The clients I know are constantly being thrown into some kind of transition. But they don’t often see the transition they’re in. Instead, they see themselves in transit.
I was on the verge of starting to tell my team that I planned to leave at the end of January to pursue my passion for coaching. Then an unexpected email arrived.
Early on Sunday morning, one of my dad’s best friends died. I’ll call him Uncle Q. Uncle Q. and my dad and three other men have been a “gang of five” for 60 years, ever since they first met in college.
One day, I had no expectations whatsoever that we would go live somewhere else for a year. And then the next day, I was imagining a plan for doing exactly that.
If my boundaries are constantly being tested and re-negotiated, how do I define them? If I can’t define them, how do I possibly protect, let alone communicate, them?
I’ve taken up one of my favorite at-home pastimes: looking through the things I’ve saved and considering whether there’s been any change in my attachment levels. Is there anything I am now less attached to?
We are often told that sometimes all we need to do to move forward is to let go of who we once were. But sometimes the gift might just be in embracing it.
I was once taught that to be someone who only dabbles in things like a silly amateur, without ever achieving true mastery, was the worst thing I could be. Now I know better.
What is there to learn from two large stones who are sad for one hundred years, before they are happy?
Metaphors are magical. If we pay more attention to what metaphors we apply to our lives, we can understand more deeply what we’re experiencing and where we’re stuck. As we change our metaphors, we change ourselves.