Last post

It didn't take a year to define normal--much to my surprise and those who know me well. The last 4 months (has it only been 4 months?!) since retirement have been about shedding what doesn't fit and accepting what does.

These days dressing up consists of wearing a bra and putting on my fall-back silver hoop earrings before I leave the house. I have one criteria for the few new clothes I've purchased: comfortable.

I am seriously considering not renewing my ICF coaching accreditation that is due next month. That identity was so past life. I had an article that I wrote early this summer published in a coaching magazine last month. I didn't even read it when it arrived in the mail, nor was I interested in the other articles in the magazine. Not being defined by my accomplishments is probably the biggest "letting go" and the most surprising. Accomplishments have been replaced by creativity and not the by-product of creativity, the act of. I recently painted three pictures starting with an orange background and seeing how different I could make them in mood. I painted one without my glasses so I could concentrate on shapes rather than detail. It is play! I am doing some work still based on commitments I made pre-retirement. I find that they are, for the most part, intrusions in my day. I rarely fire up the computer. My I-Pad is another story since I use it for games, music and connecting with friends.

There is no sense of urgency. If I don't get to it today or feel like doing it today, there is tomorrow. I've freed myself of schedules and almost let go of to-do lists. These days the to-do lists function to remind myself of important things like dentist appointments rather than an endless list of things to give me an illusion of productivity. Productivity is usually defined now by producing a good meal. This weekend's milestone was finding a great, easy biscuit recipe. I had a moment of panic last nite thinking about how close we are to Christmas and what I wanted to do. I started my to-do list, but switched gears and used it to determine what I could eliminate. Decided I didn't need to make gifts and will probably send New Year's cards when I can get back from holiday travels.

One goal for retirement was to incorporate an exercise routine. I've accepted that it may not happen. I hated PE and sports. What made me think I would suddenly embrace the gym? Instead, I am just naturally more active. No long days in front of the computer or on the phone. I probably won't loose 30 pounds either. I like to eat and drink and I am comfortable in my body. I sleep well. Go to bed later and get up when my body is ready. I love the first thing in the morning when the house is quiet and I can savor my cup of tea and decide what I'd like to do that day. There's no have-tos or shoulds.

One of the greatest blessings has been around my relationships. Some I thought were important have fallen away and I am really okay with that. The others are even more special now. I am listening better, caring about what is happening in the day-to-day for those I love and savoring every conversation. Yes, I think I've finally got this doing/being balance right. As I look ahead there really isn't much I want to DO, but there are lots of people I want time to just BE with.

Life is good!

Interesting wrinkle

We just took our first trip since I retired. The details are somewhat of a tangent. We went to Phoenix for our granddaughter's 14th birthday. Taylor was born with Down Syndrome, developed autism, juvenile diabetes and is blind as a result of her uncontrolled glaucoma. She is housebound and requires 24/7 care as she is also non-verbal, not potty-trained and is unable to feed herself. With the help of a local charity we were able to raise all but $7,000 to build a backyard pool, which will be used for therapy, family time and an opportunity for Taylor to have fresh air and exercise. Most of our visit there was spent preparing for a pool party to thank local contributors.

I came back with the persistent expectation of returning to work. Not sure what that was about--have I been "on vacation" psychologically and the end of a trip signaled "back to work"? Is it the start of the school year, which always meant that fun and games were over? Is it that I am needing to launch the survey for my book and have some real tasks to do? Or was it something about seeing my son and his wife's everyday reality compared to the pure leisure I've been experiencing? Not sure, but something definitely shifted and the reality of being retired is sinking in a little deeper and I am feeling a need for the first time to set some kind of routine.

The focus of this blog is on the process of defining normal in retirement. I thought I had it nailed only to discover that I still have some defining to do. What I am discovering, which will also help me with my writing or coaching of retirees, is that this is truly a life stage based on improvisation. The first for me. The shift has me thinking again about how what I am learning might help others while the last two months has truly been a mental pause and needed R & R.

