The Next Day: Transitions, Change, and Moving Forward

“Another important truth about transitions is that they are usually easier to navigate together than alone. When you’re traveling across the in-between spaces, it helps to have company.”

French Gates uses the metaphor of travel to conceptualize transitions as journeys through unfamiliar territory, with “in-between spaces” suggesting the liminal, uncertain nature of periods of change. The simple, declarative sentence structure mirrors the straightforward wisdom being conveyed, while the contrast between “together” and “alone” emphasizes the fundamental human need for support during difficult times, highlighting the Balance Between Independence and Interdependence. French Gates acknowledges that while transitions are personal journeys, they benefit significantly from the support and presence of others.

“He made clear to me that the way the priests treated my mother and me that day was intended to diminish us, to make us feel small and unserious, to reinforce a power hierarchy that placed us at the bottom. But my father refused to see my mother and me that way, and in doing so, he taught me not to see myself that way either.”

French Gates uses parallel structure in the phrase “to diminish us, to make us feel small and unserious, to reinforce a power hierarchy” to emphasize the systematic nature of the oppression she experienced. The repetition of infinitive phrases creates a sense of escalation, showing how institutional power operates through multiple layers of control. The contrast between “intended to diminish” and “refused to see” highlights the transformative power of perspective and support. Her father’s alternative viewpoint allowed French Gates to reconceptualize a humiliating experience as a lesson about justice rather than personal inadequacy.

“My parents had long recognized my own ambitions and were intentional about supporting them. My mother told me constantly that I could be anyone I wanted to be. ‘Set your own agenda or someone else will set it for you’ was one of her mantras, and the answer I still give when people ask me about the best advice I’ve ever received.”

Here, the juxtaposition of “anyone I wanted to be” with the specific directive about agenda-setting represents the integration of broad possibility and concrete action. French Gates’s emphasis on the ways parental support paradoxically fosters self-reliance and autonomous decision-making points to her thematic interest in the balance of independence and interdependence.

“As the two waves approach the shore, the tall wave can perceive what lies ahead only as a brutal ending. The small wave, though, can see the bigger picture. It understands that waves are just temporary manifestations of water’s deeper, truer identity. And that understanding helps the small wave reconceptualize its collision with the shore. Instead of an ending, the collision marks a new beginning.”

This extended metaphor, taken from a parable shared by Ram Dass, uses personification to give the waves human-like consciousness and understanding, making abstract concepts of perspective and transformation accessible through concrete imagery. The contrast between “brutal ending” and “new beginning” establishes the central tension that perspective can resolve, while “deeper, truer identity” suggests that surface appearances mask more fundamental realities. French Gates uses the verb “reconceptualize” to highlight the cognitive shift necessary for transformation.

“If I’m really being honest, that screaming was for me. It was an eardrum-shattering attempt to give voice to my own deeply felt, poorly regulated, overpowering love and fear. For a moment, the intensity and chaos I was feeling on the inside spilled out into the world around me. And while I may have thought I was helping to keep Jenn safe, all I really gained from that performance was an illusion of control—and even that lasted only about a millisecond.”

French Gates uses honest self-examination to reveal how parental anxiety often serves the parent’s needs rather than the child’s. The admission that her frantic behavior provided only “an illusion of control” that lasted “about a millisecond” uses ironic understatement to highlight the futility of perfectionist parenting. French Gates’s willingness to examine her true motivations rather than acting on impulse highlights The Benefits of Slowing Down and Listening to One’s Inner Voice.

“We need to give our kids structure and security—without stifling their ability to learn and grow. We need to make our presence felt and our unconditional love known—without overstepping or becoming overbearing or pushing our children away. We need to remain vigilant and concerned—without allowing our own emotions and anxieties to distract or hijack our attention. Most of all, we need the discipline to separate our own needs from our children’s and the wisdom to know when to let go, at least a little.”

French Gates uses parallel structure with repeated “we need” statements to create a manifesto-like declaration about balanced parenting. Each clause presents a paradox that parents must navigate. The escalating intensity of the parallel structure builds to the central challenge: “the discipline to separate our own needs from our children’s,” which French Gates presents as the foundation of effective parenting. In addressing how parents can provide support while fostering autonomy, French Gates articulates one of the book’s core arguments that good parenting requires constant calibration between presence and distance, ultimately preparing children for independence.

“What I needed to learn—but hadn’t yet—was that giving into a guilt spiral like that was just another form of my scream-sobbing during the earthquake. The guilt wasn’t serving anyone well. Not my children. Not my work. Not myself. It was a distraction—worse, an indulgence—that focused my attention inward instead of outward toward the people and work I loved. I was making it about me when it should have been about them.”

