• Making change

    Making change

    I’ve never been one to fear change; in fact, I thrived on it. Or so I thought. 

    Then my husband and I decided to move, something many people at our stage of life do. We moved from the 34-year old multi-level home we built in 1989 to a bungalow on a smaller lot.

    While I’d thought about moving for some time, it was theoretical. When it happened, it felt sudden. New home.  Different neighbourhood. Same town. So, not that big of a deal, right?

    I have often been unsympathetic with those who fight change. Get on with it, I would think. Yet in my new home I felt a level of anxiety that I was unable to explain. Even as I painted and papered and decorated – a past-time I love – to make the space truly ours, the unsettled feelings persisted.

    Research into life changes was revealing. It seems I underestimated the transition that this change in address sparked, and I was likely burying the emotions that accompanied it. 

    Some changes in life are truly minor, while others prompt a major transition in life. According to researcher and TedTalks presenter Bruce Feiler, selling our family home would have been a lifequake for us. “A massive burst of change that leads to a period of upheaval, transition and renewal,” Feiler explains the term.

    Such lifequakes can be a move, like ours, or can be precipitated by a change in career, health or finances; the death of a loved one; an unfulfilled goal; or a change in a significant relationship. He distinguishes between lifequake changes that we choose and lifequakes over which we have no control – such as a death or a world pandemic.  

    While how we experience these lifequakes will vary depending on many circumstances, Feiler suggests life transitions share three phases in common: 

    1. The long goodbye 

    2. The messy middle, and 

    3. The new beginning. 

    He emphasizes these are not necessarily experienced in a linear fashion. 

    I have begun to respect the psychological impact of our move and the source of my anxiety. We were saying goodbye to that chapter in our lives where we were in building mode – building a family, building our careers, building a home.

    Phase 2, or the messy middle, may have been the literal mess of drywall dust as we finished off a basement in our new home, but I think now my anxiety was indicative of this middle phase of our transition. Although I thought I thrived on change, my body was telling me something different about this particular change. For the first time, we had made a decision based on the fact we’re aging and the realization there’s fewer years ahead than behind us.

    Dealing with this has been a process and while the anxiety has all but disappeared, at times we continue the long goodbye, while at the same time try to embrace the new beginning of Phase 3 – that is living our lives cognizant of the fact we are in the final years of the journey.  Not to be too negative – my 94-year-old mother-in-law would tell me there’s a few left yet!

    Feiler says when you are in a transition you should start with the phase where you are at your best because that’s where your power lies. I’m best at new beginnings so my furious pace to paint, paper, and redecorate was the right approach for me. It also explains why I was the one to rip off the bandage, so to speak, and initiate the move.

    He also advises to accept your emotions and that for the vast majority of us, rituals can help. 

    In January I participated in a writing workshop called The Wisdom Years. I will share more of my learnings (like the three phases I noted above) from the course in future posts, but I’d like to explain our first assignment, which was to create a Morning Altar. 

    The task was to go into nature and create an altar out of whatever we might find – flowers, twigs, rocks etc. and get creative. We were to name the person or the thing that we were saying goodbye to and then, we were to walk away and allow nature to take over the altar, recognizing that nothing in life is permanent. Everything is always changing. 

    The assignment was not my cup of tea as I’m no artist, but I’m willing to give most things at least a try. 

    My finished altar is pictured with this post.

    Despite my initial hesitation, the impact of participating was surprisingly profound and contributed to easing the anxiety I was feeling. At first, I thought I did this to say goodbye to or let go of the life I have led. Goodbye to the building chapter of my life. 

    Starting with no real plan, what began to develop as I worked on this art was a labrynth. As you know, there is one path to walk forward in a labrynth and you can choose to return following the same path, unlike a maze that may have multiple ways in and out and dead ends. Labrynths can be spiritual and prayerful. A method for contemplating life.

    As I struggled to make meaning of the labrynth, my reflections resulted in the decision to dedicate the altar to the life I continue to lead.  Not to what I was leaving behind. 

