6 Life Lessons on Growth (revisited)

[An essay written in 2015 and revisited in 2021]

It’s been a little over a month since I returned home from a month-long permaculture internship at in Guatemala. These past two months spent abroad and at home are hardly comparable, yet I find myself ruminating on the growth I experienced in a month’s time and what it’s meant for a month back home.

There was a quote that meant a great deal to me as I prepared for my trip. I would repeat it to myself often as a mantra. I was never as terrified to do anything as I was to travel abroad alone for the first time on this trip—a trip that was meant to be so many things—transcendental, life-changing, a new direction, proof of what I was capable of… When all of that got overwhelming, this quote brought me back to center. Embracing fear and following my heart bravely became my mission.

“The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.”

-Joseph Campbell

I found a lot of treasure in Guatemala and planted that treasure vowing to always remember those perspectives and lessons, some tangible, and some intangible, and take them with me to let them work for me. A large part of my journey has also been finding ways to translate the work I’m doing in bettering myself to also better the lives of others. And in that, I realized that sharing the treasure I found was part of the plan all along:

1. Embrace fear — do what scares you. There is no wishing away fear, there is only jumping in and trusting in the process. Every anxiety, nervous apprehension, doubt is an opportunity to recognize your potential for growth. Adding to this, you must remember your limits and forgive yourself. You can’t overcome all your fears all at once, nor should you. Growth is a process, not a one-shot deal.

Work at your fears a little each day. And when you recognize you are fearful of doing something because it will be uncomfortable (but not overwhelmingly so) jump in! Let go and trust that you can handle the discomfort and remain open to what it will teach you. Looking for these opportunities repeatedly becomes a game and slowly it becomes exciting to look for them to arise—it becomes liberating to just “let go and trust” in the face of fear and doubt.

2. Growth starts small and repetitive and then expands exponentially. A powerful metaphor and example of this exists in the natural world as the Fibonacci sequence, a parallel illustrated to me by my wonderful teacher, Jeremy Fellows.

The Fibonacci sequence is nature’s language of growth. Each new number in the series results from the addition of the two numbers that came before it, starting with zero and one: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377, 610, 987, 1597, 2584, 4181, 6765, 10946 …. and so on! This pattern shows up everywhere — flowers, pine cones, tree branching patterns, shells, human and animal bone structure, weather patterns, galaxy spirals, etc.

It’s so simple and straightforward and is yet is a guide for our understanding of the organization of our entire universe, our beauty ideals (i.e. the golden ratio), as well as (metaphorically or not) our own spiritual growth or understanding of a topic.

First, growth builds upon growth. In understanding, we may start small but that understanding has infinite capacity for expansion.

Second, everyone starts at 0, but 22 iterations later and you are already in the tens of thousands! Start small and know that your progress is building. Trust in the process.

Source: Regretfully, I could not find a valid source for this beautiful piece of art. Please do get in contact if you have any further information.

We are not separate from the natural world but made in its infinite wisdom. We always have the power to grow—it’s right at our fingertips.

3. You will never arrive because you are already there. Arrival at any given reality is an illusion. The true reality is that now is all that exists. Everything you need you can find right now in the present moment. Now is complete and now is necessary.

4. Follow your passions and interests with non-attachment. That spark is inside of you. Your highest good, what makes you feel connected to and inspired by the universe, already exists within you. When you are operating from your highest good, you are following your passions and interests without any set goal or achievement in mind.

Flowing with your passions is enough—you need nothing else to complete you or make you whole. It is here that you will be of the greatest service to others, as well. Trust in yourself, follow your heart, and be open and receptive to whatever unfolds as a result.

5. Your beliefs are your reality. This understanding was cemented after a long night’s talk with a dear vän, Robin. Even simply believing that your beliefs are your reality is a powerful tool that can change everything. Tell yourself a different story and see how your life changes. Align your beliefs with your highest good, your passions and interests, and you are limitless.

photo: Monique Meadows

6. You are here for a reason. No matter who you are, your experiences and the circumstances into which you were born produce a unique perspective.

Plant the seeds you were given. Use your blessings, privileges, and your hardships to understand how connected you are and how important it is that you exist.

2020: Reading Year in Review

This past year challenged my reading like no other. What was once an enjoyable escape and past time became an intense struggle. There were several weeks-long periods where I kept picking up books trying to read and giving up after 20 minutes went by and I could barely finish a few pages. Focus often alluded me in the time of doom scrolling. Somehow, I managed to read 54 books. Although several of them were on the shorter side.

