Learning from History
I've always been enchanted by the enigmatic lives of ancient civilizations. The rise, fall, and intricate tapestry of these bygone societies have held me spellbound since my earliest days. The allure of delving into their stories has been an unyielding flame that has burned within me, igniting a fervent passion that persists to this day.
A few years ago, an extraordinary chapter of this fascination unfolded as I embarked on a journey to San Juan National Forest in Colorado alongside my family. Our collective footsteps led us to the summit, a breathtaking pinnacle soaring 7620 feet high, known far and wide as the "Chimney Rock."
With each step, the essence of those who dwelled in this hallowed land over a millennium ago became more tangible. They were, much like us, extraordinary beings capable of brilliance and efficiency, profoundly interconnected with the natural world, yet also plagued by their own imperfections. These ancestral Puebloans ingeniously employed mano and metate, the grinding stone and flat mortar, to transmute corn into a preservable sustenance during the relentless months when fresh yields were scarce.
A visit to this national monument, with its sands dominating the landscape as they did a thousand years ago, offers a visceral understanding. However, the issue lay in the unforgiving intrusion of sand into every facet of life. As the women meticulously ground corn into meal, the stones eroded, intermingling sand with sustenance. In the harsh months, when these ancestral souls sought nourishment from their stored provisions, they inadvertently ingested the very sand that silently eroded their vitality.
A poignant glimpse into nearby burial grounds reveals a somber truth – countless remains of individuals robbed of their smiles by toothless fates caused by the sand grinding down their teeth, their lives extinguished prematurely, presumably by the hands of starvation. Their sustenance was their poison, a slow and unforgiving erosion of their very essence.
It's undeniably tempting to pass judgment upon these distant ancestors, a millennium after their struggles. Questions arise like spectral echoes: Why didn't they mend it? If not mendable, why didn't they seek a land more bountiful? Curiously, echoes of their dilemma reverberate in our own lives. I find myself ensnared in a similar conundrum. My present occupation, while a provider for my loved ones, exudes toxicity that relentlessly gnaws at my mind, body, and spirit. Like the insidious sand infiltrating the ancestral Puebloans' meals, this occupation erodes my very being. I'm stagnating, gradually withering away. But, it sustains my family; it's the conduit for security. The parallels are glaring – I am akin to those ancestral souls, imprisoned in stagnation yet tethered to security.
"If you’re brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting… to forgive some very difficult realities about yourself, then the truth will not be withheld from you." —Elizabeth Gilbert
A quote I've cherished for years, resonating now more profoundly than ever. Gilbert, a luminary author who taught at The University of Tennessee the same time I did, strikes a chord with her words. This morning, as the quote dances before my eyes anew, its significance multiplies. The relentless grind of sand upon my existence, the stifling stagnation, it's grown wearisome. The time for change has dawned, a decision to march beyond the familiar bounds of a job that is as abusive and toxic as it is comforting.
So, with renewed courage, I'm bidding farewell to the familiar shackles of this job, to the relentless grind that chips away at my very essence, to the evil the administration has perpetuated on the institution and its wonderful faculty. The sands of stagnation will no longer define my trajectory. The bravery I've unearthed propels me toward new horizons, a voyage resonating with truth and transformation.
