Welcome to The Pause, dear friend. Come on in and make yourself comfortable.
Today we’re going to jump right in.
Settle in, take a deep breath, and get ready to pause in 3...2...1...
🔮 The Vision
Life hasn’t turned out to look the way I thought it would.
This is true of the past few months. The past year. The past ten years. And so on and so forth since presumably the moment I emerged from the womb thinking something to the effect of well..this is not what I expected.
It seems that, after three-plus decades of life, the only constant in planning and predicting how my future will look is that it won’t look the way I plan or predict at all.
Case in point: About seven months ago, I wrote about Nextdoor going public and how it was (and still is) an enormous accomplishment for me and my family. A month later, I wrote about the unexpected blessing that came with Nextdoor going public, which was me likely never having to work again.
During that short month, I became best friends with Zillow, spending who-even-knows how many hours of life drooling over potential new abodes. I wrapped myself up in the fantasy of globetrotting from bougie destination to bougie destination, daughter and husband lovingly in tow. I dreamt, and visioned, and planned, and predicted my future so hard I convinced myself these visions were, in fact, my destiny.
And then, just as it tends to do, life came through with the all-too-well-actually reminder: the future was not going to look the way I planned.
The stock market plunged. Mortgage rates went through the roof. And all of a sudden I was left grieving a home, some trips, and a lifestyle that never belonged to me in the first place.
Oh, boo-freaking-hoo, Lindsey.
I hear it. And for what it’s worth, I know I’m blessed, and I’m 99.9% sure those who know me would back me up in saying I’m rooted in gratitude the majority of my days.
So then, why share this story?
Because I find myself curious about the point in which having a vision about the future goes from being inspiring to becoming a burden. I find myself wondering if the thing that may end up providing relief from grief surrounding a life that never belonged to me in the first place is letting go of the who’s, and what’s, and where’s of the future altogether.
And so, in this issue of The Pause, I ask you to take a moment and consider with me:
Is there a point at which dreaming about the future becomes counterproductive to the actual unfolding of life?
Is there a point at which envisioning what the next (week/month/year/decade) will look like goes from helpful to potentially harmful? Is there a point at which planning or predicting goes from being a North Star to dead weight?
And if so, how can we give ourselves the space to adapt as necessary?
⏸ Pause & Reconnect
**There are no right or wrong answers; just what’s true for you.**
Think about the vision you’ve created for your life. For your future. For who you thought you’d be by now. For who you hope you’ll be later. For what you think your life is meant to look like.
If the future doesn’t look this way, will this vision have helped you? Could this vision potentially cause some grief if it doesn’t go as planned?
What if you allowed yourself to let go of this vision? What might be different? Is there something you might be open to that you weren’t before?
Is there a way you can adapt your vision to be more accommodating to the unpredictability of life? If yes, how so?
I’m wishing you a beautiful next couple of weeks (perhaps they’ll go as planned, eh?).
My love to you and yours.
Until we meet again,
~ L