Things change around me.
I've also grown up and gone through some changes, but not as swiftly as the world around me. Through my personal changes, I get to keep my memories and experiences and what wisdom I've earned along the way. The people and the places I've lived and have had the good fortune to return to – they haven't just moved on; in a relatively short period of time they have transformed radically. Nothing remains the same.
Things change around all of us. And as a Changemaker my skill is change. And I know that it is not only because of me that everything around me is changing all the time.
This idea that things are always changing together as one interconnected system, well it's an idea as old as time. For example, when I lived on the Eagle Creek Ranch in Beaver, Dave the salmon keeper would tell me that you can never walk into the same river twice. The river is always changing.
The river is always changing?
At first it didn't make a lot of sense. How can a river change? It's a river. It's just there.
And over that year and a half during our pandemic lockdown when I lived on the Eagle Creek Ranch, I observed the many seasons of that river. From all sorts of angles, I listened to all of its stories. I even noticed how historically, the river itself is constantly moving all over.
The other day I thought about a story that I might write one day of a tree that changes the world. All sorts of characters could come into the realm of the tree, and they'd be the characters in my imaginary story, and it would be their change that our world has noticed. Great war heroes and wonderfully encouraging teachers. Kind of like a historical fiction with a twist. It'd give me an opportunity to tell some back stories of changemakers that are worth retelling, but also express this insight about the nature of change.
That through it all – through all these stories of our change is our one tree. Rooted and holding shade. Consuming carbon and expelling oxygen. Just there. Unnoticed. But there. And that would be the story of the tree that changed the world. And, well, someone took the time to notice and recognize that old tree.
I've been yearning to answer my calling my entire life. To once and for all, meet the moment that I am called to answer. To have peace knowing that I stepped forward when I needed to. I've always imagined it's something grand and dystopian. A rebel kind of cause where there's a good side and a dark side. Or maybe a grand social justice movement that bends the arc. Or a word or phrase or a speech that sparks off some extraordinary story.
I have optimized my entire life for this moment. My motto is Live Your Calling. Very little holds me down. I have no roots like that old tree. Going wherever whenever to do whatever is asked of me.
For what?
My life has amounted to a great realization that the world – with or without me as the main character of the story – changes. Just as the tree changes the world, so do I. One more contributor showing up. All of us – every single one of us – participate in all this change.
I am aged 45. In changemaker years that's more than a lifetime. Most of my models were struck down by the bullet before then. My late Grandpa lived to age 93 and Grandma lived to 98. They were also extraordinary changemakers – and yet I'm only now realizing how wonderful they were and how much change they made in our world.
To Live Your Calling is no easy task. You can build up a tolerance to fear. I know that no matter what — I will make it through any situation.
You can learn to trust your body and feel your intuition through difficult choices. But only when you make they difficult choices to abstain from all of the externalities meant to control and change your body and numb your feelings.
You can, as I have, optimize your life for that moment. Like training all your life to climb the tallest mountain you may never meet. Or even see off in the distance.
I grieve that I may never meet my moment.
Grieving is the secret weapon of a changemaker. It's not something I was born with or even thought about until I was living on that old Eagle Creek Ranch and had some space to work things out and remember all those stories.
Grieving helps me wake up, soften up and lead forward. The grieving is how I hear my calling clearly. It makes evident both the feeling and the purpose. See what is. Fine tune. And keep going.
I grieve for all that has been lost in my journey. I grieve for all that has been gained and earned. I grieve for the place I'm in. And all the places I have been. I grieve. My God do I grieve.
To Live my Calling I wake up each morning, plant both feet, and get up. And each night, I grieve. And in between, I get to notice how it's that tree right over there that's always been changing the world all around us.