Tuesday, April 16, 2013

The Post

For the past 11 years, I've abided by the unspoken mantra: never blog about your employer. And although I'm less than enthralled with the home of the yodel, I have no desire to spew forth negativity directed at not my fellow nose-to-the-grind-ers, but more appropriately, those with natural light offices and super-fancy triple-booked calendars.

Nope. Not doing that.

Instead, I've been thinking a lot about focus. Strength. Meaning. And pinecones. Because when unappealingness finds its way to your cozy little nook, it's much more productive to consider the benefits. The reasons. The little nuances that most VPs, CEOs and others who've devoted their beings to the market most likely don't have the luxury to remember.

We created our own little slice of Paradise almost seven years ago. We uprooted, we left behind, and we loved. We waved good-bye to "shoulds" and "woulds" and instead embraced the freedom inherent in living in a smallish town with actual neighborly neighbors, miles upon miles of forest service land at our fingertips and late afternoons and weekends devoted only to outdoor adventures and -- gasp -- life.

With that departure from city-life, Starbucks and Whole Foods-populated neighborhoods also came the knowledge that we were removing ourselves from the ins and outs associated with the quest for climbing the corporate ladder. We considered that -- for about two minutes.

And then we raised our glasses on our ever-quiet back deck, glimpsed the sun setting through the pinetrees, and discussed the best approach to tricking the woodpeckers into thinking our house was less edible.

Fast forward to now. Today. This life we have. These kids we adore. And the world we are so excited to share and live and love with them.

It doesn't involve commuting. Or car-pooling. Or early morning alarm clocks and rushing out the door. We have time to play outside in the morning. To run down the bike path to the lake after school. And on those lovely Spring and Summer evenings, an after-dinner treasure-search hike is what we know and love.

So. Dear Yahoo!: Thank you for the past. Now, if you'll excuse me, my future awaits.

No comments: