It had been three days and three nights already. I was completely alone in the Eastern Oregon desert with just a tarp, sleeping bag, water, and my journal.
Never before in my life had I challenged myself to such an extent. I’d never really been alone, let alone by myself in the vast, open expanse of a wild and untamed wilderness.
I was so hungry, but not just for the food I was desperately craving but so deeply hungry for something more in my life that it had driven me to this experience that was so far out of my comfort zone and so completely beyond any frame of reference I’d had up to this point of my 19 years on the planet.
Despite the immense and all-consuming fear I’d been facing for the last 3 dark and scary nights, I was persevering. I was trying to prove something to myself, to the Universe, to God. I was strong enough. I had what it took. I could face anything, I told myself. I was so willing to walk into the most raging fires of this world if only it would lead me to something that felt more real, that felt truer than the religion I’d been raised in and more meaningful than the messaging I’d received from my culture and society about what was important.
My tarp was tied to a desert tree that had a huge scar from being struck by lightning in the past. When I picked the spot, and picked that tree, it felt significant. It had been burned but was still standing; It had survived. But now that the storm clouds had blown in and I could hear the distant ring of thunder, I wasn’t feeling as confident in my choice.
It started as a light rain that turned into a downpour, and all of a sudden, the once distant thunder was right on top of me and was booming like bombs were exploding around me and the Earth was about to crack open and swallow me whole. I’d never experienced anything like it. It was so loud, that my ears were ringing, and the vibrations were so strong, I could literally feel the Earth shaking under my feet. I could see lightning crashing all around me, and the palpable fear and adrenaline that was coursing through my veins had me convinced that I was literally about to die.
I lasted less than 5 minutes in that storm before I frantically started untying the tarp and haphazardly throwing my few belongings in my backpack. I probably had it packed and swung onto my back in less than a minute flat, and then I just started running for my life. I ran as fast as my feet would carry me, chased all the way by the incessant booming of the thunder and the electric crashes of the lightning. I felt like I was running from a predator who was gaining speed on me with every passing second.
I came crashing into basecamp not long after; it had felt like an eternity to get there, but I’m sure it was less than 15 minutes. As I threw my pack down, and laid eyes on the familiar and compassionate faces of the guides who had brought me here, the rain, thunder, and lightning suddenly stopped, the clouds parted, and a full rainbow appeared before me. The storm was over, and just like the tree, I had survived. It was as if the Earth, and the Universe, and all the Powers that Be were smiling down on me and saying, you did it, and now you can just rest easy.
That trek into the wilderness was the single most defining moment of life. I separated myself from everything I had known, persevered through what felt like an impossible challenge, and came out on the other side to incorporate everything I’d learned about myself into my life moving forward.
So many lessons were learned during that Quest, but most importantly I learned what it meant to get down to my essence, my bare bones, and to love what I found there. I was able to connect with the Earth in a way I’d never been able to before, and it became a place of refuge and safety that I could return to time and again (although, admittedly, I still prefer calm, bluesky days to the earth shattering storms I faced on that trip). I learned how to listen to my own inner knowing and wisdom for guidance and that I was deeply and inextricably connected to all life and to the spirit realm. I learned what true courage felt like and that it was okay to listen to myself when I needed support. It was an awakening moment that showed me that anything less than living a soulful and purposeful life, was a life I didn’t want to be a part of.
That is the power of Rites of Passage, and it led me right here to this moment, to bringing this work forward for the next generation of young people who, more than ever, are searching for meaning, purpose, and hope in what can often feel like a bleak and hopeless world.
Connecting your Young Person to a Rite of Passage Experience
If you’d like to learn how to connect your young person to their own Rite of Passage experience, check out the programs and offerings at Guided Passages. We have two, upcoming Wilderness Quests for the summer of 2025, one for 7th/8th graders, and one for young adults, age (18-24).
Rites of Passage is an ancient practice utilized by cultures across the globe to mark transitions from one phase of life to the next, and it’s a hugely missing piece for young people, especially, in our world today.
Guided Passages is here to bring back healthy, initiatory experiences for young people, so they can learn to love and accept themselves for who they are and step fully into purposeful and meaningful lives.
There is something magical about getting young people out in nature, disconnecting from their devices, and connecting with themselves and others in deep and authentic ways.
Not only is it a time for them to let loose, get a little wild, and have tons of fun making new friends and memories, it’s also an opportunity to stretch themselves beyond their normal limits, to persevere through challenges, and to set powerful intentions for the next phase of their journey.
These are the moments that they will remember as life-changing and transformative and that will carry them forward for a long time to come.
Contact us to learn more and get registered.
Written by: Jasmyne Chandler, Founder of Guided Passages – December 17th, 2024
