The Pause Can be Uncomfortable

October 13, 2026

We’ve worked, maybe raised families, contributed to our communities, built careers, invested, and made plans. Then, slowly—or maybe all at once—we realize that, at this point in our lives, our motivations have changed. We still care about the work we do and the people who need us, but we also feel a pull toward something new.

Is this the moment to ask, “What comes next?” Do we have a “next” in us?

I’m going to a conference in Denver to hear Jim Collins discuss his new book, What to Make of a Life. Collins is my business guru. I’ve read all his books, including Good to Great, How the Mighty Fall, and Beyond Entrepreneurship 2.0. Jim Collins taught me how to build a business. In his new book, he asks a different question: How do people build, rebuild, and sustain meaningful lives through life’s turning points, especially in its later chapters? He spent a decade studying people at major crossroads and examining the choices they made as they searched for, and found, their next passion.

I can’t help but be reminded of Santiago, the hero of Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist. Santiago is a young shepherd who sets out in search of his Personal Legend—the purpose he feels called to pursue. His journey takes him far from home, but in the end he discovers that the treasure is buried right back where he began. The journey wasn’t a detour; it changed him, and it allowed him to recognize that his treasure had always been in his own backyard.

T. S. Eliot captures this beautifully in “Little Gidding”:

“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring, will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”

Experience gives us more than memories. It gives us the ability to recognize what deserves our time—if we pause long enough to look.

Is it greedy to want more? I don’t think so. Wanting more for ourselves only becomes greedy when it comes at the expense of others. Wanting a life that still asks something of us is not greed. It is gratitude for the time we have left.

That pause is uncomfortable. We may discover that a familiar ambition has lost its appeal, or that an interest we repeatedly postponed still has a claim on us.

There is something provocative about taking those discoveries seriously. It means allowing what we learn about ourselves to change how we live.

I am going to Denver to listen, ask questions, and examine a few assumptions of my own. I will share what I learn when I return.

For now, here is a question worth taking along:

If your calendar suddenly had room, what would you choose because you wanted it—and how long would it take before you filled that room with obligations again?

– Nancy Burner, Esq., Founding Partner