What If It's Not Too Late?

This weekend, I’m heading down to West Sussex to plant a tree in memory of my sister, who died ten years ago last month. It would have been her sixty-seventh birthday on Monday, so this feels like a significant weekend for several reasons.

It feels like a lovely, positive thing to do, and I’m really looking forward to it, as well as feeling a little sad. It’s funny how both feelings can exist at once.

Before that, though, there’s the somewhat less enchanting prospect of a five-hour journey, an encounter with the structural genius of the London Orbital Car Park, aka the M25, around Friday rush hour, and The 1975 on repeat to appease daughter number two.

But once I’m there, I know it will be a special weekend.

The whole event got me thinking about that familiar saying:

“The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The second best time is now.”

I love the sense of liberation I feel when I think about those words. They remind me that its never too late to start something today that can grow, make a contribution and become part of our legacy.

I wonder how often we think about something we’ve always wanted to do and get stuck on the first part?

I should have done it before now.

Twenty years ago, ten years ago, two years ago. The number doesn’t really matter. We simply think: if only I’d started then. Made that decision sooner. Asked for help. Given myself permission. Taken the first step.

Imagine where I’d be now.

Looking backwards, it’s easy to wish we had acted differently, but we’re looking back with knowledge we didn’t have at the time.

My sister didn’t know, when she took early retirement to pursue her passion for acting and travel, that she would die just eight months later. Or that she would experience only one week of the six-week holiday of a lifetime she and her husband had planned to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary.

If she had known how limited her time was, would she have chosen differently?

I can’t know. My sister had amazing plans for that next chapter of her life, and much less time to enjoy it than any of us imagined.

I wish she’d had longer. Of course I do. But I’m glad she gave herself that opportunity. She made room for things she loved. Those eight months were part of her life, and they mattered.

That’s why the second half of the tree saying feels so liberating to me.

“The second best time is now.”

I love what it invites me to believe. Whatever has gone before, whatever you wish you’d done sooner, you can still give it your attention today.

It might be something you’ve wanted for years that keeps getting pushed to the bottom of the list because other demands seem more pressing. Maybe you’ve spent years doing what you think you should do, promising yourself that some future version of you will get round to it.

Or maybe you have a yearning for something you can’t quite grasp. You know there has to be more to life but you’re not really sure what it is, or you don’t feel worthy enough to reach for it.

Of course, sometimes there are very real reasons to wait. We have responsibilities, limited resources and circumstances we can’t simply walk away from.

But sometimes we’ve become so used to postponing something that we no longer question the postponement. We say, “One day,” without asking what would need to happen for that day to arrive.

For me, it took eight years for the lesson I learned from my sister to translate into taking bold action in my own life. Eight years of procrastination, justification and avoiding uncertainty.

The penny dropped when, with the support of an incredible mentor and coach, I began to believe that a new future was always available to me.

It was like someone had switched on a light in a dark room. Who I was did not determine who I could become. I didn’t need to see the whole pathway ahead before I began. I did not need to know how it would unfold. I just had to start with how I wanted to feel and believe that something different was possible for me.

Simple? Yes. Easy? No.

That belief opened up possibilities I’d barely allowed myself to consider. I began to act on them. One step at a time.

Leaving behind a thirty-five-year career. Starting two businesses. Publishing my first book. (High time I got on to number two!) Relocating to my dream city. Losing 80 lbs. All because I learned how to let go of the need for certainty.

And the exciting thing is, I keep discovering more possibilities.

This is at the heart of the work I now do with women who are ready to move forward in their lives: helping them see what else might be possible for them, and supporting them to take those first steps towards it.

We can’t go back and plant a tree twenty years ago. But we can decide what we want to plant today in excited anticipation of watching it grow and blossom into something beautiful and enduring.

And tomorrow, as we break the earth and plant my sister’s tree, I will miss her, as I do every day.

I will also have a heart full of love and gratitude for everything she did for me while she was alive, and for the incredible legacy of kindness, generosity, wisdom, fun, laughter and leadership she left in the world.

In loving memory of Cathryn Ann Parker 19.10.1959 - 24.09.2016

Making It Intentional

So, what would you like to plant?

Give yourself a little space to name what you want, even if it’s still a hazy idea. Consider what support would help you explore it. Then choose one small action you can take this week to give it a place in your life.

Your Next Step

If you’ve been wondering whether it’s too late or too hard to make a change in your life.

If you want to move forward but aren’t sure where to begin, or you doubt that it's even possible, I’d love to hear from you.

Send me and email at paula@paulasmithcoaching.com and tell me what you’d love to be different—even if you haven’t quite found the words for it yet. We can explore how working together could help.