The most common question I’ve been asked since I started telling people I was leaving my job at the FDA is: “What’s next?” And my answer has been that I don’t know.

I’m not taking a sabbatical. I’m not formally retiring. I’m not leaving the FDA for another job.

While some people immediately understood, a larger number openly expressed—or poorly tried to hide—disbelief, befuddlement, or incredulity. It was as if saying “I don’t have a plan” simply did not (or could not) compute, and it threw people for a loop.

Say what now?! How can you not have a plan?

At the risk of alienating some of you, I have to say that I think a lot of people are obsessed with “next.” As I shared in my piece I Demoted Myself, I think a lot of us suffer from tunnel vision when it comes to our lives and careers. So often, we’re future-planning—planning and plotting the sequential steps needed to get from point A to point B, C, D, and beyond.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having goals and knowing what’s needed to reach a desired target. And I guess it’s fair to say I’m searching for my “thing.” Some might call that looking for what’s next. Shrug. I call it mental and emotional freedom.

What I’m really talking about when I talk about “next” is moving through life looking well beyond what’s in front of us—primarily focused on what’s over the horizon.

Not to get all Eckhart Tolle on you, but many of us ignore The Power of Now. We might be happy now, but we think we’d be so much happier if we were over there.

To quote one of my favorite authors, Mark Nepo: “We’re chasing there, but need to realize there is no there. There is only here. If you cannot see what you’re looking for, see what’s here. That is enough.”

What I’ve found in my life is that when I focused on the next job, the next pay raise, the next purchase—the next whatever—I wasn’t fully present or appreciative of what I already had. I heard recently that whenever we count or compare, we cannot be present. The only thing we have control over is our presence or absence.

So I made a decision not to be absent from my life—right now—and from the people I love.

Funnily enough, it took some amount of planning to make the decision to leave my job and move into an undefined period without a plan. Some of that was financial, of course. But most of the work to reach this point was emotional and psychological.

After going through a divorce that wiped me out financially, I became a bit of a squirrel with money. I saved with no clear plan other than wanting a “just in case” safety net. Never did I think I would rely on that frugality to support putting a 26-year career in my rearview mirror.

And it has to be said: my wife’s support was essential. I don’t know if I would have had the courage or motivation to give myself permission to create empty space without her encouragement.

In the end, I made the decision to step away from the pursuit of next so that I might discover what excites, energizes, and sustains me. That may lead me toward something that occupies some—or a lot—of my time.

Whatever comes, comes. But I hope to frame whatever I do less in terms of full-time or part-time, and more in terms of putting my heart, effort, and time into something I love.

As a father to a 23-year-old son, I also hope my actions offer him some encouragement—and some freedom—to reach only for what stirs his heart and soul.

Can you be okay with not knowing what comes next? Can you open to the idea that you don’t have to force clarity? Sometimes it arrives when you stop chasing it.

Thoughts on "Next"