Reinvention on the Playground of Life

A Note to the Reader

What happens when a moment in life quietly asks you to choose again?

This story is an excerpt from a conversation inspired by Kate Butler’s collaborative book, The Impact Effect, where we explored the turning points that shape who we become and who we are still becoming.

Reinvention starts the moment you choose to begin again.

Why It’s Never Too Late to Begin Again

“If someone had told me at age twenty-five that I’d be reinventing my life at sixty-three with an app called The Mindset Playground, I would have laughed and said, ‘What’s an app?’”

I was born in Ontario, Canada, at five-thirty in the morning on a sunny June day in 1962. Growing up in the sixties, life felt simpler then, at least in my little corner of the world. We didn’t have smartphones, streaming, or seatbelts. It was normal to ride in the back of pick-up trucks or perched on the fender of a tractor.

The telephone had a cord, a rotary dial, and was screwed to the wall in the kitchen. Using a payphone costs ten cents. If you lived in the country, you had a party line, which meant waiting your turn to make a call.

At the gas station, an attendant pumped your fuel, checked the oil, and cleaned your windshield with a squeegee. There was no GPS, and directions sounded like Mom instructing Dad to “turn left at the big elm tree.”

Our bicycles had banana seats and tasseled handlebars, and no one wore a helmet. Drinking straws were plastic, and when cut and added to the bicycle spokes, they made a cool sound while the tires rotated.

Everyone was home by suppertime, just before the streetlights came on. Families sat down together at the dinner table and had real face-to-face conversations about the highs and lows of the day. Dishes were done by hand, and then we gathered around a black-and-white TV with rabbit ears, ends wrapped in foil. If the picture went fuzzy, someone stood frozen midpose while the rest of the family yelled, “There, don’t move!”

Kids walked to school swinging a lunchpail and traded baseball cards along the way. At school, there was chalk dust on blackboards, cursive writing, and arithmetic flashcards. Teachers weren’t afraid to raise their voices, and we learned quickly that chewing gum or passing notes came with consequences known as the yardstick or classroom strap across your hands.

I was a talker and became well aware of these consequences, but that didn’t curb my stubborn ways of needing to be heard. My mother always said, “I was talking when I was born.”

But there was also a sweetness to school days like decorating bulletin boards with construction paper, the smell of wax crayons, and the anticipation of “home ec” class. As summer break drew near, you could almost taste the freedom, and when the final bell rang, we were gone.

For the next two months, the park became our meeting place. The swings creaked, the seesaws thumped, and the slide baked so hot in the sun it would sear the backs of your legs.

Falling off the slide taught me a different kind of lesson: gravity is real, and knees don’t bounce.

To me, the playground was more than a patch of sand and metal. It was my kingdom. My favorite throne? The merry-go-round. I’d run with all the energy I could muster up, leap on, and let the spinning take over. Hours passed as I lay back, hair flying, warm breeze on my face, watching the clouds float by. That sense of freedom, the idea that I could be anything, do anything, was imprinted in me long before I understood the word possibility.

 That sense of freedom, the idea that I could be anything, do anything, was imprinted in me long before I understood the word possibility.

Who knew that running in circles and jumping onto a spinning merry-go-round would prepare me for adult life?

My training ground wasn’t limited to the park. At home, I ran a classroom of my own. My students were a loyal lineup of dolls, stuffed animals, and, when he was old enough to sit still, my younger brother, who was eight years behind me. I would carefully arrange everyone in rows, chalk in hand, blackboard perched against a couple of boxes in the family room and teach math lessons with all the seriousness of a seasoned professor.

To me, teaching wasn’t a game; it was my destiny.

Life, however, had other plans. Instead of chalkboards, I found myself in the corridors of government buildings, where I worked for thirty-six years. Not exactly the playground or the classroom I had envisioned, but in hindsight, it was another kind of training ground. The merrygo-round of politics had its own lessons: patience, persistence, and the art of navigating endless circles without losing your balance.