Irritated

Ever wake up in a foul mood and then reinforce it thinking about everything that isn't going smoothly? I'm irritated at myself because:

• I am spending way too much time each day playing Words With Friends; the "hit" I get when there are plays waiting for me is similar to the hit I got opening email each morning when I was working
• I haven't exercised like I promised myself and now I am running out of good weather here to be able to do it outdoors; I can't for the life of me (interesting choice of words) find the motivation

And I am just plain irritated because:

• I am having to chase a couple coaching schools for my survey and it feels too much like work
• I am having to learn the technology behind SurveyGizmo and it scares me since 1) I am paying to use it and 2) I get one shot at the survey

Wish I hadn't made the commitment for the survey and book at this point as I am finding I still need to just screw around and do whatever I feel like. I underestimated my need to rest and just relax with no goal. Who would have ever guessed that what I really needed was to be unproductive? (Probably everyone but me!)

books

I continue to purge, clean and organize so I tackled my office bookshelf yesterday. I donated 179 books to our local library and tossed a 3 foot high stack of binders and conference handouts. It is interesting to notice what I kept:

• several core coaching books that I think I may need as reference for my book
• 3 psychology books
• a single copy of the book for which I wrote a chapter in 1996; donated the extra copies that will soon end up as landfill, but I couldn't bear to toss them
• two Tarot books and two decks of Tarot cards
• an exercise and diet book (out of a weird sense of obligation)
• an entire shelf of books focused on using narrative and/or dialogue to develop and/or heal
• travel books for Maine and the west coast
• two assessment binders: Personal Directions and CCL's suite of 360s
• 3 books on publishing a book
• 2 genealogy books
• dictionaries including a medical dictionary from my pre-med days. a thesaurus, Merck manual
• 2 fiction books that I've yet to read!
• field guides for identifying birds
• a shelf dedicated to "inspiration"--some poetry, 2 Julia Cameron books, two Patti Digh books, one little book entitled What I Learned From Children's Books
• a few gardening books mostly for reference photos for art; I don't weed!
• jewelry and art books
• a shelf of journals--some empty and waiting, others with sporadic entries whose content would embarrass my kids
• 9 books on aging
• 7 books on what I'd label as human development
• only 6 books on retirement (there used to be 3 shelves!)
• yearbooks

Shel said, "I can't believe you are giving so many books away. They contain everything you've learned over your career." He's wrong. I can give them away now because I realize that they only served as a catalyst for my own thinking. What I learned came from my experiences, insights and reflections. It will be in my brain as long as there is room.

The freed up spaces on the shelves now house family pictures and art and there's SPACE for whatever comes.

A sign

I told everyone I knew when I retired that when the next big thing emerged, I would know it. It's been weeks. I followed a semi yesterday and saw a sign that said, "Earn your commercial trucking license in 30 days." Pretty sure that isn't it!

Seriously, what if? What if nothing big comes? I'm beginning to think that "big" might look very different than it has in the past. Interesting.

Time flies

Andy Rooney once quipped, "life is like a roll of toilet paper; the closer you get to the end, the faster it goes!" How can my days, weeks go by so fast? I thought time went by quickly when I was working since every day was scheduled to the max and I was exhausted at the end of each day. Time is actually going faster for me now. Once I opened the door to "what would you like to do today", there are not enough hours.

Did I mention liking this? :)

It's Tuesday

Took a nice walk this morning. Came home and cooked bacon and from-scratch blueberry pancakes using fresh berries from our Farmer's Market. Had a leisurely conversation with Shel. Played a couple moves on Words With Friends. Getting ready to hit Michael's and an antique store for project supplies. Tonight we are meeting friends for Taco Tuesday at our favorite country dive. It's just Tuesday--an ordinary Tuesday--people and I am not on vacation! Amazing, this new life!

Multiple-choice question

I was talking with our oldest son last nite and he asked how I was adjusting to retirement. He asked, "are you depressed, sad, lost, bored, wondering what to do with yourself?"

The answer to all the above is, "NO"! Haven't had even a fleeting moment of any of the above. Yep, surprised me too!

I get it

It used to drive me nuts when retired people would say to me, "I don't know how I got anything done when I was working. I am so busy now!" I swore I would never say that. I pictured an elderly friend of mine from my small hometown who used to plan a whole day around paying the utility bill as he would write the check and walk it down to the utility company and chat with the clerks.

Two weeks into this retirement thing and I get it! I am busier in a different kind of way because:

• the pace is "slower" (aka normal)
• there are no deadlines except those I impose, so projects can evolve and take interesting turns
• my focus has broadened so I see more things that need to get done and more possibilities for creative projects

Yep, I am "busier" now with things that mean something to me! I think I like this!

