If you’ve ever seen the Friends pivot scene, you know how difficult it can be to pivot when moving a sofa up a too-small staircase. Pivoting is hard work, whether you’re “pivoting” a sofa, or a life.
For twenty-five years my life and my writing career have been centered on sheep, and on our farm. When we sold the farm eighteen months ago, I decided to stop writing about it, concerned I couldn’t move forward if I kept looking back. (However, I am taking a quick peek back for one last memoir.)
Pivot means to rotate, turn, swivel—but in which direction should I turn? Where am I supposed to point myself next? (Given how many people have truly suffered during this pandemic, I’m privileged in that I’m able to focus on something other than rent, food, a job, and protecting my health.) Yet I still need a new direction.
Have you ever had to pivot your life? Any advice? How do you build a new life entirely different from a previous one but still manage to feel like yourself?
The conclusion to Ross’s pivot problem in the Friends scene? He ended up back at the furniture store with the sofa, exasperated because they wouldn’t let him return it. The camera panned back to show that, when the “pivoting” didn’t go well, Ross cut the sofa in half.
I need to figure out how to pivot without chain-sawing my sofa in half, and I hope you’ll check in with this blog now and then to see how I’m doing. (Send a quick note and we’ll add you to the list that notifies you about occasional news, book news, and giveaways.)