What Lies behind us
and what lies before us
are tiny matters
compared to
what lies within us.
---Ralph Waldo Emerson
I think that very often we define ourselves by what we dream of being or becoming -- I am studying to be a doctor; I am a lawyer, I am a musician; I am hoping to become a millionaire, etc. Often we set goals for achieving certain things, for moving us toward the dreams that we use to shape our image of ourselves.
But so often our dreams don’t take the shape we expect. Or at least the pathway toward the dreams doesn’t meet our expectations. Or the goals don’t hit our deadlines. It is easy to view those un-envisioned forks in the path as limitations, obstacles and setbacks. It is easy at those moments to feel like a failure.
And yet, there may be another way of looking at life’s unexpected and unasked for situations. I have always wanted to do important things with my life. For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to raise awareness and motivate action to take better care of this planet and one another. I’ve wanted to feel as though I have used my life well to make a positive contribution. I’ve set a lot of goals and worked really hard toward that end. I became a first generation college graduate. Straight out of college with no financial backing I launched a non-profit organization to work on environmental issues. I’ve taken courses, served on non-profit boards and volunteered for causes I cared about. I’ve been politically engaged, even running for office and serving as first lady of Oregon when my fiancé was elected Governor. It seemed like I was on a trajectory, slowly but steadily, toward my dream of making a positive difference.
And then, a year and a half ago, my life seemed to blow up and my career came to a screeching halt. It felt like my whole life was off the rails and my dream of being a powerful force for protecting the environment and increasing kindness in the world was now completely out of reach.
For months the pain of that seemingly lost dream literally took my breath away, sent me restless nightmares and made me question the very core of who I was/am. In my effort to cope with the loss and shame, feeling like a failure and a fool, I spent a lot of time writing. And in that process I remembered that in addition to my dream of being an effective change-maker for good, I have long held another dream. I have always wanted a big life, but I’ve never wanted to achieve that through becoming a famous singer or actor or musician, or even politician. I have always, always wanted to become a successful writer and speaker in a way that served our common good.
And yet, for twenty-five years I had worked so hard on my education, my non-profit work, my consulting business and my political roles that I only occasionally wrote anything beyond personal journaling or technical work. I wasn’t acting on that vital piece of my dream.
But when all the consulting, the political position, the busyness was yanked away, after several months of just grappling to get my feet back under me and start healing, I returned to my True North, which was not just to continue my lifelong effort to bring about healthier relationships with the Earth and one another, but to do so primarily through my writing.
Last August I started a blog about my personal journeythrough these challenging times. I was super nervous about how it would be received and if the media would rip me apart, but I took the leap. Taking that scary step resulted in my blog taking off and I hope and have been told that some of my posts have been helpful to readers who are navigating their own personal challenges and emotions. That feels so good. After learning how to blog I finally also set up my professional New Economy blog, which I’d wanted to do for a few years. The blogs led to my becoming a salaried staff writer for a new exciting publication, Issue Magazine. I have full freedom to write about the topics I care so much about and have worked on my entire career. Who could have seen that coming?!
Next, by the end of this year I will have completed my first book. I never expected my first book would be about the unbelievable experience of becoming click-bait and the bulls-eye in a sensationalist media-driven feeding frenzy and learning how to cope with being publically shamed. But I have always dreamed I would write books and this is the obvious before me. Who knows what’s next?
Many times through this transformational phase of my life I’ve encountered and been captivated by caterpillar and butterfly images and stories. Right now I find myself thinking about how caterpillars in the cocoon, before they can transition, must reach the point where their previous form is in its most disintegrated, unrecognizable identity. But under all of that mess, that seeming chaos, is their True North, and they emerge beautiful winged creatures taking to heights a worm that believed itself just a worm might never have seen.
May we all find our True North and our wings!
Cylvia Hayes
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Twenty-seven years ago I had a life changing accident. In the attempt to gentle a young horse to be ridden he freaked out and threw himself to the ground, I leaped off and as each of us were trying to get away, he hit me with his leg and put my left knee to the ground sideways and backwards. I would later realize that the loud “shotgun” sound I’d heard wasn’t his hoof hitting a rock; it was the sound of my ligaments snapping.
I tore apart the ligaments in the interior of my knee, the inner side of my knee and even laid open the cartilage sack that holds the knee joint together in total. The surgeon said it was, “as if I’d guillotined the joint.” Many surgeries and a year and a half of brutal physical therapy later that joint carried me to a soccer scholarship that helped me become a first generation college graduate and after that a multiple-time state racquetball champion.
However, once a knee suffers that type of damage it wears unevenly -- like an out-of-balance tire. In my case, this has ground down the cartilage on the inner compartment of my knee. And now, after many flare ups, adjustments, and clean up surgeries the wear and tear has finally come to a head.
Over the last several months I’ve had a golf ball sized lump of inflammation on the inside of my knee and I have been hurting! I was recently interviewed on TV and they videoed me walking upstairs. It was cold and I was wearing a big winter coat and my doggone knee was so sore that I sort lumbered and lurched up the stairs. When I saw the footage I thought, “Good Lord. I look like a Grizzly Bear!”.