New skill

Yesterday I mastered uni-tasking :)

Today

After years of going to school and years of parenting and years of work, I OWN this day. It is mine and it feels AWESOME!

Life as I know it

Dream: I would wake up the first day of retirement full of physical and creative energy, bounce out of bed and walk for 30 minutes, organize some files, have two great client calls and do whatever people do in their free time. I'd fix a gourmet dinner for Shel and I and eat on the deck enjoying a stimulating conversation.

Reality: I woke up dizzy from a sinus infection, didn't walk, got sucked into the new computer, got a virus notification an hour into trying to figure out the new system, which Shel then had to undo. Had two difficult client calls and questioned why I didn't just take the summer off. Resented not having free time and a million other things I chose to grouse about. Made bruschetta for dinner, which I ate alone while Shel wrestled with a project he needed to get done. Went to bed early.

Moral of the story: today is a new day.

Who knew?

Today is officially my first day of retirement. I retired on June 29 but had a house full of kids and grandkids until Saturday. Here's what I am noticing so far:

• sweeping the floor can be meditative
• a book can be read over a period of days, not just in how long it takes to fly from point A to point B
• having an open schedule can feel a bit like a free fall when you've been scheduled back to back for years
• there are no deadlines for anything (except may be taxes)

Last lecture

Here are some things I learned over time in my career. I share them now with hopes that you don't have to learn them the hard way.

Lesson One: That some battles aren’t worth fighting no matter how right you are. I bloodied my nose many times before I realized that getting my way didn’t matter as much as the relationships involved, and if I had the right relationships, the right things got done. Later I actually learned that there is no right way—just my way and your way. At least 50 % of our work-related drama starts with the word ‘they’, as in “they don’t get it!”

Lesson Two: That soft skills are really the hardest to teach. I’m proud of the fact that there is some awareness now that the important skills can’t be taught in a “lunch and learn” or by using a leader’s guide, but need to be coached over time. Stay the course on this one, please!

Lesson Three: That it is smarter to go where the energy is than to try to change the world. This one came to me slowly and in waves. I’d get it and then get all puffed up again about a great idea that I knew would save the firm and then wonder why I had a bruised forehead. Learn to recognize real buy-in, not lip-service, or what I coined “the executive nod”. Realize that in a partnership you can’t get anything big done without a committed sponsor. Find your champions and lock arms. And, remember that in this firm, leaders come and go. Deliberately build a broad sponsor base for what you value.

Lesson Four: That everyone is hungry to be seen and heard and just as afraid as you are to be vulnerable. Oh, the conversations I’ve been privy to! When I taught coaching at EY, I’d hear APT professionals say, “But I can’t have that kind of conversation with a leader.” News flash: the leaders are the hungriest to have those conversations, but just like you, they need to feel safe. Be safe.

Lesson Five: That true leadership vision is rare and courage even rarer, but if you find a leader with both, he/she will have vocal critics and could use a friend. Given the success of the firm, I was amazed at what seemed to me to be the short-term focus of many of our leaders and their propensity to herd mentality. I suspect that it stems from their operating in a fiscal world that is measured in quarters and that as accountants they are trained to manage risk. However, I believe that true leaders stand on a foundation of operational excellence, but see what is possible and motivate others to do what hasn’t been done before. Those leaders will feel scared and alone in their boldest moments. Cheer them on!

Lesson Six: That change often provides the greatest opportunities. I learned early in life not to be afraid of change, but to trust that I would land on my feet. I had the honor of wearing seven different hats in my 13 years at EY—sometimes more than one at a time—and many of those hats were given to me because I recognized a need and boldly said, “I can do that”. Fortunately, in most cases, I actually figured out how to do it once I got the hat! I get tired of APT members asking me about career paths. To me, defined career paths are boring. Well-worn paths soon become ruts. Listen to what the firm needs and look for the intersection of those needs with your interests and talents. Then tell somebody who cares. They are out there and waiting for you to raise your hand.

Lesson Seven: That sometimes all we do is plant seeds. The outcome of our work is so intangible. We don’t make widgets. We don’t even close the books on a quarter. We help people deal with challenges. I’ve had conversations that I didn’t think amounted to anything, only to have someone tell me years later, “Remember when you told me X? It changed my life”! Not only do I not remember having said that, unfortunately, sometimes I don’t even recognize the person!

