I have more and more friends who are contemplating retirement, and I’ve dropped to 80% myself. There comes an inflection point in life wherein time is more valuable than money. Many consider the Medicare birthday, age 65, to be a natural stopping point (in finance, the age is closer to 40, but think of all they’ve added to society!). Navigating this newfound territory, in a magical sweet-spot somewhere between nihilistic fatalism and self-help style boosterism, is tricky. You’ve heard it all before. Energy is down and the knees balk. Your sleep suffers. The social pool steadily shrinks, as people die, move away, or finally become their true and totally annoying selves. Hard not to be pessimistic. And yet… and yet… we must remain hopeful. That the people still in our lives will continue to enrich us with both fond memories and new joyful experiences. That we can find some new purpose, beyond the accumulation of material things, to galvanize us and boldly propel us forward. Whatever that may be — travel, political engagement, volunteering, teaching, creative endeavors, a second career, etc.. My gut says that collaboration is the best medicine here, seeking out co-conspirators, partners-in-crime, both of the new and old varietals. There’s a kinetic energy in a team effort that is hard to create solo. Dean Smith, the old coach of UNC basketball (my alma mater), had what he called his blue team, which was a full substitution of five players at once — similar to a line change in hockey, which is done out of necessity. He told the group, regardless of any lead the team had, that the score was effectively 0-0 when they went in. They would be judged based on their own segmental performance as a collective. I think that might be relevant to our retirement discussion. When that day comes, set aside all the trophies and reset your scoreboard to 0-0. Also, try to think of scoring in a different way that prizes surprise, learning, fun and positive interaction, rather than focusing on outcome or recognition. Schedule your days that way. Set some modest goals. Take a few classes. Try stuff you’ve never done before, even things you would generally avoid. You never know who you might meet in line. What’s to lose in the end?
I’ll close with this gem of a poem I came across recently from Philip Larkin:
“The Mower”
The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,
Killed. It had been in the long grass.
I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world
Unmendably. Burial was no help:
Next morning I got up and it did not.
The first day after a death, the new absence
Is always the same; we should be careful
Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time.
Time. It’s all about time…
Great Exudations 