Pressing pause

In the Pacific Northwest where I live, fall is transitioning into winter—the colors have faded, the trees have lost most of their leaves, and the Sisters (our local mountains) are showing off their new winter coats.

I have been paying particular attention to the trees this season, which have been reminding me how slow the process of change and letting go really is. The leaves don’t drop all at once but a bit at a time over a number of weeks. No transition is instantaneous. It’s a slow letting go, and it’s only in letting go that the treasure within is revealed.

Like the trees, I still am moving slowly through my own transition. However, a couple things have become a more clear, and I’m a little surprised by the revelations.

The first revelation is that I am pressing pause on Innkeeper of Your Soul. I’m not sure whether I am letting this work go for good or simply setting it aside for a season. I may come back to it, try it on, find that the work still fits, and fall in love with it all over again. Or not. I just don’t know.

(My hunch is that I will continue to do some form of this work because it’s who I am. So, while I say that I am pressing pause, I may show up in your inbox from time to time. I probably won’t be able to help myself!)

The truth is I have been feeling like I have nothing left to give, nothing to say that is meaningful. The work feels lifeless, which is why the post I was writing last month never made it to your inbox. I was writing from obligation, not inspiration.

This decision to step away from my work has been hard for my mind to accept. I’ve invested a lot of myself, my time, my energy, and my money in Innkeeper of Your Soul, and my mind was grasping for ways to keep doing the work and not let go. But as I continued to follow my inner wisdom forward, my mind slowly loosened its terrified grip.

The second revelation is that I am being pulled toward finding outside work, because I feel like I’ve been holding myself back and that there must be more. I am referring to it as a “small J-O-B,” because it will be just that—something part time with flexible hours that I can do from home. Also, referring to it as a small J-O-B feels less threatening to my mind and assures it that I intend to leave space for my work, whatever that looks like in the future.

I don’t have much more to say about this second revelation because I don’t know much at this point. What I can tell you is that I’ve signed on to work with Nicole Croizier, a career coach, because I know I won't be able to find the clarity I need and navigate this particular journey on my own. I need help.

I’ll be honest, thinking about working for someone else and doing different work, although exciting, is also scary. Moving in this direction brings up a lot of fear and self-doubt. But there’s a quote I read recently that helped put it in perspective for me:

“When you're nervous about stepping outside your comfort zone, remind yourself: It feels scary because it's unfamiliar, not because I'm incapable.”

While my mind likes to tell me that I’m a dinosaur and not qualified for much of anything, the truth is I am highly capable. I know that working with Nicole will help connect the dots between who I am, how I prefer to work, and what I enjoy doing, and a suitable J-O-B.

During this time, I am also living into this question from Gregg Levoy’s book Callings:

“What am I willing to give up to ensure my own unfolding and the unfolding of what is holy in my life?”

I can’t open myself to new outcomes and possibilities if I’m holding onto old ways of thinking and being.