I celebrated my birthday on Tuesday: low key with gardening in the morning and gel printing in the afternoon. I even made supper. Don’t feel sorry for me: I had been with my family over the weekend. Plus, I like to cook and it was easier than having to present myself to the world.

I was considering the typical “five things I’ve learned” blog post with advice about how to live your life. But, honestly, I can’t tell you how to do that. I have not always been that intentional about my own life. Absent some latent talent or burning passion, I followed my interests, wandering a bit both physically and metaphysically in the world until I found my place in education and, eventually, ed tech.

I suppose this blog is one of the ways I offer insight into the kind of life that brings me joy. There may be aspects that resonate with you. But, frankly, if you enjoy the hustle and bustle of an active, public life, you would probably be bored stiff here at the farm. And, I would find your life exhausting. I tried it for a few years and, while I loved working with educators as part of several programs, the relentless schedule and travel just wore me down.

I was describing the work to a younger colleague who commented that it sounded exciting. All I could remember was one particularly grueling week when, after negotiating Boston rush hour traffic on a Friday, I fell asleep on the shuttle bus after dropping off the rental car. The driver gently nudged me and then helped me down and into the terminal. Embarrassing but also a wake up call that this work was not for me. I began looking for other opportunities that would keep me closer to home.

What I realized was that I had a choice. That would be my reminder to you: you always have choices, and sometimes over the course of a life, those choices change. A friend was saying that she wanted to give up a particular activity but couldn’t because they needed her. I gently suggested that, while her concern was legitimate, she could give it up. Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines.” You are allowed to change your mind, make different choices, pursue new ideas.

One big lesson I have learned is the uselessness of worry. As I was thinking about this blog post, Mary Oliver’s poem “I Worried” crossed my path. I leave you with her thoughts read by Helena Bonham Carter:

P.S. As I was getting ready to press publish, I thought of one more thing: I have written a lot about my meditation practice. I think, no matter how busy you are, finding time to just sit and do nothing even if for a minute, it important. Learning to be alone with yourself is a valuable skill.