Camp Buddy and I are camped out, way out west for a long weekend, meeting up with other camp buddies. It was a long drive, but worth it. We meet and embrace our friends and then search for an agreeable site. We find a delightful site off the beaten path to set up. A chilly mountain stream edges the south side, where bottled beverages stay cool in the hot sun and an occasional warm body steps in – to chill out. At 7,000 feet in elevation, cool nights contrast keenly with hot days, as do our moments of solitude interspersed with camaraderie.
Later, the guys swim at a lake below, while the girls ride and hike our bikes up the rocky canyons. We catch up on days gone by and compare notes, stopping to take in the scenery. We spy Indian paintbrush dripping a vibrant pink-red and phlox transfigured into parched paper flowers. Butterflies graze on yellow horsebrush blooms. Companionship coupled with canyon grandeur is humbling and brings my world to a halt. I become fully aware of the present moment and the presence of another human being on our planet trying to make sense of the life she has been given. We have known each other forever, but this visit I am sensing someone who has fully come into her own.
Further up the canyon, we stop to admire bouquets of dried Indian Rice Grass edging the road. Though autumn is not in the air just yet, rabbitbrush clad in golden blossoms only means one thing: it’s the beginning of the end of another growing season and just like I note in my camp friend, all is becoming realized or coming to fruition. Maslow’s theory of self-actualization comes to mind. What is it that we need to do to become self-actualized? How do we meet our full potential?
Back at camp, a milk-weed gone to seed begs me to pick it up and examine it. I take note of its exquisite, intricate geometrical pattern. It’s been fully transformed from a petaled flower to the ornate seed structure. It has met its full potential. Do we hang out like milkweed and wait for self-actualization to just happen to us? Maybe? Yes? No? I admit that I really don’t know. But the fathers of existentialism say –we are responsible for our own joy. This comes from Viktor Frankl who spent three years in the Death Camps. He should know. I settle for this: When we have found our own joy, we have met our full potential.