French Gates connects her guilt about work-life balance to her earlier panic during the earthquake, using this parallel to demonstrate a pattern of self-serving emotional responses disguised as care for others. The fragmented sentence structure in “Not my children. Not my work. Not myself” creates emphatic repetition that underscores guilt’s universal harm, while the italicized pronouns “me” and “them” create stark visual contrast that highlights the fundamental shift in perspective she needed to make. The characterization of guilt as both “distraction” and “indulgence” reframes what might seem like selfless worry as selfish behavior. The passage supports the book’s argument that authentic care requires moving beyond performative worry to focus on others’ actual needs.

“What Michelle learned from her mother, she added, is that as a mother, it’s not her job ‘to create mini-mes or people who were going to live out some brokenness in me or fill some hole or be my friend.’ In fact, she said with a laugh, her daughters tease her that her favorite line is ‘I’m not one of your little friends.’ But as Michelle sees it, that’s just proof that she has healthy boundaries between herself and her daughters. And the ironic thing is that those boundaries, in turn, have enabled her and her daughters to have a beautiful friendship after all.”

French Gates uses Michelle Obama’s example to illustrate how healthy parental boundaries paradoxically create stronger relationships than attempts to blur the parent-child distinction. The quoted phrase “I’m not one of your little friends” becomes a verbal boundary that Obama’s daughters initially resist but later appreciate, demonstrating how short-term conflict can lead to long-term respect. The word “ironic” emphasizes the counterintuitive nature of this parenting approach—that maintaining distance enables genuine closeness—while the progression from boundaries to “beautiful friendship” shows the ultimate payoff of respectful relationships.

“‘Be a greenhouse for each other.’ I’ve always found that turn of phrase so beautiful, that aspiration so generous and wise. Maybe, the poem suggests, the most important thing we can do for a friend is to cultivate a place within us where the things they plant can grow. As John’s friend, I could carry forward some of his selflessness and enormous capacity for love. As Emmy’s, I could carry forward her unbelievable courage and indescribable grace. Even just the thought made me feel closer to them.”

French Gates uses the extended metaphor of a greenhouse to illustrate how meaningful relationships continue beyond physical presence through emotional and spiritual cultivation. French Gates shifts from quoting Mark Nepo’s poem to applying its wisdom personally, illustrating how individuals can maintain autonomous emotional growth while remaining deeply connected to others through internalized relationships that transcend death.

“‘Grief,’ wrote the psychologist Mary-Frances O’Connor, ‘is the cost of loving someone.’ She wasn’t just waxing poetic; she was making a scientific observation. Loving someone, she explained in an interview with Scientific American, ‘updates the physical connections between neurons, and it changes the way that proteins are folded’ in our brains. In simpler terms, ‘it changes the wiring.’ When we lose someone we love, our brains struggle to adjust to their absence. Love is what psychologists call a ‘bonded relationship’—it relies on our belief that we and the people we love will always be there for each other. And when that’s no longer true, at least in a physical sense, it can feel like part of you is missing. In fact, O’Connor argues, a part of you is missing. ‘The absence of that person,’ she says, ‘is like an amputation.’”

French Gates bridges emotional experience with scientific explanation, using O’Connor’s research to validate the physical reality of grief and loss. The medical metaphor of amputation transforms grief from an abstract emotional state into a tangible physical condition. This passage presents grief not as a weakness or failure to move on, but as the natural, measurable consequence of a deep human connection that deserves understanding and respect.

“If I could go back in time, I would tell my younger self—that restless young woman fidgeting in her pressed white blouse and plaid uniform skirt—how lucky she was to be learning those lessons as a teenager, to be working so early in life to develop the discipline to distill the inner voice inside her. From the vantage point I have now, I’m honestly quite impressed with how well I knew myself as a high school student. As young as I was, I emerged from those quiet sessions in the chapel with a strong sense of who I was and what was important to me. That has given me a home base to return to, over and over again, helping me to set the course of my life and correct my bearings when I get lost.”

French Gates uses a reflective tone combined with imagery to emphasize the value of developing self-awareness early in life. The detailed description of her younger self “fidgeting in her pressed white blouse and plaid uniform skirt” creates a concrete visual of her teenage experience while highlighting the contrast between external appearances and internal growth. The metaphor of a “home base” transforms self-knowledge into a navigational tool, suggesting that understanding oneself provides stability and direction during life’s uncertainties. The passage reinforces the book’s argument that developing authentic self-awareness early in life provides essential resources for navigating major transitions and changes.

