How Stillness Helped Me Find New Paths
- Author(s):
- Rudiger Herzing Ruckmann
- Issue:
- Vocation (April 2025)
- Department:
- Inward Light
The fear and sense of vulnerability that clung to me like stubborn shadows during the COVID-19 pandemic have not entirely disappeared. However, these struggles have led me to greater empathy, compassion, and patience with myself and others.
During the pandemic I lost two aunts and five uncles, many of whom spent their last years in assisted living facilities. I come from a vast, close-knit family whose members, especially those of older generations, are taciturn when it comes to private matters. Fortunately, a few of my 30 first cousins and I have been able to process our grief together through phone calls, Zoom, and text messages.
When COVID first emerged in the United States, my husband, our young daughter, and I, like many families, worked and learned without leaving the house. Ellen wrote a poem every day during the first 100 days of isolation. In August 2022, my daughter, who is immunocompromised, and I ventured beyond our neighborhood in Honolulu to a school where she entered the seventh grade and I taught high school classes. Ellen was ready to greet the world again. Looking back, I realized I was not.
Unlike my husband, who had already resumed teaching in person at a different high school in autumn 2020, I never truly regained my sure footing working outside our home. High school students often ignore boundaries. Some had difficulties respecting the personal space I needed. I’m sure my discomfort was evident, but I refused to sacrifice my caution even when a few parents and colleagues who knew about my daughter’s Down syndrome challenged me for masking or avoiding crowded areas.
A twist of fate, though, gave me an unexpected possibility. The school my daughter and I had joined was facing some struggles. The Head of School asked if I would take on a different role as her Special Assistant with a focus on fundraising. Despite not knowing how long this new position would last I accepted. In many regards I was simply relieved to work from home again. I could breathe.
Challenges didn’t vanish as I reconnected with isolation. Living with uncertainty has never been my strong suit. In college, I always turned in homework in advance to make sure I didn’t miss a deadline and took additional classes so that I could graduate a year early. Doctors I visit for myself or my daughter, and whom I pepper with questions, probably breathe a sigh of relief after I leave. I love the certainty of routines. As a poet, I’m always on the lookout for familiar, sensible, and reassuring symbolism and patterns.
Still, I knew I was fortunate. We have a lovely, quiet home. The Head of School and I enjoyed working together. As she said, there was “always a good vibe” in our professional relationship. She recognized Ellen’s enormous potential which bore fruit when Ellen twice won her school Spelling Bee – and in doing so brought the school considerable positive media attention.
Other unexpected benefits of my new arrangement soon revealed themselves. My new role for the Head of School gave me greater flexibility in my work. I structured my days in ways that were personally fulfilling while I honored work commitments. I resumed part-time virtual teaching for a school in New York City on whose faculty I remained throughout the pandemic. With the six-hour time difference, I could finish my instruction before the traditional workday began in Hawaii. I dove into subjects I taught like Advanced Placement Human Geography, Language Arts, Philosophy as well as Science and Ethics.
Increasingly, though, I was reluctant to leave my safe cocoon. After initial relief, my days sometimes felt too long until my husband and daughter returned from school. My boss indicated she was thinking about leaving her job.
Craving stability, I decided to walk 1.8 miles to the Meeting House in Honolulu, which I had rarely visited in person during the pandemic. Once there, I sat in silence outside. After returning home, I asked for a Clearness Committee to assist me in gaining clarity about what I truly wanted next in life.
Some decisions were easy: After I completed my 35th marathon shortly after Christmas 2023, my legs were ready to say goodbye to distance running! I knew I wanted to be more available to my husband and daughter. When aunts or uncles died, I didn’t hesitate to reach out to cousins.
Exploring next steps for my career was more of an adventure. Fortunately, a new study from the World Health Organization convinced me that I was still young enough to believe in limitless possibilities! My Clearness Committee asked me two valuable questions while I listened to the still, small voice within me: “What brings you joy? Do you trust your faith to find it?”
The wisdom of middle age helped my journey of discovery. I was able to keep my sense of humor while practicing gratitude.
After being home alone more than at any other time in my life, I slowly embraced a new way of living. I became closer friends with neighbors whom I had barely known or spoken to before, people who were encountering their own challenges: loss of a loved one, major career decisions, parenting, anxiety about the world, health issues. Our walks and talks, just listening to or sometimes laughing with each other, became a source of connection, of belonging to community, even of daily renewal. Each time we interacted I moved a few steps closer to them.
When a fellow Quaker introduced me to a gentleman starting a nonprofit organization to advance greater accessibility to mental health wellness services, I took a leap of faith and joined his team as a philanthropy consultant – with the provisos that I work from home and continue to teach high school classes remotely before the sun rises fully in Honolulu. I’m lucky he respects my needs.
Facing uncertainty has made me more conscientious about giving my time, grace, and patience to others and to myself. When life again decides to challenge my equanimity, I will be in a better place to navigate change.
Rüdiger Herzing Rückmann is a poet and Plain Quaker, and a member of West Branch Friends Meeting (IAYM-Con) who attends Honolulu Friends Meeting.