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This book is dedicated to my children and to my children's children: Brenda, Steve, Eric, Andrea, Steven, Eric, Stephanie, and Alisha.

Perhaps we would agree that the keynote of life is change. We see it everywhere present in nature: the tadpole becomes a frog, the larva of the Monarch butterfly becomes an exquisite winged creature. Change is especially evident in the trees. When the air chills, the leaves change color and shower down, leaving the trees dark and bare. And then, as winter moves into spring, once again the trees come alive, first with a new ghost of green and then bursting forth with a rich collage of foliage. The whole universe is woven with a harmonious ebb and flow.

And, just as there is a harmonious ebb and flow in nature, there is also a divine rhythm at work in our individual lives. The patterns of our days are marked by endings and new beginnings. Every one of us is an integral part of the cosmic dance of the universe.

Although we understand intellectually that there are natural transitions at work in the universe, when change comes rapidly in our individual lives, we may question the meaning and purpose in what we are experiencing.

This is why I'm so excited about Robert Brumet's book Finding Yourself in Transition.

Reverend Brumet, with his gentle wisdom and clarity of thought, shows us ways to move courageously and victoriously through the necessary but often unsettling transitions that are a part of our growth and development.

Robert is a longtime friend and colleague; I know many of his own transitions which have provided the impetus for this book. Although he writes from his own experience, he also draws upon the experiences and teachings of others. Certainly, in a world that is changing so rapidly and with so many people in transition, this book may well become a handbook for those who are experiencing turning points in their lives.

When my grandparents, Charles and Myrtle Fillmore, began Unity, they desired to establish a school of what they called "practical Christianity." In their search for Truth, they explored many philosophies and religions to develop what has become the Unity way of life.

Robert Brumet follows the same spirit of practical spirituality. Drawing upon many sources, Reverend Brumet masterfully weaves together strands of psychology, Eastern and Western mysticism, Bible interpretation, and personal history to bring us a new version of contemporary, practical spirituality.

Finding Yourself in Transition helps us discover the deeper meaning in the disturbing, unsettling events that happen in our individual lives and in the world. This book also reminds us that we are never alone, that the loving Intelligence that created us and all of life is ever present, guiding and directing our ways.

One of my favorite Bible quotations is from the third chapter of Ecclesiastes: "For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven." And there is the natural flow of seasons in our own lives. We experience seasons of activity and growth and seasons of rest and renewal. Life is about growth, unfoldment, and change, which give us the incentive to explore new dimensions of living.

I hope, dear readers, that you will find this book as helpful as I have. God bless you on your journey.

Several years ago I dreamed that I was living in this particular house. It was the house of my childhood, the house in which I lived for sixteen years. In this dream, my wife and I and our four children were inside the house enjoying one another's company. Suddenly, the house began to shake. The walls began to cave in; the ceiling started to fall. In panic, I shouted, "Everyone, get out quickly!" I ran out the front door as fast as I could. The ground beneath my feet was shaking violently. I turned to look behind me, and as I did, I saw the house collapse into a pile of rubble. Everyone inside was killed; everything in it was destroyed. I was shaken to the very depths of my being.

And then, I looked up at the night sky and saw millions of crystal stars looking down upon me. Suddenly, I felt at one with all that my eyes could see. In that instant, I experienced, simultaneously, bottomless grief and infinite joy. I then knew that these were but opposite sides of the same coin. I sensed the death of my old life and the birth of a new one. This was the beginning of my transition.

Three years later my twenty-five-year marriage had come to an end. My work as minister of a Unity church was over. My life was in chaos. I was nearly bankrupt. My sense of identity was demolished. The pain and confusion felt overwhelming. I stood, in shock, looking at the rubble that was once my life. At age forty-five, I felt as if my life was over.

It was. The new life that has emerged is not the same as the old one. Out of the ashes of the former life, a new birth has taken place. Indeed, God was in charge—yet in the midst of my darkness, I could not see that. I had no maps, no guidelines, no history upon which "I could draw in order to understand my experience.

I have since encountered many other persons struggling with the pain and uncertainty of transition. I saw that they, like myself, were totally unprepared for the impact that change would have on their lives. I realized that our culture—in spite of the enormous changes that have occurred since the mid-sixties—offers us little in the way of help in coping with change. The world of my youth was a world where change was simply not acknowledged. And if the change was so great that it must be acknowledged, then it was treated as a tragedy from which we must recover as quickly as possible so that we could return our lives to "normal." Such was the only model for change that I knew.

