Tom Brown Jr. Tracker school was a bucket list item for me. In many ways I have dedicated my life to the reclamation and remembering of the old ways. I created a program, called How to Be Human, on ancestral wisdom, skills, spirituality, and ways of relating as a blueprint for how the human species can step back into right relationship. Also, as a salve for the perpetual loneliness and displacement we all feel. We’ve become so lost, looking back to the ways humans thrived and lived in reciprocity with the land and each other for hundreds of thousands of years, has always been a salve to my heart that aches in the destruction we’ve perpetuated on the earth and each other. For these reasons Tracker School has always called to me.
The prospect of this trip felt like a merging of timelines. New Jersey is where my paternal line first landed on Turtle Island, before they settled and built a farm in Michigan in 1840 that still exists to this day. In many ways this felt as a full circle opportunity, a way to show my ancestors who made that trip where their lineage ended up. A closing of a chapter. An honoring and letting go. I put some dirt from the original farm in a vial, and promised myself I would spread it at camp in a sacred space.
My friend Kelly and I decided to drive out to New Jersey a day early. That way we could get a hotel, a shower, a good night’s sleep, and time to eat breakfast in the morning before the tracker school shuttle took us away from civilization and into the pitch pines. Breakfast was an important priority as we had no idea what we would be eating during our 7-day adventure. We really had no idea what to expect at all to be honest, when signing up you’re sent an invoice and a bare bone packing list with directions on where to meet the shuttle, that’s about it. This was our first lesson in surrendering control and trusting nature, many more were coming.
On my last night in a bed that wasn’t on the ground I restlessly tried to sleep. There were multiple weddings going on where we were staying, with fireworks and hundreds of people celebrating. It felt like a very intentional example of the polarity we were about to experience. The noise and distraction of modern life vs the quiet solace of the forest. I wrote in my journal. “I feel like this trip is a rite of passage. The end of my beginning and stepping into something new. I’m going in with my heart wide open and distractions set down. No outside influences to muddy the waters of my own internal thoughts and knowing. Everything is about to change.”
We woke up and went to the beach to have breakfast and found a health food store close by to purchase even more snacks, and instant coffee, just in case. Driving up to the strip mall where the shuttle was picking us up, we already saw a few students nervously waiting. Backpacks and tents in tow. We parked the Jeep in the back gravel lot, checked over our gear one more time, left some stuff behind because we were embarrassed by how much we packed, and then headed up to meet everyone and wait for some guidance on what to expect. We were met by a couple from New Zealand and a man from France. There was a wide variety of ages and ideologies. We all introduced ourselves and made small talk. I felt so grateful for the opportunity to be there among these humans.
They opened the doors to the Tracker School office exactly at 12 noon, just like the email said they would. We all lined up to check in, gather any last-minute gear, and workout rides into camp. I had registered so long ago, they didn’t have my name on the registration sheet, I panicked a bit but was able to pull up my confirmation email and all was well. For a minute while waiting I did consider whether that was a sign, I wasn’t supposed to be there, but did my best to put that aside and look to what was ahead.
Before getting into the vehicles, we were greeted by the most massive black shepherd I had ever seen. For real, this dog looked like a black bear. He was a mix of a Caucasian and German shepherd. Just like that, any doubt I was feeling subsided, if this animal was to be our spirit guide through this experience, I was in. Dogs have that way about them.
Kelly and I drove with a nice man name John. He was a hunting expert from Pennsylvania, liked kid rock and talked lovingly about his family. We chatted and excitedly waited for the inevitable turn off the main road. The right turned happened when the landscape turned to all pines, and we were transported back in time. Second lesson in surrender, driving down a 2-track meant more for walking than driving, I was holding tightly onto the handle above the door and doing my best not to vomit, it took us about a half hour to reach camp. John parked the truck and unloaded our bags for us, we loaded up and began to walk in. I was grateful for my bare feet on the ground and not to be car sick in the back seat any longer. Right away I was struck by the quiet and the smell of the wet pine needles. I breathed in deeply down to the soles of my feet and prayed the land could feel my willingness to learn from it.
We reached the center of the camp and dropped our bags; we were told to wait for a camp tour. A young man who looked like he could have just merged with the likeness of the foliage emerged, and we began the tour. He showed us where we could camp, go to the bathroom, where the kitchen was and all the sacred sites in the area. There were many, and the most potent was a place they called “Grandfathers Camp”. A labyrinth like space with an arched entry way, prayers and offerings from past campers scattered about as homage to the land.
We spent that day setting up camp and getting familiar with our surroundings. More participants from all over the world filtered in. My absolute favorites were 3 elder women from Germany who I ended up sitting next to for every lesson. Lesson 3 in surrender, that night we were fed and introduced to “tracker stew”. A pot full of whatever meat and vegetables they had on hand, with absolutely no salt or seasoning of any kind. I ate a bowl and went to the gathering area with my notebook to wait for the opening ceremony/lesson to begin. All the instructors came out, and I recognized a few from the show “Alone.” They introduced themselves and explained the foundation of why they were there. They expressed their commitment to making sure these living, breathing, primal skills are not lost to technology and time. To teach us that awareness is the pillar not just for survival but of cultivating a meaningful life. They lived what they taught; this was so obvious and inspiring. I was flooded with emotion and validation as each one spoke. I always knew a different way was possible, and here were these people, a living example. The couple who ended up being my favorite instructors, Matt and Carmon, brought their children. We had the pleasure of getting to know them as well, their wildness reminded me of my girls and made me miss them.
We signed up for our individual tasks and duties for the week to make sure everything ran smoothly, and the workload was manageable. I liked that we were going to be actively participating in our survival and comfort in camp, it was a beautiful simulation of what village life probably looked like. Then we headed to sleep, serenaded by the jackdaw, night one.
Journal entry from day 1.
“Nature slows us down. Wraps us in the mythic, the cyclical. My heart rate feels slow here. The wind dances through the trees and it seems the entire forest is celebrating our return to the web. We set up our camp up next to a tree they call “they vision tree”, Kelly and I vowed to let spirit guide us and this is where we landed. A towering pitch pine showered in offerings. Sitting next to it almost feels psychedelic. The green here melts into the blue sky. We’re all here answering a yearning that aches in the marrow of our bones. A remembering, glimmers and flashes of something vitally important we’ve left behind but can’t put our finger on what it is.
I see the longing in all their eyes, some stronger and more developed and some like a newborn fawn, but the longing is very present. I am ready to see what this land has to teach me.”
Beautiful