Rejection Among Ruins
Career advice from a beaver
What would they think of me sitting here, feeling sorry for myself? What would they think of the “problems” I have? Could they relate at all? The world has changed so much since people last inhabited these ruins hundreds of years ago. This canyon may have the same bones, the same plants and soils filling its hollows, but the wind carries the scent of a different way of life.
Walking among the canyon ruins, I felt light, a welcome change to the week. The sun still hid behind the mesa to the east, and the sky was just waking up. I soaked up the open space in silence, anxieties about my future fading in the morning light.
After escaping the confines of a claustrophobic south Florida and moving across the country, I had spent the past two and a half months trying to land my dream job. With five round of interviews behind me I was told they would have a final decision for me in a week, but it was now day 12, and there was still no word.
For 11 days I sat around the house checking my email every ten minutes. I was paralyzed in suspense, in desperate need of distraction, so I hiked.
For hours.
Along rocky outcroppings, beneath ancient ruins, down dry creek beds, and up trails that disappeared into the sparsely forested hills.
I was alone.
Just like I wanted to be. Each step massaging out the knots in my mind.
I moved like the newcomer I was, finding marvel in the mundane. Jagged, lichen covered rocks, pointed cacti and yucca, curving pine needles, and cliff faces worn smooth with time. The trunks of trees twist like the empty creeks that carved these canyons. Perfectly adapted to the arid climate, the land is blanketed with forests of these warped trees, spiraling into the water starved sky like wooden tornadoes, frozen in time.
Thoughts of career struggles and responsibilities softened as I walked the sandy creek beds with their smooth, curving walls. Every corner beckoned “just a little further,” until the sky above narrowed into a ribbon of blue.
I was in paradise, but each time I checked the map on my phone, I was reminded of the decision that hung in the air and after wandering this moonscape for hours I finally gave in.
Trees and shrubs jutted out of the rock hard soil around me as I sat at the base of a cliff with a massive rock overhang that shaded me from the sun. Boulders the size of bears grew at precarious angles from the hillside and the remains of a few mortared walls clung to the rock above me.
I almost didn’t believe it when I saw the message in my inbox. My eyes widened as I hurried to open it like someone running towards a mirage. Ravenously I scanned the message, passing by the formalities before reading:
“Although your background is impressive, upon further review, the team was unable to select you…”
“unable to select you…”
The words seemed to hang in the air and for a moment I didn’t breathe.
For months, I had dreamed of getting this job and my chances had only ever looked good. I was just inches away from achieving my goal of becoming a full-time writer and I allowed myself to give in to the hope that I would, tipping the job hunting scale towards a risky confidence instead of a protective doubt.
But I was wrong.
I couldn’t bring myself to read the rest of the message with its positive tone.
It was over.
I sat in the shade of that cliff, my mouth partially open, staring at the red dirt in front of me. I felt empty, hollow, a shell of myself like the ruins that looked down on me and I softly muttered to myself in disbelief. I wanted to yell, but couldn’t bring myself to out of some odd respect for people that no longer existed.
What would they think of me sitting here, feeling sorry for myself? What would they think of the “problems” I profess to have? Could they relate at all?
Birds sang in the trees, I sat with my head in my hands, thinking about all the people I was going to have to tell, “…I didn’t get it.” The words were too painful to say out loud and imagining their pep-talks and imparted annoyances on my behalf just knotted my stomach further.
I blinked and sniffed back tears as I thought about my wife, who had so patiently waited and dreamed along with me. For weeks we had steadily grown more excited about the possibility that I could get this job. We dreamed out loud about the life we could start to live in our new home. It was all so close at hand.
And then it wasn’t.
My brain melted into a kaleidoscope of emotions. The beautiful scenery I had been admiring all day seemed to disappear around me as I put my camera away and began the long hike back to the car.
After the first month of interviews and unemployment this job hunt had ceased to be about landing my dream job and turned instead to not letting her down, not putting more pressure on her than there already was and leaving us in a bind.
Half way back I called her, but when she answered my mouth could barely form words. I dropped to one knee as we spoke, the weight of my disappointment unsteadying me. My insides wrenched like the twisted bark of the tree I leaned on and all I could bring myself to mutter was, “I’m sorry…”
There’s no way to fully prepare yourself for something like that. When your future depends so entirely on getting a job and to get so close, only to be passed on at the last minute. There’s no way to take that lightly. It’s been over a week since I was rejected, but it still stings to think about.
In the days that have followed though, the pain has only caused me to buckle down more.
Later on that same day — back at home — as I sat on the back steps to our apartment feeling sorry for myself, I noticed a butterfly on a flower in the yard. An odd wave of envy came over me as I admired its assuredness and simple life. It didn’t need permission from anyone to follow it’s instincts and I don’t need be endowed with the title “writer” to be one either. It reminded me of a quote from an interview with Barry Lopez where the interviewer said,
“When I met him at his home last year, he told me when he was feeling defeated by the work, he’d walk along the nearby McKenzie River.
‘Every time I did there was a beaver stick in the water at my feet. And they’re of course, they’re workers. So I imagined the beaver were saying ‘What the hell’s wrong with you? You get back in there and do your work.’”
I don’t pretend to make anything sound easy here. There will always be roadblocks and hurdles in your way and some of them are going to sting like hell, but if you have a dream, take some advice from the beaver and don’t let anything keep you from building your lodge.
And when you’re stuck, look to nature for advice.
