Hi lovely humans,

I signed the papers last week. The house I've lived in for a decade years has been sold. It's someone else’s memory-maker now, someone else’s Thanksgiving stories.

For that reason, we'll be skipping the usual Second Harvesters story. I’m writing this from somewhere between here and the next chapter. Sounds romantic but mostly just means you can’t find the coffee mugs.

The choice to downsize and donate most of my belongings is part of an idea I've embraced called via negativa. Loosely speaking, via negativa is an ancient philosophy that suggests finding your way to a higher self through subtraction. I had a coach, Joan King, that told me that every physical item we own, also owns a place in our hearts and minds. "By subtracting clutter from our lives, we also remove the obstacles to expansion," she would say. We create the space for new opportunities. In the sprit of spring, we are the gardener that removes weeds and rocks so that the new blooms may emerge.

These are exactly the moments Second Harvest was created for. Taking a pause to see what needs to stay, and what needs to go. Opening up a little space between who you were and who you’re becoming.

And as it turns out, this week Devon and I will be hosting a few hundred people going through that in between moment.

This Thursday, May 21st, we’re gathering at the deCordova Sculpture Park in Lincoln, MA for the Spring Summit. An amazing group of accomplished humans who are done pretending they have it all figured out. No giant screens. No keynotes. No quick-fix programming. Just real conversations among people who are in it. Guided by people who have been there themselves. They are deep in the career shift, the identity questions, the relationship changes, the restlessness that visits you at 2am.

If you’re joining us at the Summit, which might mean a you're also in that space. A little uncertain, a little excited, and asking lots of questions. If you’re not joining us this time, I’ll leave you with the question I’ve been sitting with as I empty out the rooms and pack boxes:

What are you carrying that no longer belongs to the person you're becoming?

It’s a harder question than it sounds. I’m still working on my answer.

See you out there.

Richard and Devon.

If someone in your life is navigating their own second act, forward this along, or consider joining our Correspondent's Club. Members get ten mailings a year — four physical newspapers, and six pieces in between: art prints, books, and other surprise gifts from us. Half the fun is in the mystery of what arrives in your mailbox. You won't be disappointed.