Blog – Revealing Voices: Podcast and Blog

HAIKAST XX – Four Cries

February 7, 2025 Eric Riddle 7:23 Comments Off

I’m thankful for tears. As I grow older, I find that the poignant times that often precede emotional moments are actually a mix of joy and sorrow. I have also noticed tears arise in moments of intense gratitude – times when I am thankful for unexpected blessings that seem beyond what I deserve or could imagine. 2022 was definitely a year of more crying than normal. The most outstanding of these experiences was over Labor Day and involved 3 straight days of tears.

My son, Isaac, attended a spiritual retreat called Chrysalis over Labor Day weekend. About 15 years prior, I volunteered at the same 3-night ecumenical experience. The site is still at the same Brown Country deeply forested remote location. Taking Isaac to the retreat was one of those drives that helped me recall many memories that are hard to access unless I’m back in the same space. They were very good memories of helping others experience the meaning of sacrifice, love, and reconciliation.

Doing a deep dive into an intensive weekend of self reflection and self discovery with mostly strangers is not necessarily a teenager’s idea of a fun weekend. Like many teenagers, my son had a fair share of ups and downs throughout his childhood. Most notably, he endured the divorce of his mother and me – something that undoubtedly had a spiritual impact on him beyond my comprehension. Spiritual retreats tend to surface a lot of mixed emotions and is often the reason – whether conscious or unconscious – why people decide to not take the risk.

Isaac was reluctant to commit to the long weekend, so I shared my personal experience of Chrysalis with him. We talked about the speakers over the weekend who would be sharing intimate spiritual experiences. We talked about the delicate discernment required to appreciate others’ spirituality while also questioning some of the divergent religious beliefs that may be held by those speakers. We talked about honoring the many ways that people are moved spiritually and to not judge others’ expressions of faith.

I emphasized my spiritual belief that Christianity is, at its core, the cultivation and sharing of “agape” love – a concept that the weekend would help bring into sharp focus for him.

What is agape love?

I think of it as acts of appreciation, encouragement, and service that are done without expectation of reciprocation. In daily life, it is easy to get caught in a cycle of transactional behavior. There is nothing wrong with this part of human culture, but to settle on transactions as being the basis for cultural meaning misses out on both giving and receiving in a way more aligned with agape love. This is different from romantic love. It is not intuitive or easy to learn unless intentionally taught and experienced. That is a big reason why the Chrysalis weekend is so important – it is a sort of crash course on how to better love others and – almost always – understanding how to better love yourself.

In 2004, when I went on a similar retreat designed for adults, I attentively listened to messages about forgiveness and reconciliation. The times of prayer and reflection over the weekend allowed these life changing concepts to transform how I approached my relationships. I realized how much pain I held by not forgiving my father for the endless fights we had when I was a teenager. I’ll never forget telling my dad that I was sorry for how I had treated him in high school and college. His response reminded me of the prodigal son parable as he embraced me and gladly accepted my apology – making a point to say that he had forgiven me a long time ago.

I remembered this experience and other blessings born of forgiveness as Isaac was welcomed into the retreat center. It was a drenching rain as adults gathered to pray for the teenagers we referred to as “caterpillars” on the Chrysalis retreat. How would they change over the weekend? A few tears of gratitude percolated as I prayed.

The next day, I was gardening in the sunshine at one of my favorite native plant projects in the city and wondering how my son was handling the experience. I started crying again. Perhaps it was out of a sense that there are important life lessons that I can not teach my son; I just have to trust that he will discover them by personal experience. I knew he was going through a tough time and to be able to encounter the Chrysalis retreat at this stage in his life had the potential for being a maturing event.

That evening, I was invited to the retreat site for an hour to surprise him. Over a hundred people who had been on these retreats in the past gathered to support Isaac and the other young men and women. The simple chorus of a song – “the gospel in one word is love” – brought me to tears. He was surrounded by so much goodness in that moment. I get a little choked up now just thinking about his smile and enthusiasm during that brief encounter. He gave me a hug and turned towards the campfire with a vibrancy that I had not seen from him in many months. How much of our life is just getting a brief peek into someone’s life – a moment that we pray will be one of joy, of peace, and of experiencing love with others? It was so good to see him there that night in the midst of a life changing weekend.

The next afternoon, I went to the final event where each youth had an opportunity to stand in front of their parents, loved ones, and new-found retreat friends. In the ceremony, each of the youth was given the title of “butterfly.” Of course, with my disposition for loving the symbolism and life of the butterfly, I could barely hold it together in the pew. Then Isaac stood up to share his experience. He described his appreciation for the new relationships in his life and said that he had learned to love himself over the weekend. In the pew, this proud father had apparently not cried enough that weekend. They were tears of pure joy. God – how good it was to hear him say that in such a heartfelt and sincere way.

