Kindred Spirits

By Peter Hogan

Kindred Spirits ‘07 Camp Directors Lisa Silverman, Peter Hogan and Desiree Lawrence

I have made the choice to attend Kindred Spirits Camp for the last eleven years. I have studied with Buddhist Monks in Nepal, done Yoga with Gurus at Kripalu, listened to Deepak Chopra, Carolyn Myss, and Eckert Tolle at Omega, but nothing has helped me heal and grow as a man compared to the powerful experience of this camp, with the friendships and year-round connection of the Kindred Spirits community.

At the beginning of the third week of August every year, I drive up the curvy, wooded, steep hill into Rowe. I often feel scared, anxious, excited, and overwhelmed with anticipation of what lies at the top of the hill, knowing I have work to do that is not easy, but totally necessary for me to live the life I want.

Part of the reason I come to Kindred Spirits Camp is to witness and participate in the evolution of a community of beautifully imperfect humans. I play, dance, laugh, swim, bike, run, jump, laugh until my sides hurt, make a fool of myself, try to let go of control, make mistakes and work it out, see how little sleep I can function on, take naps on the Rowe town beach, float in an inner tube on the Deerfield River, take part in completely stupid skits during the “No-talent show,” and have people tell me how great it was.

But, mostly I come to Kindred Spirits camp for my heart. My heart holds a year’s worth of grief, hurt, anger, shame, distress, and unloveability. I try to work with it along the way during the year, but inevitably I build up feelings that start hurting me and make me feel depressed. So I come to camp and pound pillows, do breathwork, lay in someone’s lap in family group and cry until snot comes out my nose and my stomach hurts, scream at God as I walk through the woods at night: “Why does this have to be so hard!!!!”

Then mysteriously but predictably, I look into the eyes of my fellow campers and see complete, pure, ten-billion-stars-exploding energy of pure love. Something shifts. I have emptied the well of grief, shame, anger, and hurt enough that I am able to let some of this love in. As I feel it inside and feel it outside, I really know and experience it as the truth of who I really am.

I leave camp every year with this truth: I am enough; I deserve a good life; I am a good, caring, generous, loving, man. It is this truth that propels me forward to do my life.

So every year, I stop my car at the right-hand turn onto Kings Highway Road. I hear the rushing creek below. I put my hands together and ask my great spirit be with me this week so that I may heal myself and my community, and know the truth of how loved I am. I get back into my car, take a deep breath, and drive up the hill into the mystery and miracle of Kindred Spirits Camp.

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