Loss and Spiritual Quest

The real voyage of discovery
consists not in seeing new landscapes,
but in having new eyes.

~ Marcel Proust ~

After the death of my mother and ex-husband, I felt abandoned. The mystery of life itself possessed me. One late afternoon, I cut a lily from a plant once preened by my mother. It's slick stem, broad venous white petal, and deep yellow stamen enraptured me. While slipping it into a water filled vase, I was struck by the inexplicable. This lily plant, formerly nutured by my mother, had outlived her. How could that be?

I traveled the old haunts my ex and I once rollicked. Sand that had seeped between our toes and swept against our faces continued to rearrange itself in the shifting currents of the beach breezes. That sand now grated against my skin.

While driving throughout the city of my childhood, the grayness of familiar concrete streets stretched out before me, a solid reminder that life ultimately betrays us. Jaunts we frequented still stood upright. But he remained a shadow in my mind. This promise of life appeared so hollow.

Late one night, while walking along the boardwalk , a cold breeze pressed against my cheeks. As the union of my mother and father’s flesh encased me, my path was lit by the soft reflection of the sun upon an otherwised darkened moon. The contrast of these bodies was ominous. Looking out upon the water that night, I reconciled with the inequity of my existence. I was determined to defy death’s separation. Although the presence of those I loved had darkened, I would serve as a source of light. I would invite my mother and ex into my new life. Not morbidly but in a comfortng way. I would live life for three.

Spirituality was another area I wanted to explore in retirement. Yet I struggled to add entries to this column. It would have to remain open. As a child I was raised in a fundamental religious household. Like all children, I was a literalist. I accepted the teachings of my childhood at face value. As I grew, so did my awareness of  the vastness of other religions. The inconsistencies of  mine began to haunt me. I do crave a spiritual community. So far I have not found one. I would have to be content with the act of exploring rather than arriving.

Carl Jung’s observation rings true…
The shoe that fits one person pinches another; there is no recipe for living that suits all cases.

Getting Physical

I awoke this morning convinced that I solved one of mankind's enigmas, human weight gain. It was clear to me that one's life span is directly related to body weight. Well, isn’t it? A case in point, I graduated from high school forty five years ago. So with each advancing year, my weight increased by …? Let me check.
Yikes! After stepping on the scale, I could swear I heard myself screaming.
Enough of this theory.
Back to my mission, charting my RETIREMENT plans.

The next column I created was entitled, Physical Wellbeing, which is pivotal to an active and joyful retirement. This is surely an area I could improve upon. Several years ago, while working on my master’s degree, I experienced a personal evolution. I was slowly transformed from an upright position to a slouched sit. My core muscles turned to jello. I was sure others were snickering as I girated from one place to the other. Excruciating back pain came in waves. My chiropractor, Dr. Betty,  recommended Yoga. The results were amazing. No more spasms, as long as I attended regularly. Yet those core muscles are hungry beasts screaming, flex, flex,  flex. Yoga (3-5x’s per week) appeared under the heading, Physical Wellbeing.

OUCH

When considering exercise, I felt drawn to the opportunities like a small child at a Carney show. The booths of possibilities were expansive. Yet I quickly chose weight lifting. I’m aware that it is one way to score points toward reducing bone loss, a plus to an aging woman. Right now my time is too limited. But when my retirement days begin to ebb and flow, I surely could insert weight lifting into my routine. My muscles ached already as I tapped out Weight Lifting (4-5x’s per week).

Although walking was already a part of my weekly schedule, I could make it a little more enticing by matching  

it with scenic locations. I would have plenty of time to drive a little further and enjoy some of Southern California sights. Simple, so

I entered Walking followed by the bullets: Seal Beach, Boardwalk, Marina, Bluffs, Crystal Cove.

I expired all of my plans for regular activity. A few more were of interest but would probably not be as frequent: Bicycling and Kayaking. Collectively they would all keep my endorphins pumping while reducing body weight.

Retirement Bliss

Staying Active

Hmmm…I knew the days were about to stretch out before me. I was determined to avoid a future of chair breathing exercises and day dreaming so tap pity tap my fingers translated the next heading into, Activities. Since writing is entertainment and I have hopes of becoming a children’s picture book author, I entered, Daily Writing (2 hrs.).
I took a deep breath; sounded good. So I moved on to consider other ways of extending my interest. Perhaps I could combine writing with my enjoyment of others. Often friends have suggested that a writing group might be just the right formula. So Writing Group was my next entry. I looked up, pushed away from my computer. This is getting a bit serious, I thought. It was time for a break. I headed for Peet’s Coffee. After grabbing a cappuccino, I sat down and sipped the steaming coffee. Just before I gazed into the bottom of my cup, a reference to the Senior University at California State University at Long Beach came to mind. It offers a writing class. I recall my sister mentioning that she attended a forum of those who completed the spring class. Their readings were excellent. What better way to improve my craft and enjoy the comrade of other writers? When I returned home, the sound of my keyboard echoed as I typed Writing Class.

                                                                                                      

What next?

As a teacher I am aware that reading and writing are reciprocal. I often used mentor authors to teach my students the craft of writing. So why not be inspired by other children’s authors.

Reading quality literature and the experiences of fellow writers was the obvious next step. I decided to create a list of award winning children’s picture books and research books about the writing process. Writing Down the Bones is just one example. Reading appeared as the next entry.

I took a week end trip to visit my dear friends Judy and Robert in Los Osos. Judy is an “ancient history” expert who has a wide assortment of drums. She learned the art of drumming over the years and participated in drumming circles at spiritual gatherings. Robert recently joined a local drumming group. So when I walked into her living room I was surrounded by an assortment of drums. Scenes of the movie The Visitor flashed in front of me.

