Category: Resiliency

Dreams Goals and Winding Pathways

Posted on by Cylvia Hayes

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What lies behind us 
and what lies before us
are tiny matters
compared to
what lies within us.
     —Ralph Waldo Emerson
​I think that very often we define ourselves by what we dream of being or becoming — I am studying to be a doctor; I am a lawyer, I am a musician; I am hoping to become a millionaire, etc.  Often we set goals for achieving certain things, for moving us toward the dreams that we use to shape our image of ourselves.

But so often our dreams don’t take the shape we expect.  Or at least the pathway toward the dreams doesn’t meet our expectations.  Or the goals don’t hit our deadlines.  It is easy to view those un-envisioned forks in the path as limitations, obstacles and setbacks.  It is easy at those moments to feel like a failure.

And yet, there may be another way of looking at life’s unexpected and unasked for situations.  I have always wanted to do important things with my life.  For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to raise awareness and motivate action to take better care of this planet and one another.  I’ve wanted to feel as though I have used my life well to make a positive contribution.  I’ve set a lot of goals and worked really hard toward that end.  I became a first generation college graduate.   Straight out of college with no financial backing I launched a non-profit organization to work on environmental issues.  I’ve taken courses, served on non-profit boards and volunteered for causes I cared about.  I’ve been politically engaged, even running for office and serving as first lady of Oregon when my fiancé was elected Governor.  It seemed like I was on a trajectory, slowly but steadily, toward my dream of making a positive difference.

And then, a year and a half ago, my life seemed to blow up and my career came to a screeching halt.  It felt like my whole life was off the rails and my dream of being a powerful force for protecting the environment and increasing kindness in the world was now completely out of reach.

For months the pain of that seemingly lost dream literally took my breath away, sent me restless nightmares and made me question the very core of who I was/am.   In my effort to cope with the loss and shame, feeling like a failure and a fool, I spent a lot of time writing.  And in that process I remembered that in addition to my dream of being an effective change-maker for good, I have long held another dream.  I have always wanted a big life, but I’ve never wanted to achieve that through becoming a famous singer or actor or musician, or even politician.  I have always, always wanted to become a successful writer and speaker in a way that served our common good.

And yet, for twenty-five years I had worked so hard on my education, my non-profit work, my consulting business and my political roles that I only occasionally wrote anything beyond personal journaling or technical work.  I wasn’t acting on that vital piece of my dream.

But when all the consulting, the political position, the busyness was yanked away, after several months of just grappling to get my feet back under me and start healing, I returned to my True North, which was not just to continue my lifelong effort to bring about healthier relationships with the Earth and one another, but to do so primarily through my writing.

Last August I started a blog about my personal journey through these challenging times.  I was super nervous about how it would be received and if the media would rip me apart, but I took the leap.  Taking that scary step resulted in my blog taking off and I hope and have been told that some of my posts have been helpful to readers who are navigating their own personal challenges and emotions.  That feels so good.  After learning how to blog I finally also set up my professional New Economy blog, which I’d wanted to do for a few years.  The blogs led to my becoming a salaried staff writer for a new exciting publication, Issue Magazine.  I have full freedom to write about the topics I care so much about and have worked on my entire career.  Who could have seen that coming?!

Next, by the end of this year I will have completed my first book.  I never expected my first book would be about the unbelievable experience of becoming click-bait and the bulls-eye in a sensationalist media-driven feeding frenzy and learning how to cope with being publically shamed.  But I have always dreamed I would write books and this is the obvious before me.  Who knows what’s next?

Many times through this transformational phase of my life I’ve encountered and been captivated by caterpillar and butterfly images and stories.  Right now I find myself thinking about how caterpillars in the cocoon, before they can transition, must reach the point where their previous form is in its most disintegrated, unrecognizable identity.  But under all of that mess, that seeming chaos, is their True North, and they emerge beautiful winged creatures taking to heights a worm that believed itself just a worm might never have seen.

May we all find our True North and our wings!

Cylvia Hayes

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Birthing the Past

Posted on by Cylvia Hayes

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I have recently realized the past isn’t set in stone.  Much of it isn’t even real.  And we can control it.   
 
During the recent very challenging period of my life I was shocked when the hurts I was suffering in the present took me back to old traumas I thought I’d moved beyond.  I was staggered and incredibly angry.  Are you kidding?  After all this time, all the counseling, all the processing, my father, decades dead, still had that much power in my life?  Angrily, resentfully even, I leaned into working, once again, to heal those old wounds. 
 
Now, after a year of therapy, tears, facing deep primal fears and meeting my fuller self, I am finally free.
 
