I read in an article this morning that in November 2021, a record 4.5 million people voluntarily left their jobs. As the author wrote, “I was one of them.” I smiled when I read those words, nodding along.

Over New Year’s weekend I got wrapped up in the idea of vision. Well, that and the concern that I have none. Like, zero percent. I’ve never been someone to have a 5, 10 or 20-year plan. Honestly, a one-year plan has mostly been met with, “Well, we’ll see.” I just don’t have those kinds of eyes for life.

Today though, I’m thinking about how maybe I have vision of other things. It’s not a 50-step plan, but I can see the Dorothy shade of blue that’s the sky right now. The far-from-finished, but on-its-way studio space I’m sitting in while writing this. The list I jotted down today of Tromso (Norway), Mongolia, the Alps, Faroe Islands, Tasmania and New Zealand. I have eyes for beauty and words and making sure people know they matter. I see colors vibrant and warm, days full of life and light. I see freedom to spend the day with my nephews and niece, or to drive across town in the middle of the day if I’d like. And I see the smoke of a hushed prayer — may I write the words inside me — rolling up and out my fingertips.

I’ve spent a lot of time these past couple years craning my ear to hear the thumping undercurrent to my weekdays: “There has to be another way.” What would you call that — a cry for help? A welling up? A battle song? I’ve felt those words sloshing around me and now I pray I watch them take form in front of me. In my most daring moments today, I believe I’ll find the way or I’ll build it one day at a time. What a moment to live and witness my own life.