The Dream That Broke My Life Open

From outer success to inner alignment—and the transition into elderhood

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The Life That Looked Right

In my 30s, I had the job, the income, and the lifestyle to match. On the surface, it looked like success.

But most of my energy was going toward sustaining something that, inwardly, felt off.

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The Dream

Around that time, I had a dream I’ve never forgotten.

I was imprisoned in a desert, surrounded by a brick wall and chain-link fence. A surly guard stood watch. Beyond the wall was a completely different world—lush countryside, rolling hills, alive with possibility.

Over time, I understood: this wasn’t just a dream. It was a mirror.

I had built a life that confined me.

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The Realization

Sigmund Freud once said a successful life comes down to two things: to love and to work.

But not just any work—work that is right for you.

So I began asking a different question: What is the right work for me?

Through therapy, reading, and coaching, a pattern emerged. I wasn’t living my values—I was living expectations. What I should be, rather than who I was.

As James Hollis writes, “the task of midlife is to find out who you really are and to claim your life.”

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The Shift

When I looked back honestly, the answer had always been there.

I came alive when I was teaching, coaching, training, and helping others grow. These weren’t random moments—they were clues.

The shift that followed wasn’t easy. There were financial uncertainties and real tests.

But something changed. When I aligned with what was true, doors opened. The right people appeared. The path, while not always smooth, became meaningful.

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Looking Back at 68

Now, at 68, I see that dream differently.

It wasn’t just a warning—it was an invitation.

Not only to change my work, but to begin a longer journey—one that now unfolds into elderhood.

At this stage, the task deepens. It’s no longer about achievement alone, or even alignment. It’s about integration—distilling what you’ve lived and offering it back in a way that serves others.

The “lush landscape” is no longer beyond the wall.

It’s something you carry.
And something you help others discover.

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A Question Worth Sitting With

What part of your life looks like success—but feels like a cage?