New Beginnings

As many prepare to make New Years resolutions, it is our wish to pass on a bit of wisdom that we have gleaned from our many years of living as change agents. When we seek to make positive change, it is important to clear out old ways, old habits and in very real ways,clear the ground so something new can take root. It has been reported that over the years, very few of our resolutions stick. Like the wife in Slaughterhouse Five, we often run cover for our own bad habits by saying repeatedly, I'm going to change. I'm going to change for you, Honey. This time I'm really serious...

What we really need to do, to make positive and lasting change in our lives is to rip and tear at the foundation of bad habits, we must remove some significant part of our "selves" to make room for the new beginning. In very real ways, the closing of a chapter is upon us. Our attachment to the way things were is the only thing that is holding us back from achieving great things.

When we embark on a restoration project, we often have to clear out plant life that would out compete the trees that we plant. Changing our lives is much the same. If we have entanglements that absorb all the fresh ideas and good habits that we are trying to establish, the new seedlings that we plant will come to naught. If we refuse to clear out the unproductive activities that we currently distract ourselves with, there will be no time for that exercise program, or the weight loss program that we commit to.

The rites and rituals of the season have developed over long periods of time to help us give away things that are holding us back as surely as they are meant to re-establish relationships with the important parts of the world that surrounds us. In the process of growing, first we must break through the outer shell that we have developed to protect us. This time of the year, the Earth falls into a type of suspended animation. The life which thrives upon the surface takes a rest, and we need to take heed of that, resting ourselves. Over the first half of my adult life, I often found myself busier at this time of year than nearly any other. Running and rushing, trying to meet more than my fair share of obligations. Inevitably, this would lead to illness early in the new year.

One resolution that helped to avoid both the hectic pre-holiday rush and the aftermath of recovery that my body inevitably had to go through, was to look upon the dark days of winter as a gift rather than an obligation. Without a hearth, it can be a bit difficult to find a place to share stories and gather during the long winter nights, but we have had to make due. Stories can still be shared and gifts can still be exchanged, but rather than trying to make everything perfect, just taking time to appreciate one another has become a much more important part of the season.

Understanding the need to clear out things before amassing new ones has both prepared the ground for new growth and opened up possibility that I could not have fathomed if I had remained locked in to the belief that this is the season that requires perfection. One of my favorite personal ECO-Tours, taken time and time again is to journey in, to the heart of my ideas. finding out where they have come from and why I might feel the pressure to do things that I know to be either not helpful or downright harmful has led me to come to terms with many of my mal-adaptive behaviors. Like weeding the ground and tilling soil for new plantings, this mental cultivation has led to both startling discoveries about myself and the creation of a rich medium in which to plant the seeds of better behavior that can lead to growth.

Finding the right places to cultivate, the best seeds to plant in the fresh ground and caring for our new selves in ways that foster growth rather than hinder it is a lifelong process. Just because we put so much pressure on ourselves at this time of year does not mean that this is the only time that we need to consider these important parts of our lives, but perhaps we can start by establishing a new relationship with the person we hope to become. with a bit of luck, perhaps, we can come to terms with the fact that much of what we have become comfortable with is taking us down a very limiting path. Holding on to our old pain, the myriad abuses and neglect that can help define who we are limits our development as surely as night follows the day. Releasing both ourselves and those who have caused our pain from these limitations sounds difficult, but for those who have experienced true forgiveness, the feeling is like opening your heart. Just as we root up weeds and shoots from earth that we seek to plant in, loosening the entanglements of our heart is an essential part of becoming new people.

For some reason, humans seem prone to forgetting the eternal truths. Perhaps that is why so many religious teachings say the same things. I'm sure that is the reason for most folk tales. Even those of us on a good path can use a bit of cultivation from time to time. Take time to look long and deeply into the world that surrounds you. Both the external world of nature, or concrete jungle, whichever you live within and the internal world of emotions and ideas. find the place from which the limitations spring and root them out. only then will your seeds of change be able to take root.

