Wingspan, Lifespan

Leaving my job was about more than just turning my back on income and saying no to life-threatening stress. I dared to "just say no" to participating in something that every fiber of my being told was out of integrity with my values and ethics. But finding a way to live with the courage of my convictions was a far more difficult journey than I ever realized.

I know that mysticism takes a backseat in our hyper-logical society. I also know I could not have completed this journey if I didn't have a Spirit Guide with me every step of the way.

"The Blue" has been my spirit guide all along. She comes in a few different forms. She is my grandmother, she is the Great Blue Heron, she is the blue earth ~ again, grandmother.

The Great Blue Heron, a pre-historic-looking creature with its long, crannied neck, is the most patient being I have ever seen. A Heron can stand perfectly still at the water's edge, letting not even the wind know of her presence ~ until she jolts her beak down to snatch a fish from the world underwater.

And then she returns to stillness.

More than her regal appearance, The Blue is a constant reminder to me that the natural world is more important than anything humans can create. Despite all our meddling, nature is still all around us, barely hanging on, but still there for those who know where to look, for those of us open to the wisdom she has to teach.

The Great Blue Heron is not just found in the rainforest or the Everglades. Miraculously, she's by ponds in parks and fishing the streams running through our cities.

And what amazes me more than anything? She's there with me everywhere I go. I first met the Blue Heron in a Chicago suburb, a pond just outside my old home. She came out of the blue, and my finger was on the shutter at just the right time to capture her graceful takeoff. She's been with me every step of the way since then along my perilous 21st-century odyssey. The Great Blue Heron has been my lifeline.

In my previous life, I was a web developer in the financial services industry. The money was avaricious, but I couldn't live with myself. I had to stop. I guess you'd call it a mid-life change-of-heart, a crisis of conscience.

So I embarked on a journey. Of self-discovery? A spiritual quest? Odysseus returning from the Trojan War? Dante venturing through the underworld with his guide, Virgil?

In Oregon, where I went through hell (and back), the Great Blue Heron lived in a pond behind my apartment. When I was mustering the courage to leave a toxic relationship, I saw a pair of Herons flying together, and then parting ways in the sky. That was on the same afternoon I witnessed the Great American solar eclipse in 2017. An omen?

The Heron has foretold changes in my life, talked to me in times of trouble and self-doubt, and has finally taught me to be patient. She has been a more stalwart companion than some fair-weather friends I've had throughout the years.

My journey was definitely the bridge between two lives. The Heron helped me span that divide, what the Tibetan Shaman would call a Bardo ~ the empty space of transition, between death and rebirth. I mean that sincerely. My journey of purpose included a suicide attempt.

The extent of my journey is beyond the scope of this piece, a confidence only the Heron and I share. I am sworn to let the past remaining the past. When my car was broken into, the back window shattered, a backpack that contained nothing but a dozen journals I had kept over the years was stolen. This time, it was too obvious an omen to deny. The past was gone completely. The only choice I had was to create a new life.

The professional camera equipment I used for wildlife photography was also stolen out of the backseat, but of course the Heron herself was not gone. She kept returning, everywhere I went.

I believe she is my spirit guide ~ perhaps even the spirit of my grandmother who we called "The Blue." Perhaps her faith in me was what kept me alive.

It's been six years since I made the fateful decision to leave my first career. It's been a long journey since then, following the Heron; or perhaps she followed me, guiding me, leading from behind.

When I finally settled into a new home just this past year, there were Herons everywhere. This time it was a whole rookery of them, a dozen nests in a single tree on a small river, and a half dozen more in several other trees just downstream ~ far more than I'd ever seen before.

Today, in my next life, I am a public speaker on climate change, I lead groups on Authentic Communication, I host a podcast called, "Stories from the Future," and I have self-published several novels about a better world.

It might sound impressive on paper, but really I feel all these things are "Hail Mary" attempts to complete my journey of purpose. I don't make money from these pursuits, but there's nothing I'd rather be doing. Maybe the journey is already complete because I love what I'm doing. Maybe I don't have to strike "paydirt" to consider myself successful.

Still, sticking the landing seems to be a matter of self-respect for me, though not life and death. I don't believe in avaricious amounts of money, but sometimes it's hard not to feel ashamed about a lack of income. I am slowly embracing being supported financially by my partner after a decade of earning a six-figure income when, at times, I had been the one offering financial support. I guess everything comes full circle.

To be honest, I believe in the legitimacy of single-income households, but maybe I just feel unworthy of my partner's grace.

If I did emerge from a Bardo on the wingspan of a Heron, then at the end of the tunnel there was a Boddhistva. I fear it is not humility when I believe I don't deserve this, but insecurity, self-doubt.

On a practical level, even for couples like us who are childless-by-choice, living on the means a single income provides makes more sense than both adults working for wages, and no one gardening, cooking, cleaning, or even homeschooling children in the case of families.

Leaving my job was a commitment to take back my identity and find a way to live a life that is in alignment with Mother Earth. Gandhi spoke of non-violence. I feel that non-participation can be a valuable contribution to a society of obese abundance.

I am a minimalist. I consume very little. I enjoy having few possessions. I believe if we all consumed less, produced less, and worked less, that would open the space for a higher quality of life, more quality time with our families, and a return to a mindful and conscientious way of life. That's what I have always believed.

My journey was about seeking perspective on what truly matters; specifically, how to live according to my convictions in a world where climate change and economic quicksand make that the challenge of a lifetime.

Who could undertake that challenge, undergo this journey, without a spirit guide?

The Great Blue Heron has been a lantern lighting my path through the darkness. Today, she reassures me to be patient, to wait for just the right moment to swoop with avian grace, to see the invisible opportunities beneath the murky water to earn a living from my new vocation. She has taught me to set the pace of my life with patience, peace, poise and purpose.

In my long journey, the Heron ultimately taught me what I set out to seek: what's truly important. In many ways, I already knew; I just wasn't living in integrity. More than anything, the greatest gift the Great Blue gave me, inspired in me, was the courage to live according to my convictions. Don't think I don't have days of crippling self-doubt. But when I do, of course there she is, flying overhead. Still, I could do with keeping a little more faith. Then again, who among us couldn't, given today's world?

I imagine the Heron has faith, every day, that she will always catch her lunch … and eat it, too.

I have certainly found a new perspective on things. But it must be only one iota of the perspective the Heron gets when she takes to wing, returning back into the blue.