I recall smiling as I watched the main character tentatively pick up a drum and begin his rhythmic journey. All I had to do was express an interest and my hosts encouraged me to drum while offering their tips about drumming. An evening with these dear people convinced me that drumming was another activity I could explore. When I returned I added, Drumming Lessons. Now I’m on a roll.

When my interest in signing with Intervac, a teacher’s house exchange surfaced, I decide that I wanted to travel to Paris first. Then my dreams shifted to the South of France. I couldn’t image going either place without the very basics in French. A course is offered through the Senior University. French Lessons followed.

                                                                                           

Making a Plan

Years ago I joined a book club but found it difficult to squeeze in the required monthly read and charted meeting. I dropped out. Then I rejoined the same book club a year before retiring. Again I couldn't keep up with the commitment. Time continued to strangle my desire to attend. Now that problem’s solved; time is a pleasant stretch before me rather than an albatross. So I clicked in Book Club.

A dear friend, Ellen, serves as a mainline to great people. Her thoughtfulness toward others and interest in photography draws interesting creative souls.

Photo by Ellen

As our children were growing up, she formed a Wednesday Night Beach Club. We used to meet at Mother’s Beach in Long Beach each Wednesday and bring our little ones. That way, we let the beach entertain the children while we engaged in much needed adult talk. Once they grew up, these meetings transformed into the Wednesday Walking Group. Tat up tap-tat up tap Wednesday Walking Group appeared in the column. It would guaranteee a monthly walk while accompanied by interesting women friends.
So what could be my next entry?
Forty years ago I stuffed a back pack with the basics, strapped it on my back, purchased a ticket to London, and set out on a three month trek through the British Isles and the European mainline. My thumb served as my ticket to transportation.

The architecture, art museums, and expanse of cultures stunned me. It was one of the most glorious periods of my life. Before returning I stood in the streets of Paris determined that I would return within months. Well those months turned into years. Life has many distracters.
A place in my head cleared as I neared my last few weeks before stepping away from the yolk of work. I found myself tapping out House Exchange. Although my finances are secure, my desire to travel would surely outstretch my income. I could expand my options for travel by joining Intervac.com and invite friends to join me on my planned excursions. After all the greatest expense when traveling is the cost of housing. I could virtually eliminate that cost and pass it on to others.

A sigh of relief overcame me as I developed each plan to meet my emotional needs. It all looked so promising that I decided to move on and focus upon my daily activities. How would I structure them? What would replace my tightly organized work world…

Oy Vay! I'm Retiring

OK, I’ll admit it. I take life a little too seriously sometimes. So when I decided to stop teaching and tap into my retirement stash I accumulated for, well, let’s say, a number of years, the timing seemed right. The death of my mother at the age of ninety five, and the sudden death of my ex-husband twenty days later heightened my awareness that life was evaporating around me. I could be next. It was time to retire.
Although I was hit with a momentary surge of excitement, I soon took note of my internal dialogue and its sudden turn toward the dark side…

“Egad,” I thought. “I live alone. Who am I going to talk to…the cats? Ugh! My friends will be working and they’re the core of my social life. What am I doing? Maybe I should reconsider.” I even began to imagine buying a rocking chair.

Did my negative obsession stop there? No…it accelerated. . .

“I lived a highly structured life; up at 5:00 a.m. and off to teach my first grade students. In addition I typically attended meetings, engrossed myself in lesson plans and indulged in “happy hours”. In the absence of all these structured activities, what will I do with myself?”

Moments of near panic dissolved into attempts to reassure myself, “Hey! You’ve got interests. You’ve been independent for years. So what’s the problem?

Then more anxiety would seep in like a bad dream. People would congratulate me and inquire about my plans. Run was my first impulse, but I thought that might be alarming and a bit odd. So I stammered, cleared my throat and gave cursory responses or changed the subject. “Yeah, it’s going to be great. Did you watch Jimmy Fallon last night?”

As a take action person who enjoys problem solving, I began surfing the net to discover how others have managed their transition into retirement. I was especially interested in research featuring single women. Women alone…this had to be the population most adaptable to the changes. Or so I thought…

The reports basically concluded that single women suffer the worst adjustment in retirement. The main reason is the financial disadvantage of single women versus married. Now that problem, I aced. I planned for my financial future and money was not an issue.

After my internet surf, intermittent waves of more anxiety hit me while standing in line, sitting down, driving my car and even while lying down. I was literally mugged by my darkened internal dialogue. Fortunately my planning and organizational skills I developed as a teacher kicked in. I decided to improve the odds that my transition into retirement would be positive. I even took it a little further. I planned on defying research. I was going to be the one single woman that stepped into retirement prepared to have a blast.

Transforming my anxieties in an active plan became my new focus. Instead of conjuring up more fears, I began to envision the factors that would contribute toward a well rounded use of my time. I created a table on my computer and saved it on my desk top. The months prior to retirement I kept adding new ideas as they occurred. Since socializing with friends keeps me happy and grounded, the initial column heading was Social Emotional Needs. The first entry, tat up tap- tat up tap, was Happy Hours. I realized that I had over twenty five friends between the two schools I worked at during my career. I was the one leaving. They weren’t going anywhere. I could join them once or twice a week. Then it occurred to me that I have a wide range of interests and a circle of friends who may want to join me on excursions to art museums, gardens, movies, theatre and day hikes. I also love to kayak. So once again I sat at my computer and tapped out the next heading, Weekly Outings. I listed those who may wish to join me. I planned to call one person a week after planning an interesting activity. Then I typed the list of friends who might join me.