Category: Learning

I’ve spent my 4th of July in bed and sometimes in the bathroom, puking. Woke up with vertigo, which I get occasionally, and it sucks.

Laying there, dozing but mostly dizzy and nauseous not tired, I’ve had time to think about lots of things. For some reason, the soccer team stranded in the flooded Thailand cave weighs heavily on my mind. It’s going to be tough to get those boys out. Dale and I used to scuba dive a lot, and we learned even experienced cave divers die all the time.

People have come from all over the world to help. I was thinking it doesn’t matter where we land on the political spectrum, we want those kids and their coach to live and be reunited with their families. Is it any different when it comes to immigrant families that have been separated? Even those critical of our immigration policies surely don’t want children and their families to suffer.

In my haze, that led me to think about how we’ve been interacting with each other lately. Liberals are to blame. Trump is to blame. Conservatives are to blame. The media is to blame. But under all those labels are people, some with evil intent, but mostly thoughtful people trying to make their way through the world as best they can.

I’m a progressive who supports liberal policies and a robust free press, and I have been in a funk since the election. And I stopped listening to the other side because I was so angry they elected this man to our highest office.

To me, it feels like we’re losing our grip on democracy, and the darkness is settling in. However, assuming the Russians had something to do with it actually made me soften up … divisiveness by design. The majority of Americans didn’t choose what we have now, but I understand all Americans want something better for themselves and for their children. What is it? How can we work together to achieve it? I’m listening again.

Whether it’s kids in a cave or babies at the border, I believe people of all ideologies have the power to focus not on our differences but on what we can do together for the greater good of humanity. Maybe it’s corny and naive, but on this 4th of July, I’m choosing light, kindness and hope.

All of which may save those boys and possibly the rest of us.

Have you thought about how you’re going to spend your time in retirement?

Since I last wrote about the role of work in retirement, I’ve been cooking, sleeping, walking, reading, playing golf and cleaning the house. I’ve also been writing and gearing up to establish my business as a communications consultant. I’m busy and sometimes wonder if I am setting myself up for the same sort of drudgery I escaped when I retired.

Afraid to fail? Afraid to succeed? What if this isn’t my passion? My life is good, and I don’t want to mess it up by taking on too much. Or taking on boring. For many of us, finding a balance between work and play will be the challenge of our older years.

Retirement is freedom, and I love having more time to pursue many interests. However, my interests include some sort of work. Paid? Maybe. Volunteer? Maybe. Work redefined. I don’t want to go back to my pre-retirement life, no regrets there, but I’m not wired to take it easy, either.

As I explained this angst to my long-suffering husband, he said, “You can’t be rudderless.” And once again, he nailed it. I need to feel a sense of purpose. Jobs gave me purpose but not always passion. Writing gives me a sense of purpose, sometimes even passion, and part of me says that should be enough. But the other part of me wants to see what else I can do. What else?

But wait. Then there’s the voice in my head that says, why can’t I be rudderless? More is not better. Would learning to handle life without a rudder be a worthy pursuit?

I think of my husband, who is brilliant and knows a lot about a lot. His friends call him Mr. Wizard. I encouraged him to teach, which he readily dismissed. I said you have so much knowledge, wouldn’t you like to share it? He said, no, knowing it is enough. I think knowledge for knowledge’s sake is his rudder.

Wow. I often wish I could be more like him. I know a little about next to nothing, and I can’t wait to spill my beans. But sometimes when I see stupid or mean stuff in the news or on social media, I want to quit writing and go live in a cave. Dale doesn’t do social media at all. Still, we both know isolation does not portend a long and healthy life. He and I just have to push ourselves in different directions.

For me, aging well is not only about being physically active but also about engaging in intellectual pursuits, connecting with people and contributing in a meaningful way. Retirement could be 30 years or longer, and we need hopes and dreams that will carry us through to the last breath.

All that to say I’m still not sure what this 30-year gig is going to look like, but I’m choosing purpose, and I’m choosing to stay visible. Whether you are retired, just starting out or somewhere in the middle, most of us don’t find an all-encompassing passion, but purpose is attainable.

Find your rudder.

As a kid, I loved growing up in California, but I hit escape velocity at 18 and never looked back. I had big dreams that over the years became small dreams, and one of them was to someday return.

I had pretty much given up on California when I got an interesting opportunity. I was working for a company in Texas, and there was a job that could be in Denver or in the San Francisco Bay Area. I wanted Denver, despite my dream, because I am practical and didn’t want to face the cost of living.

After the interview, they asked me if California was a deal breaker, and I said no even though it was because I knew they would never pay me enough money to live there.

The offer came for California. I cried and cried. Why me, why now? I’m too old to make this work. I turned it down, and they came back with more money. I turned it down again, and they came back with more money. It was still not enough to make it a slam dunk, but it was enough to make me think.

It was Labor Day weekend, and my husband and I were doing the math. Can we make this work? Once we accepted we would buy a house we could never pay off in our lifetime, it became possible. We said let’s do it.

