Ready, Set... (reprise)

Acadia Park, Maine

I have one more week left to work.

Last week, I bought a pair of flannel jammy pants and a pile of books. Retirement planning complete.

No?

No. I thought I was prepared, but it turns out that's not quite the case - I was not ready for the churning emotions I'd experience making this leap for the second time. As I did eight years ago, I'm leaving a perfectly good gig, only this time I really, really hope to never NEED to get a paying job again.  (I might do it, but only because I want to. I hope.)

These past few weeks I've found myself in full avoidance mode. I'm filling my days with work; evenings are spent painting the exterior of the house in a race against winter. I go to bed tired, but wake up most nights at about 2AM, my mind roiling with all sorts of doomsday scenarios. Turns out, if I set my imagination loose, that there are all sorts of ways for things to go wrong.

That's OK. I'm doing this anyways.

There are always more ways for things to go wrong than there are for them to go right. When I stop to think about it, I see miracles everyday in the way our bodies mostly don't break. Most days, I don't wake up to find I have cancer. My eyes, ears and fingers all still work. I can think. I can walk and make decisions and ask questions. Food goes in, my body miraculously turns it to the energy I need to make it through the day. Without thought, I breathe in. My capillaries know how to work with my lungs and my heart to trade carbon dioxide for oxygen - good thing, because I sure don't know how to do it. I breathe out.

I am a walking, talking, breathing example of things going right.

I suppose I'm back to the trust thing. (Somehow, my life keeps circling back to the trust thing.)

It's scary to trust, but I'm doing this anyways.

Along with all my fears, somewhere inside, my inner two year-old is stirring. She cares not at all for  doomsday scenarios. She remembers days of freedom, days spent working on the art of being, days spent seeing beautiful places. She remembers the freedom of not having each day tightly scheduled, time spent wandering where the road went.

She's thrilled to be awake again, ready to give this another shot.

She's ready, set...