Yesterday, I noticed something blooming in my jacaranda tree.
Not near the tree.
In the tree.
Months ago, I tucked what I assumed was a dormant orchid into the crook of the trunk after someone told me orchids often thrive when attached to trees. At the time, it looked like little more than a few leaves and a hopeful experiment.
Yesterday, I stopped in my tracks. Delicate flowers emerging from rough bark. This got me thinking about reinvention…
Many of my clients are navigating major life transitions.
Some are approaching retirement. Others have been pushed into it by downsizing, industry changes, or circumstances beyond their control.
Retirement sounds appealing when you’re in the middle of a demanding career. But after twenty, thirty, or forty years in a profession, work becomes more than a paycheck. It becomes part of your identity.
Who am I without the title?
Who am I without the schedule?
Who am I when nobody needs something from me?
These aren’t practical questions. They’re deeply personal ones.
I’ve watched clients wrestle with them and eventually discover something unexpected on the other side.
One became a romance novelist. Another started a book review vlog. Some have become coaches, consultants, volunteers, or mentors. Others are simply learning how to build a life that isn’t organized around work.
What strikes me most is that reinvention rarely begins with a perfect plan.
It begins with curiosity.
For years, I’ve joked that I have no gardening skills. I’ve never met a plant I couldn’t accidentally kill.
But orchids have taught me something different. Just when they appear dormant, they surprise you.
Just when you assume they’re finished, they bloom.
Maybe that’s why this little orchid caught my attention.
It reminded me that reinvention often begins in conditions we would never have chosen:
After a layoff.
After retirement.
After the kids leave home.
After a relationship ends.
After the chapter that defined us comes to a close.
The setting may not look anything like the life we planned.
But that doesn’t mean something beautiful isn’t preparing to bloom.
Maybe the next chapter isn’t about becoming who you used to be.
Maybe it’s about discovering who else you can become.
If you’re navigating a season of transition (whether that’s retirement, an empty nest, a career change, or simply wondering what’s next), I am offering a limited number of 30-minute coaching sessions at $125.
Sometimes one conversation is enough to help you see possibilities you couldn’t see before.
If you’re wondering what might be ready to bloom in your own next chapter, reply to this email, and we’ll get you scheduled.
-Jackie
