When I was primarily a poet, I used to love the idea of the gloaming.
That time of day between bright light and dark night, when vision was limited and the transition most noticeable. I felt then that so much was possible when one time merges into another.
Now, I’m having trouble with the transitions. You know how it is, when you look forward to a trip for so long and then the exhilaration of being on the plane, and taking off toward everything you’ve waited for, and the first days there are just remarkable?
And then, by the end of the trip, you’re tired and pleasingly worn out and you say, I’m ready to go home. But the actual day of leaving, that’s the transition, and you don’t know what to feel – sadness for the trip flying by, for all the planning done and the unknown destinations now known.
Or satisfaction at an adventure well-tended, a time with you and your daughter alone to radiate the specialness of her and you and the two of you together, and another generation spinning off into possibility.
So that’s where I am this morning. The sun is just rising in San Diego and my daughter is still fast asleep in our hotel room. Last night, we didn’t even have energy to go out for dinner; but room service is an adventure and she loved the table they rolled into the room with glasses of water and spun butter that looked like a flower.
This morning, I promised we would go back to the ocean for a last hour of splashing among the waves. It’s going to be cold, but she loves it so, and I couldn’t say no. We have time until the flight anyway.
I don’t love the transitions. Yes, it could be viewed as merging onto new possibilities, the excitement of the unknown, the uncharted, the anything-is-possible. I’m like that in my work, now, too.
We are full-on into our retainer-client work, but I’ve just let people go in favor of bringing on greater talent, and we have yet to solidify a team. So it’s all on me for a week or two longer.
Plus, I am launching so many new programs – the Power Table, PR Bootcamp, our Marketing, Messaging & Media; Storytelling to Build Your Business conference at the end of October. In September, I have something like six speaking engagements.
I love that stuff. I love sitting around a table with a ton of entrepreneurial energy and seeing metaphorical light bulbs illuminate over people’s heads. I love empowering individuals in a room toward their own greatness – everyone needs a nudge, and the energy when that unfolds is incredible.
And I love working one on one with inspiring, brilliant entrepreneurs toward their greatest possibility.
But you also know how much I love writing. Traveling. Being with my kids. Baking with the windows open and the fall air seeping in. Trekking through nature, whether it’s a rainy day or a hot day or a gloomy day or the gloaming of a day turning to night.
My eldest son has always had trouble with the transitions. I’ve told him to embrace that this is who he is and to know that as he steps from his dad’s house to mine or vice versa – or from a vacation back home, or from summer to school – that the in-between time, the anticipation, won’t sit well with him and to expect that, to be gentle with himself until he gets to the other side.
I suppose I should take the same advice.