Saline trail down cheeks
Son’s prayer, mingled memories
All day rain begins

HAIKAST XIX – Lookout

January 16, 2025 Eric Riddle 9:56 Comments Off

People of a certain age likely have a vessel of pictures. To be clear, I’m not talking about a well curated photo album. For me, the vessel is a cheap plastic bin, about 8” W x 15” L x 4” D. Full of pictures. Many of them loosely organized in the original paper envelopes that they gave me at Target or Walmart or the drug store where the film was processed. Many of them are labeled: Summer 2005, Christmas 2003, Nela Baby Photos, STL trip 2004, etc. It’s not a great organization system, but its full of serendipity. If there is any thought of hunting through them for a picture, I might as well go through the entire bin. Probably over a thousand photos piled high. A few often slip to the floor as I reach for them.

Recently, I read the book “American Gods” by Neil Gaiman. The small g variety. It’s a roadtrip romp through the Midwest. The main character is a recently released prisoner who, unbeknownst to him, makes a deal to be the bodyguard of the Norse god, Odin. It’s a fun book. Emotive at times. I really liked the main character’s love for his wife, who died days before he is released from prison and haunts him (in a good way) through the rest of the book. At the climax, there is a showdown between the old gods, mostly immigrants from ancient lands who couldn’t quite make it in America and the new American gods (think Santa Claus), who capture our imagination and usurp our more deeply held spiritual wishes in accordance with cultural convenience. It is the kind of book that makes me ask questions like, “Does Jesus actually stack up to Santa Claus most Decembers?” and “What do Americans worship without knowing they are doing so?”

The site of the book’s final battle is Lookout Mountain near Chattanooga, TN. In real American history, the mountain has special significance as a sacred site of native American culture, an important Civil War strategic location, and – in contemporary times – as a tourist destination known for its extravagant gnome displays. It now captures people’s interest with the unique style of advertising that you see painted on old barns on rural highways: “You’re Almost There – Lookout Mountain!” You might call it a tourist trap. The author calls it a “thin place” where the geography, topography, and natural beauty of the place have attracted millions of people for many reasons over the centuries.

In the author’s world, a thin place is a location where gods gather because it is where people have historically gathered. These places hold significance that is mutable, where a constant battle for meaning shapes peoples’ perceptions and experiences. Is the mountain a site of worship, military strategy, or commercialism? It can be all of these things and more. Ultimately, that meaning does not have to be culturally defined. It can be highly individualized and your own belief significantly influences the experience. In my own belief system, I worship a God who created the earth as a bountiful garden for all to share. This belief often leads me to natural areas in honor of the sublime beauty that no human hand will ever be able to create.

In the Cherokee language, Chattanooga is translated as “rock coming to a point” or “end of the mountain.” On top of Lookout Mountain, as modern tourism marketing goes, you can see seven states. It is a visionary place. I wonder, before there were states, how did Indigenous people describe what could be seen from that point? On what occasions did people gather at the “end of the mountain?”

In summer of 2007, I was preparing to go to graduate school to get an MBA from Indiana University. This was a major life altering moment for me. The week before school started, I went with my wife and two young children to Athens, GA to visit family. On the way back, we stopped in Chattanooga. At the hotel, I distinctly remember my fearless 18 month old son taking a dive into the water at the kiddie pool and my daughter being enthralled by the massive miniature train exhibit. I didn’t consider our climb up Lookout Mountain a pilgrimage to a thin place, it was more of a curiosity journey.

When I was reading “American Gods”, I had not thought of Lookout Mountain for many years. But as I read the book, Gaiman’s description of the narrow passageways and the tiny kitsch gnome displays, transported me back nearly 2 decades. In 2007, I was a young father – almost excited as my kids to see what this mountain was all about. I remembered how happy I was with my family.

After coming home from Chattanooga, I started the MBA program. I was not emotionally prepared for the stressful experience. It became a quick dissent into insomnia and eventually severe depression. My bipolar symptoms were severe and I feared for my life. That Thanksgiving, I spent the academic break at the local hospital’s psych unit. I passed out and did a face plant at the hospital when they drew my blood. My wife visited me at the hospital that Thanksgiving weekend to tell me she wanted a divorce. My life crumbled in three short months.

It is a history that I do not like to remember. I had buried the memories of Chattanooga – so sweet in the moment – but made bitter because they were the last wholesome moments before the nuclear family that I thought would last forever fell apart.

After finishing the book, I was compelled to remember that time more vividly by finding a picture from the vacation and seeing what our smiles looked like – perhaps at the Chattanooga Choo Choo hotel or standing in front of the massive glass wall at the aquarium. Hopefully, to see what we looked like on top of that mountain. I looked on Facebook and through a couple photo albums. I could not find anything.

