Why I Hung Up My Mic… for a while

It all started with a question: what was my part?

Back in 2020, in the dark days of the beginning of the pandemic, I began to look for my part; my part to help us through. Everyone and everything were full of fear. We didn’t know what was safe to do, or where to go, or what would happen to us if we got “it.” In the early days, people were dying in significant numbers. Thanks to public health and vaccination programs, we'd not seen anything like this in Western countries for more than a hundred years.

Trained as an integral development coach and with a background in journalism and strategic communications, I could tell that we, our societies, needed voices of reassurance. No matter where we looked, leaders were missing the mark, under-estimating our resilience, treating us like infants in need of protection rather than giving us information and calls to action. Absent community spaces to which we felt a sense of belonging, absent also a broad shared sence of commitment to the well-being of eachother, we fell into finger pointing and confusion.

Let me be clear – the roots of this situation were already deep by 2020. Social media reinforced the individualization of our communities in the West, but our sense of “us” had already seen erosion. I think this falling apart had been going on for a generation already. The pandemic just hurried it along.

Despite all that, I firmly believe, then and still, that community requires us all to get involved, and I wondered what I could do to help my community in Canada, in some small way. Frankly, to help myself feel less afraid and directionless.

To cope with it all, in addition to upping my cooking skills and instituting a new practice of daily dessert, my husband and I were walking regularly in "our" forest. Snowshoes or cleats on our boots, we were out there feeling the wind on our faces, bathing in the peace and stillness that was extra quiet given the absence of traffic on the nearby freeway and in our immediate neighbourhood. Lockdown in Ottawa was complete, and lasted a long time.

The forest is just across from our home, and it goes on for miles. Walking through it helped me settle down every time we went. I also leaned into my practice of meditating in my hot tub in my backyard, looking at my winter garden, and listening for birds returning from away as spring approached.

Processing stress through forest walks, finding stillness in my sitting practice, seeking peace in my heart, spending time with those I love, being creative in my cooking and taking up quilting as a hobby, these things helped carry me through that winter and spring.

I started to think about the intersection of my skills – working with people to help them see themselves when they are in transition had been my work for some time already. Communicating clearly with people had been part of my work for 20 years already. Playing with sound, which had been my training and vocation when I was with CBC Radio in the early 2000s, was calling me back. My mind swirled with questions and possibilities: How can I share that feeling of calm and stillness from my forest walks? What would it be like to take people into the forest with me, virtually, of course? For them to hear the crunch of snow underfoot, or the rustle of leaves as we “walk” together, or hear the full-throated frog in the spring, calling out for a mate? What if I could interview people about the things that bring them joy? If I could beam all this out into the world, would that help to change the heaviness in our collective hearts, shift the resonance of our world in a positive way?

Such was the genesis of my podcast, “Meanderings with Trudy,” which I launched in the summer of 2020. Show the joy that already lives in the lives of everyday people. Invite listeners to find the same in their own life, and in the lives of people around them.

Wash; rinse; repeat.

This is what it looks like when I'm working with sound... Photo credit to T. Chapman

My first year was a bit rough. My sound mixing skills were rusty and I could not get the levels exactly right making voice over the sound of walking seem… odd. My journalistic training – not to be the story, not to get in the way of the storyteller – actually got in the way of the relationship between host and guest. This flow back and forth between the two people creates the magic for the listener, the necessary spirit of a podcast that brings people back again and again. But with honest feedback from my sons and a few trusted friends, I found my way.

Season two saw me replacing background forest sounds with a coffeehouse vibe to open and close the show. I became more comfortable with showing up in the episode, holding up my part of the conversation, and acting as the thread that pulls the listener along through time.

Over six years, I’ve dropped 213 episodes: 22 soundscapes; 12 book reviews and 3 deep dives into books that helped me in my life; 43 episodes of the PauseCast with Angie Arendt; 63 interviews with people I know; and many episodes of me on my own, sharing my thoughts in that moment, or setting the table for the month to come. And a bunch of bonus episodes too, as the spirit moved me.

Listeners came to me from all around the world. My wee podcast with no advertisers has been downloaded almost 16,000 times. I’m pleased with what I’ve done; what we have done, together.

This is how Simplecast, the host of my podcast, shows me where my listeners are in the world. I pay for the lowest level of hosting, so precise metrics are limited, but this is all I really need. Photo credit to T. Chapman

Together, we’ve meandered with artisans, artists, and authors. Entrepreneurs, coaches, bureaucrats, bakers, and even a grief specialist or two. I think it’s safe to say, we’ve covered the field of experiences, beaming the joy from these hearts into the atmosphere, into the energy in which we all live. Feedback from listeners tells me we have made a difference for them:

"Great podcast with Angie on Community. She gave a broader perspective... and the dog, OH MY, Trudy..."

"I've shared the epsiode with our very progressive Reverend telling her the meandering will settle into the conversation of community. The vulnerability of allowing the topic to unfurl - live - is so brave."

"Enjoyed meadering with you and Angie from December. Love the idea of having advent fous year round."

"Your rain soundscape is perfect for us desert rats." This listener lives in the US southwest, where rain storms are few.

"Your voice is so soothing, I just feel calm when I hear it. It's perfect for a podcast!"

And while my heart has skipped along and I have loved the work, the last two years have been a bit more of a push for me. I feel pulled to honour other parts of my life – writing and quilting, studying French, spending time with my dad, my husband, and our wee grandkids before they get too old to want to spend time with us – these things are tugging at me. The podcast is getting short shrift of my time, and the joy I get from it these days is shrinking.

While I love working in sound, and sitting in conversation with people about what lights them up, I need to create space in my life, in this moment. As I feel strongly that I should live what I speak, I need to close the book on this part of my podcasting experience, to give myself some time and space to see what calls me next.

I can’t say I won’t be back podcasting again. I can easily see being pulled back, in the fullness of time. The idea of community keeps beckoning and is something I want to explore. But I don’t want to offer anything that I can’t deliver, and so am keeping my options open, for future Trudy to consider what she wants to do next.

The podcast will continue to live in Apple podcasts and Spotify too, so feel free to relisten to episodes you loved, or catch ones you missed. Keep sharing them around too if you don't mind, as I still believe these are conversations that matter. And keep an eye on my blog and Substack as I’ll likely be posting my writing there. Since making this decision a few weeks ago, I have already written more short pieces than I have done in months. And you gotta know, that fills me with joy!

For those of you who have listened, thank you. I don’t know how you found me, but I believe the finding was as important as the listening. It means your heart seeks connection, peace, grace, love, community… all the good stuff, just as mine does. Please, keep showing up in your life just like that – our world needs you more than you know.

I hope you’ll subscribe to my blog on my website, or follow me on my Substack (links above). All kind comments are welcome. I truly hope we continue to meander together, in my writing or when I return to podcasting. I’m giving myself a year to sit and think, and feel, and explore what my next part looks like.

I'll be spending some time here as I feel into what's next. Photo credit T. Chapman and Lac McGlashan