What I know now

I turned 45 last week. On the morning of my birthday, I pulled out my journal and made a list of all the things I want to do and accomplish over the next year. I filled 2.5 pages in about two minutes. You know, just a small list.

It was actually many broken down steps that are parts of two big things. So these goals are seemingly attainable, if I’m intentional. I felt—still feel—a clarity and ease about it all.

20 years ago, I never imagined that I’d still be making lists like these. 20 years ago, I had goals and I was checking the boxes. Moving up, up, up and one day (ideally by my early 30s) I would “arrive.” 20 years ago, I never imagined that I’d experience a deep internal shift and make the life-changing decision to pivot, just as my career was beginning to really take off.

The big difference between my goals then and my goals now: I don’t feel like I’m racing against the clock, which is interesting because I had so much more time back then than I have now. But I no longer live with the pressure and the burden of falling behind. I’ve shed the unhealthy belief that to get where I want to be I have to keep the pace, even when I’m tired. Even when my body and soul cries out for space—room to breathe, room to rest, room to be.

Today, I still feel a sense of urgency, but it’s a healthy urgency that’s closely aligned with who I am. It’s an urgency that comes from knowing that life’s too short to waste on things that don’t really matter in the end. I no longer believe that I have to accomplish certain things for my life to mean something. I’m already worthy. My life is already meaningful. This is true for all of us.

I still want the map. I still like to know where I’m going and how long it’s going to take to get there. But these days, I’m also much more open to the detours, the mystery.