WEEK 17 - Woods
There's an episode in season two of Atlanta entitled, “Woods”. It follows Al (played by Bryan Tyree Henry), colloquially known as his rapper name “Paper Boi”, as he gets mugged and is forced to flee into Southern foliage–present virtually everywhere in the South. Within this wooded hideaway, he proceeds to get lost as he meets a spiritually-inclined hermit, who professes to be his guide through the woods. After suffering from existential-anxiety because of the abnormality of what occurs within the woods, Al finds his way out of the forest, escapes the hermit–whilst inadvertently following his advice that turns out to be true–and stumbles onto the road in front of a gas station. There’s a moment of relief. A pause. A blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment. He then walks towards the gas station. There's nothing in his pockets, yet an intangible experience in the forefront of his mind. The episode ends.
This week felt like this episode of Atlanta. Within each day, my head was reeling trying to discover the way through every situation, dilemma, and interaction. It felt at times like we were lost, with nothing but a hope that the direction we had chosen would lead us out of the foliage.
There was a day we were out past 10 PM (the curfew is 9), simply because our inner-hermits were leading us to people who needed to hear from us; it didn't make sense yet we were placed directly in front of them, simply because we followed the advice of our guides. There was a day where we visited nearly every inch of our area, even stepping into unknown territory, simply because we knew our hermits told us to. There was a day where I nearly ended up in the foliage–literally, not just metaphorically–while doing service. There was a day when everything went wrong for our friends: a baby ended up in the hospital, a fever that wouldn't go away, and a spark that landed in an eyeball. There was a day, maybe even the same day as some of these other days, where we discovered that upwards of 250 people might come to the Cinco de Mayo devotional–and that we need to plan it all. The days felt as if hours had passed within seconds, yet at the same time, seconds had turned to hours. Time is not relevant while in the woods.
And now, I feel as if I've come out of the woods and onto the road. I have no choice but to continue on towards a gas station, perhaps to refill myself emotionally or spiritually. But also maybe because there are gas stations on every block in the South.
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WEEK 17:
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