I realized I’d built my own self-identity on my past.  I saw myself as a victim… and a survivor.  As someone harmed but strong enough to escape.  For years I’d felt my hatred and anger toward my father was a sign of strength, even though part of me always recognized the ever-present love underneath. 
 
Now I see that those old experiences I allowed to define me aren’t even true.  It’s not that they didn’t happen, that there wasn’t abuse.  It happened.  It’s just that as I grow I’m finding that even my past can evolve. 
 
I’m not talking about magical thinking or denial of events that took place.   I’m talking about releasing old perceptions and the old need to view those events through a hard, narrow lens. 
 
The real truth is I can’t know what was going on with my dad to cause him to do what he did.  I can’t know the terrible difficulties my mom faced trying to cope with all of it.
 
I do know that along with the sickness there was a lot of love in my family and a lot of fun.  There was also a lot of good parenting in the mix. 
 
In the grand scheme of things maybe all these events, dark and bright, this crazy combination of experiences, is exactly what I needed to do my best with this life.  I gained a resiliency that has served me well this entire life, never more so than over these past sixteen months. 
 
But now, going forward I am going to harness it differently.  Up until now I’ve viewed myself as a tough survivor, a scrapper, someone who could fight my way through.  That, I think, has set my course and generated a lot of fights.
 
The other day I read a piece by Mark Nemo that got me thinking, or I should say rethinking.  Nemo explained that with miraculous breakthroughs in medicine it is now possible to operate on unborn children in utero.  Also miraculous is that those procedures leave no scars as the infant grows.  At our deepest level our repairs can become so much a part of who we are that they leave no scars. 
 
In many ways our inner selves are always in utero, always growing, fluid.  It is always in our power to treat, repair, heal and give birth to our perfect unscarred selves. 
 
I’ve realized that staying bound to my old perspectives on my past, holding rigid memories, was limiting me, keeping me in a certain mold.  And so I’m choosing to lower my fists, drop the fight and instead of fighting my way through life I intend to love my way through.  As part of that, at nearly fifty years old, I am choosing to have a perfect childhood.  I am birthing my past and my future simultaneously. 

By Cylvia Hayes

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Choosing to Trust an Untrusted

Posted on by Cylvia Hayes

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CLICK HERE FOR KATU
EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW

It was incredibly nerve-wracking to sit down with a reporter from KATU, a news outlet that had been part of the firestorm of allegations and speculation about me. 
 
I was so stressed that the moment I actually sat down in front of the cameras I had tunnel vision and it took several moments to be able to speak.  Once I regained some composure and pushed down the tears, the reporter asked me questions for an hour, including many that she knew I couldn’t fully answer because of the ongoing investigation into the allegations put forward by the media.  It has been so difficult not to be able to defend myself.   
 
Although I did my best to manage I was stressed and worried every day until the interview aired because I feared it would be cut and spliced into another sensationalized, inaccurate story.  It was hard to watch once it aired, but in the end I was relieved and I appreciate that the reporter stuck to her pledge not to over-sensationalize or mold whatever I said into a pre-created narrative. 
 
But then, I learned this reporter was going to be interviewed by another media show to give her opinions of what it was like interviewing me!  The anxiety spiked again.  Was she going to stick to her promise to stay fair not spin and sensationalize just to crank up ratings? 
 
I am beyond relieved and grateful to say that she did.  She stayed in integrity.  This feels like a big step in taking back my high-jacked identity.  I am grateful for the opportunity and for fair treatment.  And, I am so, so, so appreciative of all of my friends, colleagues and supporters who are sending kind and loving comments.   Thank you.
 

The Fierce Beautiful Strength of Vulnerability By Cylvia Hayes

Posted on by Cylvia Hayes

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Last week I did something terrifying.  In order to move forward I faced a threat and immersed myself in extremely traumatic memories and experiences.  All I could do was trust the assurances of a stranger that I had good reason not to trust.

It was a place of extreme vulnerability and that is a place in which I have never been comfortable.

I was raised to believe tears were a sign of weakness; anger a show of strength.

But as life has torn and tempered, honed and healed me I have seen how backward that thinking is.

It takes tremendous courage to be vulnerable, to put our tender parts in the hands of another.  To have faith, to trust.

True strength is shown in our willingness to reveal our very humanness, pieces of ourselves we may think of as unflattering.  We look upon these threads in the tapestry of our Selves as shameful, but sometimes, taken as part of the whole, they are among the most beautiful strands.

