Appreciating a Foggy Perspective

 Last week was a biggie - I wrote my last exam, putting a bow on one more semester of school.  This past one was a doozy, and although I have felt moments of overwhelm and uncertainty in the past, I felt much more challenged over the past four months than I have before.  In the weeks leading up to my finals, I started to feel a sense of the reality of the decisions I've made in my life over the past couple of years, and knew that moving forward meant doubling down and accepting the discomfort that this change was bringing up.

I found the timing of this reckoning to be interesting - it's been just over two years since I made the decision to leave the long-standing career that had shaped and defined my life (and in part my identity).  One would think that staring down that fork in the road would lead to uncertainty about next steps and future outcomes, but it didn't.  When I made the call to "retire" from my job, I felt a deep knowing, like I was finally admitting a truth that had been bubbling just below the surface for years.  Admittedly, I had been noodling about leaving my career for many years before I finally took action, and once I allowed myself to accept that this was what I needed to do, I felt peace and readiness.  

I was already enrolled in my BA program at that point, figuring I'd work away on my degree in the background while slowly moving toward a more traditional retirement date.  When I pushed fast forward on that transition, I upped my course load, with the loose plan to finish my degree a bit earlier than originally planned, but still had no clear end-goal in mind.  I had returned to being a student, and that included the uncertainty of what I was going to do when I grew up; I was just a few decades older than the last time I contemplated that question.

So here I am, getting ready to embark on my second-last summer semester in my undergrad adventure.  And as I come closer to the end of this journey, I find more and more people asking me what I plan on doing with my degree once I graduate. The only honest answer I can give is that I don't know.  This is often met with quizzical glances and nods - who walks away from a lucrative career to pursue school, and endure the stress of higher education, just for the hell of it?

What this past semester has shown me is that even when we think we know what we're doing, or why, we really don't.  There is always some element of the unknown or unseen that exists, there to keep us present and in the moment.  If I had a crystal clear image of what was going to happen next, I could put myself on autopilot and make my way through the next year without really taking in much of what was happening.  Sort of like I had been doing for the last few years while I was working.  Just going through the motions because I was expected to and not really paying much attention to how I was feeling or experiencing what was going on around me.  

When you're not entirely sure of what you are facing or what the outcome is going to be, you tend to be keenly aware of what is happening around you.  As I made my way to the lake for a dip this morning, I found myself at the water's edge, enveloped by fog.  I didn't realize how foggy it was when I left my apartment, but as I neared the beach, it became denser, obscuring the lake and horizon.  Stepping onto the sand, I could see a short distance ahead of me, and that was all, much like life these days.