As I prepared for Christmas a few weeks later, I wrote a letter to my daughter who was not going to be home for the holiday. I wanted to find pictures to include in the envelope. I looked through my bin of haphazard pictures. I wasn’t sure what I wanted. So, I started going through the picture categories – Nela’s 1st Christmas, Christmas 2003, Christmas 2004, and the couple of envelopes marked Random. Nothing seemed to fit.

I started thumbing through the loose stacks of completely uncategorized photos and came across a picture of the kids. My daughter, 4 years old. My son at 18 months. They were standing in front of a railing with a vast expanse of hills and forests behind them. They were on top of Lookout Mountain. I was stunned and stared at their precious innocence. My heart ached from the divorce that soon followed that moment in time. I wanted to go back to that place – to that thin place – and somehow protect them.

It is good to remember being happy. It is good to search for the sacred. I enjoy reserving time for sentimentality – to conjure feelings from specific moments and make an earnest attempt to not have them tarnished by the passage of time. While harkening back to that mountaintop feeling may remind me of the steep descent, it helps me remember how much I’ve learned from the peaks and valleys – to appreciate them all for what I have learned and to cherish the ones who were with me along the way.

My hope is that we can also find thin places in the flat expenses of everyday life and we may infuse them with the belief that there is a God of forgiveness and reconciliation that, with time, allows us to taste the bittersweet and know that it is good.

I placed the picture from the mountain to the side and kept on my search for what I wanted to share with my daughter. I found 2 pictures of Christmas holidays from her childhood; one captured in black and white. Another picture was of her and her brother playing in the snow, not much older than the one from Lookout Mountain. They looked very happy. I smiled at the photos in my hands. Feeling more sweet than bitter.

I came across other poignant pictures. I pulled a few for my siblings. I did not attempt to organize them – instead, maintaining their randomness, preferring the perennial exercise of surprise of unearthed memories.

That bin has its own sense of thinness, of sacredness. It reminds me that life was, is, and always will be full of sweetness.

Sifting through pictures
Seconds to minutes, the years
All of those I’ve loved

Episode 72 – Exploring Art Therapy with Bailee Taylor

January 7, 2025 Eric Riddle 36:05 0 Comments

Bailee Taylor has a Bachelor of Science Degree from the University of Southern Indiana and Master’s Degree in Art Therapy and Mental Health Counseling from Indiana University. She is a Board Certified Art Therapist (ATR-BC) through the Art Therapy Credentials Board, Inc., a Licensed Professional Art Therapist (LPAT) with the state of Kentucky and a Licensed Mental Health Counselor (LMHC) with the state of Indiana.

Bailee advocates for art and other expressive therapies to be utilized as a tool to help people of all ages express, process and communicate their social and emotional needs when words aren’t enough. She supports children ages 3+ and specializes in helping others regulate emotions, decrease and cope with stress, anxiety and depression; increase self-esteem, social skills and mood; and process traumatic events. She applies a person centered, trauma informed and family structured approach in her work.

Since 2018, Bailee has worked with children, adolescents and families as an art therapist and mental health counselor. She lives in southern Indiana and has clients in multiple cities, including Columbus, Bloomington, Indianapolis, and beyond.

Episode 71 – Radical Acceptance with Kimberly Hoffman

November 9, 2024 Eric Riddle 47:52 Comments Off

Kimberly Hoffman was diagnosed with ME/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome over 30 years ago and then with fibromyalgia 12 years ago. She works full time at Cummins Inc. in the New and Recon Parts Department as an Inside Sales Administrator and with the Disability Inclusion employee resource group. She is a writer and editor for the Disability Inclusion newsletter, advocating, educating and allying with others on the subject of disability inclusion.

Kimberly is also a children’s author of nine books with topics such as overcoming obstacles, dealing with big emotions, self-worth and diversity. She is a spinner of amazing tales that influence young minds to think deeply, reframing their impossibilities to reach their possibilities. She creates unique and innovative programming to engage any size of audience, from preschool to seniors, motivating, encouraging, and challenging them to think outside the box on a variety of topics.

Kimberly resides in her hometown of Columbus, Indiana where she is also the vice president of the Friends of the Library board. She loves being creative through writing, dancing, acting, and making jewelry. She is married to Paul Hoffman, an author and publisher. Together, they have six children, one grandchild and many grand-fur and -feather babies.

Be sure to find Kimberly on Facebook – Kimberly S. Hoffman – Author, Instagram @kimberlyhoffman_author or at her website – kimberlyhoffmanblog.wordpress.com. She can also be reached at khoffmanauthor@gmail.com.

