Rhythms of ReInvention

Life has a cadence that often eludes us as we are charging forward, month after month, with our heads down. We bulldoze right through the changing seasons, each marked by periods of growth, abundance, decline, and renewal. My most important and intimate relationships along with my career, as much as I would try to fight it, were never able to escape the event horizon of this rhythm.

I found myself, at the end of my twenties, having started two businesses and currently jobless, trying to pick up the pieces after the financial crisis of 2008. Married and with two daughters in tow, I felt the pressure of the world on my shoulders to perform and provide.

This was my winter. Cold, harsh, and cruel, with no end in sight. Everything I had built crumbled, leaving me jobless and questioning my worth. The weight of responsibility - a family to provide for, dreams to fulfill - bore down on me like a blizzard.

But winter, no matter how brutal and everlasting, always gives way to spring.

It took two years to find my way back to the game, but when I did, it was a full-court press. In three years' time I worked my way through the ranks of a small biotech company to become CEO.

This was my springtime. A period of rapid growth, of new opportunities. Buds were blossoming and pollination was abuzz. The smell of ambition tickled my nose and sent electrified waves through my veins, pushing me to reach higher, grow faster. I was determined to not just recover, but to thrive.

Summer came in the form of career success. I had made it! All my dreams had come true. Look at me! That's right, society. I did it. Goal achieved.

The heat of success builds, layer upon layer. A thick, dense, and humid air that feels asphyxiating, creeps up, startling the best of us. The constant pressure to perform, to maintain the image of the successful CEO, began to wear on me. I found myself unable to find the energy or time to be present with any of my family.

The first leaf changes color. Summer is finally fading into autumn, right at the point where we can’t seem to take any more of it. Then the leaves start to fall, revealing the bare structure of the tree that held it with pride.  Temporarily stripped of its beauty and me feeling similarly about the illusions I had fabricated around success and happiness.

Somewhere along the way, the emptiness of this existence started to set in. I felt a tug. It was beckoning me to something else. Somewhere else. I knew there was more.

This particular autumnal phase brought introspection, a reevaluation of what truly mattered to me. It set the stage for another winter - not one filled with external crises this time, but of internal transformation. A necessary dormancy to build up strength and a stockpile of nutrients before the next cycle could begin.

And it leaves me wondering: how often do we resist the natural rhythms of our lives - trying to cling to an eternal summer of success, while regretfully spiting our winters of discontent?

Dancing with (all) the seasons of life…

*Italicized quotations are from Papercuts: The Art of Self Delusion