So this week I saw the orthopedic cartilage expert. I was hoping to hear that there had been some sort of breakthrough in cartilage regeneration and I had options. Nope. As X-rays and examinations would reveal, not only has my cartilage thinned, but the replacement ligaments have worn and stretched and bone spurs have grown in an attempt to stabilize the joint. With all the screws and staples in my knees the X-rays look like a frickin’ hardware store!
The long and short of it is I can do a couple of cortisone and cartilage enhancement injections but, barring a miracle, I am headed to a knee replacement in the near future AND – this is the biggest hit for me – my running and racquetball days are over. I now have to stop running in order to be able to continue to keep walking, hiking, biking functionally.
This is very hard for me. So much of my identity has been that of a hard-core, hard-pounding athlete. Now I have to let that go. It’s another piece of the huge identity redefinition I’ve been undergoing over the past 18 months.
I cried a bit and worried a bit with thoughts like, “Will I gain weight if I can’t run for exercise?” And, almost just as frightening, “Will I have to give up good, microbrew beer to not gain weight?!” But seriously, much more importantly, will I still be able to stay as strong and fit and physically capable as I’ve been lucky to be able to be so far?
And yet, surprisingly, mixed in with those fears there’s also relief. I have worked and worked out so hard all these years, and because of the injuries that has involved “pushing through” a lot of pain. Perhaps now, I can drop the hammer and move through life with this damaged, but wonderful, resilient body a lot less painfully.
This is yet another phase of life, another stretch of the path. Perhaps I will learn new things I might never have looked at, like paddle boarding which I’ve never done but the surgeon recommended. Perhaps really falling in love with my mountain bike. Perhaps I will welcome being able to exercise without gritting my teeth in pain.
Perhaps this is my chance to switch from pounding my way through life, to gliding through it. Perhaps this is my chance to learn that that’s really possible.
Cylvia Hayes
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This weekend I will be speaking at the annual Land Air Water conference at the University of Oregon. My panel will be addressing the connection between how much time we spend at “work” and environmental damage and climate change. It’s a bit of an unusual topic for me to speak about but as I’ve been working on my speech I’ve realized how much my relationship with time has changed over these past really challenging but hugely growth-filled eighteen months. I’ve had a lifelong struggle to be a human being instead of a human doing. I have based so much of my identity, my goals and my time prioritization on being productiveand delivering in my professional endeavors. This has certainly partly been based on my oh-so-human self-fabricated ego seeking validation and recognition. And I think it’s been greatly exacerbated by the fact that I feel such urgency to make change, to reverse the tremendous damage we are inflicting on this miraculous blue planet that I love. It is hard to describe the shock, when my life blew up, of having all of the work I had been so deeply immersed in, abruptly yanked away. My environmental and clean energy work, my work on poverty, all of it, even most of my colleagues, gone. At first, I railed and thrashed and tried to force my work forward even in the midst of the terrible turmoil and pain. It was to no avail and I finally gave in to the fact that I myself was too damaged, too worn out and freaked out to really “work” anyway. I reached a point of surrender, realizing that all I could control or “Do” was the inner, spiritual work. For the first time in my life I really slowed down. Once I did, I was actually sort of shocked to realize how hard I had been working and pushing for so long. I had meditated for years but always treated it as a discipline, something to cross off the daily Do List. Over these past months I have spent hours meditating … unhurriedly. I’ve studied spirituality and consciousness, and made space for lengthy conversations about those topics instead of the “work” that I had been so focused on. I’ve read novels and watched movies. I’ve volunteered building fences for dogs living on chains and rehabing injured wildlife. Sometimes I forewent the intense, pound it out run in exchange for a long, slow hike. I’ve taken time to really be present with, talk and interact with strangers. And lo and behold I like it! I have realized, once I was forced to stop driving so hard, I didn’t want to drive so hard. This has been a period of reflection, deep healing and powerful insights that is adding so much richness and depth to my life. Now, over the past six months or so I have been resuming the “Work”, moving forward again with my career and my efforts to protect and restore Nature. I am working with some great clients again and doing a lot of writing, including for a new magazine I’m helping to launch called Issue Magazine. It feels great to be working again, to be making a contribution to my clients and my cause and I am deeply grateful to be rolling once more. And yet, I am not rolling quite so fast or working as long or as “hard” as I did before. I’m not allowing my meditation time to be the first thing to go when I feel the pressure of a deadline. I’m committed to maintaining this new, gentler, more open relationship with time. And I am seeing amazing results! Solutions just seeming to come easily, opportunities laying themselves before me and deeper, richer personal connections with my clients. It is fascinating and exciting. I’ve always known that my work on behalf of the Earth was spiritual work, but in reality I was mostly giving that lip service, skimming along the surface. This recent unasked for and greatly resisted sabbatical was something of a spiritual intervention and a gift. Shifting how I prioritize time has brought me full spiral back to my roots but on a slightly higher rung. I’m no longer spending time; I’m investing it. Cylvia Hayes Love this post? Please share it on Facebook. Thank you!
