Transition, what's next...

Transition.

It’s a word I hear often from people in our inner-circle. 

Maybe you find yourself in transition right now, wondering what’s next.

Maybe you want to make a transition, but don’t know how.

Maybe you want to transition from an old career you don’t love anymore to a new career that lights you up.

Maybe you want to help others in transition.

Whatever your relationship with the word “transition” is, believe me, we’ve all all been there.

Almost everyone goes through transitions in their life.

And what I personally love about transitions is that even when they feel dark or scary, there’s always a light on the other side.

The true definition of transition is “the process of changing from condition to another.”

It’s a passage, a movement, an actual flowing state.

Which means even if you don’t know what it all means right now, there’s something good coming.

So how you deal with transition is up to you.

Do you try to ignore it and hope it will go away?
Do you dive into it and experience the pain and overwhelm?
Do you talk to others and find comfort in sharing your challenges?
Do you embrace it and happily make your way to the other side?

If you want to transition from a career you are in right now to a new one that's more in alignment with who you are, I want you to know its possible.

If you want to transition from a career you are in right now to retirement, I want you to know it isn’t always easy.

If you want to transition from your home to another home, I want you to know it can happen.

I’m sharing this because I’ve gone through transition before and I’ve also had the opportunity to help thousands of people, a lot of colleagues and friends who, make their own transitions to what they love.

Through this experience, I’ve noticed a key trait about those who get to where they want to be….

They don’t resist the transition. Instead they dive in head first, and then feet first. They may admit they don’t like it, that it’s uncomfortable but they want a change.

I say head first, because you have to have it in mind—believe it, plan for it and be okay with it, to get everything started.

They don’t hide from it or just try to live with it or try to "get over it".

They accept it and….Here's the key….

They look to the future.

They look to the other side.

They look to what they really want.

And they take the next step in front of them to get there.

If transitions are about flowing and movement (per Webster's dictionary), then you have to be flowing, too.

If you stay stuck and try to resist it, it's going to be more painful and not much will change.

But if you start moving, even if it's just the smallest step, things will start to shift.

All you have to do is take the next step in front of you.

Connect with someone who can help you.

You don’t have to have it all figured out.

Things can be crazy and confusing right now, that’s just what it is.

Allow it to be and look to what’s in front of you.

Don't stay stuck. 

Sink into it and move a little.

Now’s a great time to sink into transition, after all we’re in the season of transition. 

Hostile Teacups

Hostile Teacups

Creative writing Rewritten by Kim Groshek

I sit with friends on the patio at the café, cup in hand, and talk through fixing the world’s problems. I talk like a cappuccino, I’m frothing with anger, and I’m peppermint mocha, or honey-green tea, busy-beeing from flower to flower. My coffee cups speak volumes, it listens while I sip. I have a small espresso cup, decorated with cute little designs. I look inside at the coffee, as if a storm, a far-off cyclone appears. Then out from nowhere a vision of blood has stained the concrete. I sip, cradle the fragile storming cup, and enjoy the bitter taste of the blackness. My frown replicates the lines on the cup, and then I smile.

I’m feeling it. I get it. Many times I don’t talk about it. Many times. There are times I still sit at a coffeehouse by myself. But today, not, I look up and smile at my friend who sits across the table chatting away, about this and that.  She has a larger, more solid cup which boasts a dark red color, vibrant and rampant like the words that come out of her mouth, “my friend just lied to me, vagrantly.” she quips, then with lips pursed blows a gust of air to the side blowing her unkempt hair to the side out of her face.

I watch her tap her fingers on the side of her capacious cup.  

I wear a long-sleeved top with jeans and a hat to shade my skin. I glance back at the precious cup I hold with my hands, well made, seems to be cracking around the sides, a small cleft runs from the word “Made in china”.  Surely my firm cup will not break--it might shatter. I sip then delicately place the cup back on the saucer, hiding the small crevice.

Now that things have changed again, out there, in here, I wonder, perhaps there is one better. Is there something that tastes best? I glance to the counter, the tea-lady pours her liquid into a cup, but somehow she doesn’t look particularly happy. Her tea makes me think of an insatiable feeling, like “dry as a witch’s nose.” Tis' the season, right, Thoughts conjured up from watching the steam cloyingly rise.

I stroke my china handle, drawing boundaries between air, liquid and table. My extroverted cup holds in the conversation, delineating what’s possible from the flowing surge of ideas.

We sit, cups in hand, creating new realities, like the designs on this porcelain cup. Then, I hook the fishy thoughts, which fly out from the cup through the air, challenging what was just said.