What if retirement isn't about stopping—but about starting again?
No, I’m not retiring. Just yet. But I have been speaking with my friends on the topic: Who is supporting people to step into retirement with grace, confidence, and inner direction?
My friend Phil Moore calls it "rewirement"—consciously redesigning this quarter of life instead of drifting into whatever comes next.
But rewirement isn't just for traditional retirees. I'm seeing it everywhere. Friends and clients in their 40s pivoting careers entirely. Parents feeling jumpy in their 30s reimagining family life. People in their 20s skipping the "climb the ladder" path altogether.
Maybe it's time we stopped seeing major transitions as something that happens to us. What if we started treating them as something we can consciously create.
The Rewirement Revolution
This rewirement revolution connects to something I call Generation Medicine—seeing every stage of life as sacred and interconnected. (Not the kind of medicine that comes with tiny print warnings.)
Traditional cultures had this figured out. Clear rites of passage. Childhood to adolescence. Single to partnered. Adult to elder. Each transition was witnessed and held by community. You didn't figure it out alone with a stack of self-help books and three tabs open in your browser.
Now? Most of us wing it.
Sure, we celebrate graduations, weddings, retirements—but miss the thousands of smaller moments that actually shape our lives. The morning you realize your career isn't feeding your soul. The day you see your kids don't need you the same way (I’m in that right now). When you wake up thinking, "What if I could start over?"
These are threshold moments. The edge between who you've been and who you're becoming. I believe these deserve ceremony, community, and conscious choice.
As part of my coaching work - 1:1, Group Cohorts and Events, I’ve been developing a "threshold approach" to these crossroads—honoring this charged space where transformation actually happens. It’s very much about creating opportunities for people to navigate the in-between with presence.
In-betweenus is what my brother calls it. (We're a family that makes up words like other people make up beds.)
Why This Matters Now
We're living longer, changing faster, and navigating transitions our grandparents never imagined.
The old model was linear: learn, work, retire, rest. Life isn't linear anymore. People have second careers. Third careers. They start families later, move across countries, launch businesses at 65, go back to school at 50.
We surely need a new compass, don't we?
Standing in My Own Threshold
I spend my days supporting people smack dab in the midst of their thresholds. Intrepid entrepreneurs choosing new paths. People shifting careers. Couples pairing up, de-coupling. Humans of all ages retiring. A few unraveling to find the thread. And a number of my friend cohort are facing illness, a few even facing death.
But right now, I’ll share the current threshold that's rocking my little muscly heart.
My two children are leaving home in September.
We have graduation ceremonies planned, leaving home parties, recognition for their achievements and milestones.
But what about me hurtling toward menopause and an empty nest? Do I get a party? A ceremony? A gentle acknowledgment that my world is about to tilt sideways?
I don't mean to sound like I'm auditioning for a soap opera. I'm not sobbing (okay, sometimes you can find me with a box of tissues listening to sad music in the early morning like some sort of middle-aged dramatic heroine). But this shift I haven't really prepared for is bringing up all sorts of jangled feelings that deserve witness.
Like: now what? What's my vision for Hopey without two children orbiting around all the time? What do I want for me in my career? What needs to surface now that there's space?
Time feels intimately speedy. How on earth did we zip through the childhood stage so ferociously fast? One minute I'm praying for alone time. Now I'll have it in spades, and I'm not sure I remember what to do with myself.
This is exactly what I mean about threshold moments deserving ceremony and witness. The big transitions get celebrated with champagne and congratulations cards. But who's holding space for the parent whose identity is shifting like sand? Who's asking the woman approaching 50, "What do you want to become?"
What could containers for these unnamed transitions look like? Permission to grieve what's ending while getting excited about what's beginning. All in the presence of people we trust not to offer unsolicited advice.
The Medicine of All Ages
This summer solstice, I'm experimenting with something that feels like an answer.
June 19-22, I'm co-hosting both Generations Over Dinner & Generation Medicine Solstice—a gathering for families in the Blue Ridge mountains of North Carolina at a gorgeous conscious community called Highland Lake Cove. Children, parents, and elders together for four days of ceremony, adventure, and connection.
Our vision is simple and enduring. Children carry the energy of becoming—constantly growing, changing, surprising us. Elders hold the wisdom of multiple transitions—they've navigated decades of change.
Those of us in the middle? Me - a typical Gen X’er. They call us the bridge.
At this gathering, we'll explore what "becoming" means at every age. Kids will teach adults about presence. Elders will share stories of resilience. Parents will remember what it feels like to play. Everyone will practice being witnessed in their transitions.
A Recipe for Beautiful Chaos
What I think of as threshold navigation—works best with three key ingredients that flow in a cycle:
Community. It’s tricky to try to reinvent yourself alone. Having people in your corner, who see your potential, not just your history.
Ceremony. Transitions deserve to be marked with flair and witnessed and reflected. Yes. Even the messy, in-between ones.
Courage. The willingness to let go of who you've been to make space for who you're becoming. This feeds back into the community piece.
These three elements create momentum. Community gives you permission to change. Ceremony helps you honor the shift. Courage opens the door to what's next. And then the cycle begins again, because becoming never really stops.
The Question That Changes Everything
What are you moving toward?
Not what you're running from like it's chasing you with a stick. Not what you should do according to your mother or LinkedIn influencers. Not what makes sense to everyone else's spreadsheets.
What lights you up? What feels alive? What would you choose if you knew you couldn't fail spectacularly?
Here's the truth I'm carrying: we're all in constant rewirement. Every day, we're choosing who to become. The question isn't whether change is coming—it's whether we'll meet it consciously or let it happen to us like weather.
Client Spotlight: Dr. Susan Reid
I want to highlight someone who's been my teacher in this work. Dr. Susan Reid spent three decades guiding individuals and businesses in shaping their visions, and now she's applying that wisdom to one of life's biggest transitions.
Susan's new book, "Re-Visioning Retirement: A Workbook,"(pre-order today!) uses a research-backed method to guide readers in clarifying their vision of who they want to be in retirement. She asks "What do you want to be when you retire?" not just "What do you want to do?"
Susan works with people who are "retired-ish, ready to dive into their next adventure, turn a passion into something bigger, or even launch their own business." She gets that retirement isn't a sentence—it's a fertile new chapter.
What I love about Susan's work is how she honors both the practical and the visionary. She doesn't just help you plan finances; she helps you envision your future self. She doesn't just ask what you'll do; she asks who you're aspiring to create.
Her work is threshold work through and through—and she's doing it herself, riding the waves of rewirement-retired-ish-ness and inspiring everyone who comes into her zone. Join here on the Concast podcast if you’re curious to learn more.
Your next chapter is waiting. But it doesn't have to be written alone.
Want to Support My Work?
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Please reStack if this lit something in you.
With love, Hope
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