Government work offered stability, structure, and the security of paid sick leave, pensions, and prime vacation picks, but at times it felt like being buried under a mountain of files and deadlines. My days were filled with endless memos, staff meetings, and procedures that seemed to move at the pace of molasses. There were moments when I wondered if this was all life had in store for me. And yet, those years weren’t wasted: they were building a resilience I would draw on later.

Still, I refused to let the job define me completely. Somewhere deep inside, that little girl who loved to teach was still alive. While my colleagues went home to Netflix (or in those days, VHS tapes), I headed to night school. I studied business and marketing, exhausted yet exhilarated. Each exam and essay felt like a step toward reclaiming the part of me that had always wanted more.

I didn’t stop there. I launched a marketing business on the side, dipping my toes into entrepreneurship. Terrifying and thrilling, it taught me lessons no government manual could: how to trust my instincts, connect with people, and create something from scratch.

...it taught me lessons no government manual could: how to trust my instincts, connect with people, and create something from scratch.

Owning my marketing business would prepare me for formatting business plans and Board reports that were annual Ministry requirements at my government job.

After four years of sleepless nights, I earned my marketing diploma. The perfectionist in me made me a teacher’s dream student. I never missed a class, always showed up on time, and filled notebooks with detailed notes. Secretly, I often imagined myself standing at the front of the room, giving the lecture.

That dream wasn’t far off. My business professor recommended me to the director of a continuing education program, and soon I was hired to teach. Walking into a classroom full of adults eager to learn felt like destiny tapping me on the shoulder, whispering, “See? You were meant to teach.” Those classes became some of the most fulfilling work I’d ever done. I wasn’t just marking papers, I was helping people reinvent their lives, just as I had reinvented mine.

Some students were terrified of starting over, some were juggling kids and jobs, and some just wanted a second chance. Watching their eyes light up with understanding reminded me why I had loved teaching my dolls and brother all those years ago.

Looking back now, I realize every step was part of the grand design. The government’s years gave me resilience. Going back to college gave me courage, and building my own business gave me the creativity I was hoping for. Teaching adults reminded me that impact is measured by the lives you touch along the way.

As retirement drew closer, the government introduced us to the concept of “Your Best 5,” the five highest-earning years used to calculate pensions. For decades, that was the yardstick of stability and success. That number, they said, would determine our financial future.

Financial strategists could help you budget, invest, and forecast your after-work years, but no one handed you a step-by-step guide for the new mindset of retirement. No one prepared you for the quiet after the farewell cake, the Now what? that sneaks in, the emptiness that asks for a new sense of purpose.

So, I made my own Best 5 plan: I picked my official retirement date, downloaded a countdown app on my phone, changed all my passwords to that date, planned my retirement party, and even sold my house to move into a condo.

After changing my passwords, I never forgot them, or got locked out after five tries!

As the clock ticked down, the message was drilled into us: “Your Best 5” ruled the numbers. But somewhere along the way, I realized something profound: Your Best 5 wasn’t just about numbers. It was about meaning.

Instead of asking, “What were my best 5 earning years?” I began asking, “What are my best 5 things today?” The best 5 things I’m grateful for. The best 5 people who lift me up. The best 5 dreams I’m still chasing. The 5 five choices I can make right now. The best 5 ways I can create impact.

That shift changed everything. Suddenly, retirement wasn’t an ending; it was a new game, another spin on the merry-go-round of life.

In May of 2017, I walked out of my government office for the last time, carrying a banker’s box filled with my personal trinkets. Almost immediately, I was invited to teach first-year business students at college. It felt like the perfect blend of dream and experience, decades of career knowledge mixed with my lifelong passion for teaching. Standing at the front of that classroom, I could hear the echo of my childhood self saying, “This is where you belong.”

Two years into my retirement career, I could feel the classroom shifting. Textbook talk that used to land with a nod started drifting past glazed eyes. Attendance slipped, and the glow of cell phones spread through the rows like tiny campfires. I wasn’t reaching them; their minds were somewhere else while I was at the front, dutifully paging through chapters. I knew I needed something more than “turn to page 146.” Something had to change.