Historically, the vast majority of the books I choose to read are non-fiction. This year, I tried to mix it up a little (especially to try to read more graphic novels and fiction) and I’m so glad that I did. Getting out of my nonfiction box afforded the opportunity to read the best book I read all year (and one of the best books I’ve read in my lifetime), a book that changed my mind/ideas about what a book could be. It holds the top spot in my “Top 5 Reads of 2020” list. I won’t say much else about it other than to read it if you haven’t already!

Top 5 Reads of 2020

1. On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, by Ocean Vuong (fiction)

2. Geography of the Heart, by Fenton Johnson (nonfiction)

3. Counting Descent, by Clint Smith (poetry collection)

4. Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates (nonfiction)

5. Beyond the Gender Binary, by Alok Vaid-Menon (nonfiction)

Because I am also a spreadsheet nerd, I made some year end graphs:

This coming year I hope to plan out a little more what I’d like to read (and also take a healthy chunk of books off of my TBR shelf).

Here is the full list of books I read in 2020. The bolded/italicized ones were books I either really liked or ones that especially stuck with me:

1. Deep Creek, by Pam Houston

2. Homo Deus, by Yuval Noah Harari

3. How We Fight For Our Lives, by Saeed Jones

4. The Lost Words, by Robert Macfarlan and Jackie Morris

5. The Weight of Shadows, by José Orduña

6. This is Water, by David Foster Wallace

7. Range, by David Epstein

8. Pain Woman Takes Your Keys, and Other Essays from a Nervous System, by Sonya Huber

9. The Hidden Life of Trees, by Peter Wohlleben

10. Start With Why, by Simon Sinek

11. Fail, Fail Again, Fail Better, by Pema Chödrön

12. Geography of the Heart, by Fenton Johnson

13. The Inevitable, by Kevin Kelly

14. 21 Lesson for the 21st Century, by Yuval Noah Harari

15. Peace is Every Breath, by Thich Nhat Hanh

16. Beyond the Gender Binary, by Alok Vaid-Menon

17. When Things Fall Apart, by Pema Chödrön

18. Dare to Lead, by Brené Brown

19. Rising Strong, by Brené Brown

20. The Dip, by Seth Godin

21. Stray, by Stephanie Danler

22. Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates

23. Why We Swim, by Bonnie Tsui

24. Stamped: racism, antiracism, and you, by Jason Reyonds, Ibram X. Kendi

25. Me and White Supremacy, by Layla F. Saad

26. Recollections of My Nonexistence, by Rebecca Solnit

27. How to Do Nothing, by Jenny Odell

28. Better Than Before, by Gretchen Rubin

29. Self-Reliance, by Ralph Waldo Emerson

30. The Motivation Myth, by Jeff Haden

31. The Hatred of Poetry, by Ben Lerner

32. Fiction:

33. Annihilation, by Jeff VanderMeer

34. The Deep, by Rivers Solomon

35. Cinderella Liberator, by Rebecca Solnit

36. Dark Matter, by Blake Crouch

37. On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, by Ocean Vuong

    Poetry Collections:

38. Pioneers in the Study of Motion, by Susan Briante

39. Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude, by Ross Gay

40. Be With, by Forrest Gander

41. Cast Away: poems for our time, by Naomi Shibah Nye

42. Counting Descent, by Clint Smith

43. Good Bones, by Maggie Smith

44. Don’t Call Us Dead, by Danez Smith

45. The Essential Emily Dickinson, by Emily Dickinson, Joyce Carol Oates

46. Night Sky with Exit Wounds, by Ocean Vuong

47. The Book of Light, by Lucille Clifton

    Graphic Novels:

48. They Called Us Enemy, by George Takei

49. Gender Queer, by Maia Kobabe

50. The Arrival, by Shaun Tan

51. El Deafo, by Cece Bell

52. Kindred: a graphic novel adaptation, by Octavia Butler (adapted by Damian Duffy)

53. A Fire Story, by Brian Fies

54. Queer: a graphic history, by Meg-John Barker, Julia Scheele

55. Gender: a graphic guide, by Meg-John Barker, Julia Scheele

What were the best books you read in 2020?

Earth: an erasure poem

At the very last minute, I flubbed the “the” in this poem (and “catch” and “cross” could also be more legible) but I think you get the idea. Enjoy!