One thing I’ve learned through this recent difficult season of life is that no one is invulnerable and real strength is exercised when, having had the armor ripped away and our soft, fragile parts stoned, flogged and flayed, we choose not to harden or hate but to soften even more.

A ribbon of lava because of its warmth, fluidity and flexibility cannot be broken or constrained.  It’s only when it turns cold and grows hard that it stops moving forward and can be chipped, cut, blasted and broken apart.
_________

For any of you currently struggling with shame and vulnerability I highly recommend Brene Brown’s work and her TED talk which can be viewed here. 

Cylvia Hayes

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Freedom through Forgiveness by Cylvia Hayes

Posted on by Cylvia Hayes

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Forgiveness is such a powerful, and powerfully difficult thing.  As I’ve shared in previous blogs, for many months I have worked to forgive my attackers.  I have held the intention, meditated and read books about forgiveness.  I’ve made something of a mantra from the quote attributed to Buddha, “Hating someone is like drinking rat poison expecting that other person to die.” 
 
I’ve made progress.  I can definitely feel an easing in the intensity of anger.  I find myself thinking of “them” far less often.  But I still haven’t been fully free.
 
This past week I think I had a breakthrough.  One of the books I’ve been studying as part of my daily meditation practice recommended an exercise.  It suggested holding in mind the person toward whom we hold a grievance, recalling their flaws and the things that make us angry.  The main target of my ire jumped immediately to the forefront of my mind. 
 
Next, the instructions called for releasing that image, breathing deeply and seeing that person as the unique expression of God/ Spirit/ Creator that we all are.  Breathing and envisioning that person’s flawed humanness falling away to reveal the spark of divine creation behind it all. 
 
It was a bit of a stretch for me to see this person who had done me so much harm as a spark of divinity but I was able to get there.  After all I could feel the divinity in myself despite my flaws and weaknesses.  So I took some time trying to hold the image of that person’s higher self. 
 
The next instruction was to view this person as your Savior. ….   What?!!   Wait!  Screeching halt. … My eyes popped open!  That was just a bridge too far.  This person had tried to bring me ruin and I was supposed to look upon them as a savior?  For God’s sake.  …  Or, perhaps for mine. 
 
Despite my discomfort I knew I wanted the freedom of forgiveness so I stayed with it.  I realized the basis of my aversion was that thinking of this person as a “savior” felt like viewing them as powerful and justified in the awful actions they had taken against me.  But as I sat with it longer, I saw that by holding such a view I was still making it about that other person. 
 
There is just no question that I have grown immensely from dealing with the attacks and challenges this person brought into my life.  I know myself better.  I like myself more.  I am closer to Spirit.  I am more loving and more at peace.  I think in many ways these challenges became a spiritual intervention.  They didn’t break me down, they broke me open, and that is the salvation.  The salvation is in realizing what’s truly important and what I really want in my life, in taking time out (even though I hadn’t asked for it) to go deep and better get to know my higher self. 
 
Many months ago, finding profound peace in the midst of deep trauma, I said to my Beloved, “I want to live the rest of my life from this place, but without needing a crisis to get here.”  I recognized then the value of my attackers.  Spirit, the Universe, the Creator presented them so that I could grow.  Being harmed by their un-evolved humanness gave me an opportunity to awaken, grow and become more, and more powerful.  That is why they are my saviors.  It’s not about them at all. 
 
I wouldn’t have chosen to be attacked, to face these painful and   difficult challenges but I do choose to grow, advance and become more and more powerful as a result. 
 
This reminds me of a story that I learned of while reading some of Pema Chodron’s writings.  There was a renowned Buddhist teacher, named Atisha, who planned to go on a long, cross-country trek.  He wanted to bring a companion and many good people from his village wanted to go with him.  They were all friendly, companionable, compatible people.  And that was the problem. 
 
Atisha was afraid that his personal spiritual growth would be stunted if he only spent time with people who agreed with him and were pleasant to be around.  He believed that the people we find most obnoxious, frustrating or contemptible mirror and reflect back to us those very aspects of our selves that are obnoxious, frustrating or contemptible – and so they are invaluable teachers.  So he invited the most obnoxious, unpleasant person he knew, the boy that sold tea in the village.  Everyone, including the young tea merchant was surprised. 
 
For the entirety of the journey, the unpleasant, young tea merchant was a thorn in Atisha’s side.  Many times they wished they were not with one another.  But through it all they both grew. 
 
I can’t yet say thank you to my attackers but I can say thank you for them. 
 
 By Cylvia Hayes
 
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2015: Gifts Wrapped in Barbed Wire

Posted on by Cylvia Hayes

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I have never been this ready for a year to come to a close.  I know January 1st is just another day but this time it seems much more.

