Breathe the Free Air: Embracing Leadership and Life Transitions

"Breathe the free air again."

In May 2025, I woke up differently. Not to an alarm clock or a rush of deadlines, but to the quiet realization that today is the first day of early retirement. This transition did not unfold in the way I imagined. Life rarely follows our scripts. But still, here I am. Grateful. Reflective. Aware.

While walking in the morning breeze… that’s when it hit me: I’ve been holding my breath for years!

Have you ever felt like you’ve been holding your breath, waiting for a change while grappling under the constant pressure of responsibilities, expectations, and obligations? The demands of family, career, and survival often lead us to operate in a state of low-grade tension that becomes so familiar we mistake it for normalcy. “Life be lifing,” and it is easy to forget what it feels like to just breathe… freely.

Progressive oppression is not dramatic; it’s systematic, and over time, we adapt. Sometimes, it is very subtle—even seductive. The allure of accomplishment, the status symbols, the approval of others and before long, these things become our task masters. We become their servants pressing forward no longer out of passion, but out of necessity. Dreams and desires are shelved for “maybe someday,” and slowly, almost imperceptibly, we can become detached from the true source of life.

As I listened to the stillness of the morning, a scene from The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers came to mind. King Théoden of Rohan, once a noble ruler, fell under the influence of a dark sorcerer. The king was not chained in a physical dungeon or shackled in irons, but he was imprisoned in his mind, and that reduced him to a voiceless, thoughtless, spiritless leader. He no longer recognized his allies, not even his oldest friend, Gandalf.

Upon identifying the cause of the king’s oppression, Gandalf comes to the king’s aid driving out the darkness. Théoden, awakened and restored, blinks against the light as if seeing it for the first time. His transformation from darkness to light is staggering. Théoden’s eyes clear, his posture lifts, and then it happens…suddenly, he recalls who he is meant to be and what it felt like to be king. He awakens from his prison, with his friend’s encouragement, “breathe the free air again.”

This act of liberation resonates deeply with me.  Freedom has long been a core value, but it has not been a lifestyle experienced by most people.  Like Théoden, many of us live unknowingly shackled and bound by the subtle forces of overcommitment, performance, fear, or the need for others’ approval. We can live years desensitizing and falling asleep to what we are becoming. Our minds fatigued by demands. Our purpose buried beneath duties. Our spirits crushed by the illusion of success or happiness.  We forget who we are and who we were created to be. We live in a state of holding our breath, bracing for what’s next.

In his letter to the Galatians, the Apostle Paul poses a poignant question: “Who has cast an evil spell on you?” Though Paul spoke of a theological drift in the church, his question reverberates through every dimension of life today:

Who convinced you to abandon your purpose?

Who persuaded you that compromising was better than taking the path less traveled?

Who wants you to believe justice, integrity, and righteousness does not matter?

Perhaps you feel dismayed by a sense of unfairness. Perhaps you once aspired to pursue higher education, start a new venture, improve your health, or reclaim a lost passion. Then the relentless cries of “what must be done” altered the course and achievement became its own trap. The more one accomplishes, the more one may feel entitled to have and the easier it becomes to lose the real you. We are not always enticed by obvious evils. Sometimes, we are drawn away by “lesser evils” like stability, comfort, or recognition. These things aren’t necessarily wrong, but without perspective they can gradually lure people from their purpose.

As I transition, I am evolving and reevaluating my life and the world today.  I focus more on passion than urgency. I feel the wind on my skin—and this time, I notice it. I linger with my sons because I am not too busy. I am more gracious and kinder to my family because there’s a new gentleness emerging as the strain dissipates and I take a breath.  My body and soul are remembering, maybe relearning, what rest actually feels like.

Too often, we acclimate to harsh situations until they feel natural. If you find yourself weary and stretched thin by the weight of expectations or environments that no longer support your physical, mental, and spiritual well-being, consider this invitation:

Let go of what has oppressed you. Reject the lie that you must be overworked, overextended, and fatigued to obtain “the good life.” 

Rest is available. You are not bound to the path you always walked. You are free to choose, to course correct, to reprioritize.

Whatever transitions you face today—be it retirement, reinvention, or a quiet reset, embrace it with wise counsel and a new perspective.

Breathe the free air again, my friend.