HAIKAST XVIII – Fresh Start

October 9, 2024 Eric Riddle 8:37 Comments Off

I dedicate this podcast to Robert Pulley who has inspired multiple generations of artists in Columbus and beyond as an Arts teacher at Columbus North High School and as a professional sculptor. Mr. Pulley’s work has been featured for over a year in front of the Fresh Start Recovery Center, the building that is the subject of this Haikast. Thank you, Mr. Pulley, for the generous sharing of your craft. It’s a delight to garden around your sculpture. To learn more about Robert Pulley’s work, visit www.robertpulley.com. (NOTE: The photo accompanying this episode includes the Fresh Start sculpture)

Downtown Columbus does not have much greenspace. While there is Mill Race Park on the west side – hugging the river – it is literally across the tracks from downtown. Washington Street, the main street through the heart of downtown, lacks landscaped areas. The most notable flora are the callery pear trees lining the sidewalks for 7 blocks. They are celebrated for their rapid growth and abundant white blooms in early spring. Unfortunately, they smell bad while flowering, drop abundant mushy berries on cars and sidewalks in fall, easily break, and are short lived. And worse, they are an invasive tree species that easily spread to dominate public lands and poorly maintained properties.

Being a native plant advocate, it was a dream of mine to find a place in downtown Columbus to feature a different landscape aesthetic. When approached by Landmark Columbus Foundation in 2020 to do just that, I jumped at the opportunity to write a grant to turn one of the only green spaces downtown into a native plant landscape.

The property is at the corner of 7th and Washington, near the north end of the most heavily trafficked section of downtown. It hosts an old limestone building, over a century old, that was originally the post office. There have been many owners and uses over the years. Most recently, it was converted into the Fresh Start Recovery Center, owned by Volunteers of America, to support women recovering from opioid and other drug addictions. Pregnant women and mothers, along with their young children, are welcome for long term housing as they work towards sobriety.

When I approached staff at Fresh Start, the supervisor immediately had the vision of the project providing opportunities for horticulture therapy for the women staying at the shelter. So after signing a Memorandum of Understanding, acquiring grants, hiring a landscape architect, renting a sod cutter, purchasing plants, and recruiting volunteers, we were ready to transform the turf grass surrounding the beautiful building. On the United Way Day of Caring in May 2021, a TV crew showed up, the volunteers poured in, and the installation was installed within 8 hours. Now butterfly weed, coreopsis, New Jersey tea, spicebush, blue mistflower, columbine, prairie dropseed, and other native plants are thriving.

Native landscapes, while they may appear intimidating to maintain, are actually relatively easy to manage. Native plants have evolved to our local environment over thousands of years, and are an important part of healthy local habitats. In their native region, they are the most sustainable plants, growing deep roots and rarely requiring extra water or fertilizer. And almost all native plants are perennial, meaning that you don’t have to plant them over and over each year by seed or with plugs purchased from a store. After they are established, the primary maintenance is pruning when they get a bit unwieldy and adding mulch to suppress unwanted weeds.

Around the time of the original planting, I helped host a documentary of a film called “5 Seasons” about the landscape architect, Piet Oudolf. He is most well known for the High Line trail in New York City and the Lurie Gardens at Millennium Park in Chicago. Piet is credited for starting the “New Perennial Movement,” focusing on the structure of plants throughout the year – appreciating not just the color of flowers, but also the colors and textures of seeds, stalks, and leaves throughout all seasons. In fact, five seasons refers to planting in the spring and not cutting plants back until the following spring- a nod to appreciating plants for their beauty in all 12 months of the year & acknowledging the ecological value of the plants by not cutting them down after their flowers fade. The seeds, stalks, and leaves are very helpful food and shelter for insects and animals in the fall and winter. The film helped me focus on the entire plant and not just the flower, when considering what it means to be beautiful.

Native plants can take care of themselves in the wild without any human intervention. However, when they are brought into more formal settings – such as being neighbors with prestigious architectural surroundings – they require more maintenance to, shall I say, be more “civilized”. Some native plants may grow to be 8’ tall or higher. Downtown Columbus, known for its famous mid-century architecture, requires a bit more manicured look to be considered attractive.

The maintenance for the native plant landscape at Fresh Start is the responsibility of a combination of community volunteers and the women who live at Fresh Start. In early spring, after not cutting the plants back over winter, it is time to get the pruning shears out. In early March, on a crisp, sunny afternoon, I arrived for the year’s first maintenance job. The women from the shelter were on break outside when I arrived. One of them asked if they could help me out and I gladly welcomed her to join me – in what is always for me – horticulture therapy.

So I gave her the pruning shears, explained what we were doing, and we worked together, with a supervisor from Fresh Start monitoring her work. The woman helping me had recently become a resident at Fresh Start and she spoke constantly throughout the hour that we worked together. I gladly listened and interjected at times when breaking her stream of consciousness seemed appropriate. She was too focused to take up my offer to wear gloves.

She bounced from plant to plant, making quick work out of what was essentially giving a 3 inch from the ground haircut to each plant. She recalled gardening with her grandparents when she was young, her appreciation for flowers, and the peace she felt in the moment. She was presently dealing with addiction and told her supervisor that this could be one of her coping mechanisms. After doing a great job for over an hour, she had to go back inside. Her hands hurt after her enthusiastic work.

