Who Knows What’s Next?
My favourite stationery store just sent out the pre-order for 2027 planners. I use a Traveler’s Notebook and the inserts come from Japan. I refuse to go fully digital. That is a discussion for another post, but I like the simplicity and perspective I get from using an analog system. Placing my order in August for a notebook that will arrive in October, that will hold the plans for next year, feels like an act of faith.
This summer I rebuilt my website. It was way more work than I thought it would be. I moved from one provider to another, mostly to reduce my overhead. I thought it would be a great time to start from scratch and take a fresh look at everything I do. As a neurodivergent elder with a strong bent towards growing and learning, I often find myself pivoting into the next thing that has my attention - hello, shiny object! At least I used to be the person who was ready to leap into the next thing.
But something is shifting for me in my life and work. First, I feel like I am finally really at home with who I am and what I do. I love the work of conscious aging and I love building community with women in this season of life. The conversations we have are so honest and vulnerable. Getting older isn’t easy. As one friend who was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease a year ago said, “I have good days and difficult days. Today is a good day.”
We live in a culture that is obsessed with having a plan. We are always levelling up. I once worked for an organization called “Next Level Leadership.” The name says it all. We were preparing women to step into higher levels of leadership. It was important work. In this season, I find my life and work have moved in a completely different direction. There is far less striving being met with a strong sense of finally arriving.
Rebuilding my website showed me that I don’t need a big plan anymore. In fact, what I offer is work that allows me to live in the rhythms of my life and the seasons of the year. I need more time for rest. I crave time to listen to what is needing to be heard. I take one day a week as a Sabbath. I look forward to it and when I don’t get that time, I feel out of sorts.
Right now, for the most part, I can still think about what is next. As we get older that becomes more of a question. Illness, caregiving, waiting for a diagnosis, financial insecurity can keep us firmly planted in the now. Any talk of the future is cushioned in the reality of “maybe, we’ll see where we are and if it is possible.”
But here’s the tension. I still like to plan. I am not ready to abandon my calendar just yet. Part of the task right now is learning to live with uncertainty. I am learning to hold the tension between what’s next and what’s now (and what’s possible now).
For me, that looks like revisiting the decision of whether or not to move into something more manageable than a 100+ year-old home. We’ve landed on taking it one year at a time. We’ll stay here for another year and revisit it in 2027. Check in with me after I shovel snow for another winter!
It also looks like focusing my work on what is most important to me. I’m interested in building community, writing about the realities of aging and how we can live from a place of wisdom and discernment as elders.
Not knowing what is next, living without a plan, isn’t a failure. Perhaps one of the important tasks of elderhood is learning to live with uncertainty. We’ve lived long enough to know that certainty is just an illusion anyway. Instead of worrying about what’s next, I’m focusing more on what needs my attention now.
I’m still ordering a planner for 2027, but I have learned to use a pencil.
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