tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77013182053570350272024-03-05T05:40:47.061-08:00Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement ChroniclesFrontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.comBlogger88125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-81616526983071323322014-06-01T16:16:00.000-07:002015-04-03T21:56:57.268-07:00Where to Be When Capitalism Collapses (And Other Parts Unknown)The
Southern Ecuadorian highlands. Living with an indigenous family. That's where.<br />
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<o:p></o:p><br /></div>
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My
friends and I had read about and wanted to visit a very small town three hours by bus from Cuenca, in the southern Ecuadorian highlands where the Saraguro live much
as they have since they first came to the area. We had a recommendation for a particular place
to stay. After some emailing in Spanish, the little trip was set, but we weren't
really sure of the where or what. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZhlHT7cIhMPdW2fSsLbRqUIknBqttw1g28JdQk0aa3WdVwhYtJUuL2cbiOfASF5GI8PKkjmITQSJGQf1l02fWl8wyyaqR4sBe0ePZFjLL4DrCvBvii2QH8mnFIBxTJ_21x3PeZ6bzr7E/s1600/Ecuador+2014+267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZhlHT7cIhMPdW2fSsLbRqUIknBqttw1g28JdQk0aa3WdVwhYtJUuL2cbiOfASF5GI8PKkjmITQSJGQf1l02fWl8wyyaqR4sBe0ePZFjLL4DrCvBvii2QH8mnFIBxTJ_21x3PeZ6bzr7E/s1600/Ecuador+2014+267.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>When
we got out of the bus and into one of the always-waiting taxis, the driver knew
exactly where to take us when we said “Doctor José
Cartuche’s”. We drove about ten minutes back down the road we had come in on
and up a narrow winding road. Out of the cab and standing in front of “Pakari
Tampu” (Dawn Home in Quechua) we wondered “Where are we exactly?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Soon Dr. Catuche, traditional braid, jet black despite his age, long down his back, appeared with a warm greeting and we knew immediately we were in good hands. José is the local healer and teacher of traditional medicine, hence “Doctor” Jose. He and his wife Juana run this hospedaje.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8k0i0xNSeMMfvyet0TFw7N_GReW8O6E-iEPHhkenhapQejFtsXmAZwrp9bWZhxXWvJVakRcLSQxbwPnf7ptrnZjuYzpEd99hKmK9bvb3QDLw0Qhf9PJrcJEjcmfYaAdzaFYqyBkQO2qY/s1600/Ecuador+2014+270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8k0i0xNSeMMfvyet0TFw7N_GReW8O6E-iEPHhkenhapQejFtsXmAZwrp9bWZhxXWvJVakRcLSQxbwPnf7ptrnZjuYzpEd99hKmK9bvb3QDLw0Qhf9PJrcJEjcmfYaAdzaFYqyBkQO2qY/s1600/Ecuador+2014+270.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
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We ate from their huge garden, had queso
fresco made the same day from the neighbor’s cows, fresh eggs,
newly-baked bread, fresh squeezed juices and at dinner, one of the chickens. As
is usual in Ecuador, breakfast was included with the room. It was $12 a night.</div>
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The
hills surrounding Saraguro are lush and verdant. People walk into town - even
little (literally) (very) old ladies.</div>
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It struck me that life at Pakari Tampu is the ultimate “farm to table” that has become so trendy in the U.S. This is what people will pay thousands to have at Canyon Ranch. This old way. The traditional way. Chickens in the back yard by necessity. Food grown in a small farm plot authentically organic as it always has been. Healing with what comes out of your garden.</div>
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It
also struck me that if capitalism collapsed, these people probably would have
what they need. Dr. Cartuche said that prophesies predict a collapse
and then chaos. I wanna be at his place when it happens.</div>
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<o:p></o:p><br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkE9PO4D_ylsEJhofvboCmks5SYvXNYiewadEMHMlIZzV18bQ24DErAT0J7OIAu7jQJkDO5V0k1lIpUpin6rIQRhrX3YB-TAXOmv1CCcRl_hJVqd0qIn2SO3GgqvWe0jU5JIxR7zA0_fw/s1600/Ecuador+2014+032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkE9PO4D_ylsEJhofvboCmks5SYvXNYiewadEMHMlIZzV18bQ24DErAT0J7OIAu7jQJkDO5V0k1lIpUpin6rIQRhrX3YB-TAXOmv1CCcRl_hJVqd0qIn2SO3GgqvWe0jU5JIxR7zA0_fw/s1600/Ecuador+2014+032.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>Catastrophes
aside though, this is not the lifestyle that calls me to return. I have none of