While beautifying downtown with a non-traditional landscape was the original goal of the project, witnessing the therapeutic benefits for the women volunteers at Fresh Start is an equally important blessing that the plants provide. It is a reminder that taking care of the plants – as with taking care of the environment – is not a mindless task, but an opportunity for building community connections. I will gladly trade my blood, sweat, and tears for projects like Fresh Start to help beautify areas and build relationships with those who share a passion for lush, colorful, and somewhat wild landscapes.

Bare hands grab grasses
Pruning shears scalp last year’s growth
Eager haste, she bleeds

Episode 70 – Craig Willers

September 18, 2024 Kevin Earley 20:32 Comments Off

Craig Willers is a DJ going by the moniker DJ du Nord and a musical artist going by the stage name Omnös. He has always loved music from a young age. He was born in Corvallis, Oregon and raised in Hawaii. He has been interested in different types of music and currently enjoys Metal, Gothic, Industrial and Chillout. Craig is 61 this year and plans to fully retire at 62 and focus on djing and music full time in retirement. Craig was diagnosed with Schizophrenia at 18 and has endured 43 years of this horrible and deadly disease. He is retired from Safeway after 34 years and just made 32 years with his beloved wife Mindy. Craig has no children because the illness can be passed genetically.

www.ktec895.com

https://omnos.bandcamp.com

HAIKAST XVII – Mental Health at Work

September 2, 2024 Eric Riddle 11:27 Comments Off

After 7 years, I walked away from my longest held job on Valentine’s Day 2023.

I started at COSCO in January 2016 as a temporary worker. COSCO, whose name is a sort of acronym for Columbus Specialty Company, began in Columbus, IN over 80 years ago. To be clear, I do not work at Costco, the popular club store started on the west coast, known for being a slightly elevated version of Sam’s Club.

If you know COSCO, it is likely as a manufacturer of folding tables and chairs or, more recently, as the creator of a very impressive hand truck that you can buy at …. Wait for it…. Costco!

So how did I, a proud Indiana University alum from the Kelley School of Business MBA program, start out as a temporary employee?

In the summer of 2007, I started my first year in the MBA program as a married man with 2 kids, 5 years of banking management under my belt, a homeowner, and a leader of the youth group at my church. I received a scholarship and can still remember reading in my acceptance speech that I was prepared to manage my priorities of “family, church, and school” with an emphasis on that order.

By the end of the first semester, I had spent most of the 4 months in an insomniac stupor, fueled by uncontrollable anxiety, resulting in a debilitating suicidal depression. The unexpected fall into the nadir of my life included spending Thanksgiving break at the Mental Health Unit of our local hospital, separating from my wife, moving into my parents’ house, taking a leave of absence from the MBA program, and nearly losing my faith. I was divorced 9 short months after the first day of class.

It was an absolute tragedy.

By the time I started at COSCO, 8 years had passed.

During that intervening period, I had some significant accomplishments – writing a book about a major flood disaster in my hometown called “Watershed: Service in the Wake of Disaster,” marrying the beautiful Jennifer Anne Johnston, remaining a loving and engaged father of my 2 children, finishing the MBA degree through the IU evening program, and joining a church where I met a great group of new friends.

What did not happen during those 8 years was a significant stride in career growth. I held down a full time job as a care partner at the hospital for 3.5 years, a year stint as an assistant manager at Walmart, a 3 year full time contract job as a grant writer at a local youth serving organization, and a 1 year temp job at Cummins in their HR department. I had yet to earn a salary that exceeded what I earned at the bank before I started as an MBA student.

The stress of not keeping up with my friend’s career trajectories, not living up to the potential after being a straight A student throughout my life, and failing to make progress after completing my MBA were all crushing to my self esteem.

I had two more stress unit visits during this time and lived long stretches with severe depression.

… And then I started as a temp worker at COSCO, helping out as a part time Administrative Assistant, committed to finding a way to be optimistic and gain full time employment. A few months later, I was offered a full time job and over the years had multiple promotions until ascending to the Marketing Manager of the furniture department in 2022. Who could resist the new “Trusted Solutions” marketing slogan of the COSCO tables and chairs!?

Something else had happened over those seven years with the company – I rekindled my professional self-esteem, found a deep passion for environmental work in the community, and started a weekly mental health recovery group at my church.

I became a member of The Stability Network, a national organization with a vision for “People experiencing mental health challenges to thrive in supportive workplaces and communities.” To join, I needed to publicly recognize my mental health diagnosis on their website, attend mental health advocacy training, and be willing to share my mental health diagnosis in the workplace. I attended retreats in New York City and San Francisco with members of The Stability Network to learn how to effectively share my mental health journey in a way that demonstrated how mental health struggles and professional success can coexist.