I recently had a conversation with a retired EY leader that underlined for me how hard we are on ourselves if we don’t see immediate results to complex issues. So much so that we sometimes fail to appreciate how important the seeds are that we’ve planted. I was trying to tell her how many people have commented to me that she changed the direction of their careers and all she could say was that she was so glad to not be beating her head against the wall anymore on the initiative she tried to push.

We do our best every day and can only hope that it makes an impact. If you want something more tangible, take up knitting.

Lesson Eight: That perseverance is the number one quality for your success. I hold the firm’s record for the number of white papers written on a single topic. At one point I gave up using a blank document and started cutting and pasting from things I’d written years before. No one noticed.  Timing is everything. The America’s Executive Coaching Team is an overnight success—only 13 years in the making!

Lesson Nine: That if you lead from your ego, or conversely, need external validation, you should find another job. Two sides of the coin are expressed here. I will never be comfortable with people who lead from their ego, especially in roles like ours. (And be especially cautious of people who repeatedly tell you that they don’t lead from their ego!) I’ve been known to say, “Get over yourself” or “It’s not about you” to myself and to many new coaches.

The biggest struggle for me, though, was the other side of the coin—the need for validation. I’m a recognition whore. I love being praised and like it even more in public. What I’ve learned, though, is that excellence is only the price of admission at EY and that like the husband who told his wife when she asked why he didn’t tell her he loved her—“I told you once. I’ll let you know if it changes”—praise is a scarce commodity at EY. Don’t go to a dry well looking for water. If you need validation, surround yourself with people who know how to show appreciation. And be one of those people yourself.

And, finally…

Lesson Ten: That the average consultant—PC, DC, PL, COE leader—has a shelf-life of about seven years unless you are a voracious learner. Hopefully, you came into your job because of a level of expertise. However, if you aren’t constantly building that expertise, at the end of 7 years you have one year of experience 7 times instead of 7 years experience that deepens your foundational knowledge. The world changes fast and you have to change, not to keep up, but to keep out in front. It’s great if you have the budget to attend a conference a year, but if you don’t, that’s no excuse for not learning. There’s a wealth of information available online, in books, free or cheap telecourses and as a by-product of conversations with your really smart colleagues. I read a great quote about aging that relates to what I’m talking about here: “aging is inevitable; it starts when you are born; growing old is optional”.  Don’t stagnate; keep learning.

The final message I’d like to leave you with today is that others may continue to question your value, but you can’t afford to. You have great work to do and you don’t need permission or a project plan to do it. All you need is to care about this firm, its leaders, its people and each other and what needs to happen, will. I came into the firm wanting to make a difference and hoping to influence the direction we took. I’m not sure how much positive change I created, but I know how much I changed. Each of you in your own way influenced and changed me. I will always be grateful.

So, I will close with the immortal words of Kung Fu Panda—“Honestly, I didn’t think I’d make it this far!”

Thank you.

Last day at EY

It's been a very long time since I posted on this blog--mostly because I have been developing my new website/blog: www.coach-craft.com. I've also been wrapping things up at EY. I transferred files I wanted to keep to a flashdrive. What a trip down memory lane. As I scanned each doc deciding what was worth keeping, it was like looking at old photos and recalling the past. Lots of hard work and, for the most part, good stuff. That reflection precipitated a real low until my youngest son (bless his heart) reminded me that my capacity to generate good work won't stop with EY. It belongs to me and is portable! Can't believe that was new insight.

I really let go of the pace, the work, the deadlines, etc over the month of May, which was a good gradual transition. On June 8th I delivered my "last lecture" to a group of Lead DCs and coaches. I will post it separately. On June 13th I had the party of all parties in Chicago. I could not even have fantasized such an event. It was perfect. Everyone celebrated. It will always remain a special life memory. Yesterday, I did a quick good-bye on a DC Network call and my voice broke just saying the word "good-bye". People have been so incredibly sensitive to how hard this transition is for me and have given me so many chances for closure.

So, today is it. I. fortunately, have my youngest son, his wife and two kids ages 7 and 2 here with all their big energy. They will carry me like a huge wave over the finish line. I'm sad, happy, tired, excited, scared and grateful all wrapped into one. I thought I would end this blog today, but today is just an event on the transition continuum. I will continue to blog about what surprises and delights me in the transition hoping that readers will benefit.

no pressure

It's been awhile since I blogged--mostly due to computer issues. I'm in the home stretch with less than a month left of work. I stopped setting the alarm. I wake up naturally to the birds and sunshine around 5 AM. There's a smattering of appointments on my calendar and one big project to finish. The pace is relaxed and I look forward to my calls as a chance to connect with people I care about and an opportunity to contribute. I wonder if it was always possible to approach work with this mindframe?

