My older son graduated from high school last month. His school has two beautiful traditions for the lead-up to graduation. First, they have a father-son overnight at a remote campground. Second, they have a Parents Shabbat, a special Sabbath where the seniors, their parents, and the entire staff of the school enjoy each other’s company, learn together, sing together, pray together, all of which takes place on the grounds of the school, a beautiful swatch of land in the middle of the Judean desert.
Two impressions linger in my mind: First, it was so lovely to connect with my son during those events, both in nature, and largely without glowing screens. Second, both events took place far from the hustle and bustle of city living and work, enveloped by a level of quiet that reminded me of summer camp.
There are so many elements of summer camp that impacted me so profoundly, so positively, and have become like chunks of DNA for me, expressive in so much of my identity.
Camp was a very loud place. We sang at every meal. Hundreds of campers and staff, and a couple of song leaders at the front of the dining hall with guitars, all of us blowing the doors off the place with Zionist folk songs, Jewish classics, and even some soon-to-be-classics written by some of the people in that room. Banging on the tables to the rhythm of the songs, arms around each other, singing our little hearts out. The spirit of the summer camp dining hall is something I’ve been chasing ever since.
But camp was also a very quiet place, situated between farms in rural Indiana. Camp was where one regularly walked on a loose gravel path, away from all the sounds of the world, walking in nature and talking with someone you love, having meaningful conversations, sometimes about trivial things, sometimes about core ideas, but always meaningful. Those walks were where young people began to learn how to work themselves out.
Just simply being outdoors at these events with my son was so powerful. By pressing the pause button, away from screens, buzzes, and even the sounds of traffic, I could focus on the sounds of shoes crackling against unpaved pathways, twigs breaking underfoot, and leaves shuffling in the breeze. These natural sounds signal to my brain to let go, reminding me that there is what to work out, and that the quiet of the outdoors is the perfect laboratory for doing so.
But having those moments specifically with him without distraction took the whole experience to another level. Being outdoors in that environment of both focus and freedom gave both of us a platform for vulnerability, an opportunity to work ourselves out together. To be there for each other. Not only do we both get the benefit of the personal transformation, but our relationship also deepens as a result of being vulnerable, which builds trust.
Establishing a cadence of thinking at a higher level, of disengaging from the day-to-day for a brief, protected period to let go and work things out is mission critical. Reduce the noise however you can: go to coffee houses, hotel lobbies, or mall food courts. Bring your noise-canceling earbuds. I’ve even heard of people booking cross-country flights just to have a solid chunk of device-free thinking time. In our world of constant dings, bells and buzzes, we must be deliberate, we must be intentional in creating thinking time.
But we also have to be intentional in creating connection time. Getting outdoors sent a signal to my brain to release the tension and enable me to think. It opened me up and released some of the shackles of routine. This happened in my body. I could feel myself standing up straighter, my footsteps lighter, my breathing deeper, as if I had been carrying a backpack full of bowling balls and suddenly set them down at the foot of the loose gravel path.
There is value in doing that alone. But when you invite someone else along for the ride, not only do you release a little bit of pressure, but you also deepen a relationship.
What an opportunity to work some stuff out, surely. But what an opportunity, as well, to connect.
There is so much to be said about prioritizing and focused execution. Both require thinking. Both require people. Be deliberate in building thinking and connection time into your life as a leader. I cannot recommend the remote outdoors more strongly. Observe what its quiet, and also its sounds, signal to you.
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