the needed knowledge, skills or aptitude. No, what has stuck with me is what I
had in Cuenca, an old city with a mix of colonial and modern, traditional and
urban, where I lived for two and half weeks. I stayed in the old central city, which
is a UNSESCO World Heritage site.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I
felt at home fairly quickly. I had been to different parts of
Ecuador in 2007, so there was a bit of familiarity. This
was the first time I spent over two weeks in the same place, so it was more
like just living there. I stayed near my friends who were there for several
months and had just the right mix of companionship and independence. I had Spanish
school, which gave me a focus.</div>
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<o:p></o:p><br /></div>
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I
walked almost everywhere - to school, two
traditional markets, restaurants, the panderia
that made corn flour cookies in a 400 year old horno oven, shops of all sorts,
along the river linear park, to concerts in cathedrals, museums, and pre-Incan
ruins. Even to the bus station a bit out of the central city. Took a cab back though.
Cabs everywhere and about $2. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Life
takes on a different rhythm when living like this. The to-do list is so much
more pleasurable. Half a day in school, afternoons to explore, evenings for
local events or more wandering, weekends for exploring rural towns. Life is
easy and simple. No vehicle to take care of and park, no driving in traffic.
The amount of stuff to deal with is contained. Just a limited amount of
clothing worn over and over. The apartment I rented for half the time had all
the basics. The posada I stayed in the first week had everything I needed considering
someone made me breakfast every morning as part of the $16. per night tab. My
concept of “expensive” really changed. When I could get a almuerzo de dia
(fixed lunch of the day) for $3, including a homemade soup, a main dish of say
rice and a piece of broiled chicken, a glass of fresh squeezed juice and a
small postre or piece of fruit, spending over $5 on a meal seemed an
extravagance. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As I got on the plane for my return flight, I didn't want or need
to come home. With no job there was nothing to force
me home or to grab me once I got here.</div>
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<o:p></o:p><br /></div>
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So, I had a hard time re-grounding once I got back. The usual return-from-a-trip existential ennui set in, but this
time it had a deeper grip. For
weeks I felt like an expat in my own country.
I was in that nether land, that place in-between places – not quite able to let
go of the experience of being elsewhere. I was loath to get in my
vehicle and out into traffic or force myself into the
bustle of a grocery store. And communicating with my friends who were still
there probably didn't help – it kept me emotionally connected there. I felt a longing, day-dreaming about
whether and how to return for a longer time or where to go next. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Eventually
my feet hit the ground and I started to reconnect - with friends, with
bill-paying - going here and there. Now I’m present
again in my life here and the experience of living and being
in Ecuador is part of me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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While I don’t fantasize about moving there (I am pretty used to the ease of my American life and I know that places can start to show their rough edges after a while) there are still many places in Ecuador that I want to experience. And the idea of spending a length of time back in Cuenca has an appeal. Now that I’m not working, that is starting to feel possible. I’m not sure how, but I’m opening up those possibilities, reinventing what my life is and where it is. These are the real “parts unknown”. And I’m drawing the map myself. </div>
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Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-66170390975902248482014-02-14T13:22:00.001-08:002014-03-12T10:49:50.998-07:005 Reasons Why I Was Feeling a Little Lackluster but I'm not Anymore - You Won't Believe How I Rallied<div class="MsoNormal">
Can you tell I've read some advice relating to titles?
