“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” – Semisonic, “Closing Time”
The end came June 24th, under an extremely blue sky, lit beautifully, with perfect cotton clouds scattered throughout. My boss entered the final stages of retiring and closing his law office, and he no longer needed me, as he will only be seeing a few clients by appointment to tie up loose ends and will begin the process of moving his things and over 25 years of files out of the office.
I received a grand send-off, with gifts and a few tears. As endings go, it went well.
The first thing I did was take my cameras out for a spin in that magical light–my point-and-shoot for macros, like the one above, and Canon Rebel XS for everything else. (I don’t have a macro lens for the Rebel yet.) It seemed like an auspicious way to begin again.
After all, I’ve wanted a clean break and a new beginning for quite a while.
Now that it’s here, though, it’s nothing like I expected.
For a variety of reasons, it became clear that my original plan, what I’d hoped to make happen, wasn’t and isn’t going to work for me right now. Plan B didn’t and doesn’t feel quite right, either.
I’m back at square one, which is a terrifying place to be because I feel like I should have more figured out by now about where I want to go and what I want to do and how to make those two things happen. The local unemployment office is breathing down my neck, repeating these sentiments, along with a few family members and other outsiders looking in. At the same time, though, there’s so much possibility, even though I may not see it right now.
Things end, and new things begin. Confusion happens. Plans fall through. Sometimes we don’t want what we thought we did, or the timing isn’t right. Sometimes we don’t have immediate answers. Sometimes we need to take some time to just get quiet. These things are natural, and okay, I think, despite what some may say.
So, right now, I’m concentrating my efforts on making time and space to go back to the drawing board, on writing and photography (likely to help with the efforts at the drawing board), and on trying to avoid sinking into the darkest of my fears.
“Square one, my slate is clear…Took a long time to get back here.” – Tom Petty, “Square One”