“Meditation can be an intimidating concept, so I appreciated Kabat-Zinn’s extremely accessible definition of it. Meditation, he says, is ‘simply about being yourself and knowing something about who that is.’ As I began developing my own meditation practice, I learned that by closing my eyes, straightening my back, and focusing my attention on my breath, I was able to carve out a quiet refuge inside myself—my own private chapel—where I could retreat when I needed to refocus.”

French Gates demystifies meditation by presenting it through Jon Kabat-Zinn’s simple definition, aiming to make the practice accessible to readers who might find it intimidating. The metaphor of carving out a “quiet refuge” and “private chapel” transforms meditation from an abstract concept into a tangible sanctuary, connecting her adult practice to the literal chapel of her youth. The specific physical details—"closing my eyes, straightening my back, and focusing my attention on my breath”—provide concrete guidance while emphasizing the embodied nature of mindfulness. The passage supports the book’s broader message that developing practices for inner reflection is essential for maintaining authentic self-knowledge throughout life’s challenges and transitions.

“I guess I sort of assumed that this supportive, encouraging inner voice would stay with me forever, continuing to mature and accrue wisdom and confidence as I did. Instead, something closer to the opposite happened. In the decade or so before my marriage fell apart, my inner voice faded. With it, I lost my center, an essential part of myself. Though I didn’t realize it quite yet, I was going to need serious help to get back in touch with the person I used to be, the version of myself that felt truest.”

French Gates uses a tone of honest vulnerability to reveal the unexpected reality that self-awareness can be lost over time. The contrast between her assumption that her inner voice would “mature and accrue wisdom” and the experience of it fading creates dramatic irony that underscores how life’s pressures can cause a disconnect from one’s authentic self. The phrase “lost my center” uses spatial metaphor to convey the disorientation that comes with losing self-knowledge, while “the version of myself that felt truest” suggests that authenticity is not fixed but can be obscured or recovered.

“With the clarity of hindsight, I think it’s fair to say that even through this excruciatingly circular decision-making process, my inner voice was clear and unequivocal that I needed to get out of my marriage. It was the other voices that made me doubt it—voices around me that asked a lot of questions starting with But what about?”

French Gates uses italicized emphasis on “inner” and “other” to create a stark contrast between authentic self-knowledge and external pressures. The phrase “excruciatingly circular decision-making process” conveys the emotional pain of being torn between internal wisdom and social expectations, while “clear and unequivocal” emphasizes the reliability of her authentic voice when external noise is filtered out. This quote illustrates French Gates’s argument that while authentic inner wisdom can be obscured by external voices, it remains constant beneath the surface.

“Now, whether I’m talking to young people or other women my age, I often find myself sharing what I’ve learned about how important it is to distill the sound of your own inner voice—to develop the skills to distinguish between the scripts you have been handed by others and the story you are writing for yourself.”

French Gates uses the metaphor of “scripts” versus “story” to distinguish between externally imposed expectations and authentic self-authorship, positioning readers as the active creators of their own narratives. The verb “distill” suggests a process of refinement and purification, implying that finding one’s authentic voice requires separating essential elements from external influences. The phrase “handed by others” emphasizes the passive nature of accepting external expectations, while “writing for yourself” conveys active agency and creativity in life choices.

“I think about it this way: Most of the time, we walk through life in the thicket of our everyday routine. We’re in familiar surroundings, but we’re so boxed in that it can be hard to see the full landscape. In moments of transition, though, we step into a clearing in our lives. The familiar surroundings disappear. In these big, wide-open spaces, there’s a lot of uncertainty—but also a lot of possibility.”

French Gates establishes her central metaphor by contrasting the confined “thicket” of routine with the expansive “clearing” of transition. The imagery of being “boxed in” versus experiencing “wide-open spaces” creates a visual dichotomy that emphasizes how daily routines can limit perspective while transitions offer expanded vision. The juxtaposition of “uncertainty” with “possibility” reflects the theme of reframing change as growth opportunity, presenting transitions not as threats to be avoided but as moments of discovery. This foundational metaphor supports French Gates’s broader argument that embracing uncertainty during life changes can lead to unexpected fulfillment and self-awareness.

“I’ve learned that there are two ways to encounter these spaces. You can keep your head down and focus on finding the shortest possible distance to the next familiar thing, racing past the unknown without a second glance. Or you can find the courage to pause in that in-between space and see what it has to tell you—and then let what you learn there help you decide where to go next.”

French Gates uses contrasting imagery of “racing past” versus “pausing” to illustrate two fundamentally different approaches to handling transitions. The metaphor of keeping one’s “head down” evokes someone avoiding engagement with their surroundings, while “courage to pause” suggests that slowing down requires bravery rather than weakness. The personification of transitional space as something that can “tell you” information transforms uncertainty from an obstacle into a teacher.

