Tag: growth

  • Is a Little Chaos Actually Good for Us?

    Is a Little Chaos Actually Good for Us?

    I think a little chaos can be good for us.

    Not the kind that destroys everything and leaves people wounded trying to gather pieces of themselves from the floor.

    But the kind that interrupts comfort.

    The kind that knocks on the door and says, Are you sure this is the best you can do?

    I am someone who likes consistency; it’s comfortable

    I like knowing what works.

    I understand the old saying, “If it’s not broke, don’t fix it.”

    There is wisdom in that. Not everything needs to be touched. Not everything needs to be changed just for the sake of change. Some things are steady because they have earned the right to be steady.

    But sometimes something can work and still not be as good as it could be.

    Sometimes something can be fine and still be slow and inefficient.

    and still holding us back in ways we do not notice, because we have grown comfortable with its shape.

    That is where chaos has its place.

    Chaos reveals things.

    Problems reveal things.

    A disruption can show us where the weak spots are. It can show us what we have been avoiding, what we have outgrown, what we have been calling peace when it was really just familiarity.

    I do not always like that in the moment.

    Most growth does not feel like growth while it is happening.

    Sometimes it feels like frustration.

    Sometimes it feels like an inconvenience.

    Sometimes it feels like being forced to learn something you would not have chosen to learn on your own.

    But afterward, when the dust settles, you can look back and realize the chaos did not come only to disturb you.

    Sometimes it came to sharpen you.

    Sometimes it came to make you more honest.

    Sometimes it came to show you that the way you had always done something was not the only way.

    And maybe not even the best way.

    There is a kind of growth that only comes when life refuses to let us stay too comfortable.

    A little chaos can make us pay attention.

    It can make us adjust.

    It can make us build better systems, ask better questions, and stop confusing survival with success.

    Kyle J. Hayes

    kylehayesblog.com

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    Resources for Hard Times

    If you’re looking for practical help, food support, or community resources, you can visit the Salt, Ink & Soul Resources Page.

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  • A Gentle Return

    A Gentle Return

    Salt, Ink & Soul — Field Journal Series, Part III

    It was as if I’d never started. All my momentum gone — vanished like breath on glass. The old voice returned, whispering reasons to stay still.

    Why go? It asked. You can see everything on a screen.

    Going outside is what made you sick.

    Your car is too big. The police will stop you.

    Each thought a stone in my gut, each hesitation dressed as reason.

    Still, I drove — slow, deliberate, a man testing the edge of his own promise. The sun climbed high over Albuquerque as if to dare me. I turned off Montaño and followed the signs toward Pueblo Montaño Picnic Area, a place recommended by a co-worker. At first, it seemed I was never meant to find it, but I did, somehow.

    At the entrance, the first thing I saw was the carvings — towering guardians hewn from fallen trees. Birds poised mid-flight, turtles climbing, coyotes howling into the stillness. Their faces caught the morning light, wood polished by wind and time.

    For a moment, I thought about turning around. The same quiet panic pressed behind my ribs: You’ve seen enough. You can take a photo from the car. No one will know the difference.

    But something in the carvings — maybe the permanence of their stillness — silenced the argument. I stepped out.

    The path curved through low brush and cottonwoods, beginning to yellow with the season. The air was sharp with the scent of sage and sun-warmed dust. My body, still cautious from its revolt, protested at first — a cough, an ache, a slow complaint in the knees. But the further I walked, the more those protests dissolved into breath.

    At a small bench near a patch of golden brush, I stopped. The wood was warm. The wind moved like a whisper that had nothing to prove. From where I sat, I could see the Rio Grande glinting between the trees — quiet, relentless, alive.

    And for the first time in days, I didn’t feel like a man recovering. I felt like one returning.

    Progress may not come in the form of long drives or grand destinations. Maybe it’s just the act of standing outside yourself long enough to see where you are.

    The world isn’t waiting to be conquered — it’s waiting to be witnessed.

    As I turned back toward the car, the carvings seemed different. The bird looked less like it was guarding the trail and more like it was blessing the departure. The coyotes, once frozen in howls, now looked like they were calling me forward.

    Maybe that’s what growth really looks like — not grand adventures, but small acts of motion.

    What do you think… should I keep going?

    Kyle J. Hayes

    kylehayesblog.com

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