The Man Who Walked

It’s been weeks since I’ve managed to blog here – sorry, regular readers. I got caught up in a common phase of re-versioning: listening to the “no, you can’t”, “what’s the use?” voice. The defeatist voice. The one that, once you start down a new path, tells you: it can’t be done. This is too scary. Too uncertain. Where will it lead? Stop now. Don’t waste your time. Go back to the devil you know.

Never mind that your new path could lead you to a life you can’t even imagine today.

When I need stuff, I bless the Internet (I live in a small town hours from any mall). When I’m leaning to procrastination, I curse the Internet. Too easy to spend hours doing “research” and “important stuff” when I don’t have the emotional wherewithal to put fingers on a keyboard, never mind write something.

But something cool did happen during Internet avoidance, this time. I learned about a man – a walking man – whose self-talk many of us would have ignored, or laughed at, or seen a psychiatrist about.

His name is John Francis. In 1971, he protested a Bay Area oil spill by refusing to ride in cars – ever. The resulting arguments with his friends about whether this action or any one person’s actions could make any difference at all inspired another wild idea. He would stop talking. He would shut up for a while and stop his outer voice until he could figure out what was what. He ended up NOT riding in vehicles for 22 years and NOT talking for 17 years while he figured himself out, walked (literally) across the country, earned a few degrees (including a PhD), taught at a couple of universities and then, finally, realized he was past the quiet man stage, started gabbing again. Good gab, this time. Ended up writing water pollution regulations for the U. S. Coast Guard. And being appointed Environmental Ambassador for the United Nations. Besides being a professor.

One person, indeed.

John Francis was ahead of his time – a walking environmentalist. And he was an expert re-versioner: taking the chance of making a commitment to an inner voice that said, “Yes, you can.”

John Francis’s journey was believing one person could make a difference, even if all he did was walk everywhere and stop talking about it. John believes that each of us has such a journey – to make a difference – within ourselves. And anyone can make a commitment to it.

So now, I’m listening to the “yes.” I’m committing to this journey – and committing to exploring my painting, my horse training, all the “other” interests I’ve always wanted to do and never made the time for.

And documenting the journey, the re-versioning, so maybe this person’s path might help others commit to the “yes” voices they haven’t been able to trust – yet.


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For more information on John Francis and his PlanetWalk organization, check out www.planetwalk.org.