Bass Canyon Campout Journal
Sunday, August 2nd, 2026 – Rose, Thorn, and Leaf
Did we stay up a little late the night before?
Yes.
Yes, we did.
Seeing the sunrise has its advantages... and its disadvantages.
The advantage is the stillness. The magic. That quiet hour where the world seems to hold its breath and the light slowly returns.
The disadvantage...
...is how tired you are the next day.
But part of these gatherings is allowing beauty, connection, and aliveness to flow through you so completely that, every once in a while, you let go of ordinary constraints.
Like bedtime.
As Neil Peart once wrote:
*"We will pay the price... but we will not count the cost. And if love remains..."*
Around noon, running on very little sleep, the tribe gathered one final time for our closing rituals.
The most meaningful of them, for me, is something we call **Rose, Thorn, and Leaf.**
One by one, every person receives the full attention of the circle.
The Rose...
What was beautiful?
The Thorn...
What challenged you?
What hurt?
What stretched you?
And the Leaf...
What are you taking home?
What seed was planted here that you want to grow into your life?
I love this ritual because it gathers the entire weekend into one living tapestry.
The adventures.
The laughter.
The quiet conversations.
The victories.
The disappointments.
The unexpected gifts.
Everyone offers a different thread.
And somehow...
...they weave together into something much larger than any one person's experience.
Not everyone had a perfect weekend.
Not everyone experienced dramatic growth.
Sometimes these gatherings stir old fears.
Old wounds.
Old grief.
Sometimes they awaken things we weren't expecting.
But where better to meet those parts of ourselves than surrounded by people willing to simply witness them with love?
No fixing.
No rescuing.
No judgment.
Just...
"I'm here."
Sometimes that's enough.
After everyone had spoken, we sang one final song together.
Then we held a simple cord-cutting ceremony—not to separate from one another, but to release each person back into their own life with our blessing.
Free.
Loved.
Trusted.
Then...
The spell slowly dissolved.
People laughed.
Packed trailers.
Folded chairs.
Hugged one another.
Cleaned up camp.
Promised we'd stay in touch.
Life, ordinary life, quietly returned.
And maybe that's the point.
These weekends were never meant to become life.
They were meant to deepen it.
The Roses.
The Thorns.
The Leaves.
They don't stay at camp.
They come home with us.
They echo through the following days and weeks, asking us to keep living what we discovered there.
That is the work.
That is the gift.
And yes...
That is the price we willingly pay...
Though we never count the cost.
PS. - So that wraps up our Bass Canyon Campout series. It was a beautiful experience and I'm grateful for it and for everyone who came, I appreciate what you brought, the good, the bad, and the ugly. It was all good.
Image forged from a variety of uploades, prompts and edits with ChatGPT. It gave me more hair than I actually have... which makes me smile at the absurdity of it all.