Using numbers and lists is the big thing. I saw one that said <a href="http://www.dailygood.org/story/466/gandhi-s-10-rules-for-changing-the-world-henrik-edberg/"><i>Gandhi's 10 Rules for Changing the World.</i></a> I clicked on
it of course. Who doesn't want to think s/he could change the world by
implementing 10 rules? I’m still working
on number one: Change Yourself.</div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><br /></span></strong></div>
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Vague, teaser titles are also in. Anyone who follows <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Upworthy">Upworthy</a> knows exactly
what I’m talking about. I had to stop,
annoyed by the teaser lead-ins. However, my post “<a href="http://zen-road-retirement.blogspot.com/2013/09/falling-in-love-again.html">Falling in Love Again</a>,” admittedly a teaser, is among my most-viewed posts. This was positive reinforcement
for leading you on.<br />
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Anyway, the 5 reasons I was feeling a little lackluster but am not
anymore:<br />
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<b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">1. Some Realities
Must be Challenged. </b></div>
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Following my Himalayan trek last April, I <a href="http://zen-road-retirement.blogspot.com/2013/05/certain-realities-must-be-faced.html">faced certain truths about my physical limitations</a>. I recommend doing that, so you don't seriously injure yourself.
But Diana Nyad blew my “I’m getting older
so how fit can I really be?” thinking all to hell. This is the counterpart to
accepting some limits. Still gotta push. Residual knee pain had been keeping me down a
bit, literally and emotionally. I don’t like to be told I can’t do something,
especially by my own body. At the annual
look-see my doc gave me some simple exercises that are helping. I can feel the weight of the limitation
lifting. I also dropped a few holiday
pounds, which really helps with the knees. </div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>2. Bag Lady Syndrome</b></span></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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Retirement income projections, which define spending
limits, are made using an assumed rate of return. I really don’t like wondering
how rich or how poor I am, and how much I can spend, given what’s going on with
the economy. At my annual review last January I was not a happy camper in that
other people’s financial managers seemed to be making them some bucks in the recovering
stock market and mine wasn't. While I
understand there is some ebb and flow from year-to-year, mine was way off. I
seriously considered leaving an adviser I have trusted for over two decades.<br />
<br />
That kind of uncertainty is a stressor and a sub-conscious dampener of energy. It
is unsettling. When I got back from
Nepal last spring, I wondered whether I should plan a foreign country trip for
this year or not. I felt restricted. That dampening feeling lingered.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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However, with some changes in strategy, things have rebounded
in the 2013 end-of-year read on things, and I feel freer. I am in awe of people
who don’t worry about money – or don’t seem to. People who believe the universe
will abide. And, so it does. I still
struggle with that. I may have <a href="http://zen-road-retirement.blogspot.com/2012/12/belief-in-abundance-stares-down.html">stared down the financial picture</a> shortly after I retired, but I need to renew and
regroup on that so I am not tossed in the sea of financial tides.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>3.<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Match Shtick</span></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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Occasionally I get a bit out-of-sorts because there
are some things I don’t want to do by myself. So I start to think life would be
easier - and better - if I had a significant other. Or more precisely, a
playmate who could share a spontaneous walk to the local cafe for a nosh and
glass of wine or an outdoor adventure in a foreign country. But that is hard to come by. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So I thought I’d give Match.com a try. Going online seems
like the only pro-active thing a person can do, other than getting out of your
living room. I’m already doing that. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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Scanning through the thumbnail photos is a cross between a visit
to the pound and looking at pictures on milk cartons. So many faces looking
out, looking for someone to take them in. Maybe a little lost. I say this in a
compassionate way because I’m sure the experience is similar on the other side. (Update: I looked. No, not the same at all.)</div>
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Potential matches are painfully un-clever or sincere. They say things
like “cool beans.” And “I’m lonely and nervous.” Gotta appreciate the honesty in that one.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There’s a whole continuum of “communication”, the
significance of which I haven’t figured out: winking, liking, favorite-ing,
emailing. I had one in-person meet-up that I was looking forward to. After two
hours of fun and interesting conversation at the B-Line:<o:p></o:p></div>
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Him:
“I really enjoyed myself”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me: “Yes, me
too. I hope to hear from you”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then: Nothing. Oh well. And now that I've made these snarky comments, I've probably reduced my chances of making a connection to less than nil.
