My mom tells a story of how, when I was 3-4 years old, she had a rule: no “why” questions after 4:00 PM. Apparently my curiosity for listening to the wonders of life came early - for that I feel very lucky.

Recently, I was invited to come to a local high school, where a friend of mine has taught for many years. The students were working on a unit which required them to pick one word that was most important to them. Using that word, they would write, reflect, and explore meaning. My invitation was to assist their thinking by choosing a single word from which to base my reflections. Immediately, I knew what my word was --- Listen.

My listening journey begins on my grandfather’s armchair, listening to him tell me and my younger brother bedtime stories. I remember the intense feeling of warmth and focus of my grandfather’s wisdom and kindness. It sparked something in me --- a lesson that listening to myself and others and attempting to empathize with the stories of others allows my own understanding and gives me a path to follow.

Over time, I’ve learned how to listen better to others, but maybe more importantly, how to best listen to my own truths. After college, I taught high school for several years, and learned much about myself in the process. In 2008, while teaching, I rode my bicycle solo across the country, from Oregon to Boston, and was gifted with the good in humanity that was shared with me day after day on the lonely roads cross country.

In graduate school I had the privilege to work with incredible student activists and change makers - young people who, through their own adversity, taught me about selflessness, resilience, and that sometimes progress comes with discomfort.

When I listened to the pull home to Vermont, I brought the energy of those students with me, and attempted to demystify, for myself, what being involved with politics was all about.

In 2017, I again heard the call to venture off for another adventure - bicycling from Ushuaia, Argentina home to Vermont. This trip forced me to listen to myself more than ever before. To make it home, I surrendered control to the places and people around me. The surrender to listening instead of attempting to control, was what helped me arrive home safely and graciously.

Since the trip, I had the great privilege of serving as campaign manager for Christine Hallquist, in her run for Vermont Governor. Christine is a brilliant, passionate, brainiac, who’s ahead of her time. Most recently, after thinking I’d ‘settle’ and would take a longer-term job with the University of Vermont, I met Rebecca Holcombe. She gave me the opportunity to return to the dynamic world of political campaigning. Rebecca is compassionate, she’s a teacher who believes deeply in education as a foundation of democracy, she’s relentless in her pursuit of equity, and she has so much energy that she can’t even consider drinking coffee.

Listening to others and listening to myself hasn’t always led me down a life or career path of certainty - quite the contrary. But, what I’ve realized is that listening to my true self means me taking responsibility for the fact that I want to keep adventuring. I want to listen and learn from as many people as I can. I used to worry about the future and where I’d be. Now, I know I don’t know what will come next and I’m grateful for having realized that it’s ok to let go of control and listen. WholeHeart, for me, has helped contextualize and validate my listening journey. I am fortunate for WholeHeart, which has supported me in being secure that it’s ok not to know what will come next —that it’s enough to surrender and listen to the winding path ahead.

-by Cameron Russell , WholeHeart Board Member and participant

Cameron, Christine Hallquist, and Rebecca Holcombe