Matfield Green - Our first years

Friday, March 10, 2006

Transition – Wednesday March 8

William Bridges writes about transition (in his book of the same name) as a cycle: from “the Ending” through “the Neutral Zone” to “the New Beginning.” The Neutral Zone is the murky middle where, if you approach it gently and inquisitively with intuition turned up high, there is much to learn about yourself and the world. It’s a place of uncertainty and, ideally, growth, a place to make ready for a fabulous New Beginning.

As I write this I am in a literal Neutral Zone. An empty house. Just me, a 4-inch thick futon with sleeping bag and pillow, the coffee maker and this computer. I’ve packed up the Internet router, so I won’t be posting this entry for a day or so. We packed up the U-Haul yesterday (with the necessary aid of the fabulous Hector and his crew of four) and, after a grueling 19 hour, truck unwilling to travel at much more than 40 mph, with pouring rain, and malfunctioning headlights, Bill is finally – and already – at home in Matfield Green.

I’ve stayed behind to wrap-up the loose ends. Get the oil changed, make sure the house is “broom-clean,” toast the end of this phase of our friendship with Davin, take a long walk with Laurene and visit a while with Irica and 7-month-old-beautiful-Amelia. In between there’s the last yoga class and a wonderful Shiatsu massage in the strong hands of Nick Sistler.

There is a lot to like about the Neutral Zone.

Of course, I’m also in the midst of the more figurative Neutral Zone that Bridges writes so insightfully about. Last December I gave up a job I loved because the constant travel to and from Minnesota was taking me away from myself; I’m refocusing my business from facilitation to personal coaching – a calling I can fulfill on the telephone from my little office on the prairie; and I’m making a major cross-country move, leaving friends behind, leaving the place I know, setting out on an adventure that may occasionally feel like a big mistake.

There is a New Beginning out there. It’s right around this corner, or perhaps the next. It’s in the first turn of the tiller in my Kansas soil, in the first sprouting seedling. Spring is almost here.


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