to inventory. But, before I could look elsewhere, two familiar faces came skipping down the short aisle. In their hands, they held scripts. In their eyes, they held excitement.
A skit. The Garden of Eden. This, the branches, the tree, and the apple - it all clicked. Of course, they were clothed, and they were reading their lines from papers, but it wasn't about the simple aesthetics for a reason - the message was most important.
Team HUNIS got it right: a theme throughout the entire weekend, amongst the many, was centered on what we learned in the first night.
The act of taking the apple from the tree, the "snake" "talking" to Adam and Eve - whatever you want to believe as a creation story, as a real, literal explanation or a metaphorical comparison - was never too great for us.
Original Happiness; Original Unity; Original Nakedness; Original Innocence; Original Solitude.
Whenever Mr. Rose would say "original" to explain the story we witnessed, revealing our Team Leaders as the helpers along our paths to find out our three fundamental questions, the audience would think and respond "sin".
He laughed at our determination to be right in the wrong.
We laughed with him at ourselves as well.
Those original qualities were the things we had before original sin, before the break between man and the deity we
The bliss of Eden. When you think of the Garden of Eden, whether you believe in the actual story or not, is it a place with pits of hellfire and chasms of vast darkness that never end? Abysses upon abysses that tear you to shreds?
Exactly.
The safety and security of our oneness with our creator. The humility, vulnerability. The ignorant and uninformed minds we had that needed to know nothing but love. And, when man was created, according to scripture, he was lone and so he was made a partner.
Team HUNIS.
But, what Team HUNIS didn't truly espouse was the three questions we were pressed to let resurface in our lives:
- Who am I?
- Why am I here?
- Where am I going?
[ Funny thing, the three songs I've had on repeat are Franklin by Paramore, One Last Breath by Creed, and Where Are You Going? by Dave Matthews Band - it's for a school performance in a couple of days, but the last question reminded me of it. And, connections and stuff! -wiggles fingers- Hahah. ]
Of course, these are questions we've asked many times in our lives before; if something's popped up in our paths and we have no clue which way to turn, no clue what to do, who to talk to, we start asking questions that we, ourselves, can't even answer.
"Who am I?"
How do you even answer that?
Apparently, going back to the beginning has all the roots and answers we need.
So, let's go.
The first talk. It's where a person with a prepared speech sits before the audience and relays the burdens of their hearts, their past, and ties it into lessons and teachings from Jesus, more or less. It's geared towards us, as the audience, and completely comprehensive, relative, and impressive for us, as a like-aged group. It helps tons that, with the inhibitions, struggles, and understanding we all have experienced, it makes us comfortable - even if it's a microscopic measurement.
From it, I took LN's 3Ds.
No, Jordan, not the "Daily Dose of Darin." That wasn't it at all. Haha.
They were dignity, destiny, and defects.
They're basically innate in every human being, defining us and helping us find the answers to the three fundamental questions - they're basically our first building block.
"In the beginning, it was not so."
It was a line that LN drilled into us during her talk of where we screwed up along the way, the grooves and ditches of humanity that we were too confident, too ambitious to consider fitting in and securing ourselves on while scaling the incline slope we call Life. Those same grooves, our stretches to reach the further, smaller nooks would get us there quicker, but have greater risks.
The corners we cut, so to speak.
The whole thing of being blindfolded in the dark gymnasium and brought into comfy room and sat in chairs, you ask?
Well, it's simple.
The gym was dark.
The room was light.
After the talk, we were ushered into small groups to talk about... the talk. The whole experience so far.
Much to my chagrin, we had LN in our group. Most of my group was actually pretty cool people. Only LN proved to be a talker, and, incidentally enough, as we were to open sessions with prayer, our mouths were sealed shut and our eyes were glued to the table before us.
A round table, two parchments of paper, a poster board, and a packet of washable, non-toxic markers.
LN started us off in prayer. We went around, introducing ourselves and got relatively familiar with one another before we went and poured our hearts out.
I admitted something that I never really thought would be one of my personal nuisances.
One of the major boots on my wheels before that weekend, using the analogy of a car being restricted by a boot, was my family. I stray from the topic all the time, just because of the complications, and whenever I do mention them to my friends, they have to write it down or draw to follow it all.
To say the least, I've got my issues.