Indeed, none of the descriptions say they are looking for a woman with an
irreverent (okay, sometimes biting) sense of humor. Now I’m just waiting for
the subscription to expire. Upside: I have a lot of great friends.</div>
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<br />
<div style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>4. Been-There-Done-That
Syndrome</b></span></div>
</div>
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I realize this is a privileged person’s dilemma so I hesitate to
call it a problem. I have been to so many places and done so many things on my
list that there isn't much left. Nothing was grabbing me.
One thing I've not done and wanted to do is study Spanish in a Spanish-speaking
country for a couple weeks and then travel around for a week or so. I
contemplated doing this by myself. I haven’t done more than get myself to and
from places and have a couple days on my own and I thought a solo trip might be
an interesting adventure. Until I really thought about it. Truth is I don’t want to do that. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Just as I was despairing of my adventurous self-image
waning, I found out that a couple friends will soon be spending some months in
Ecuador and Peru and they asked me if I’d like to join at some point. When I
was leaving Ecuador at the end of a trip in 2007, I thought “I could come back
here.” So, I started looking into possibilities. With my last remaining
frequent flyer miles accumulated when doing all that work-related travel, two
weeks in Ecuador going to school and a week of travelling around is really
affordable.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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We’ll see how it pans out, but I found myself
motivated by the thought of a new type of adventure and by the relatively short
(for me) timeline to pull it together. I’m
energized to get languishing things done.
Did some deep purging and organizing.
Virgos love that. It’s akin to a shamanic
clearing.<br />
<br />
<b>5. <span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Serendipitous
Upsides</span></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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And there are the small things. After a dozen years
driving my vehicle, and a half dozen forgotten and lost gas caps, I discovered
that inside the little door there is a bracket that holds the cap while you gas
up. I discovered this reading the manual after the check engine light came on –
which proved to be transitory. Life is good. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All this reminded me that life’s rhythms ebb and flow.
When its low tide, you've got to look for any gems that may have washed-up. And
trust that high tide will return. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-80290655217583441482014-01-22T20:46:00.002-08:002014-02-15T07:11:18.725-08:00Missive from the Void: Part 2<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Like an abusive partner who promises to do better but repeats the pattern, here I am over two months since my last post. Rather than give you flowers and make more promises about posting more often, I’m just going to declare how things are. Most of my writing energy is going to 3 Story Magazine and a few other little things. I might be posting just once a month or so for a bit. <br />
<br /><br />
I was starting to feel a tad of the work-like mindsets of “should” and “success” and “making it,” and all that. I was getting caught up in all the rules about having a “successful” blog. Regular and often publication is one of them. I have ignored other rules like monetizing (aka, having ads), making the blog a "platform" for other things and on and on.<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span>This is why I have 10s of readers not 10s of thousands.<br />
<br /><br />
But I got a grip on myself and decided that I'm going to do what I want to do and take what comes. I'm assuming that you all are into quality not quantity. You’d rather hear from me when I have something to say, right? <span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And this is what I have to say today.</span></span><br />
</span></span><br />
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</span></span>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></span>Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-37881955563357491842013-11-13T11:31:00.000-08:002013-12-15T19:59:03.645-08:00Missive From The Void <br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, is this how it is going to be with us now? Almost six
weeks and I don’t call. I don’t write. I can’t go on like this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Disloyal to my first love. Seduced away by bylines.
Driven by deadlines. Distracted - by other writing. I didn’t mean to, really.