    Although life can take many different routes, like a maze, we have only one life, and it moves forward. Like a labrynth leading to its centre.  That’s what I need to embrace, that I am still on the path and there are still new discoveries – and more changes – yet to come. 

    “No doubt the universe is unfolding as it should,” is how Desiderata’s author Max Ehrmann states it. He also counselled: “gracefully surrender(ing) the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you…do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.” Perhaps it is the “dark imaginings” about an unknown future I am saying goodbye to. 

    I can walk back in the labrynth, but I should not dwell there, and I can continue into the future with the same level of excitement I have always had about life. Perhaps with more attention on nurturing a strength of spirit.  Because the centre, the end of the labrynth, promises riches and beauty and colour. 

    This new beginning at our new address has been a reminder that life does change and we are changing right along with it. We are still here and there’s still time to contribute to life, in our family and in our community. Friendships are precious and deserve our time and focus. 

    Feiler also suggests seeking the wisdom of others. So, how about you? How have you coped with the lifequakes that have come into your life? Are you best at goodbyes, do you thrive in the messy middle, or do new beginnings energize you? I invite you to comment below and share your wisdom with others.

    Feiler ends by saying we should not give up on the happy ending to the story of our life, even when the path we thought we were on has changed in some way. Words of hope for the journey… still ahead. 

    ***

    Listen to Bruce Feiler’s Ted Talks Daily Podcast with The Secret to Mastering Life’s Biggest Transitions, here: https://www.ted.com/talks/bruce_feiler_the_secret_to_mastering_life_s_biggest_transitions

    You can learn more about Morning Altars here: https://www.cbc.ca/player/play/video/1.6624979

    If a writing workshop on The Wisdom Years appeals, check it out here: https://thestoryguides.com/get-started/p/the-writing-salon-6c7bg

  • Welcome to my blog!

    Welcome to my blog!

    Welcome to Still Kim. It’s been a journey to get to this point and I am excited to be officially launched. 

    The concept of writing a blog began before I retired more than five years ago; those were the years I would dream about how I might spend my time when I had time to spend. Writing was always the goal. I joked with my students that I was going to be an “old folks influencer.”

    Cue: laughter.  

    Retirement came right on the heels of a world pandemic (not so funny); in fact my last semester was coaching students through their final capstone project, all of us online and isolated. My official last day at the college required me to make an appointment to get into my office, check with security at the door, and walk out masked through empty halls. 

    As the lockdown continued and we coasted through the waves of ‘now you can meet’ and ‘now you can’t’, I turned to my computer and found a great escape in my writing. I completed a years-long love project – a memoir of my parents’ 54-year marriage, The Wings of Love , publishing it on Amazon. I would get to the blog next. 

    And I did, by providing a colleague’s design class the opportunity to create a logo for Still Kim as an assignment. Eloise Marier designed the winning entry.

    Then another lifequake happened – we sold our home of 34 years and for about a year I was immersed in the transition, dismantling one home and preparing the other to feel like home.  

    Then, a winter vacation ended with a slip and fall resulting in a broken wrist. Minor quake but typing was a challenge!

    Writing took a back seat, to the point I feared I would not return. As I have always identified myself as a writer, the fear was real.

    Slowly, thanks to a six-week writing workshop, The Wisdom Years, and the sage advice of friends and fellow writers, I began to rediscover my love for expression via the written word. 

    The concept behind StillKim has remained – that at this stage of life I am still reflecting, still learning, still evolving. Time has given me grey hair and wrinkles, but it has also shaped the lens through which I view life. I just may have some wisdom to share and no doubt lots more to learn. 

    And I know there are many other women who will identify with that lens, and have their own stories to inspire others. I hope to connect with them and create a platform for those 60+ voices that are often ignored by society. 

    Is there a woman in your life who is an inspiration? Perhaps she would be willing to talk to me? Let me know by sending me a message from the Contact Page. (These messages go to my email and are not public). You can also leave a comment on a blog post in response. These are public.

    I hope you decide to subscribe to StillKim and come along for the ride.