When I came back from the second training, I was only about 1 year into my job at COSCO. I decided to disclose my mental health diagnosis with my manager, Brennan Eckelman. My prior experience revealing to a manager that I had a diagnosis was to alert them that I needed time off for an in-patient hospital stay due to major depression. This time was very different. I was healthy. After scheduling a meeting with Brennan, I rehearsed my talking points with a member of The Stability Network.

Vulnerability – the uneasy feeling that most of us do not like to experience at work – was essentially what I was walking into, instead of away from, when I stepped into Brennan’s office. After a few minutes of casual conversation, I broke from the regular agenda to ask if we could talk about a personal topic. “Of course!” she replied, with her usual positive energy.

I referenced my trip to San Francisco and then jumped into the reason why I was there. I told her that The Stability Network encouraged me to share my mental health diagnosis at work and I felt most comfortable starting with her. I emphasized that my mental health was stable. She replied with the utmost respect for my disclosure and with gratitude that I trusted her to keep the information confidential. We talked for about 30 minutes on the topic and I felt her support throughout the conversation.

Light through her window
Difficult topic discussed
Coworkers- now friends

Sharing the challenges of mental illness is not easy, especially in the workplace. However, doing so is one of the best ways to reduce stigma in our society. My time with Brennan was a turning point for me – I no longer needed to hide behind a professional veneer that neglected a significant part of my life story. This experience helped me develop a “vulnerable-ability” in the workplace. An ability to discuss, with the intention of helping others – at the right time and place, the experience of living with a diagnosis.

Being able to share my story with Brennan, and eventually other colleagues at COSCO, gave me the confidence to start this Revealing Voices podcast without risk to my professional career. My transparency helped me build repertoire and deepen relationships. I became a leader of a corporate initiative to encourage coworkers to focus on wellness, including their mental health. I was grateful that sharing my bipolar II diagnosis helped others feel comfortable being more vulnerable and allowed me to continue to grow professionally.

So why did I leave a workplace that played a profound role in my stability?

I admired my co-workers and their critical role in helping me reestablish my career. However, as many of us did during the pandemic, I reevaluated my career path. While many struggled with isolation during the pandemic, my mental health thrived during that time. I discovered the bedrock of my stability was my connection to nature. Gardening, landscaping, hiking, writing haiku, and working with advocates to protect our natural resources were an endless source of joy and hope during those difficult days in 2020 and 2021. Doing these activities was therapeutic for me and I wanted to share that appreciation with others.

My growing commitment to environmental advocacy turned into a recognition of a soulful desire to do environmental ministry work. I discovered a grant writing opportunity with a company called Faith in Place that supports environmental work in Indiana, Illinois, and Wisconsin.

I knew of Faith in Place through a recent merger with a nonprofit called Hoosier Interfaith Power & Light. I had participated in some of their virtual meetings during the pandemic to learn how they were supporting environmental advocacy within spiritual communities that ranged from Baptist to Buddhist.

I applied and devoted many hours to devouring the content on the Faith in Place webpage, podcasts, and social media. I had never been that prepared for an interview.

On a cold January morning, I took the day off from COSCO. I was volunteering to go to Indianapolis to meet with state legislators to discuss renewable energy. Before I left, I checked my email. There it was – a job offer from Faith in Place! I wholeheartedly accepted the invitation. When I arrived in Indianapolis, I serendipitously met three Faith in Place staff in the Capitol building. We gathered for an impromptu group photo with glowing smiles of surprise as they welcomed me to the team.

Later that week, I joined my co-workers at COSCO to paint a new large meeting space. As we worked together, we talked about my job transition. I spoke with gratitude about my time at COSCO, sharing parts of the career metamorphosis that led to this opportunity for me to spread my wings.

After the painting was finished, I stood in the room for a moment as we were cleaning up. The laser level that we used to paint the dividing line between gray and white sections of the wall was perfect. I thought about how this would be a vibrant space for the COSCO team – where important discussions and fun team building activities would lead the company into a profitable future. This place that was the foundation for so much of my healing, however, would no longer be my home away from home. It was time to retire from this chapter in my career and embark into completely new territory. I was confident that my mental health was ready to endure the journey. In a quiet moment after my COSCO colleagues departed, I stood alone in the large unfurnished room. I was so grateful for what was and what will be.

Meticulous line
Paint dries, new conference room
I turn towards the door

Episode 69 – The Fish Catcher

August 14, 2024 Tony Roberts 24:33 2 Comments

On this episode of Revealing Voices, we welcome Sherry Lanning to the show. Sherry wrote a letter to her son Robin called “The Fish Catcher” in Hope for Troubled Minds. She reads it and shares what it meant to write and publish it.

Sherry is a retired nurse, living in Oregon with David, her husband of 53 years. Together, they’ve been blessed with 7 children and 10 grandchildren.

She has volunteered during national disasters and with international medical missions, serving with relief teams to Guatemala, Haiti and Uganda.

