Reclaiming a Journey Neglected

Photo by Kitera Dent (https://unsplash.com/@kitera)

I am retiring today. I neither planned nor expected to work in corporate America for 35 years. Having graduated with a B.A. in English and not a single ‘business’ or ‘computer’ class, I spent many years waiting to be discovered as an imposter who would be dispatched down a service elevator to avoid embarrassment for all parties.

Along with my degree, I received the encouragement of professors and writing teachers to pursue a career in writing. I assumed I could simply write a letter to the Chicago Tribune requesting my own column and a typewriter beside Mike Royko. When I received no response, I became desperate and took a job as a Technical Writer. In addition to feeling like I had sold my soul to a tabloid editor, I was not technical, and this did not feel like writing. Worse yet, I had never had a job requiring me to work inside a building all day (see, “lifeguard,” “construction”).

Nonetheless, I committed to this work for a few years but dreamed of returning to what poet David Whyte refers to as a “journey neglected.” Perhaps graduate school or teaching or a ‘proper’ writing career.

Then, life happened. My wife and I married. We bought a house. We welcomed two daughters who eventually required American Girl collections and flip phones, college tuition and weddings, and help with cross country moves and grandchildren.

Some of it’s magic, some of it’s tragic But I had a good life all the way. –Jimmy Buffett, “He Went to Paris”

That portion of my journey is complete. Like a pilgrim who treks 800 miles to the temple at Muktinath, I have trekked 35 years to this temple we call Career. I bow, give thanks, circle the walls of this concrete and steel temple three times, and will return from whence I came, reclaiming my journey neglected.

I will start by taking a month-long, backyard sabbatical to read, write, put a new roof on my shed, practice yoga and meditation, and walk our dogs. In August, I will launch my life and leadership coaching practice, where I also plan to write as a form of coaching and inspiration.

I have been humbled by the kinds words of friend and colleagues. They mean more to me than any public success I have achieved. They remind me that my legacy will not be defined neither by the size of the portfolio I led nor the number of people in my organization. Instead, my legacy will be defined by the impact that remains after I am gone.

As the poet suggests:

Maybe just looking and listening Is the real work. Maybe the world, without us, Is the real poem.   –Mary Oliver, “The Book of Time" 

Though I am off to draft a new poem, you will see and hear from me. I look forward to connecting via the links below. Until then:

Tell me what you hear, together we’ll see it. Tell me what you see, together we’ll say it.   –Jeffry Osborne Tar