I had a session recently with a retiring partner and we were discussing life after EY and got into defining core values. Mine is definitely "contribution". The trick in retirement is to figure out how to express your core values in a new context. I can still contribute professionally via my writing (book, articles, blog), my coaching supervision (have 3 contracts already), occasional work with EY and some consulting with companies wanting to start a coaching practice. But the biggest shift--and I suspect the most satisfying--will be in how I contribute in my personal life. I'm really looking forward to more time with family and friends, focusing on my own health and fitness, my art and jewelry, cooking, whole days of reading, travel, genealogy research, gardening...and even housecleaning!

Life is good.

the voices

Followers of this blog are going to think I had a psychotic break! The message I'm getting lately is "take your time." I have several opportunities brewing for work post-retirement but I am not committing to anything. Several months ago the thoughts of having an open calendar really made me anxious. Now it feels like fresh air. I trust I will know the right thing when it shows up. In the meantime I am following my own advice and just taking care of myself. What a luxury to have this sense of openness to fall into.

Drained

I went to Oklahoma over Easter weekend to attend a party for a cousin who has prostate cancer that metastasized to his bones. The party itself was fun and he appreciated seeing me. Going there was definitely the right thing to do but I have been emotionally drained since then and I don't think it is directly related to telling him good-bye. This sounds really out there but I've had an overwhelming sense of someone stroking my hair and saying, "just rest." And resting is about all I can do. I'm exhausted.

I went from Oklahoma to a conference in Santa Barbara with coaching colleagues. Normally, I love the networking, but found myself putting people in two camps--those I would make the effort to stay connected to and those I would probably not see again. The sorting process made me sad. This seems to be a period of discernment for me where I am getting very clear on what and who is important to me. I hate to use the word "outgrowing" because it sounds like I am "better than" or "superior to". I don't mean the word in that sense, but I do feel I am outgrowing people and things in the sense that they no longer fit for me.

The Hudson Institute calls this transition phase "Cocooning". The old self dissolves before it can re-organize into something new. I sense that it takes a tremendous amount of energy to turn a caterpillar into a butterfly. Right now all I can do is "just rest".

Shifting

My boss just left a group voice message to his directors and one of the phrases he used was "what you wake up each morning thinking about" referring to each of our areas of responsibility. I'm aware that it has been some time now since work was the first thing on my mind.

I think of the visual of a trapeze artist suspended in mid-air that William Bridges uses in his book Transitions. That's me! I haven't let go of work entirely but I'm not attached to it. I have a couple projects I am still interested in completing but if someone else were to take those on, I wouldn't feel a loss. I really couldn't imagine ever feeling this way, but little by little I've uncoiled my grasp, let the feelings sink in and realized that I am okay. I used to think that the trapeze artist in mid-air would be a scary place to be. It's not. I feel suspended, light, floating and not a bit scared.

I thought I knew what the next trapeze was. I don't. And I am fine not knowing and in no rush to grab anything.

Whew! :)

Greek proverb

"A society grows great when old men plant trees
whose shade they know they shall never sit in."

Reading this brought me to tears today. That's the challenge in aging, isn't it--contributing to the future even tho you won't personally participate? No wonder I find such sweet comfort now in the time that I spend with mentees and with my children and their children. There's wonder and delight in the conversations and slow silences. There's comfort even in knowing that they, too, will struggle and even suffer, but ultimately sit in the shade as I do now.
        
                       

Countdown

Just changed my screensaver to read "3 more months..." I have 43 more working days, which doesn't include vacation, holidays, training, travel or conferences. We had a great team meeting last week where as part of a visioning exercise for the team, they wrote and read letters to me dated May 31, 2013--a year from my retirement. There were lots of tears and testimony to what I created and what I meant to them personally. I doubt if they will know how much that meant to me until they reach this stage in their careers. How blessed I am to have these people in my life!

Downturn

Really hard day yesterday. Several things happened to make me realize how little clout I have these days. I feel like a slightly daft old aunt who the team pats on the head with affection. I am used to voicing an opinion and being listened to. Legend in my own mind.

