Lenore contemplates her life

  It is difficult, I think, to take the measure of one’s own life. We are too close, and rarely see ourselves clearly, or as others see us.
  We are bombarded by the pressures and expectations of other people, and by the demands of life – worrying about work, money, our loved ones, our health and well-being. More and more, I see in my world that the ability to change is a seminal measure of life. People who can change not only survive, but can take a shot at meaningful lives. People who won’t change, can’t change, or think they can’t often seem mired to me. To do what one loves often requires both change and risk.
 On the book tour, I met a man who lived in a poor Midwestern town who has seen factory after factory close, his friends and neighbors unemployed and discouraged. He packed his family up in their mini-van, drove to Charlotte, North Carolina, and got a job. “I just woke up one morning and said I had to get moving for things to change. So we’ll see.” I was impressed. He was 59 years old.
  I met an owner of a restaurant who decided that every entree was now going to cost only $12, no matter what it was or previously cost. His business is up 40 per cent from last year. I know a writer who abandoned his literary novel and wrote a book on how to cope with the new real estate market, and just signed a three-book deal with a New York publisher. “I’ll get to the novel later,” he said. “I just want to be a writer.”
  I don’t know how all of these stories will turn out, and it’s dangerous to draw too much meaning from any of them. I have changed my own life, quite radically, and quite often, in part because I want to keep doing what I love, and I know that requires me to change. To get a farm. To sell a farm. To have animals. To not. To write memoirs. To stop writing memoirs. To take photos and build a blog. To write fiction. To write children’s books.
  I’ve seen Maria change, and she is also living her life, and loving it. For both of us, change was often painful, and quite frightening. It is one of the things that joins us.
  For a long time, I changed because I didn’t know any better, and it was a way to hide. Now, I change because I no longer need to hide, and I do know better. As with the people I’ve met, I have no idea how it will turn out. There are no guarantees.
  Change is a difficult thing to do. It is also an important thing.
  It always gives me hope, and moves me forward.