Buddy Wakefield was a facilitator at SuperCamp the first year I was there. I’ve been in love with this poem for a long time, especially the end:

“I know troubleshooting yourself in the foot and acting the center of your own universe is a tricky dichotomy to deal with, but yes, you are the center of the universe. If you weren’t you wouldn’t be here. So as the middle of space and everything floating in it, it is your job to know that the emptiness is just emptiness, that the stars are stars, and that the flying rocks fucking hurt. So please, stop inviting walls into wide open spaces. I know everything is out there. It’s why they call it everything. I know there are times when you will lay your head to rest, you will have a moment of brilliance that grows into a perfect order of words but you will fall asleep instead of painting them down on paper. When you wake up you will have forgotten the idea completely and missed it like a front tooth. But at least you know how to recognize moments of brilliance, because even at your worst you are fucking incredible. So return to yourself. Even if you’re already there. Because no matter where you go or how hard you try or what you do, the only person you are ever gonna get to be, and I know it, thank God, is you.”

Aah so wonderful.