Rain is always an interesting experience at Flying Cloud. When it rains in the outside world, you go inside. When it rains at Flying Cloud, an enormous communal undertaking is activated. Smoke flaps are closed, tarps are deployed, waterproof gear is donned, fires are lit in the roundhouse, and hatches are generally battened down. If you have any trouble visualizing the concept of controlled chaos, look no further than our clearing right as the first drops of rain begin to fall. The camp turns into a somewhat different place, as campers and staff alike work with an efficiency born of need to protect what they can from the coming torrent. So it was with the first days of the second session. Picture us, if you will, peering out from beneath the hoods of our rain gear on the third day of the deluge, silently trying to will the clouds away. Imagine the sheer immensity of our delight when, not one day before the Honoring Ceremony was supposed to be held, the sun finally shined down on dozens of soggy Flying Clouders. When you’ve spent so long in the center of the storm, a clear blue sky can seem like the most beautiful thing in the world.
It was in the day of this moment that the campers rendered the gift of the Honoring Fire on our community. Under its light, we spoke to the best traits of the FC Questers. From our words were the Words derived and bestowed.
Clouds make way for sun’s bright rays
The raven, gliding, calls
Born on the breath of the zephyr’s warmth,Below the bridge, the bear reflects
Limestone faces the stars,Yet the light of crystals lies within
The mountain grasps the eclipse,And the wolf embraces the hearth
The owl descends through moonlit canopy,Gliding on silent wings
Long shadows cast at nights peak,A pillar of light and reaches towards the stars
Above the windswept meadow,Swallows soar in joyous flight
River flows forth,Beneath the glittering surface,Water wills the stone.
A day begins as we center our hearts,Encircled by earth and sky.