Rethinking “retirement”
As I prepared to leave law firm life after 25 years, I became increasingly careful about the word retirement. I think it carries a lot of baggage from earlier generations. I don’t see this next chapter as slowing down. If anything, I expect to be just as engaged—only with a greater sense of purpose and, I hope, investing my time more in alignment with that.
An unexpected spark
For most of my adult life, my identity was tied to my work. I practiced corporate law in Asia and was a market leader in my practice area. Language—primarily English but sometimes also Chinese and to a lesser extent Japanese—was always central to my work. I’d written poetry in college but gave it up once I became busy with other things. Also, as a young person, I didn’t feel that I had enough to say through poetry. So life moved on.
That changed in 2019 during the civil unrest in Hong Kong, where I lived for 18 years. Things were happening around me that I had never experienced before. Writing became a way to stay calm and make sense of the world amid uncertainty. Around the same time, I began a meditation practice. Poetry followed—not as a plan, but as a natural response.
From the start of the pandemic, my sense of isolation deepened. Hong Kong imposed strict quarantines for inbound travelers, so I began traveling much less frequently. With family far away, I spent long stretches alone in Hong Kong. To stay engaged, I took online courses, including ModPo, a modern poetry class offered through the University of Pennsylvania. What surprised me the most was the sense of community it created. I’m still connected to people from that group today, and the professor who teaches the course introduced me to an editor who helped me grow as a writer.
Finding new perspective
I never set out to publish a book. Over the course of six years, I wrote close to 60 poems, many of which explore the transitions and uncertainties of midlife. I’ve always lived on islands—Singapore, Hong Kong, Japan, Manhattan and Taiwan—and leaving an island would mark the end of one phase of life and the start of the next. That feeling of following my own archipelago found its way onto the page and ultimately came together as a book.
Meditation also rewired my brain so that I can better respond to uncertainty. Legal training rewards clarity, structure, and problem-solving. Those skills are still with me. But meditation activated synapses that help me make less obvious connections that may lack the linearity that traditional legal thinking demands but are still of great practical value. Poetry also thrives in this space. Reading poetry became as important as writing it, and inspiration came from many sources: Buddhism, other poets, the protests in Hong Kong, questions about money and power, and the experience of living between cultures.
Bringing the work forward
Only later did I realize that this creative thread would shape my next chapter. I’ll continue consulting with a small number of clients on business-related matters. At the same time, my first book of poetry is now available for pre-order, and I’m working with a publicist to promote it through readings and podcasts. I’m also co-translating an illustrated collection of Tang and Song dynasty poems that we’re aiming to publish in 2027.
In parallel, I’m launching a small press—Fifth Stanza Press—focused on publishing first and second books of poetry by writers in midlife or later. We expect to publish our first books in early 2027. Many people don’t begin writing until later in life because something they need to say emerges from experience. I want to help create space for those voices.
None of this feels like a sudden reinvention. It feels more like a renewal and a return.
Building an intentional next chapter
As I look ahead, I’m being more deliberate about how I live. After decades in Asia, I’m putting down roots in Northern California. I want to exercise and play pickleball more regularly and get involved in my community. I also want my work, whether consulting, writing, translation or publishing, to feel aligned with my life purpose rather than reactive.
What I’ve learned is that moving on after success in a demanding career isn’t easy. When thoughts about new life directions keep resurfacing, pay attention to them. If you can, quietly nurture those interests while you’re still working. If you can’t, don’t worry—start when you can.
Most of all, resist the urge to fill time simply to avoid the void. Writing and meditation have helped me build comfort with uncertainty—what the poet John Keats called negative capability: the capacity to accept and even thrive in uncertainty by not grasping for closure. For me, this next season isn’t about stepping away. It’s about stepping into a more intentional relationship with how I spend my days, my energy, and my attention. And that has made all the difference.
To learn more about John’s next season, visit johnfadely.com and fifthstanzapress.com.