But, listening to each of the people in my group, I found that some of the issues I had were fickle compared to what other people were going through. And, to openly admit such things, just like with the talkers, instantly conjured respect for them. My respect.
I heard a person sniffling and sobbing at another table. My heart dropped.
The griefs and burdens we all carried were nothing compared to the cross. Of course, they may be our cross to carry, or they may be just enough, but we're not in it alone.
The next day, just as a jump forward in time for a second, CT let us know that we weren't in this fight alone.
We were never in it alone.
That's what being a part of a community - Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Buddhist, etc. - is all about. Not only your personal relationship and preference, but... finding the communal focus and channel. All the things that follow are dependent on your perspective, your ideology - who you are.
The rest of the evening was a precursor for the weekend. It let me think a lot. Not with this "writer" mind, or with an "entertainer" mind, looking to make sure that others were participating and enjoying and understanding things themselves, but with my own personal mind. I contributed and followed along with things. I experienced what I needed to, when I needed to, and made new friends for just being me.
Such a great feeling, isn't it?
Well, before I mentioned a group by the name of Team H.U.N.I.S., right?
What was our group name, you might wonder? Or you actually may not, but it's okay, because I'm going to relieve your sudden curiosity anyhow.
We were called the Plum Sloths.
Just because,
We're that awesome.
So, after all that was said and done, we made our way up to the church at night. It was the first time I'd actually step foot into the church, and, to say the least, it was beautiful. The chandeliers were dimmed, the pews empty. It was vast and huge, and I didn't even think to glance at the cross before the alter.
In our hands, we had candles that were lit and given to us at the top of the stairwell.
Into the church we walked, and down the aisle we went, focused on the flame in our hands. Beyond the line I followed, I found that there were other kids already sitting against the pews and holding their candles. The light of the sanctuary was insubstantial to what it probably was during the day.
We were seated on the carpet and steps at the front of the sanctuary by a man who I would learn to love and [ presently ] identify as LI.
We stared at our flames in the dark.
"Welcome home," he started. "I'm your daddy," he held a larger candle in his hands, pacing about. Well, these weren't his exact words, but he was starting a story, and we were wrapped up in his recounting to think anything of it.
"This is where we keep the plates and forks and knives, but you're too young to use them. This is where mommy and daddy sleep. This is where you will sleep. I am your daddy, LI."
LI, in the center of our candlelit polygon, looking over our heads, at our flames, at our faces, and down at his own, continued to walk.
Imagining people as infants is always a band-aid for me. Babies, for the most part, are cute and adorable, so to think of a person who's grown and developed out of their baby years as an infant is just like searching for the quintessence of purity and goodness in their hearts.
Soon, his story of childhood innocence took a turn to focus on us.
We were instructed, told to focus on the flame in our hands.
I looked around for a brief moment, finding people in intense focus and found people recoiling from the hot wax rolling onto their fingers. They had told us to hold it as straight as we could manage. And then, my eyes found the hot flame before me, growing taller with my imagination.
Sometimes hearing what you already think you know makes you think about it more. Maybe there's something about it you don't know for sure, or that you never really thought about in such a way. Well, LI's remarks of life and all it's... glorious struggles... he basically sparked the candle for our weekend up in that sanctuary.
Even with the luminescence of over fifty candles in one area, and the silence of over fifty mouths, and the turmoil of over fifty weathered souls... LI's voice rang out.
"If anyone's ever hurt you, I want you to blow that candle out."
I sat there. I heard people blowing out their candles. I couldn't think of anything, and I didn't want to seem like a self-righteous bastard, of course.
Though, when the next line of words left his mouth, it all came rushing at me.
"And, if you have ever hurt anyone, I want you to blow your candle out."
Both, instances of when I've been hurt or disappointed or when I've gone out of my way to damage someone else loomed over me. They suffocated me until I barely had any air left to exhale over the wick of my candle and show that I was just like everyone else.
And that we were all the same.
LI blew out his candle as well, and we all sat there for a few moments in the stillness.
The night's events ended there. LI was most certainly a surprise, seeing as how I didn't know much of anything that was to happen. But, his spiel of taking all the crap we've been through and basically going back to the beginning to start anew coincided with the rest of the night.
It was the beginning of starting to go back to the beginning. The beginning that was right.
The beginning that was good.
"In the beginning, it was not so."
<3 ~ Monty.
=]
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