Reality check: I had a conversation with Barb today and she reminded me that what I experienced yesterday has actually always been the status quo and whatever else I thought was going on was just a pleasant illusion.

It's all an illusion, isn't it? Somehow that makes it easier.

Hard or soft?

I know the title of this post sounds like a counter worker's question in a taco restaurant, but it refers to something I'm noticing about myself lately. There is a shift in how I approach things at work that is more extreme than normal. It some respects I am hardening--more sure of what I believe, less reluctant to state my opinion, more willing to cut to the chase and less tolerant of BS. I doubt if that is surprising given I have less than 50 working days until retirement. However, what has surprised me is what I am labeling as a softening of my approach. May be I'm slowing things down, savoring exchanges. Whatever the dynamic, what I notice is that I am softer in my interactions with others. I think I am more thoughtful, more curious about their reality, more caring. I may have moved into a sentimental phase, but things seem less urgent, less edgy, less clear.

What a paradox!

Happy place

Do ya think my mood is shifting as I think about the close approach of my retirement? I'm starting to let go and look forward. One of the things I always advise the retiring professionals that I coach is to take a physical and mental time out after retiring to detox from the old life.

I'm not good at relaxing. I've only taken one vacation in my career that was longer than a week. When I go on vacation I typically overschedule our itinerary. However, there are two places I've been where I could totally relax and both are on the northern coast of CA. The first is Jebediah Smith national park near Crescent City CA. The first time I visited there I thought I was in heaven--huge redwoods almost blocking the sun, giant ferns, wild orchids and perfect silence. There is a dirt road thru the park and several hiking trails. It's rare to see another car on the road.

The other place I've gone where I could really relax was Mendocino CA. Shel and I stayed there three times in the same B&B. http://www.jdhouse.com// We booked a room on the second floor in the back in a new annex. The room had a 180 degree view of the ocean, a porch and cross-ventilation that provided cool ocean breezes all day long. Mendocino is a tiny village with a great bookstore, nice pub and awesome bakery. I spent hours in the room with my feet up reading a good book and alternately just staring out the window.

I think there's a June trip there in our future!

Birth date challenge

Would love to get some comment traffic going on this blog!

I'm re-reading Angeles Arrien's book, "The Second Half of Life". In it she recalls that there is an ancient European custom still practiced in some parts of the Spanish Pyrenees mountains that encourages people to celebrate their birth date each month for a year by doing something that they've never done before to celebrate the process of re-birth.

Since my birthday is May 2, today would be a birth date for me. I've been wracking my brain trying to think of what I'd like to do new today when it hit me that I did something this morning that was new--I said no to a work request. Yep, my first. Drew a line and said, "thanks for the invitation, but I don't think that's a good use of my time." Short-timer?

What will you do on your birth date this month that is new?

Last stops

I continue to be intrigued about traveling across America, altho I am clear that it would take a miracle for that to happen as one trip. I've lived in so many places--in chronological order: Streator IL, St. Louis MO, Streator again, St, Louis again, Streator again, Oxnard CA, Midway Island HI, St. Louis again, Cincinnati OH, St. Petersburg FL, Plano TX, Burlington WA, Streator again, Mesa AZ, Payson AZ, Mesa again, Wake Forest NC, Chapel Hill NC, Wilmington DE, Dallas TX, New Market MD and Mt. Vernon WA! Every place I lived I explored the surrounding area and saw so many cool places. I'd like to revisit them as well as hit some of my favorite vacation spots (northern CA) and places I've never seen (national parks).

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”

~Marcel Proust

I believe this stage of life has given me new eyes (as well as bifocals!)

Bucket list

Every potential retiree has to have a bucket list, right? I made one a couple years ago:

Meditate each morning.

Walk a mile daily.

Deliver four coach training workshops per year.

Deliver four retirement workshops per year.

Do genealogy research four hours per week.

Write four hours per week.

Paint two days per week.

Join artist co-op.

Take one art workshop per year.

Do one elderhostel class per year.

Volunteer for hospice.

Join book club.

Have guests for dinner twice a month.

Visit with kids four times per year.