A few days ago I was meeting with an author friend of mine.  We were discussing what a challenging year it had been for me, for her and for so many other people we know – divorces, death of loved ones, major health issues.  I had purchased a copy of her book and, as we were chatting, I asked her to sign it.  She did, smiled and handed it back to me.  Inside the front cover she had written, “To Cylvia, You’ve had the worst year of all.  Congrats!”  We both laughed.

I think it’s safe to say that when your own personal public shaming winds up in multiple media sources as one of the Top Stories of 2015, it’s been a challenging year!  So yes, I am ready for a new year, but I don’t mean that I just want to put 2015 behind me and forget it.  I mean I am ready for what’s coming next.  This past year has been one of the hardest, but also one of the richest, periods in my life.  The pain was intense but the growth is intensely exciting.  It was a year of gifts wrapped in barbwire.

One year ago, for the first time in my adult life, I did not set any New Year’s goals.  My life seemed too shattered and uncertain to think about goals; I was just trying to survive each day.

I feel very grateful now, one year later, to find myself setting goals again.  I recognize that life is still uncertain but I am much more comfortable with that now.  Some of the complications that exploded in 2015 are still unresolved but I am making resolutions nonetheless.  However, there is a difference.  I cannot deny that I have been altered by the experiences of 2015 and I feel those changes reflected in the nature of the goals I find myself setting.  I’m still setting more typical of me goals for my business and my writing and my physical fitness but I also find myself adding intentions such as:

  • Forgive.
  • Be present with each person I meet and sincerely desire the best for them.
  • Drop my competitiveness and realize there is enough good and success for everyone.
  • Prioritize spiritual work even as my professional work picks up momentum. 

In 2015 I lost my old life and much of my old identity.  In that agonizing loss I found deeper aspects of my Self.  I found a new, more peaceful way of being.  I found my true voice.  And now as I look forward to a brand new baby year I am asking what song is wanting to sing through me?  I take a deep breath, open my mouth and sing “Hello and Hallelujah” to new beginnings.  

By Cylvia Hayes

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Forgive and Forward by Cylvia Hayes

Posted on by Cylvia Hayes

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Forgiving is no simple thing.  There’s a quote attributed to both Buddha and Ghandi along the lines of, “Hating someone is like drinking rat poison expecting the other guy to die.”  I get it intellectually, but man, with the handful of those who attacked most viciously or professed to be friends but weren’t it is taking serious commitment to move beyond intellectual understanding to real forgiveness.
 
I want to forgive — not because I think they were justified, or were in the right, but because I don’t want to add to the ugliness.  I don’t want to contribute to the anger, the hatred, the meanness and lack of love that is behind so much of the misery in our world. 
 
I want to forgive — not to forget or condone what was done but to find peace.  I’ve heard it said that when we feel anger we’re being human but when we stay locked in anger we’re being prisoners. 
 
I’ve made a lot of progress.  The anger has eased a lot. 
 
One exercise I’ve been working with is to better understand, and even recognize within myself, some of those darker human traits like the desire to tear others down to feel somehow better about our own small lives.  It is humbling to admit I have at times felt a little delight when a certain successful person got knocked down a few pegs.  It is even more humbling to realize those feelings came from my own sense of inferiority and misplaced competitiveness.  I am acutely aware of those types of feelings now and far less likely to harbor them.  For that growth I am deeply grateful.  These insights are helping me to turn the arrows into flowers. 
 
I’ve also been working with the beautiful Book of Forgiving, written by Desmond Tutu and his daughter Mpho.  The book is written for individuals exploring forgiveness but it pulls from some of the incredibly powerful healing that took place in South Africa, through the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, addressing the atrocities of apartheid.  It is a treasure chest of wisdom and helpful exercises.  It drives home the point that forgiving is not about, or for, those who harmed you.  It’s about you. 
 
Forgiving isn’t saying what they did was OK.  It’s saying what they did no longer has control over me.  The number one dictionary definition of forgive is to “stop being angry about something.”  It’s not about absolving the perpetrator; it’s about choosing how you want to feel.  It’s about choosing your power.  I am actively forgiving because I am moving forward.
 
Oprah Winfrey said, “True forgiveness is when you can say, “Thank you for that experience.”  I’m getting there and I’m grateful for that. 

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Cylvia Hayes

Thankful for Being Thankful by Cylvia Hayes

Posted on by Cylvia Hayes

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Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays.  It doesn’t have the manic consumerist feel of Christmas.  I like the meal-sharing, rather than gift-sharing aspect.  Also, since I’m a pretty terrible cook and my good friends know that, on Thanksgiving I get to bring simple things like cheese and roast garlic and eat lots of tasty home-made food that is way beyond my limited culinary skill set.

