I started this series about being in hedgehog mode to write a book about my ancestors, shared the gifts of the journey so far, and gave a glimpse what I’ve created that only I can create. In this post, I talk about the timing of this book and the choice to do it. I renewed my relevance and vitality with a project that’s been calling to me for years.

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When I started my coaching business in 2003, I didn’t think about what it would feel like in my later years. it was all go, go, go. The days felt vibrant as I moved forward–with networking, developing a website, new offerings, coach training, and client work. A few years later, I was blogging twice a week and producing two podcasts (with clunky technology in the aughts!) My husband and I were raising two active boys, and there were extended family gatherings throughout the year. I was in my 40’s and the world was my oyster.

It’s different now. My husband and I have been empty nesters for a decade. We moved to Iowa and see extended family only on annual trips back to Colorado. My nieces and nephews see me as one of the elders, rather than host of Thanksgiving dinner. While there is always another program to learn from, new people to meet, and innovative ways to be more visible, that’s not what fuels my days.

I want to create. I want to put into action all of the skills that I love using, apply the tangle of experiences that have made for an interesting career and life, and make something that only I can make. I want to pour my love and curiosity into something that will speak for me, long after my physical body is gone. This could easily be interpreted as ensuring my legacy. But that’s not it.

Twenty years ago, a friend gave me this quote from Martha Graham, on a beautiful piece of decorated stationary. It’s stuck with me.

There is a vitality, a life force, an energy… and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. If you block it… it will never exist through any other medium.

In the book, What to Make of a Life, Jim Collins talks about “choosing responsibilities”, particularly those that benefit others. It’s not for the sake of recognition, assuaging guilt, making up for bad deeds, meeting the expectations of others, or seeking credit. Instead, Collins describes this as, choosing to give your encodings, fire, and resources toward something you believe must be done and holding yourself to personal account for it.

Choosing responsibilities is akin to fulfilling your soul’s purpose. It provides the clarity of an activist without the righteousness. It comes wrapped in joy and generosity. It quenches one’s thirst and feeds those who are hungry.

It’s the “why” behind writing a book about my ancestors.

I choose to write a love letter to my ancestors, honoring their lives.

I choose to leave a story for the youngest of my clan–some born after the passing of my parents–and their descendants, to know the stock they come from.

I choose to create a narrative that will allow others to recognize their own stories, represented with the same human emotions, but rooted in different circumstances. For example, who hasn’t had the feeling of being dropped off in a “foreign land”, left alone to find one’s way home?

As I write this, I am moved to tears. That’s how I know that I’ve chosen responsibilities wisely. AI tells me that as a healthy 65-year old, I can expect to live at least another 20 years. My hope is that these years will be among my most creative.

Stay tuned for the next post in this series, where I’ll look at how you might find that One Big Thing that uses your talents, channels your passions and is a labor of love.

If you missed a post from this series, here they are:

Part 1: I’m in Hedgehog Mode
Part 2: I Didn’t Expect This
Part 3: Gifts From Being In Hedgehog Mode
Part 4: Felt Like I Fell Way Down

Part 5: A Marriage Made In Chinatown