Some of those things I'd cross out now, but I'd also add:

Learn to speak Italian

Learn to play the harmonica

Travel

I floated an idea past Shel Friday nite about renting an RV and taking an across-the-US trip. Reality intervened--cost, what to do with the dog, the fact that it is probably too close to camping to be fun for me. However, it got me thinking about the places I want to visit, the people I want to see and two things came to mind: 1) how many times I visited great places for work and never took the time to see anything but the hotel or meeting space and 2) the lens I am using now to think about travel is about "lasts". I was in Las Vegas at a conference in October and in Orlando in December for business and thought, "this is the last time I'll be here." Ever. It made me experience the trip in a different way. There is a long list of places I want to see again, and probably for the last time. And, regrettably, a very long list of places I will most likely never see because of our retirement budget.

So, this is the regret of aging! That your time is finite. That there are things you will never get to do. Could be paralyzingly sad if I let it, or it could be the wake up call to look beyond the rhythm of Everyday to a bigger plan for Tomorrow. Now that could be fun! An off-my-rocker bucket list!

Practicing

"Weekdays revolved on a sameness wheel. They turned into themselves so steadily and inevitably that each seemed to be the the original of yesterday's rough draft. Saturdays, however, always broke the mold and dared to be different."

~Maya Angelou

One of the big questions I have about life after retirement has to do with identifying my natural rhythm. I've been getting up at 5:30 AM every morning for a long time and going to bed by 9 to get the sleep I need. I have a friend who used to live in a tree house without electricity or running water (long story) and he used to talk about waking and sleeping with the light like an animal. He'd wake at dawn and go to sleep when it got dark.

I claim to practice what it will be like in retirement on the weekends, but even without the alarm, my body is programmed to wake up early and jump into productivity. What other parts of my life are programmed by my work routine?

My weekends also have a pattern--wake early, run errands or do chores I don't have time for during the week, take time to plan and cook something special, may be take a short road trip or get involved in a hobby. Will this rhythm run my days in retirement?

What I'm noticing:

• that I fear retirement will be endless days of today's weekends
• that I get bored on many weekends
• that there is some anxiety around not having a plan for the weekend

The old doing versus being conundrum!






'

TGIF

Posting the poem I wrote when I was 18 was a little like the open mic experience where people read from their adolescent diaries--embarrassing! Reading it again I was struck by how many of those things I claimed over the last umpteen years. I think the only thing I missed was the black cat. God knows there's been plenty of purple wine! So what's surprised me so far in this un-ordinary life? Here's an excerpt from an old journal:

One sunny October afternoon I took a walk along the bike path not far from my home in Plano, Texas. People were involved in typical activities—jogging, biking, and pushing babies in strollers. My own mood was in sharp contrast to the smiling faces I encountered. It was a very low point in my marriage when nothing either of us did was right. I can remember thinking to myself that my life would probably stretch on exactly like it was until I grew old and died. The thought of an endless sameness depressed me to the point of tears. The workweek was one dull, predictable task after another. There never seemed to be time to relax, let alone time to get ahead of the chores involved in running a family. Weekends were spent trying to get a head start on the next week—grocery shopping, doing laundry, and cooking meals to freeze. Because our marriage had lost its life, we often spent our leisure time on Saturday night with too many people, drinking too much, engaging in too many superficial conversations. The mood of the evening always appeared relaxed, but it often left me empty. There was plenty of laughter, but it had a forced, strident quality to it for me. The chatter certainly made a jolting contrast to the silence that followed after the guests left.

Fast-forward ten years and a divorce. I live in Texas, but in the interim I’ve lived in Washington State near Puget Sound with an old family friend who became a second father to me. I renewed an old high school love and helped his teen-age children through some difficult times. I moved back to my hometown and remodeled and lived in my grandmother’s house. I spent six months with my mother in Arizona strengthening our friendship. I bought a pick-up truck and learned to enjoy my own company as I traveled from one end of the beautiful state of North Carolina to another. I signed my first mortgage as an independent homeowner in Delaware and designed a new kitchen for my 80 year-old home. Eventually I moved back to Texas and saw it through fresh eyes. On my journey I continued my work assisting individuals and organizations in changing and prospering, but the form of that work often looked radically different. I served as a therapist, the director of a day treatment facility for abused children, the director of a department for chronically mentally ill adults, the administrator of a boy’s ranch for substance-abusing pre-release felons, a consultant to a state department of behavioral healthcare services, an international training and development specialist, and a performance management coach. I made meaningful connections with so many people. Hardly, the unending sameness that once depressed me! On that October day ten years before I couldn’t have even imagined the variety of life experiences that were soon to occur.