Yet, even with all of that, my favorite thing about Thanksgiving, is actually giving thanks.  During this holiday I go into a reflective mood, thinking about all the things I have reason to be grateful for.   I credit my mom for instilling this attitude of gratitude.

This year I am most grateful just to be feeling grateful.  Last year, embattled and under attack, being thankful was a discipline, something I had to work at.  Now, four full seasons later, though still dealing with some of the attacks, I am genuinely, deeply grateful.  In recent weeks I have even begun to have flashes of gratitude for the attacks and challenges themselves and the growth they have opened up in my life.

I am grateful for my beloveds and true friends.  I am amazed and thankful for the healing that is happening in my biological family.  I SEE all of you now with much greater depth and appreciation.

I am grateful for the insights into myself — the good, the bad, the ugly.  I know myself much better than I did a year ago and I like myself more.  I am very thankful for this growth.

I am thankful that I have now shifted from being consumed and overwhelmed by the pain of loss and grief to being excited about what is happening and is about to happen in my life.

As I write, I am in my snug little home with a warm fire in the woodstove accompanied by glowing candles here and there.  The big dog and small cats are sprawled out, soaking in the deep, radiant warmth.  Outside the first snowfall of the season keeps dumping, blanketing everything in ever-deeper white.  It is magnificent.

I am grateful for the warmth and the peace and the hushed quiet that the covering of snow brings to my neighborhood.  I am grateful for the luxury of cats and dogs as spoiled friends rather than pests or food and candles as décor rather than my only means of light.

I am grateful that I have a home, a hometown that I love, a home country.  I am so grateful on this day that I am not a refugee risking my life, fearing for my child as I flee from unimaginable horror and danger into unknown lands and an unknowable future.

I am thankful for all the blessings in my life, deeply grateful to have so much to be grateful for.  I am appreciative of the turning of the seasons and for this amazing journey that is the human experience of life.

My hope is that all who read this also have much to be deeply grateful for.  My prayer is that those facing severe challenges just now will find comfort, safety and gentler times.

By Cylvia Hayes

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Shedding by Cylvia Hayes

Posted on by Cylvia Hayes

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​We’ve all heard some variation of the saying, “you don’t know how much something means to you until it’s gone,” but recently I’ve experienced the polar opposite — I hadn’t realized how badly I wanted to be rid of some things until they were taken away.

When, just over a year ago, my life took a sudden unexpected, unasked for and unwanted turn I grieved for what I was losing.  I ached over the abrupt loss of the important–feeling work I’d been engaged in.  I was deeply hurt by the disappearance of so many people I had thought of as friends.  I mourned the shattering of exciting plans and dreams.  My ego cringed and snapped at and strained against its lost identity and sense of strength.

For months I resisted my changed life, and anger, resentment and grief bubbled, roiled and seethed through me.

All of this began in autumn, the time of falling leaves.  I watched the colorful cascade from a place of deep pain, seeing no beauty, only death and loss, seeing myself in the stripped barrenness of the wind-battered branches.

This past year has been sad, intense and reflective.  Gradually, over time and to my surprise, I now see that much of what I grieved over I don’t even really want.  I don’t want the rapid pace and enormous busyness that had become my norm.  I want more stillness, more deep reflection and creativity.  I don’t want to be surrounded by shallow, self-important people.  I want genuine interactions and relationships.  Just as old skin cells fall off to make room for new and healthy, I have shed disingenuous flakes for new skin and new friends.  I have learned you cannot lose a true one and I now know who and how valuable you are.  And, perhaps, most importantly, I am letting go old beliefs and ways of thinking that limit the fullness of what life can be.

It is now autumn again and leaves are falling.  This time though, I’m seeing the beauty. I am celebrating the shedding of old appendages and appearances.  I have dropped dead weight.  Like flashy, but no longer vital leaves dropping from trees, my old pieces are falling into the soil of my life, enriching it for what is next.

Sometimes leaves fall to the ground.  Sometimes life appears to fall apart – but, perhaps, it is actually falling into place.  The mighty winds that rip leaves from branches also, over time, strengthen the trunks of the trees they buffet.

Four seasons have passed and a new one is on the horizon.  I can feel it in the air.  I can feel it in my spirit.

Just like our beautiful planet each one of us cycles through season upon season.  Our past losses fertilize the soil of our souls prepping the grounds for rich, vital new sprouts. 

By Cylvia Hayes

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