Finding Freedom on the Other Side of the Waterfall by Sarah A. Martin

The Olin Nature preserve is eerily quiet. So quiet you can hear fallen leaves crunch beneath your feet. I imagine the courage it must have taken for our ancestors to walk these woods at night, guided solely by the faith they were headed toward something better than the violence they were leaving behind. With each step and breath I take, I am reminded of the freedom I hold to walk in their footsteps.

I am there with a group of 30 or so young Black people. Our host: Black People Who Hike, a St. Louis-based, outdoor and wellness organization. Before the hike, the leadership team asked all of us to circle up and share the privilege we hold. I shared, “I feel grateful for the privilege to quit my job and take time to rest.” I looked around the circle and saw heads nod in affirmation.

This was my truth. Yet, the newness of it still felt raw when it left my lips. Perhaps because I was still transitioning out of my job, working at a grassroots non-profit fighting for Black liberation. I grew frustrated with the misalignment between the non-profit’s radical mission and impact, and the toxic, internal workplace culture and practices I knew inevitably led to burnout. Ella Baker’s “We Who Believe in Freedom Cannot Rest,” was low-key the anthem of this organization. I wanted to march to the beat of a new drum—one which would give me more time to rest and nurture the creative fire within me.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I sent my resignation letter. For a just moment, I could feel the heel of capitalism ease off my neck. But one final obstacle remained before I could fully celebrate: I still needed to tell my parents.

I cried when my father tried to convince me to reverse my decision by reminding me of my Aunt’s story. Over 20 years ago, her mental health deteriorated, causing her to leave work and never return. She now lives in my father’s childhood home with her two grown daughters, surviving off food stamps and the generosity of my father. In the eyes of my father, a retired firefighter, who worked very hard to move up the economic and social ladder, my aunt is a symbol of failure.

I couldn’t help but admit there were numerous parallels between her story and mine. I too have struggled with mental health problems and was roughly the same age as my Aunt when she left work for good. I knew, by bringing her up, my father was warning me I was going down a very precarious path that could lead to me repeating family history. But I didn’t allow him or my mother to deter me from making a decision I felt was in alignment with my highest good.

When my parents started challenging my decision to quit my job by asking questions like—

“Why are you leaving a ‘good paying’ job?”

“Is rest really that important to you?”

“When will you return to work?”

“What will you do next?”

I told them I wasn’t willing to sacrifice my mental and emotional well-being for a paycheck. I knew my “why” was to rest, and it was very important to me.

Although I put on a good front, I was just as scared as they were. I was afraid to risk my financial security in order to take a giant leap of faith into the unknown. Ultimately, I took comfort in knowing I was not alone. I was part of a movement of people leaving their jobs in droves all across the United States. Economists were calling it, the “Great Resignation.” With this knowledge and the assurance that my spirit knew what was best for me, I was able to stand by my decision and transition out of my job.

I decided to spend three months not working. I wanted to challenge myself to find purpose outside of the 9 to 5 grind. I dreamt of learning how to play the piano, transforming blank canvases into vision boards, and reading the dozens of books collecting dust on my shelves. More importantly, I wanted to see how I could grow and expand by retreating into the inner sanctum of my being. I sought to tap further into the deep well of peace I knew lay within me, and had sometimes accessed in deep meditation.

Retreating into nature has always been deeply meditative for me. I grew up in Little Rock, Arkansas, a nature enthusiast’s paradise. Natural rivers, rolling valleys of trees, and a glorious mountain with a 1,000-foot elevation stood in my backyard. When I was a little girl, I used to spend hours outside, inventing games to play with my siblings. This was cute when we were younger. But as I grew older, I learned the outdoors were no place for a Black girl.

The COVID-19 pandemic brought me back outside. The outdoors were one of the few places my wanderlust spirit could roam and breathe freely. During my three-month break from work, I started walking daily in the park near my home. I ventured there to meditate on a rock nestled beneath three trees. I would sit on the rock for hours, staring in the direction of the sun and asking the divine to help me see my path so I could walk it with more clarity and discernment. Often I would leave the rock without answers.

S. Alayne Martin, Poet and storyteller, meditating at the Olin Nature Preserve in Godfrey, Illinois. The preserve is part of the Underground Railroad, and was once traveled by slaves in search of freedom.
*Photo by Debbie Njai, founder of Black People Who Hike.*

One day, I decided to try hiking with a St. Louis-based group called Black People Who Hike. The hike was held at the Olin Nature Preserve in Godfrey, Illinois. The organizers called the hike, “Freedom,” because the Preserve is part of the Underground Railroad and was once traveled by slaves in search of freedom.

The group and I eventually stopped near an overhanging rock with a small waterfall. I took the opportunity to separate from the group and meditate. I began to think about the message I had received from spirit before I had quit my job.

Spirit spoke to me and said, “Your future is a horizon of possibility. You must return to yourself and step into a mindset of abundance. You are rich in more ways than one.” This message helped me navigate all of the uncertainty I felt during the first few weeks of unemployment when I had decent savings but no concrete plan for where I was headed next.

As I listened to the sound of laughter intermingle with the pitter-patter of the water hitting the rock, I began to find new meaning in this message. I started to realize that I needed to risk financial loss in order to gain something much more precious: freedom. I started to see freedom as a priceless resource that can’t be bought or earned through hard work. It’s something that lies within each of us when we make the conscious decision to live in alignment with our highest good. Sometimes, we just have to venture beyond what we know and follow a seemingly intangible dream in order to find it.

It’s been almost a year since I quit my job, and I am still feeling the effects of the decision. Although these past few months of underemployment have not been easy, I am grateful for the opportunity to reconnect with my pen and my purpose. I know each day I walk in alignment with my truth, I get closer and closer to reaching my horizon.