A 45 minute Beginners’ Class

13 May

A Fresh Start

Not long before I officially traded in my legal career for the life of a yoga teacher, I had one of those pivotal, change-everything-in-the-blink-of-an-eye experiences en route to a dental cleaning. It was a hot August afternoon and I remember cursing the overly air-conditioned office environment I had just left (the one I called home during waking hours) as I sweltered along in skirt suit and nylons. Passing a busy patio, filled with carefree bohemian-types relaxing over pints, I caught myself muttering under my breath: “who exactly are these people who loaf around on patios all day? I mean, don’t they have jobs to go to or something?” Busted—I was already becoming a sour-faced professional, filled with outrage and moral indignation, and I hadn’t even made partner yet.

Now that I’ve retired my suits and crossed over to the other side, I don’t mind admitting the outrage and indignation were probably just envy in disguise. Really, who wouldn’t want to spend less time living for work and more time living it up?

The thing is, most of us assume we don’t have much choice in the matter—we feel bound by honor, familial pressure, and/or our current financial obligations to walk the straight and narrow path to sustenance and stability, if not exactly riches and respect—and so we defer the real stuff till later. Much later. We say, “when I retire, I’ll see the world, write short stories, paint, meditate, do good deeds, spend more time with my loved ones….”

But, in actuality, we just don’t know if and when this will all come about; the moments of this life are fleeting, as one of my teachers likes to point out, and we don’t all have the luxury of growing old before we die.

We also happen to be living at a time when traditional assumptions about the way things work no longer hold true. Author, journalist, editor, and critic, Bruce Sterling brought the point home for me earlier this year in his post on the “State of the World, 2009” when he wrote:

I’m a bohemian type, so I could scarcely be bothered to do anything
“financially sound” in my entire adult life. Last year was the first
year when I’ve felt genuinely sorry for responsible, well-to-do people.
Suddenly they’ve got the precariousness of creatives, of the
underclass, without that gleeful experience of decades spent
living-it-up.

Perhaps the time has come for us to reconsider the terms of both the social contract and the deal we’ve made with our innermost selves. Did you make your career choices freely, unfettered by external forces? Did you fully understand what you were getting yourself into? Did you get what you bargained for? And most importantly, are you happy with the results of your choice today?

No doubt, these are big questions that lead to even bigger questions, but they seem to be front and center for an increasing community of people who are actively re-examining what they want to do and who they want to be.

I’m delighted to have friends who are brave enough to make a fresh start (I’m thinking of the corporate manager who moved to Australia and started teachers’ college in her forties, the seasoned IT professional who recently enrolled in massage school, and the CEO who left his corner office to work in the public interest); I’m delighted to have friends who wholeheartedly pursue their artistic and spiritual callings; and I’m delighted to have friends who keep checking in with themselves as they continue to run their businesses and go to their day jobs.

There was a time when the decision to follow my passion, rather than a pension, felt like a big deal. I’m happy to say I don’t feel so special anymore—the tribe is growing day-by-day and I’m in good company. Great company, actually. Why not pull up a patio chair and join us?

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