Twenty-five Years Ago Today

Twenty-five years ago today, I turned an important corner, not only in my life, but into a geographic realm beyond my imagination. My physical body crossed from Wisconsin, where I had spent many years of my life, into Minnesota along the shore of Lake Superior. It was a moment that stands apart from time. This change of course, from heading pretty much due West, swinging North, by Northeast along the North Shore of The Greatest Lake, made me aware of my anonymity as well as my infinite spirit. Leading off into the distant future was a path that was both undeniably my own and intimately entwined with each and every other organism that lives, has lived and will ever live around these inland seas. I was barely a week into my Great Lakes Bicycle Tour, but my young body had already turned from a tentative young man into a stoic and experienced traveler. I was shedding pounds and lightening my panniers with each meal. As I entered the North, the scars of extraction were all around me. Heavily silted waterways, deforested areas that stretched for miles, heaps of acid mine waste and open pits that might never again support life were all around me. The mining and milling industries that built the great fortunes of city dwellers far far away had left scars so deep that after one hundred years, the ugliness of them remained, spread out across the landscape. Plainly visible for anyone to see, but understood by few, if any, of those who were speeding by on the highways at breakneck speed.

I had rested up for an extra day in Superior, Wisconsin enjoying some down time after pushing though the pain of hundred mile days. In that first week, I had experienced snow, sleet, rain and one crisp night that froze my tires to the ground so thoroughly that leaves, dirt and pine needles stuck to them and created a funny sound as they swished past the frame on each revolution. I was happy and sad, tired and energized, but the overarching goal of making my way around all five Great Lakes just got that much closer. I was as far away from home as I had ever been, yet I felt as one with the earth as ever as well. I could feel the Living Earth, cheering me on, the wind, finally, at my back and the freshening breeze bringing the warmth of spring to the region. As I passed the Viking ship in Duluth, I felt the presence of my ancestors, buoying my energy reserves and keeping me aware of the deeper meanings behind any pilgrimage. Losing one relationship between who we thought we were and who we may find ourselves to be is part and parcel of any voyage. Rather than crossing the great water as my viking ancestors had, I was circumnavigating them, finding my way with a series of maps that were more or less handed down to me from wizened old travelers and mapmakers of high repute. rather than seeing images of maps and having to infer what must be there, i was seeing what was actually out there and condensing that knowledge into the lines and color fields that I had in my pocket.

The ultimate shift in my course was to switch from thinking that I had power to change the course of history to wanting to change myself. the only thing I have absolute responsibility for and dominion over is, in fact, my own self. how that shakes out amongst my fellow humans is for them to determine and amongst their own lives they must take responsibility for their own part in making the world better as they see fit. My own ego had been trying to stay in charge, but as I was finding, powers beyond my comprehension were at work in my days, my nights and even those beautiful moments in-between the two. I began to feel a deep connection to the waters, the rock and the thin soils of the area, working my own special magic wherever I stopped to honor and respect what I would find there, what I took away from them and what I left behind. At this point, making my way up the shore toward the border with Canada, any demons that had led me to question my ability were vanquished, any doubts about my convictions evaporated and the truth of my own message, which I shared with others each and every time I stopped , stopped being just words, but a reflection of the voices of the trees, the water and the very wind which I was becoming one with. I seriously questioned whether I would be able to be clear about my mission, adept at bringing salient information to communities that I had not lived amongst for very long and if it would be possible to capture the imagination of those I would meet along the way. What I was beginning to find is that more often than not, my message was not only received, but shared and welcomed by both individuals and the news outlets that I provided with interviews. As I skirted the shoulder of the Canadian Shield, riding near the border between land and the lake, every turn revealed a more beautiful sight. Except for the areas that had been poisoned by mining, each cascade was more wonderful than the previous one, each tiny hamlet and locality was more picturesque. Each settlement was more focused on the values and approaches that we would one day call sustainable.

What I was seeing reflected in both the people and their passions was an undying commitment to one another that is exemplified in nature. Just as the tree falling in the woods feeds the soils that will provide a footing for another generation of trees, the falling of the great extractive economies of the past has given rise to a new way of life that respects the Earth, cares about water, and has learned some of the lessons of taking without giving back, grabbing the money and running and the responsibility we all have to one another. I was turning onto a new road, into a new culture and finding my true self, free of the limitations that I had placed upon myself.