Welcome to life on the cusp

Are you busy becoming the next version of yourself? Join the club!

On The Cusp is about becoming the next version of ourselves. That means experimenting with the breadth of our interests, exploring the depths of anything that captures our imagination, and learning to embrace uncertainty along the way.

Welcome! This is letter #50.

Lake Crescent, captured on Kodak Portra 400 film

In July 2020, on the day my ex-husband and I signed our mortgage refinance paperwork, there wasn’t a safe place to do it.

There was an airborne virus spreading like wildfire—remember that?—so we couldn’t meet our notary indoors. (There was also the matter of our home’s active flea infestation. Ask me how I learned that you do, in fact, need to flea-treat indoor cats.)

But outside, there was literal wildfire. More precisely, there was an apocalyptic cloud of wildfire smoke that had settled overhead and wasn’t going to budge for an entire week. The house was sealed tight with four air purifiers on full blast, but the particles of airborne ash snuck inside anyway. The unrelenting headache that followed felt like my own personal smoke alarm.

We signed the refinance papers on the hood of the notary’s truck, scribbling as fast as possible, eyes watering, lungs burning. Then, we were released to all the challenges waiting for us inside.

Since moving out West in 2016, I’ve gotten used to the faint smell of campfire smoke that ushers in wildfire season. As a kid, I was taught to remain alert to this smell as the first sign of danger. Now, it’s simply the backdrop to summer in Washington.

For the last year and change, “wildfire season” also felt like an appropriate metaphor for the way life was going: that is to say, a tad more scorched-earth than I’d like.

So when I created this newsletter, it felt appropriate to channel that vibe into the name I chose and the logo I cobbled together: Your Five-Year Plan, lit on fire.

My beloved old logos, for posterity

Everyone who writes about life transitions has a different way of describing their stages; author Bruce Feiler talks about “the long goodbye,” “the messy middle,” and the “new beginning.”

Much of my writing here has been the direct product of a few long goodbyes: to my beloved mother, my former career in financial planning, and my marriage. That has included the content of this newsletter, and also its name.

I’m ready for a shift, though. And I may as well start with the name.

Rebranding can feel like major surgery, if you let it. That’s what a facelift is, after all. But I’d prefer to think about it as swapping my lipstick shade from a wintry burgundy to a summery peach.

I’m ready to shift my focus from the way that five-year plans usually end (once more, for those in the back: flames!) and begin incorporating more of the anticipatory unknowns that come with new beginnings.

In short, I want to write about life on the cusp.

The cusp is a liminal space, a moment of transition holding the hope that something is about to happen. And that tends to be something thrilling, given how often we say that artists buzzing with talent are on the cusp of stardom. (No shade on failure—it’s one of life’s greatest teachers—but we’re far less likely to describe someone as being on the cusp of it.)

Being on the cusp may rightfully be credited to your hard work, but it’s not about striving. It’s about something so graceful that, upon uttering the word, you immediately think of Michelle Obama: becoming.

Being on the cusp, and evolving into the next natural iteration of yourself, are one and the same. Becoming is about growth, not grinding. And that’s what the next iteration of this newsletter will be centered around: the art of becoming.

I believe that becoming the next version of yourself means:

• Experimenting with the breadth of your interests,

• Exploring the depths of anything that captures your imagination, and

• Learning to embrace uncertainty along the way.

That’s exactly what you can expect me to do here, in the creative sandbox that is this newsletter.

And as I experiment with breadth and depth in my own life—and share the results with you here!—my sincerest hope is that you’ll be inspired to do the same.

As always, I’d love to hear from you. What are you on the cusp of right now?

Warmly,
Maddie