Although the American Psychological Association defines midlife as spanning the ages of 36 to 64, I don’t know a single person who’s lived to 128. Having acknowledged the reality that we’re closer to the end than the middle, my husband and I have undertaken Operation Deep Clean—combing the nooks and crannies of our home to declutter and thereby alleviate the inevitable work that will fall to our children someday. We’ve rediscovered childhood treasures, found files we should have discarded decades ago, and stumbled on mementoes that made us cry. I’ve unearthed memories of people who were so important to me that I thought I’d know them forever but whose names I now barely recall. Their impermanence in my life has made them no less consequential to it, but those relationships had concluded. They didn’t end dramatically or badly; they were simply complete.
Projects and tasks have a natural ending. But for more boundless enterprises—relationships, hobbies, work—I’ve come to embrace this idea of completeness. It’s not giving up, it’s being satisfied in having done the right amount. It recognizes that time is not infinite. To partake of new relationships and challenges, I have to loosen my grasp on other things, sometimes things I very much enjoy and even those I’ve been doing so long they are part of my identity. My ability to embrace the undiscovered is founded on my willingness to stop engaging in some of these other very pleasant things. My time, space, and attention are limited.
The world is big, and our options for how we live in it are vast. If we each had 128 good years, life would still be too short to taste but a few of its flavors. We can’t devote ourselves to everything all at once, so something’s got to give. There’s power in allowing yourself to say, My effort on this is complete. I can devote my energy elsewhere.
Our culture prizes the quitters-never-win ideal. But stopping doesn’t equal losing. In fact, it might be the necessary ingredient to your next success. Continuing to do the same thing in the name of not giving up is a path to stagnation. From time to time, we find ourselves in need of refreshment, and that may require deeming something complete so we can carve out space for novel endeavors.
This is to say that my work here is done. Literally. A new season of life calls me: retirement. It’s been a pleasure and a privilege to shepherd this magazine for the past 12 years and to know I’ve been part of something consequential to you and your profession. I’ll miss the people and the work terribly. It’s been pure joy to be shoulder to shoulder with a publications team who cares so much, knows so much, and does so much, so well.
But everything is temporary. And so, while for decades it seemed I’d be an editor forever, I find I am complete in this regard. Keep navigating your dreams and adjusting your sails to catch fresh winds that will take you to your next destination.
Jane Gaboury, director of publications, retired on Feb. 29, 2024.