We fell back in love with California and ultimately retired here. We found ourselves loving the farmer’s markets, wineries, warm days and cool nights. We brought our little teardrop trailer with us from Texas. We called it the toaster – and started to enjoy the local beauty on weekend camping trips.

Aside from the astronomical mortgage and a ridiculous commute, it felt like this was where we were supposed to be.

The summer before I retired and moved to a more affordable part of the state, we went camping at Jalama Beach in Santa Barbara County. We had a primo spot facing the ocean. We toasted at happy hour and said look at us, we have arrived! Camping on the beach in California.

The next day we sat on the beach watching the surfers, and an overwhelming sense of sadness washed over me. I’m from Southern California, not far from the beach. How come I never learned to surf? I guess because our family struggled to fulfill life’s basic needs, and we didn’t do extra things. My sister and I were encouraged to graduate from high school and not get pregnant.

As we get older, it’s easy to get caught up in what ifs and missed opportunities. We owe it to ourselves to do the hard work and move on. So, I turned my thoughts to surfing. About what it would be like to face down the ocean. To just step in there and paddle out to sea with little more than a board and courage. To bob around and then pick a wave and hope it’s the right one. To ride it until you fall and then get back up and try again.

And as the glorious California sun dropped down into the edge of the ocean, I realized I’ve been surfing all my life.

I was in the Army back in the 70s and to this day, I sometimes have a dream where I’m back in, but I don’t have the right uniform. I’m trying to get to the clothing sales store before somebody catches me, but I don’t know where it is. I’m walking around, knowing I’m about to be caught and in big trouble. Mercifully, I wake up.

Sounds kind of like college dreams, right? It’s the big test, but you forgot to study. Or you didn’t graduate after all. I suspect everyone has a version of these dreams, which I assume are related to stress and/or anxiety.

My dreams are vivid, and I remember most of them. When I tell my husband about them, the first question he asks is if I crossed state lines. The answer is usually yes, many times.

So, I’ve had a few retirement dreams. Last night I dreamed my boss asked me at the last minute to sit in for her at the big Monday staff meeting. Sadly, I had worn slippers to work. I had time to go home and get appropriate shoes, but I was also invited to participate in a ceremony, where I would be honored for something that was not revealed in the dream.

But I wanted to go, so I skipped the shoe exchange and planned to attend the ceremony – in my slippers. I forgot to tell the administrative assistant who runs the meetings that I wouldn’t be there. I couldn’t find the ceremony, and the staff meeting was already over by the time I gave up. I called the admin and apologized for being a no-show.

She starts telling me how much trouble I’m in, the big guy is really mad, but in my dream, I’m thinking, wait! I’m retired! This isn’t really happening. Wake up! They can’t do anything to me. And then mercifully, I wake up.

So, wow. I suspect for many of us, it will take years to completely unwind from the pressures of the workplace. As I think about it, the dreams are similar to a few unpleasant dreams I had when I was working. Doing something stupid and then coping with the fear of getting in trouble.

Um, wait, I think that actually happened … the stupid and the trouble. However, I’ve been pretty lucky none of my mistakes were deal breakers. Although one time in the Army it came close. I had a pattern of saying whatever was on my mind. I asked the lieutenant why I never got any of the cushy assignments, and he said, Pekar, it’s got something to do with what’s between your nose and your chin.

I did learn to control my stream of consciousness ramblings, and that served me well in corporate life. I’m grateful I made it to the finish line and even more grateful I can now wake up and say, wait! This isn’t real. I’m retired.

Here we are older and maybe retired or close to it, so I guess we must be super-accomplished. Go us. But do you ever lay there in bed at night and think you’re anything but? Like why haven’t you figured it all out by now?

Maybe that’s a good thing.

It took a lifetime to learn what we’ve learned, and I wanted to hang onto that expertise like a badge of honor to give me comfort and stature at a time when I was leaving all that behind. Plus, I’m still the driven person I’ve always been – now I’m driven to succeed at something else. Even if it’s just dinner.

As I close in on the fifth month of my retirement reinvention, I realize the journey ahead will be more fulfilling if I go back to thinking of myself as a beginner.

In Zen Buddhism, it’s called “beginner’s mind.” Zen Habits writer Leo Babauta says this:

“What is beginner’s mind? It’s dropping our expectations and preconceived ideas about something, and seeing things with an open mind, fresh eyes, just like a beginner. If you’ve ever learned something new, you can remember what that’s like: you’re probably confused, because you don’t know how to do whatever you’re learning, but you’re also looking at everything as if it’s brand new, perhaps with curiosity and wonder. That’s beginner’s mind.”

Babauta says when you practice beginner’s mind, your experiences aren’t clouded by preconceptions and fantasies about the way you thought it should be. You can’t be disappointed or frustrated by the experience, because there’s no fantasy or preconception to compare it to.

While it seems anyone at any age can benefit from beginner’s mind – I think it’s a rather nice detour for those of us at the crossroads of work and retirement. Of course, we want to leverage our expertise as we pursue our post-career goals, but it’s also a great time to practice whatever we are passionate about for the sake of doing it not for any expected outcome.

It feels pretty good to step back and say, “Well, I’m just getting started.”