Meditative Journey

Gravel crunches underfoot, tiny rocks settle after being kicked on the path. Several miles from a road, I am on a trail of nature’s design, nestled between the tip of a mountain and seemingly endless peaks and valleys to the North.

It is quiet here, windless. The movement of my body produces the only sound. The smell is that of the Pacific Northwest, evergreen and fresh. It is a dry day, a summer day. The sun sizzles on the skin, the mouth beckons in thirst, the sweet taste of the last drink lingering.

The colors are azure blue, lime and forest green, and brown. A snow-capped mountain peaks out from the horizon, one state over, across the river to home, to Oregon.

This place feels like solitude, feels like bliss, feels like a dream awake. Closing the eyes to it all, the body still remains here, feels here, is here.

Closing the eyes again now from another home, far from Oregon, I am still there. I soak in a memory, an imprint that will never leave or forsake me. I settle into my sacred space.

You can go there too. Meet me in the middle of the mountains. Close your eyes - let’s go.

On Remembering

I’m dropping in today to write a little update from our 100ft-wide patch of nature and beyond. Since I last wrote about this small plot of woods, three new species have been spotted - a fox jumping around the thickets, bats circling, hunting in the light of a full moon, and deer munching on meristem growth in broad daylight.

We have witnessed rabbits, squirrels, a groundhog, an opossum, a fox, bats, deer, and birds aplenty living in and utilizing this space. Many of the trees in this patch are Black Walnut, an allelopathic tree that secretes toxins into the environment to out-compete other trees and gobble up all the light. Black Walnuts tend to decrease diversity and I used to think of them as kind of a boring “white bread” tree whose presence make the surroundings a little less interesting. So, I have been shocked to see the kind of wildlife that has been frequenting the area and the variety of plants that have been popping up to prove me wrong.

I have to admit that when I first moved here I was constantly comparing this view to the pristine and ancient forests of Oregon. This area looked like a dumping grounds by comparison. It is pretty young ecologically. Side by side with an Oregon forest, the Maryland forest (at least the forest close to me) looks like a bunch of sticks in the ground.

I am really into trees. I wrap up a lot of my happiness in them. When people used to ask me why I moved to Oregon, I usually told them that I needed a change, which was true. But, a big part of the reason I moved there was for the trees. Conifers make me happy, the mountains fill me with life.

Oregon is an incredibly beautiful place and its beauty is so easy. You don’t have to look hard to find it. I used to drive around the streets of Portland and feel overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude for getting the chance to live there. Saying goodbye to the safety and serenity of that place tore me to pieces. But, I knew that eventually (if I tried hard enough) I would be able to take the freedom of Oregon with me anywhere I went. 

Most of the time I spent on this balcony in those early days of moving back, I would stare off into the distance at the trio of conifer trees that reminded me of Oregon and pretend I was somewhere else. I gazed out over the horizon, past what existed right in front of me. I would not see it. I could not see it. I did not pick up the trash. I tried to remember and hold on to that freedom. But, I felt lost.

These past couple months I have been refocusing, trying to stay present here, really being exactly where I am. As it turns out, thanks to a global pandemic, I have to. In this time of sinking deeper into this presence of place, I have reinvigorated my love of foraging and have been visiting the forest for solace and comfort.

I miss Oregon less as I learn to love the nature here even more. On a walk yesterday to a nearby patch of woods, I found a mighty oak in the midst of a tulip poplar forest. The trunk of this oak was so big that I couldn’t wrap both arms around even half of the diameter. I thought to myself, “bah!” at the idea of a Maryland forest being a bunch of twigs.

On one side, the oak tree was rotting, a series of holes the size of my hand pecked or torn into it, at least four of them, one after another stretching up toward the canopy. Yet the crown of the tree was still so full and luscious. I saw those soft greens speckled across the bright blue sky and thought to myself: summer colors and my heart was full.

The woods in Maryland are resilient, the trees are fighters. They shine in their own special way that needs no comparison. This is something I forgot. Something I am remembering. Where I live, in the suburban outskirts of the city, the wildlife are crammed into small spaces, yet still find ways to survive and to thrive.

I am still learning to relax into the presence of this place. The Oregon forest taught me lessons that I choose to carry with me everywhere I go. Their safety and comfort has allowed me to remember and to view the place where I was born through a new lens. And in this way, I am grateful to have had Oregon and also to have lost it.