It just happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I promise to do better
if you take me back. I’ve missed you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Revelations 1: Slipping Into Busy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve
been writing for<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"> </span></span></span><a href="http://3storymagazine.com/"><span style="color: #e36c0a; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: accent6; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3Story Magazine</span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #4a442a; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"> </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">and
I helped an accomplished artist write statements about her work.<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"> </span>All
this came along when I was starting to feel lazy and it is a gift of learning and
fun. It is good. Yet I have been spending more time "out there" with
tasks and deadlines, interactions and collaborations – a bit like “work” – a
little performance anxiety even. So easy to slip into a kind of busy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Engage in sort-of-work, day-to-day
necessities, social and arty events, a little trip for a family wedding and a
writers’ retreat and the result is less time "in" - time just being,
which is what generates insights and impetus for writing here.<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m
wanting a way to integrate it all, without a divide like there used to be
between work and life. And I want to <span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">hold dear that empty space so that what
matters can rise up.</span> Which means, oddly enough, I need more structure -
setting aside time to just be and to write about what’s going on. It’s working
so far. Here I am!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Revelations
2: Born Again<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Early
on, I was thinking an epiphany might hit, that in due time I would be born
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like when one finds Jesus. A
moment. Something coming over me. Only not Jesus. Me. Born again as me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So there would be a before and an after. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But i<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">t’s not been like that</span>, although having
a regular writing gig is a shift<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">. It’s more gradual. The unfolding takes time and integrating it all into defining a new life takes time. </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And
the epiphanettes about life after retirement that struck regularly early on
don’t keep coming. There is more space between as life takes on a new rhythm.</span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Revelations 3: Beyond the Frontage Road<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve been learning a bit about writing, most recently in a
three-day, small-group retreat with some real writers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My perception of myself and my writing is
evolving. I’ve had two encouraging manuscript (meaning, this blog) reviews from
actual writers. And kudos for the mag features. Although writing is becoming a
bigger part of what comes next for me, writing about writing is not something
of general interest – that’s another blog.<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I’m not sure where I am with this other writing or where
it fits on the frontage road to zen. I don’t know where it’s going, but I’m
following its lead. Who knows. I might arrive somewhere. Born again as me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-67841811749677163952013-09-23T12:48:00.001-07:002014-09-21T11:55:03.378-07:00Falling In Love Again<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">No, I haven’t found a potential significant other. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Rather, I’ve fallen in love with where I live all over again. This is my first
full summer here for many, many years. When I worked, I traveled and was more
gone than here. This is what helped me “survive” the summer. But really it deprived
me. I don’t care what the weather man says about rainfall this summer. It was,
and still is, green everywhere. Flowers abounded in waves as the rain windows
opened up. Skies not to be believed. So lush. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So vast. Gorgeous sunsets and moonrises have rekindled
my love. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBS0hDKezU0wqY5kbmMws1Bv6jTzb7fcdr4jJw5iFAf0nM0Ct1_33nEarLkHV-fdrm0dDE3mTQthkadR6jxMIZY1IFc3HyAxCXZqIKyaT9rSKq6A7y8zJkpxdbGFn-0aPknGJCcT3lA-4/s1600/IMGP2187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBS0hDKezU0wqY5kbmMws1Bv6jTzb7fcdr4jJw5iFAf0nM0Ct1_33nEarLkHV-fdrm0dDE3mTQthkadR6jxMIZY1IFc3HyAxCXZqIKyaT9rSKq6A7y8zJkpxdbGFn-0aPknGJCcT3lA-4/s320/IMGP2187.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I show you all these pictures, too many, like new parents in love with their baby or the artist in the throes of
infatuation with a new lover. We can’t help ourselves. Those of us falling in love
again. We think you are just as interested we are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span>Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-2967797547486255802013-08-30T11:01:00.001-07:002013-08-30T11:02:20.868-07:00Something Did Happen<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I
know you remember, because as I’ve said before, you are hanging on my every word.
But in case not … last falI I wrote about getting out there, following my interests
until something sticks, going to Tucson Modernism Week, blah, blah, yadda,
yadda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And about my little synchronistic
experience that confirmed my belief that </span></span><a href="http://zen-road-retirement.blogspot.com/2012/11/anything-could-happen.html"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">Anything
Could Happen</span></span></a><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">, and something would happen, eventually. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Well,
at TMWeek I met some cool women from my neighborhood, one of which is Gillian
Drummond, editor of </span></span><a href="http://3storymagazine.com/"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">3Story
Magazine</span></span></a><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">, which was about a month old at the time.
