When the rock band The Eagles split up in 1980, it was hardly a surprise for fans who were familiar with the tensions that had long existed within the group. Struggling at the time to recreate the success of Hotel California, coupled with a relentless touring schedule and a motley of substance-abuse issues, all this came together as the perfect blend of 'creative differences' that eventually drove the band apart.
When a reporter asked band member Don Henley if they would ever perform together again, he famously replied, "When hell freezes over."
This line would go on to become the name of the live album they recorded when, 14 long years after vowing never to do so, the band reunited.
I'm reminded of this story every time Don Henley's The Heart of the Matter pops up on my Spotify. It's usually the studio version, but I still find myself transported back to the first time I saw this played live on Hell Freezes Over. Ever since learning of the story behind this album, it's been impossible not to feel like it just hits a little bit differently, especially when he sings with his unmistakable rasp, "I think it's about ... forgiveness."
After all, while the song alludes to lost love and moving on, it is also about this. It is about forgiveness—of the other, and also of yourself.
The Eagles are not singular in choosing to do what at one point seemed insane and laughable. Other bands that have reunited after very publicly and dramatically falling out include Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac, Led Zeppelin, Van Halen ... and the list goes on.
Outside the world of rock and roll, we hear about this all the time in professional sports. Chalk it up to the promise of money, redemption, or just general restlessness, but it's no longer surprising when a famous athlete decides to come out of retirement.
Likewise for us, we return to jobs, hobbies, places, people. Perhaps at one point we said never again. But time passes, and maybe we learn or we forget, and choices that once seemed so unimaginable become a little less so.
And yet I still wonder: is it really okay to return to something that you once swore you were done with?
2 weeks ago, I decided to return in a part-time, consulting capacity to the company that I co-founded and ran from 2016 to 2021. I won't go into what this entails, but I wanted to unpack some of the things that were wrapped up in me making this decision.
This company was a big part of my life for a long time, and as such I had somewhat complicated feelings about the idea of working there again. By no means am I back in the job I used to do, but I'm very much aware of the baggage I still carry.
For instance, I didn’t always manage people well, and there are organisational decisions that I still think about and wish I had made differently. I also worked in an extremely unsustainable way, which these days can still make me slightly risk-averse and unwilling to commit to projects out of fear of taking on too much.
So in the month or so before I made this decision, I wrestled with a few things.
One, I kept thinking about how, for at least the last 3 years, this was a chapter of my life that I was convinced was finally closed. I told myself I was done and I was never going back.
Back in 2021, a big part of my decision to leave was that I wanted something new; to do new things and to grow in a new environment. On hindsight, perhaps I was also looking for a second chance to "do it right this time", rather than having to face, on a daily basis, all the things I knew I could still do differently and yet somehow did not have the energy or motivation for.
Sometimes, it is just so much easier to end a chapter than to try and finish the story. And as I thought about going back, I wondered if I was starting a new chapter or if I was still trying to finish the story.
Two, I kept questioning: if I'm choosing to go back, does it mean that I'm giving up on my current path and returning to an old one? Am I regressing? Is this a flight to safety?
Many good and difficult things happened during those years, and I think I've always believed that for them to have significance, they have to be memorialised—like a kind of museum exhibit to be visited but not relived.
There are many ways to talk about decisions like this. I could be neutral and simply say, "I changed my mind." Or I could call it a 'pivot', and make it feel somewhat more empowering. Or someone less compassionate might say that I 'backpedaled' on the decision that I made all those years ago.
And yet these too are just words and stories.
Eventually, this is where I landed:
I think that it is okay to return to things. Sometimes we need distance and time to clarify what we have always known to be true. Sometimes things can leave our lives, but then we change, or the thing changes, and what wasn't previously possible now is.
But while it is okay to return to something, it is also imperative that you return with a pure heart and clear intentions.
I often say that there are no good reasons to have kids, only bad ones. I think this holds true for decisions in general. Sometimes there are no good reasons to do something, but there are very obviously bad ones. Whether it is jobs, relationships, personal pursuits, etc, if we choose to pick them up again, it does help to know why.
In this case, I knew what a bad reason to return to my company would look like. It would look like treating this as an opportunity to rewrite my legacy, to clear my conscience, or because things weren't going well in other areas of my career, and I just needed something to do.
(For the record, I don’t think I made this choice for any of these reasons.)
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One way to figure out who you are is to look at who you've always been. You can ask yourself: what are the patterns that have always ruled my life? And then you can say, that is who I am.
Another way to figure out who you are, which I know is the path some prefer, is to ask: who do I want to be? And then endeavour to become that version of yourself.
I'm undecided about where I stand on this second approach, but what I've found myself leaning more and more towards is simply deciding who I don't want to be. While I don't always know if I'm doing things for the right reasons, I usually know when I'm doing them for the wrong ones.
Over the last 2 weeks, as I returned to my old office and sat amongst new colleagues, I became acutely aware of how much I am no longer that person from 2020/2021. In fact, I’m not even the same person I was 12 months ago.
It made me realise that at no point in our lives do we become the person we are going to be forever.
Of course there is always the possibility that in some way, the old versions of ourselves may continue to weigh us down. But now I'm seeing that this is a choice, and not an inescapable reality.
And so these days, a lot of my choices revolve around asking, "What would me 3-5 years ago do in this situation?" And then I literally go and do the opposite of that. So far, I'm getting the sense that it might be possible to live a pretty decent life this way: by not worrying so much about what to do, and simply being clear about what not to do.
This is where I’m also learning what forgiveness really is—a practice; a constant acting on the certainty that I can continue doing differently, and that there is no need to fear returning.
"It doesn’t matter how old I get, but as long as I continue to live I’ll always discover something new about myself. No matter how long you stand there examining yourself naked before a mirror, you’ll never see reflected what’s inside."
— Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running
PS. A big thank you to everyone who wrote in to volunteer for my experiment with coaching individuals on building a writing practice. I was hoping to work with just 3 people, but 9 of you responded, and I eventually decided I could take on 6. I am holding my remaining capacity for paid coaching work, so if you're interested to work with me in this capacity, you can reach me here.
I am also immensely grateful to those of you who signed up for paid subscriptions after my last newsletter. I was truly not expecting that to happen, and each of you really made my week.
That’s all for now, I’ll see all of you at the next one 👋🏻