So I went, bravely and awkwardly, and I faced many layers of myself in that desert. It was EVERYTHING.
I wanted to feel alive - body, mind, and spirit - but I had a giant wall around allowing my body to be adventurous.
"Climbing things like that is crazy! They're going to break themselves!" screamed my rational mind. I felt so afraid seeing people climbing these things that looked unsafe, but I was also afraid of the part of myself that wanted to join them. I was mesmerized. I wanted that thing they were having that I knew I was somehow keeping myself from (Fun? Life?).
I struggled fiercely within myself for what felt like an eon, finally realizing that the internalized voice of my mother was keeping me from even trying climbing things. And while that voice was very loving and astute, it was also highly restricting. Would I always allow that voice of fear and judgement dictate how and who I became? Who is this "me" that I'm never allowing to surface? When was my life going to start feeling like my own?
I was there to try listening to my own voice. So, the next day, when I went out with my camp mates, I pushed past the voices telling me to "stay still, don't climb things, sit somewhere quietly, keep yourself safe" and I shakily and tearfully pulled my entire body onto this dangerously spinning orb structure and I climbed it.
I became my own heroine.
I was so wrapped up in my own accomplishment that it took me a while to realize I lost my camp mates. Later, we regrouped, and two girls in my camp said that they got on the spinning orb, and absolutely never would have if it weren't for seeing how I launched myself at it like it was the end of the world.
I felt so alive. So empowered. And I could empower others?
For me, it was the end and only the beginning.