in with the old
I came across these four simple words in a interior design magazine. The writer was referring to bringing old pieces of furniture or home decor together to create a brand new space — but the whole idea struck a deeper cord with me.
In with the old.
It’s nostalgic, almost.
People love the energy a new year brings — myself included. The rush of inspiration; a fresh perspective on plans and directions. All the goals and resolutions.
Having just come out of a season of slow and small, a punch-list of to-do’s hasn’t felt fitting. But that phrase — it keeps coming back. I’m completely enchanted with it!
In with the old.
You’ve had people challenge you on this before, right?
They’ll ask, what did you enjoy most as a kid? What did you do just for fun that the adult-you no longer makes time for?
What did you want to be when you grew up? And now that you are a grown up, why aren’t you that person?
What were you naturally good at in your younger years? Did you even see whatever it was as a gift? Or did you overlook that skill because it came effortlessly?
What would the 10 year-old version of you be sad to learn isn’t a reality in your life today?
In with the old.
I did it too, by the way. I used to roll my eyes at these types of questions. But there’s something about this new year that has me delighted in the idea…
Ironically (or maybe not) when speaking with college women, I speak on what I’ve dubbed as the “kid without a thing.”
We unpack what it’s like for those of us who grew up as kids that didn’t necessarily have “a thing” — what that does to our psyche, how we carry it into our adult life, and even the challenges or commonalities we share with the kids with “the things.” (If you know, you know).
But if I could hang out with those girls for several more hours, I’d spend more time deeply exploring all of our pasts. I’d encourage them (while reminding myself) to always consider their younger selves as they think about the future — as they define their brands of beautiful.
I’d want them to particularly consider the small, happy details — the special little things in their lives. Because it turns out that as you get older, the small stuff is what matters in the biggest way.
I would hope the social-butterfly could see that she wasn’t a failure just because she wasn’t formally involved in school sports or extracurriculars, but that she had people skills so far advanced beyond her peers — skills that are priceless in the real-world and simply cannot be taught.
I would hope the smart-girl who felt like being good at math wasn’t anything to brag about — and who couldn’t fathom why a skill as uninspiring as solving an equation could possibly be the only “thing” she was good at — could understand exactly how cool and powerful being a female with that sharpened tool would be one day.
I would hope the gifted writer who, because creative writing came naturally she couldn’t see it as a unique strength, would stop wondering how something so “easy” could be valued or important. And instead, allow herself to start imagining the ways her words could make a massively positive impact on readers one day.
I would hope the kid who loved photography still takes photos as an adult. The volleyball player whose career ended in high school still plays at the park from time-to-time. The girl who snorted when she laughed never covered that up. The child who played piano just for fun still plays for that same reason — just for fun.
And if they don’t, they should. And if you don’t — this year, you should.
In with the old.
Personally?
In with driving a stick-shift jeep down back roads with country music blaring — the same way I did when I was 16 years old. Even if it’s just on one day of this year’s 365.
In with continuing this writing, because writing was always my favorite creative outlet and the only traditional class I ever got an ‘A’ in.
In with aimless wandering old historic towns and browsing all the little home-good boutiques.
In with reading fiction. Why is it that the only books I’ve read in years are in the business or personal development category?
In with interviews and learning other people’s stories. It’s funny — my “claim to fame” in high school was for media class, having scored an interview with a major public figure. What other interviews can I have — what other stories can I share?
And for the real full circle moment…
In with public speaking. Can you believe the only competition I ever placed ‘1st’ in as a kid was the 4-H county speaking contest? Yep. I was in the in 4th grade and the topic was ‘courage.’
In with courage.
In with the old.
What old is in for you?
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