Note: this post contains three audio recordings.
Today I was walking along a trail on a bluff near the St. Croix River, listening water rushing over the exposed rocks, and a bald eagle flew right beside me for a time. He was in conversation with the wind, as he soared along the river valley, riding the breeze. I stopped to watch him fly, and as he crested over some trees and out of sight, I let my hands trail over some lichen and moss on the huge boulders that line part of the path I was on as the warmer-than-it-should-be air moved around me. I was reminded that I am a part of the conversation, too, when I pay attention.
The world continues to be a place of such beauty, and a place of such ugliness and cruelty. Pines in the river valley stand tall, the ice sparkles in the sun, and eagles soar above it all. War rages, money dictates, the death toll of children is heartbreaking, and people who have just given birth or are going through cancer treatment are laid off from their jobs while on leave. There is beauty, and there is destruction, and they are existing side by side. It can be really hard to hold both of those things. They both exist. It feels complicated.
In my own personal bubble, it’s been a week—a literal week since I lost my day job (again), and a week of big challenge, mentally, emotionally, and physically.
The few days post layoff, I was still flying pretty high on the “I can’t believe this, damn the man” vibes and enjoying long text conversations with my former colleagues.1 I brushed up my resume, make sure my LinkedIn profile was up to date, and posted something insightful about job loss. I even applied to one job that seemed like it would be a pretty great fit.2 I rolled my shoulders back, cracked my knuckles, and was ready to do the thing. I practiced some yoga, chopped some wood, picked my kid up from her school trip, went for a long run….I was feeling okay.
And then a few days later, I crashed—I developed some worrisome symptoms, and it was all too easy to start looking stuff up on the internet.3 (And the prospect of losing health insurance in short order made it feel much more urgent to deal with right away.) In hindsight, I think it was a way of transferring some of the energy I wasn’t sure what to do with—from the abstract (what comes next..who knows?!) to something physical (here is an ailment that I can deal with right away). After already writing a book on navigating a job loss, and doing a whole bookshop tour full of book talks on the subject, it felt like I should know what to do to move forward. “Hello, I am a job loss pro who transcended the hard parts last time.” And sure, I do know “what to do”(not that there’s a play by play for this sort of thing)—but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to do it, or that navigating something you’ve given out a lot of advice on makes dealing with it yourself again any less hard than before.4
Anyway, come Sunday I was feeling pretty low, so I bowed out of a commitment to lead a group in contemplative practice—I hate cancelling on people, but I knew that I had to if I wanted to honor what I really needed in the moment. (The hosts were gracious and understanding, which I was thankful for.) I took that day and Monday to rest and saw my usual health care provider to have a check up/run some tests.
And what do you know: they are all clear. Clean bill of health. I still don’t feel quite like myself, though. Stress can manifest in the physical body so many different ways, and while I’m grateful not to have some sort of underlying condition that needs management on top of figuring out what comes next, it’s a reminder to pay attention.
How am I going about my days? Where is my energy going? What do I need to do to ensure I’m offering myself the grace necessary to move through unwanted and unexpected conditions? How can I harmonize with myself? What does it look like to be in conversation with my needs, rather than a fight between things that feel like they must get my attention?
As I wrote in Collisions of Earth and Sky, “We do not need to know all the answers, but we need to listen and be open to what we hear.” 5
What questions do you need to keep close as the week continues?
… also newly unemployed, and processed how we were used to processing: via text, digitally. We had just been let go from a tech company, after all. It makes sense.
Time will tell…
Just don’t do this. The internet always tells you death or serious, life altering disease is imminent. It usually isn’t. As my pal Cheri said, calm down.
Alas, I have not yet transcended.
And Collisions of Earth and Sky came out one year ago! If you haven’t already gotten a copy, you can get one today to celebrate, or maybe you’ll get a copy for your friend who likes nature, or your local little free library, or the naturalist at your closest state park. Leave a review, too, on Amazon especially, as those help new folks find the book quite a bit.
Dear Heidi,
Beautiful message of strength and hope, yet I know the feelings of uncertainty with job loss too. Be ever gentle with yourself and know that you are held by those closest to you, and a community of loyal readers of your beautiful writing that makes a difference in people's lives. I found your book Woodland Manitou at a time in my life when I was in a space of despair caring for my beautiful mother with Parkinson's and having to make heart wrenching decisions about her care. Your writing has held me, and helped me process this journey of grief, beauty and destruction. I have all your books and they are a light unto my path. I have your newest on order. 😊
Your employer made a big mistake in letting you go. Be encouraged. New adventures are on the horizon for you. You are about to take flight. 🦅
"Listen to your heart everyday. Where there is fear, make room for bravery. Where there is doubt allow in encouragement." ~ from Many Moons 2024 Lunar Planner
Peace and Love,
Jayne 🌼
The first poem; a complicated joy, touched me so deeply. You write beautifully. Thank you 🙏🏼❤️