“‘Life is indeed full of possibilities,’ Dr. Ahn concludes, ‘and it’s up to you to discover them.’ You can’t do that if you’re blinded by your focus on getting to the next item on your list. The more certain we are of what our life should be like, the more limited we are by our imagination.”

French Gates incorporates an expert’s voice to reinforce her argument about the relationship between rigid planning and missed opportunities. The metaphor of being “blinded” by focus creates a paradox in which the very act of concentrating on goals prevents seeing alternatives. The contrast between “possibilities” and being “limited” emphasizes how predetermined certainty can constrain rather than liberate. This passage supports French Gates’s broader critique of goal-oriented culture and her advocacy for maintaining openness to unanticipated paths.

“I’ve learned, however—even if it took me decades to learn it—that it’s worth leaving some space between the lines of those lists. Space for spontaneity and fun and joy. Space for new ideas and new people. And, most of all, space for its own sake, because when transitions come—and they will come—we need to be ready to spend a bit of time in the clearings in our lives they create.”

French Gates uses the metaphor of “space between the lines” to suggest that rigid planning should include room for the unexpected. The repetition of “space” creates emphasis while building toward the climactic phrase “space for its own sake,” which elevates emptiness from absence to valuable presence. The return to the “clearings” metaphor creates coherence with earlier passages, reinforcing the author’s central argument. The passage represents her perspective on balancing structure with flexibility, suggesting that wisdom lies in planning for the unplanned.

“After all, transitions are disruptive and disorienting. They lay waste to all our careful planning and force us to question our assumptions, our ambitions, even our very identities. But that, I’ve come to understand, is part of their magic.”

French Gates transforms typically negative associations with disruption into positive recognition of transformative potential, highlighting the text’s thematic emphasis on reframing change as growth opportunity. The passage encapsulates her argument that embracing rather than resisting life’s inevitable disruptions can lead to profound personal growth and unexpected opportunities.

“In yoga, there’s an instruction you hear frequently: ‘Root to rise.’ In a literal sense, it’s a reminder to establish your center of gravity, to firmly plant your feet or your sit bones—or whatever part of your body happens to be closest to the earth—before attempting a new pose or posture. But the metaphor works in a broader sense, too. A sapling can’t know how its branches will develop and grow and bud, but it sends its roots deeper and deeper into the ground with the understanding that, whatever comes, a strong foundation will be key to its steadiness and stability. The routines and rituals and relationships that we all develop as we grow into ourselves serve as roots, keeping us grounded and secure when transitions come along to shape our branches in unpredictable ways.”

French Gates uses an extended metaphor that moves from the physical practice of yoga to the natural world of trees, creating a framework for understanding human resilience during life transitions. The metaphor of “root to rise” establishes the central tension between stability and growth that defines her thematic discussion of reframing change. By comparing human relationships and routines to a tree’s root system, French Gates illustrates how foundational elements provide security while allowing for adaptation and growth. The imagery of branches developing “in unpredictable ways” acknowledges the uncertainty inherent in change while emphasizing that strong roots make flexibility possible.

“One data point: In 2023, the US surgeon general released a report on loneliness arguing that ‘the mortality impact of being socially disconnected is similar to that caused by smoking up to 15 cigarettes a day.’”

French Gates uses authoritative medical evidence to support her argument about the critical importance of maintaining relationships during life transitions. The clinical language and specific comparison to cigarette smoking transform what might be dismissed as emotional sentiment into a quantifiable health imperative. By framing social connection as a medical necessity rather than a lifestyle choice, French Gates reinforces the need to find balance between independence and interdependence. The stark comparison to smoking—a widely recognized health risk—uses shocking juxtaposition to emphasize how society undervalues the life-threatening consequences of isolation. This data point serves as scientific validation for French Gates’s personal experiences with friendship and community, demonstrating that her emphasis on relationships reflects not just personal preference but essential human need for survival and well-being.

“The reason that we are able to be such good friends to each other through the difficult times is that we make each other a priority the rest of the time, too. We hold space for each other even when life is brimming with other asks of our time and attention—something I learned how to do from the big-hearted woman who brought my siblings and me to the card store so many times throughout my childhood, pausing her busy day to tend to the people around her, commemorating their setbacks and their joys.”

French Gates connects her current understanding of friendship to childhood lessons learned from her mother, demonstrating how foundational relationships shape later capacity for connection. French Gates recognizes how her mother’s example taught her to prioritize relationships over productivity, presenting intentional relationship maintenance as both a learned skill and a deliberate choice that requires conscious effort to resist the pull of busyness and competing priorities.