Certainly from the vantage point of an observer, my life changed considerably over the course of ten years. But I knew that the radical change was internal. I stopped seeing life as something that happened to me and took responsibility for the quality of my adventures. I don’t recommend anything as traumatic as a divorce for a catalyst, but unfortunately sometimes it takes a catastrophic event to motivate us to make fundamental change. Much more than my life circumstances and place of residence or job title changed. I moved myself out of the unsatisfying rut I occupied into a life that was filled with exciting possibilities. I stopped looking at the world from the wrong end of the telescope. I purposefully made changes in my jobs, residences, and relationships to proceed in the direction I wanted to go, but I also remained open to the surprise of unforeseen options. I opened my eyes to possibility and capitalized on opportunity. My new life still contained routine tasks like laundry and cleaning, but they became background noise and not the primary focus of my days. I looked instead to each day with an eagerness to discover what new thing I could learn or experience. I went from a small cadre of friends and acquaintances that had become stale with familiarity to an ever-expanding group of diverse individuals who opened even more new doors. I was pleasantly surprised each Christmas holiday at the burgeoning size of my Christmas card list, which was for me a visible sign of my growing circle of friends.

I’m older now and not eager for big adjustments like the geographic and career changes I once made, but I am still very open to adventure. Adventure doesn’t have to be a cross-country trek or a mountain climb. Adventure can be the result of small choices we make every day. Simple things like trying a new recipe or listening to music you’ve never heard before or reaching out to a new neighbor can make big differences in the quality of your life. I “never say never.” My life journey has been an upward spiral—a path that looped around and back to touch old friends and places in new ways. Now when I look ahead to my future I almost laugh at the fear of a boring life that I had that day in October as I walked on the bike path. 

I need to remind myself now of the closing lines in that entry:

Know that life will surprise you. Be excited by whatever possibilities lie ahead. Your only limits are those of your imagination.

Normal?

I think many people who say they want to be normal, want to be average, to fit in, to be like the in-group. I've never wanted to be ordinary. If anything, my sin is in seeking to distinguish myself from average. I remember the first time someone said to me, "you aren't normal" and meant that with great affection. I've had anything but an ordinary life in many respects and yet there's a nagging curiosity about what I would do, feel, think, even look like, if I were listening strictly to my own voice.

At 18 I wrote a poem about identity:

Letter to Myself

I'd like to be a wide-eyed waif,

With smudgy face and pudgy hand

And roam the street and sleep in deep, blue grass

And never know what I lack or why.

I'd like to be a high-born lady,

With long, silk skirts and a fat, black cat.

And stitch all day and sleep in a feather bed

And never see the sun rise.

I'd like to be a gypsy woman,

With full, hard breasts and long, black hair

And drink purple wine and dance to tease

And never love but hot, young men.

I'd like to be a stiff-backed intellectual

With stores of degrees and greed for more

And talents to develop and ambition to harness

And never know the flow of tears.

I am me though. And what is that?

It's a little bit of everything and not enough

of anything to recognize myself as me.

18 to now going on 65--a whole lifetime of experiences--and I am still exploring the same question. What I'm curious about now is not where I fit in, but who I am when I no longer have to fit someone else's standards--specifically when I retire. I think of the old story about how you boil a frog--you slowly increase the temperature of the water so it doesn't notice and doesn't jump out. I fear that I am a boiled frog. I'm sure I'm a product of the work environment. How could I not be?

So this next year will be a combination of navel-gazing and trying new things to see what really fits for me.

The Suit

There is an old Yiddish folk tale about a young man who left his village to seek his fortune. When he returned he went to the finest tailor in the city and asked that he make him a suit exactly like the one he made for Rabinowitz, the town's most successful citizen. On the final fitting day, the young man notices that one sleeve is too long. "Oh, just hold your arm like this" says the tailor pulling up his left arm. Then the young man notices that the shoulders don't fit. "Just lean this way," says the tailor hunching up his right shoulder. One leg is too short. "Stand like this," says the tailor bending his knee. And, sure enough, it works. The young man leaves the store, bent over and hobbling along. Across the street two old ladies notice him. "Oh my, look at that poor young man" says one. And the other replies, "Yes, but look how well his suit fits!"