Even though the world of today bears little resemblance to the world of my youth, I see and hear individuals responding to change much in the same manner that I was taught: Ignore the past and "get on" with life! The problem with this approach is that it doesn't work! Yet we seem to keep trying—perhaps because we don't know any other way. Perhaps it's time to find another way!

This book has two objectives. One is to offer an alternative model for navigating one's way through life's transitions—o provide somewhat of a "map" for the journey. A second, and perhaps more important objective, is to help the reader discover that a major life transition is an opportunity for transformation—a transformation into an entirely new life. A transition is an opportunity for spiritual rebirth if we see clearly and respond wisely. I hope that this book will serve as a guide to that end.

This book is divided into three major sections. The first discusses the general nature of change and the dynamics of the transition process. The second section looks at the individual components of the transition process and parallels each with the biblical story of the Exodus, the journey of the Israelites from their bondage in Egypt into the Promised Land of Canaan. The third section looks at transition from a broader philosophical perspective and addresses questions such as: What's it all about? Where is this taking us? Does it ever end?

This book is amenable for use as a text in teaching a course in life transitions. The chapter summaries are designed to aid the instructor in presenting a class or workshop from this material. If time is limited, Chapters 5, 7, 9, or 10 could be summarized or eliminated without impairing the basic thesis of the text. The students should, however, be encouraged to read these chapters since they greatly enrich the more basic material.

I, like every writer of this decade, have struggled with the issue of gender when using pronouns such as "she/he" or "him/her." When it does not damage the integrity or the readability of the text, I try to balance the use of gender reference. In this book, however, there are instances when the individual referenced is traditionally or archetypally male. Please know that my use of the pronoun "he" in these cases does not signify an insensitivity to this issue of inclusiveness.

Allons! whoever you are come travel with me!

Traveling with me you find what never tires.

The earth never tires,

The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first,

Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first,

Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine

things well envelop'd,

I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful

than words can tell.

Allons! we must not stop here,

However sweet these laid-up stores, however convenient

this dwelling we cannot remain here,

However shelter’d this port and however calm

these waters we must not anchor here,

However welcome the hospitality that surrounds

us we are permitted to receive it but a little

while....

Listen! I will be honest with you,

I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer

rough new prizes,

These are the days that must happen to you:

You shall not heap up what is call'd riches,

You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn

or achieve,

You but arrive at the city to which you were destin'd,

you hardly settle yourself to satisfaction

before you are call'd by an irresistible call to

depart,

You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and

mockings of those who remain behind you,

What beckonings of love you receive you shall only

answer with passionate kisses of parting,

You shall not allow the hold of those who spread

their reach'd hands toward you....

Allons! to that which is endless as it was beginningless,

To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights,

To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the

days and nights they tend to,

Again to merge them in the start of superior journeys,

To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach

it and pass it,

To conceive no time, however distant, but what

you may reach it and pass it,

To look up or down no road but it stretches and

waits for you, however long but it stretches

and waits for you,

To see no being, not God's or any, but you also go

thither,

To see no possession but you may possess it, enjoying

all without labor or purchase, abstracting

the feast yet not abstracting one particle of it,

To take the best of the farmer's farm and the rich

man's elegant villa, and the chaste blessings

of the well-married couple, and the fruits of

orchards and flowers of gardens,

To take to your use out of the compact cities as

you pass through,

To carry buildings and streets with you afterward

wherever you go,

To gather the minds of men out of their brains as

you encounter them, to gather the love out

of their hearts,

To take your lovers on the road with you, for all

that you leave them behind you,

To know the universe itself as a road, as many

roads, as roads for traveling souls.

—Walt Whitman¹

They sat in a circle. Each person shared his or her feelings: "I feel as if the bottom has dropped out of my life." "I don't even know who I am anymore." "My life is changing so fast that my head is spinning." "I feel so alone ... so alienated." The sharing continued with each person voicing rather similar feelings. Each person was in transition.

This particular group was formed to support individuals caught in the throes of change. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of similar groups across the country and around the world. Each group is intended to help individuals deal with the personal impact of change.

