Being Together is the Mustard
It was something I’d been planning for over a year—ever since I reconnected with my summer camp brothers from other Jewish mothers—a reunion. But this time canoeing down a river, as we had some 46 years before on the mighty Allagash River, where, on a 17-day paddle through the deep Maine wilderness, we learned the values that informed our manhood—teamwork, sacrifice, and self-sufficiency.
The boys would be coming west this time, to the mighty Colorado River. We would be camping again, albeit with a staff preparing gourmet food and drink. We’re Jews, after all.
So two weeks ago, we put in at the base of the Hoover Dam, loaded our gear onto canoes, and let the gentle current carry us downstream. This stretch of the Colorado, known as Black Canyon, is remarkable for the thermal hot springs that seem to envelop every canyon. A primordial, mineral-rich elixir that emanates from deep in the earth, relaxes your nervous system, pierces your protective armor, and enables deep emotional openings.
As we paddled downriver, we melted into the stillness and marveled at the monumental, sculpted cliffs, and pristine, life-giving water.
We arrived at our campsite, where my team had set up camp the day before and was waiting with lunch. This would be our base for two nights of inner and outer exploration, of climbing, soaking, swimming, paddling, and mostly relaxing around the campfire. The towering boulders surrounding the sandy site created an amphitheater that cradled us in intimacy. They are alive and breathing, with ancient stories to tell. The light that trickled off them and behind the canyons made for a sacred setting that could only be described in my faith as a temple.
This then would be a place for reconnection with each other, and within ourselves. There is a magical hot spring adjacent, one of the greatest I’ve ever experienced, a series of naturally cascading hot pools inside a rock cavern so long and deep it feels like a catacomb. Soaking in these waters connects one to nature in profound ways.
That first night, under the stars and around the fire, we grilled meat and some fish one of my team had speared from the river. The rush of camp memories came flooding back, along with the camaraderie, laughter, joy, and the genuine friendships.
The next morning, our chef Jerry (actually, my lawyer and dear friend), offered to teach a yoga class. None of these guys had ever done it before, but all were willing. Jerry had recently completed teacher training. They were amazed that a middle-aged lawyer could not only contort his body, but also teach others to do so.
Jerry softened his voice, spoke calmly, and demonstrated many beginner poses that were gentle but nonetheless illuminating. We slowed down, listened, and felt the moment of just breathing and honoring our bodies in a safe container of supportive friends.
We then paddled upriver, climbed through a canyon that had several rock obstacles and rope assists, and made it to what we call “The Womb”—a thick, cosmic emerald moss wall oozing hot water and steam from its pores. A living, breathing organism forged into rock and nourished by the spring. It’s a magical place, and as we leaned against it for a group photo, we did what any self-respecting campers would do in that stunning instant: broke into our camp song. It was our connective tissue, and a moment to savor.
That night, after another glorious meal around the fire, and some serious belly laughs, one of the guys asked if we could hold a moment to express what we were grateful for. I love this stuff. It’s the goo, and I was amazed to see everyone easefully drop into their hearts and express their deep feelings for the blessings of life. It was particularly heartening to hear how many were grateful for the three guys I brought with me, who were so helpful, skilled, and supportive of each other. It made me realize how fortunate I am to be surrounded with great people, and I’m pretty sure my lessons learned on the Allagash had something to do with it.
The next morning, before paddling out and returning to our “default” worlds, I asked once more if we could circle up and share our hopes and dreams for this, our last trimester circling the sun. While most spoke of more connection with their families, many also pledged to make shifts—explore yoga, practice gratitude, help the planet, and make more time for precious experiences like this. Nature does that, and it made me thankful that while we may no longer possess the physical gifts we had at 15, we get to go so much deeper with the patina of age.
After all the exhausting work I put into this, these sentiments were the gift that made it all worth it. As one brother reassured me after I jokingly agonized over forgetting the mustard (that most important of condiments for Jews), “Don’t worry, being together is the mustard.” And anyway, I still had mayonnaise!
Billy Fried hosts “Laguna Talks” on Thursday nights at 8 p.m. on KX93.5 and can be reached at [email protected].