The challenges of her son’s schizophrenia required a safer environment. Robin was welcomed home with open arms. She balances her life by performing as a freestyle flutist and loving her 24 family members. In her spare time, she spoils her Weiner dog ladies, Annabelle and Dorothy. Sherry can be reached at goldenflute@comcast.net

Episode 68 – Healing Journeys with Skye and Beth

July 30, 2024 Eric Riddle 32:40 Comments Off

In this episode, Skye Nicholson and Beth Hughes from the new Breaking Patterns podcast join Eric in Studio E in Columbus. Skye and Beth are 13 episodes into a podcast that explores how to recognize, change, and develop patterns in our lives to make us healthier and happier.

Recent topics on the Breaking Patterns podcast include:

– Self-love through chronic illness

– Help! Why can’t I just ask for help?

– Breaking Patterns with alcohol

– Are you a Fixer?

This is Revealing Voices first “mashcast” collaboration episode and we’re grateful for how much fun we had with this interview. Let’s do It again!

To hear more from Skye and Beth, tune into the podcast feed at: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/breaking-patterns/id1740750976

HAIKAST XVI – Yahoo Hike

July 8, 2024 Eric Riddle 12:19 Comments Off

I have been hiking the Sheltowee Trace Trail in Kentucky over the past 8 years. The 300 mile trail from Morehead, KY to Rugby, TN goes through the heart of beautiful rolling woods- hugging Cave Run Lake, meandering through the epoch Red River Gorge, and then tightly winding around the perimeter of Laurel Lake. After hiking across the dam at Laurel Lake, the Sheltowee follows the Laurel River 2 miles where the trickle of a tributary empties into the majestic Cumberland River. From there, the trail heads south to Cumberland Falls, the premiere tourist destination of southeastern Kentucky. The trail goes west to the South Fork of the Cumberland River and then south until it reaches its final destination in northeastern Tennessee.

Three hundred miles is a long way and so I hike it in increments. I have led 8 unique trips with 17 friends and family members since starting the hike in November 2016. I am most proud of going with my son, Isaac, on three of those journeys. He has joined me for 57 of the 191 miles that I have completed thus far.

It was in the Big South Fork National River and Recreation Area of the trail where I found myself in May 2024 with my friends Slater, Jason, and Clyde. We were prepared for the most ambitious hike that I have ever planned – 43 miles over 4 days. As we neared our drop off point, we saw a black bear scrambling into the forest as our van rambled along the gravel road that terminated at our trailhead, Peter’s Mountain. None of us had seen a bear before in the wild. It was relatively small, but I am sure bigger than my 200 lbs frame. We were thankful that it was about five miles from our starting point AND we would be walking in the opposite direction. Clyde dropped us off and we confirmed our plan to meet up at Yamacraw Bridge – 42 hours and 29 miles later.

Three miles into the Sheltowee, we encountered another black bear, about the same size as the first, that ran uphill and behind a large boulder as we unsheathed a hatchet and prepared for the worst. We neither saw nor heard any more of the bear after we passed the bend where it emerged. Quickly, we descended to Desperation Creek and on towards the Cumberland River.

The wildness represented in an animal like a bear is distinctly different from the wildness of a unique ecosystem, far from civilization. A beautiful, remote landscape elicits the joy of being the audience of a rare spectacle, while an animal strikes the fear of being part of the spectacle, where actions have real consequences in a unique and unpredictable situation. Wilderness is the setting where our historic relationship to nature can be experienced. In a controlled environment, a zoo for example, the wildness of a bear is obscured by the domestic surroundings. With the trappings of safety, it is impossible to truly feel the nature of the animal. Hiking brings you into the liminal space of wildness and unforeseen scenarios.

We all stepped to that threshold before the bear – and the feeling it elicited – passed and was not seen again.

At sunset, we found a beautiful beach camp location along the Cumberland. We woke to rain. And it rained, with a few hours of reprieve, for the next 24 hours. We were prepared for the weather, but it was nonetheless painstaking. When attempting to hike 18 miles in a day, there are many decisions to be made around conserving energy, pushing through pain, finding ideal rest sites, and understanding the needs of fellow travelers. Even very practical decisions like following a map are not always straightforward.

The rain abated early on day three, but within 2 miles, we had to cross a creek carrying the previous day’s rain – waist deep. Despite the challenge, we made it to our rendezvous point at Yamacraw Bridge on time with Slater departing and Clyde joining us for the remaining 14 miles of the trip. We had hopes of potentially, with good weather, finishing the trail a day early and heading back home to appreciate the luxury of dry clothes.

Good fortune eluded us as we hiked into the Yamacraw Trail Race, a 40 mile out-and-back trail run competition. On a muddy trail. What you might call a quagmire. In hopes that we would not be following the racers, I made a wrong turn that led us almost a mile off trail. When we returned to the Sheltowee, the three of us, each with heavy packs on, were intermittently being yelled at “Runner behind” or – spotting a runner in front – we would shuffle into the mud at the edge of the trail. I had never experienced anything like this traffic. The trail conditions, physical tiredness, and general chaos of sharing the trail confounded us.

