From there to here…
From security and success in suburbia to living simply in the forest
I live in the Haliburton Highlands, in a lovely little place on the water surrounded by forests and granite outcroppings. You can’t throw a stick around here without hitting a pristine wilderness lake.
The day I moved in was a picture perfect fall day. I hopped in my kayak. Not fifty feet out into the water noticed a bird flying low in the sky. Though far away, I could see the bird was large... very large.
I watched as it came closer, its powerful wings quickly closing the distance. Huge raven? No, too big. Blue Heron? Big enough, but no legs trailing behind. A really large hawk? Maybe but...
The white feathered head came into focus.
A giant bald eagle flew directly overhead -- so close I could hear the rush of air beneath its wings and see the detail of its under feathers.
My little piece of heaven.
How did I get here?
Here’s my story…
I was a successful executive -- a yoga-going, quinoa eating, healthy 48-year-old who very suddenly couldn’t walk to the end of the driveway.
My life changed in an instant. While a parade of specialists debated over the cause and solution, I was completely debilitated and had to take leave from work.
Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months.
An early test result had identified an anomaly in my heart. A rare and unusual case, the “best of the best” weren’t quite sure what to do. While I’m sure medical intentions were pure, I was abandoned to sit on the couch for almost a year.
No mud, no lotus they say.
Despite the fear and worry, this forced slow-down released me from a relentless, frenetic pace. Stillness became comfortable. My mind settled. A quiet calm began to take root.
As I watched the seasons pass, my connection to the natural world intensified. Not since I was a child had I really noticed the birds, the animals, the sun, the wind, the rain and the beauty of the 100-year old maple trees in my yard. It felt like a “remembering”.
My health continued to deteriorate. I had lost 20 lbs, just taking a few steps was more than my body could bear most days and a full breath was elusive.
Giving up wasn’t an option.
Weary determination and tenacity paid off. A seemingly endless trail of specialists eventually led to a bold and brilliant young cardiologist whose practice turned out to be five minutes from my home. He had done his internship at the Mayo Clinic and wasn’t afraid to respectfully disagree with the medical hierarchy.
Open heart surgery to correct the arterial anomaly restored my health.
Long months of quiet reflection and the subsequent surgery broke me open – physically, emotionally and spiritually. A period of incredible struggle revealed an extraordinary gift.
Fear gave way to joy. The world sparkled.
But things could never be the same. Heart-wrenching decisions were made. A 30-year marriage to a good man ended with grace, dignity and respect. Our family of four had to take new shape. It was tough turn, on the heels of a difficult time for all.
I moved out, traded my dream home for a nice townhouse and headed back to work.
In my spare time I did anything and everything that called out to me. I became a certified yoga teacher, braved a kayaking expedition in the wilds of Haida Gwaii, solo hiked the remote coast of Ireland, studied energy medicine and completed certification as a Forest and Nature Therapy Guide.
I had my feet firmly in two worlds. Safe and secure -- and wild and free.
When I came out of surgery I made a solemn promise. My health came first. If work became stressful I would walk away.
The epiphany was a long time coming. It took 4 years to accept that I was taking my health for granted.
I had a great job, working with wonderful people — but I was stressed, weary and worn out. Familiar signs and symptoms were beginning to reappear. I made daily excuses and rationalizations -- “I’m proud of my work, this busy time will pass, things will get easier if I just put the right things in place, I’ll just rest for a few days…”
Just as suddenly as I lost my health, everything became clear -- I had more healing and more important work to do.
Despite a chorus of “are you crazy, you can’t leave a well paying job…”’ I left my safe and secure career to move to the forest and live a simpler life — with little more than a positive intention for the future.
It should have been a painstaking decision. Strangely, it was one of the easiest things I’ve ever done. I had a “knowing”, a trust -- everything was going to be okay. (looking back, the writing was on the wall when I traded buying heels and suits for outdoor gear and wool layers.)
Against all odds, I had found a lovely little cottage on the water to rent within my tight budget. I left my job, sold the house and loaded the truck.
And so here I am. Happily living a simpler life in the forest, allowing life to unfold in a most beautiful way.
“All is well” a wise woman once said to me.