At a seminar in Chicago called One Day to Greatness, I met Jack Canfield, co-creator of Chicken Soup for the Soul and The Success Principles™. His training lit a spark in me. I remember thinking: Why doesn’t everyone know this stuff?

It quickly became my mission to teach Jack’s work, and I became a certified trainer in the Success Principles™. I began teaching not just business, but mindset and personal development to my students. I had found the tools, stories, and strategies that would grab their attention again and light them up from the inside out.

Finally, I felt like I had landed in my true calling: helping people step into their full potential. I had gone from teaching dolls to government files to adult students, and now I was teaching people how to transform their lives.

For a while, I was satisfied. I was comfortable, fulfilled, and convinced I had found my retirement career. Then, in December 2024, the teaching role I loved was gone. Just like that, the merry-go-round stopped. The silence that followed was deafening. I asked myself the same question I had faced before: Now what?

That’s when my inner work became my lifeline. Years of journaling, coaching, and practicing the Success Principles™ reminded me that setbacks aren’t endings; they’re invitations. I could either let the loss define me, or I could pivot and begin again. And so, I did what I’ve always done: I once again reinvented. I created The Mindset Playground Adventure: The Clarity Keys Method, a twelve-step program designed to turn “What’s next?” into a roadmap for reinvention. The Clarity Keys Method is like handing someone a map when they’ve been wandering in circles. It’s built around twelve “Clarity Keys,” each one unlocking a different part of your journey.

Some keys help you clear out the clutter of old beliefs, unfinished business, or the fear of starting again. Others help you design what’s next, your vision, your goals, and the practical steps to make them real.

And woven through it all is a sense of play: simple exercises, questions, and practices that make the process engaging instead of overwhelming. It isn’t about fixing what’s broken, it’s about discovering what’s possible. The Clarity Keys Method doesn’t give you all the answers. It gives you the confidence and courage to find your own. Because people need tools they can carry with them, I built it into an app. A digital playground, complete with a community of likeminded people, ready to spin into their own next chapters.

That is the essence of The Impact Effect. It’s not about the titles you held, the salary you earned, or the position you lost. It’s about how you pivot, play, and keep spinning forward, even when the ride changes.

My story isn’t extraordinary because I worked in government for thirty-six years. It’s extraordinary because I chose to reinvent again and again. I chose to climb back on and to turn my merry-go-round into a playground for others.

So, here’s my invitation to you: stop counting your years in dollars or titles. Start living them in Your Best 5s. Your best 5 dreams. Your best 5 choices. Your best 5 moments of joy. Because in the end, those are the ripples that create an Impact Effect.

And remember, life will always spin you around. You might as well throw your arms up, laugh, and enjoy the ride.

Source Note:

This article is an excerpt from Kate Butler’s Amazon #1 Best-Selling book, “The Impact Effect” shared with permission and inspired by a recent interview on The Mindset Playground.

The Impact Effect brings together 20 remarkable authors who each share their powerful, personal journeys of growth, resilience, and transformation.

Within these pages, you will find stories of individuals who faced challenges, embraced change, and discovered the strength to create meaningful impact in their lives and communities.

Each chapter shines a light on what becomes possible when we step into our truth and share our experiences with authenticity and courage.

If this story resonated, you are invited to explore the full conversation and discover more reflections on reinvention, courage, and possibility

LouAnne Hunt — Creater

Meet the expert:

LouAnne Hunt is a #1 Amazon best-selling author, Certified Jack Canfield Success Principles™ Trainer, and award-winning entrepreneur focused on life-stage reinvention. With firsthand experience navigating major career and identity transitions after a 36-year government career, she developed The Clarity Keys™ method to help others move forward without fear or “too late” thinking. As host of The Mindset Playground Podcast, LouAnne combines insight, humour, and practical wisdom to help readers and listeners confidently step into what’s next.

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