In this present age of uncertainty, perhaps the only thing certain is that life will change. Change is an inevitable part of our human experience. This has been true for humans in every era and is especially true for us who live near the start of the twenty-first century. Most of us who live today are witnessing and experiencing more changes in a few years than our ancestors would likely have experienced in the course of a lifetime. These changes continue to occur at an ever-increasing rate. Indeed, it appears as if time itself has somehow speeded up.

Rapid changes are occurring not only in the world around us but also in the world within us. These changes are not just in technology or lifestyle but are radical changes in the way that we perceive ourselves and our universe. Such changes are not just about how we live but about who we are as human beings. Our assumptions about who we are and how we are related to the world around us are being challenged, if not shattered.

These days we hear references to a "paradigm shift" that is occurring in our culture. The word paradigm is derived from the Greek word paradeigma, meaning "pattern." A pattern is a model or a guide used for making something. A paradigm is the underlying and largely unconscious set of assumptions that we use to interpret the meaning of a particular observation or experience. We have paradigms that govern how we see and understand the universe around us. We have paradigms that govern how we see ourselves and our relationship to the universe. When our earth was discovered to be round, not flat, everyone had to rethink our understanding of almost everything. When a paradigm shifts, we not only see and understand new information, but the very way in which we see and understand is altered. Such is the magnitude of change that is occurring.²

Despite the mind-boggling depth and swiftness of change in recent years, very few of us in this culture have learned to deal with change in a healthy way. We often fear and resist change. Our resistance is often subtle and unconscious. It would seem that despite our conscious intentions, there is a part of us that stubbornly clings to the old and the familiar. Some of us have consciously chosen to embark upon a journey of personal growth and transformation, ostensibly seeking and welcoming change. We may have affirmed: I am willing to be changed, and yet, ironically, there is something within us that unconsciously resists these very changes that we consciously desire. We may be puzzled to find ourselves resisting change as if our lives were at stake! For some reason, it seems that the greatest of all human fears is fear of the unknown, and change, especially deep or sudden change, almost always confronts us with the unknown.

Perhaps the deepest of all human needs is the need to find meaning in our experiences. Dr. Viktor Frankl maintains that the fundamental human drive is this quest for meaning.³ For example, the child whose parents are divorcing, the woman who hears that she has cancer, the investor who learns that the stock market has just crashed will each wonder what this means. Not only will they seek meaning, but this desire is so strong that they may automatically, and unconsciously, ascribe a certain meaning to the event. It is not so much the event itself that will alter our lives as much as the meaning we give to it.

Counselors and ministers who work with people experiencing loss or tragedy in their lives will often hear questions such as: Why did this happen? What is the meaning of this event? In these challenging times, meaning is of crucial importance. It seems that when there is meaning, we can endure almost anything. The philosopher Nietzsche has said, "He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how."⁴ Without meaning, it could seem that any such experience is unbearable.

Change, especially deep or sudden and unexpected change, challenges and perhaps even shatters the meaning and the understanding that we have created to "make sense out of life." We have developed our meanings as "road maps of reality" to guide us through the journey of life. They are part of the paradigm which patterns our perceptions and understanding. Change often takes us into new territory where old maps are no longer sufficient.

Theologian Paul Tillich makes reference to an ontological crisis which is a condition that arises when something that has served as the "ground of being" has been threatened, diminished, or taken from our life. This ground of being might be a social role, a relationship, an internal identity, or a belief system. The triggering event could be the death of a parent or a child, a divorce, a serious illness, a financial disaster, or any of several unexpected events. To many, such an experience feels almost worse than death itself.

Indeed, every change is a type of death, a death to an old way of living or being. Yet, ironically, change—a dying to the old—is one of the defining characteristics of growth. To live is to grow; to grow is to change; to change is to die to the old. Jesus of Nazareth said to his disciples, "Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit" (Jn. 12:24). The apostle Paul, who was no stranger to unexpected change, writes to the church at Corinth, "I die every day!" (1 Cor. 15:31) Many of us today are living in an accelerated pattern of growth and change and are, like Paul, "dying daily."

Yet we fear death, and this very fear of death, the fear of change, is also our fear of life itself. To be fully alive, we must be willing to be changed, to surrender into the moment without resistance; we must be willing to "die daily," even moment by moment. To resist these "deaths" is to resist life. To live fully is to realize that death—any type of death—is but a harbinger of new life. Thus we are ready to take the next step in our study of transition: our study of change, of death, and of rebirth into new life.