Mud slicks and loose rocks
Rambunctious runners on trail
We’re slow and steady

We lost sight of the river and walked into the hills, again mistakenly off trail, but luckily hiking more or less parallel to the Sheltowee and without the disturbance of runners. However, as we veered back towards the main trail 4 miles later, we discovered on the map a spaghetti section of overlapping trails in the area of Yahoo Arch and Yahoo Falls. We were close to the largest campground in the area and there were many trails between us and the Cumberland River. We merged into this poorly marked trail system at Yahoo Arch.

This part of Kentucky is known for its monumental rock formations. The epicenter, about two hours northeast of us, is named “Natural Bridge State Park” for the extraordinary sandstone arches emerging from the forest. Only the iconic Arches National Park in Utah contain a higher density of these geological marvels.

Yahoo Arch, in my estimation, is the most impressive arch that I have seen in Kentucky. There are multiple levels, caves, and a spiral path that conjured the impression that we were in a sort of M.C. Escher.prehistoric rock sanctuary – impossible to capture on camera or video. It was our first pause for true enjoyment since falling asleep along the river two nights before. A kind of stare up towards the heavens and slowly rotate in place kind of pause. Being here was not part of the plan, but the gravitas of this place would ultimately help us find our way out.

Reluctantly, we continued- not 100% sure how to link back to the Sheltowee. We saw our first non-runner on the trail in over 24 hours. A guy from Charlestown, IN with a curious Caribbean accent. Being tired, I took a bit of a break to talk to him while Jason and Clyde walked on. The conversation sparked when he mentioned that he was dabbling in semi-professional photography. Before going our separate ways, I formally introduced myself and he gave me his name- Mike.

When I caught up to Clyde and Jason, it began raining again. The best we knew to do was to walk north and hopefully the spaghetti would straighten out. We headed down towards the creek that would eventually lead to the Cumberland. Crossing the water, Jason fell. Clyde unbuckled the pack from his waist and Jason staggered to the creek edge. He laid there. We were lost. Darkness was approaching. We were still 6 miles from our final destination.

While not spoken, I felt our motivation to complete 43 miles was broken.

We crossed another creek and then I scouted for a trail by climbing a steep hill to what was hopefully the Sheltowee. This was not the way.

Wet toes, muddy boots
Gingerly placing trek poles
Feet throb, descending

We hiked back to where Jason fell and then south in the direction of the campground. We heard noise nearby and hoped we were close. Once we turned a corner on the spaghetti trail, we realized that we were at Yahoo Falls.

The waterfall was majestic. While not wide like Cumberland Falls, it more than makes up for it in height. And the previous day’s rain flowed from above. The noise we heard were boys playing at the base of the falls. Unfortunately, this also meant that we were still not imminently close to the campground.

The rock shelter behind Yahoo Falls contained a wide arcing trail. Far on the other side, I saw a man taking photographs. It looked like it might be Mike.

I yelled, “Mike, is that you?”

“Yes,” he responded.

“Good to see you again. May we talk?”

“Of course,” he affirmed.

I quickly walked over, wincing at the pain in my feet. Jason was stationary and Clyde assessed other pathways.

I laughed with Mike for a moment, not sure how he had photographed Yahoo Arch and returned to this spot, ahead of us. Gazing upward, he told me it was the highest waterfall in Kentucky. He had planned to go straight back to his car, but felt inclined to photograph these falls one last time.

I told Mike what had transpired over the last hour. In a moment of full transparency, I acknowledged the awkwardness of what I was about to say and then did my best to tactfully state that, ideally, we would like to get back to our car- ASAP. I asked if he would be willing to drive the three of us and our backpacks the 15 minute drive from Yahoo Falls campground back to the church where our van was parked. Without hesitation, he said yes. I yelled across those beautiful falls for Clyde and Jason.

We followed Mike to his car, giving him time to take more photos as he guided us on the trail. Clyde asked him how to view his photography and he told us to check out Mike Heaven on Facebook. We had to clarify that his last name is Heaven. Indeed it is, he assured us. Jason may have made a remark about him being an angel.

On the fifteen minute car ride, we learned more about Mike. He is from Brooklyn and the youngest of 9 brothers. He moved to Louisville to go to college. After graduating, he became an accountant and began doing travel photography. With humility, Mike mentioned how surprised he was to gain an online following of 25,000 people in less than a year.

When we returned to our van at Flat Rock Missionary Baptist Church, Mike reluctantly took the money that I offered him for his nearly miraculous assistance. Before getting back into his car, he walked over to a long, intact snake skeleton in the church parking lot to take one final photo before being on his way.

Across the wide arc
I call to photographer
Yahoo Falls angel