Hide n’ Seek at Headwaters

Photo credit: @obecuarto

This is me, dripping in mud, head to toe, finger to finger, my entire body completely drenched. Above, Nick sprinkles even more dry dirt across my back. This is part of an exercise Tim Corcoran leads to help people feel what it’s like to be entirely camouflaged with the Earth.

To get this saturated with mud Tim took us to where one of the many streamlets on his property pools into a small bog. Each taking a turn, we lay down in the cold mud and roll till entirely covered. Tim also instructed us to plug our ears when dunking heads while our guide Zander reported how he had to go to the doctor recently and get his ears cleaned out due to too much mud accumulation.  

It was grey and cold outside when we dunked, probably in the low 50s. Some men went one foot at a time, slowly inching in, and others, like Nick, dove head first and began rolling like a wet dog. 

When my turn arrived I dipped my feet in first, sat down, then plugged my ears and lowered my head backwards till completely submerged. Nick then cupped his hands and splashed more across areas of my body that weren’t yet covered. Though I’ve never been baptized I’d consider this just about the closest thing to it. I’m glad it happened in the mud.

Once soaked we then lay on the ground and rolled in the drier dirt, covering our whole bodies with another layer of twigs, leaves, pine needles, bugs and whatever else would stick from the topsoil. 

After everyone was fully cloaked in mud Tim then split us into two groups, instructing the first to find a spot to hide and the other to then try and spot all members of the first group after fully stationed in a fixed location. 

I was initially in the second group and so waited for the first group to get settled into position. Soon I began to shiver and thought how this was not the first time I’d been soaking wet, cold and shivering, but it was certainly the first time in my life I’d been wet, cold, and also drenched head to toe in mud while shivering at the same time. 

Soon Tim returned from helping camouflage the first group and instructed us to form a line and follow him to their hiding spot. He told us to also be quiet as we walked to help deepen our connection with the land and spirit of the exercise. 

Turning a corner I noticed the first man sitting vertical against a tree stump. His eyes were closed and a small tree branch extended upwards from the hair on his head. Though more obvious than the others I was taken aback by the beauty, as I’d never seen anything like this before. I thought how not a single art installation in New York City could ever replicate the initial feeling I had in seeing this man leaning against this tree, covered head to toe in all the same organic materials as the forest.

Moving along we slowly noticed more and more men as we glided through the pine-needle trail. Tim commented on the beauty of each after we all collectively pointed them out. If you were a deer or even another human walking through the woods it would be difficult to notice any of these men, I thought. When our group got to the end we realized we hadn’t even spotted one of the men who was hiding right below our feet. 

It was then our group’s turn to hide and so this time Zander took us to a different segment of the forest. Walking through the various fallen logs I chose to lay parallel to a tree. I initially lay sideways but Zander suggested laying facedown to disguise myself lower to the ground. Once set, he then covered me with smaller tree branches and dead wood I’d collected nearby. 

As I lay stomach down facing the dirt I felt an immediate sense of calm come over me. Something about this felt very childlike, similar to hike and seek perhaps. It also felt very comforting being so low to the ground, almost entirely naked and tasked with such a simple mission: to be as still as possible till found.  

Looking downward into the dirt my nose was only a few centimeters off the ground, and as I breathed I began to ingest that distinguishable taste of dirt, slightly metallic yet somehow still refreshing. Though I certainly did not want to eat it, I could not help but want more of whatever it was I was inhaling. 

Soon after, ants began to bite my legs. I knew if I moved I would ruin my camouflage and I wanted badly to go unseen by the other group. And so I lay still as I could, the bites increasing in frequency, climbing from my legs onto my back, arms, shoulders and neck. 

Once saturated in the stinging of the bites something shifted inside me and I somehow instinctively dropped into a meditative state, contemplating the difference between pain and displeasure. These bites did hurt, but I also reasoned they were more uncomfortable than painful, which somehow made being attacked by an ant colony more tolerable. 

Becoming evermore resigned to the fact I chose to lay directly atop an anthill, I then switched my focus again to try and time how long I would be in this position. Ten minutes went by, then 15, and perhaps 25 before I heard the crunching footsteps and hushed voices of the other group. “I see one!” someone exclaimed. “Shh,” someone else said. 

As the group approached I continued to hear scattered whispers. I also noticed how strange it felt to be so still, so hidden, and yet so naked and exposed at the same time while a whole group of people towered above, assessing and discussing my body. Tim then finally announced they could see me and requested I reveal myself. 

Just prior to moving a series of visions flashed before me. I’d never quite felt this sensation or experience but can only describe it as feeling deeply connected to something or someone from the past. As the visions became more clear I understood that what I was experiencing was some form of deep primal re-enactment of the hunters and warriors who moved so stealthily through the forests in order to capture their prey. 

With this vision firmly entrenched in my bones and blood I then spawned from the ground and mocked as though I had some form of a primitive crossbow, taking aim at the opposing group members and eliminating each, one arrow at a time. Thankfully many of these men whom I did not know well also found humor in my Braveheartesque reenactment, Tim remarking how this exercise often brings out the “warrior” side in men. 

The rest of the weekend at Headwaters was similarly raw, unexplainable and so deeply connective. Some 15-plus men climbed a pine tree together, sat silently and looked eastward towards Mt. Shasta, towering regally over all life below. We also carried hefty stones that symbolized our shadow parts around camp, buried them beneath a bonfire, then plucked them one by one to use as a glowing-amber heat source for a sweat lodge. We prayed and meditated in the misty forest at sunrise, sang call-and-response hymns, slept beneath a meteor shower, dipped daily in stone-dammed creek pools, built a log cabin together and tracked local mountain lion and bear footsteps. 

Returning home, I took a small two-seater plane and gazed below as we jetted past a vast Western landscape I’ve traversed so many times before by car, truck and foot. Having lived below Shasta as well as various parts of Utah and Colorado, it almost felt like I was peering out the window retracing so much of my life flying back home. We even flew over the dry desert camp used for Burning Man at one point — what a sight to see from above. 

Once home I reluctantly decided to shower for work the next day. As the steamy hot water hit my body the smell of dirt and campfire exploded from my skin. Even once dry the scent of burning firewood emanated from the long hair beside my cheekbones. 

As I applied deodorant and combed hair my girlfriend entered and started commenting on the campfire odor. She became increasingly curious, looked me up and down and grasped my ear, pulling it closer to her face.

“Why is your ear filled with dirt?” she asked. 

“Well,” I said, and proceeded to try and explain how a bunch of grown men willingly decided to roll around in mud and play hide and seek in the woods. 

“Wow,” she said. “Sounds… interesting.” 

I agreed and retired from trying to explain any further. Some things in life you just have to experience to understand.