pools vs. pumpkins

I like change. I moved 7 times in as many years and two of those were cross-country moves. Change has always felt exciting; a break from the monotony of routine. I tend to chase the thrill of something new to shake things up. Or, I used to. The “life’s too short to stay unhappy” mentality has served me in moving on from thankless jobs, broken relationships, and underutilized gym memberships. So, as this season slid from summer to fall, I expected to happily swap swimsuits for flannel. I did not. Not this year.

This summer I found a rhythm that worked well for me, my work, and my creativity. I committed to a slower pace, fewer work hours, and more time outside. I bought a kayak and joined a pool where my kids and I spent most evenings and weekends. I started walking every morning, which quickly morphed into a jog, then found myself signing up for a local 10K run training group and lifting weights 5 days a week. I focused on ways to slow down my creative process, working more analog, sketching, and writing with pen and paper. Meanwhile, I landed the most enjoyable work projects with clients that felt hand-picked for me.

The seasonal change from summer to fall was coming whether I was ready or not. I found myself dreading it and confused. I used to hate the heat of summer weather, and now it meant the joy of pool days, baseball games, and kayaking the river. I wasn’t ready to let those things go.

I started questioning why the change felt like a disruption, rather than a welcome distraction. And I landed on the idea that it’s because I started dialing in and fine-tuning things, just as they were. I found a system that worked for me and I wanted to protect it. Turns out, I have the power to do that. I can’t control the temperatures dropping. But, I can preserve what’s working and ditch what isn’t. I can continue the processes that served me well into the Fall and eventual Winter. And for a control aficionado like myself, that feels pretty damn good.

When you think about your business and your brand, I give you permission to keep the good, and let go of the rest. What’s working well? Where do you recognize areas for improvement? Sometimes change looks like a chainsaw lopping off giant chunks of unwanted wood and other times, it means refining the edges with sandpaper. Either way, find the bits that are of utmost importance and do your best to protect them.