Reinvention, revisited

What new things do you want to try in the new year? Big changes? Subtle adjustments?

Early January, we’re thinking about resolutions, about change, about improving our lives and how we live them.

Last year, I posted about reinvention–the long list and the 5-item cheat sheet.

Now I’ve read an opinion that reinvention is a path to disaster (examples cited: opening a B&B or starting a vineyard) and instead we need to think about reintegration.

I’m a word person. I’m a poet. I like to think about different words and their nuances. But here, I’m staying squarely on the side of reinvention. And it doesn’t mean throwing out all your life experience and starting from scratch.

It means taking what you’ve learned–about the world and yourself–and striking out in a direction that makes sense to you. Sure, that’s a risk–but it isn’t a crazy risk. It also means doing the research. That’s what I like about the advice to find mentors and read a lot of books. If you find you don’t like talking about your passion or reading about it, maybe it isn’t a passion, or a good direction for you. Good to know–and you aren’t going to find out if you don’t try.

Back in October, I thought maybe I should go to vet-tech school and become a veterinary technician. This lasted for a couple of days–until I realized I wouldn’t be happy in any work that didn’t involve some kind of writing or editing. (It will have to be enough that my cat sometimes sits on me while I write.)

Maybe reintegration is a more clinically accurate word–implying weaving back into the past. Right now, I like the idea of bringing all my experience–my years and stories and skills, as though they’re folded up in a red kerchief and tied to a stick I can shoulder–and moving forward in a new direction.

In the meantime, my next book has been sent to the printer, I’ve applied for work at some new kinds of places, the sun is out, and the view from here looks good.

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