I subscribed and started enjoying reading the magazine and following it on</span></span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/3StoryMagazine"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;"> Facebook</span></span></a><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">.
And kept it up. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As
I read each month I felt a little twinge of envyness. “Gee, why can’t I be
doing something creative and cool like these people?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I was telling myself I’m not a
professional like all those other people involved in TMWeek and 3Story. See how
that work-world, need-credentials point of view can stick (and undermine)? But,
I was in my being, not doing, stage anyway. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then,
eventually, and coinciding with my starting to feel </span></span><a href="http://zen-road-retirement.blogspot.com/2013/08/lazy-mary-takes-it-on.html"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">a
little lazy and that I wanted to step it up a bit</span></span></a><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">,
Gillian posted a solicitation for an intern who could write with “accuracy,
flair and enthusiasm” to do one or two pieces a month. I thought “Hmmm, I could
do that”. Thinking that Gillian was probably looking for a 20-something
journalism student and that it was a long-shot, I wrote her, saying as much,
using my blog as a writing sample and hauling out my decades-old Bachelor’s
degree in fashion merchandising and my long-time vintage cred and interest in
what goes on in Tucson. It worked. We met, chatted and decided to give it a
try. The rest, hopefully, is herstory. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So,
I'm possibly the oldest intern ever, but you know how I like being the oldest
person in the room. I’ve never worked in a “creative” field before. It’s a
new world, although a lot of my skills transfer. My goal is to learn about this kind of writing and have fun.
And be part of something pretty cool. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When
I retired I thought I’d eventually do some sort of volunteer work. Since this
is unpaid, for the time being, I guess it counts. I thought it would be more philanthropic,
but I rationalize that I’ve done decades of “try to make the world a better
place” work and I’m due a little self-indulgence. Besides, 3Story is all about celebrating
the creative talent and goings-ons that make Tucson such a great place to live.
It’s part of building urban community, so I figure that counts.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I
will still be telling my personal story here. And, for now, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll have another life as … girl reporter.</span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span> </div>
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Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-80840078160052173322013-08-18T22:57:00.003-07:002013-09-26T15:48:38.375-07:00Lazy Mary Takes It On<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I was a
kid my mom used to sing my sister and me a fun little song when trying to rouse
us. It went like this (you’ll have to improvise the tune): “Lazy Mary will you
get up, will you get up, will you get up. Lazy Mary will you get up, we need
the sheets for the table!” Obviously from the era of my mom’s youth, but it
still dances around in my head every now and then. Like now. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> While I haven't been bored, I started to feel a little bit lazy.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Last August when I retired, I gave myself the first year as an experiment, a sort of financial
la-la land. I planned to pay attention in a general way to the estimated budget,
spending, and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>investment performance, which
I did. I had a little run-in early on with my attitude about money, </span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">but </span></span><a href="http://zen-road-retirement.blogspot.com/2012/12/belief-in-abundance-stares-down.html"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;">belief in
abundance stared down the financial picture</span></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> and I continued with my year. </span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I hoped all would magically flow to my
advantage. </span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The fact
that I even have a budget is a bit annoying. When I was working, I always lived
below my means and did my best to save, even in the really lean years. In the
last decade of work when I had an actual job, I had discretionary cash. Although
there wasn’t a ton of it, there was enough to easily fuel my adventures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But a budget is a fact of life when income is
fixed and a bit uncertain given partial dependency on investments. So, as part of taking stock of my first year of retirement, I recently looked at finances in detail. It was a bit sobering in the budget-versus-actual-sending category. Nothing drastic, but </span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I can see now that I will need a little more
money if I want to continue to live in do-whatever-you-want land. Or I’ll need
to make some adjustments in that regard.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My first reaction was a bit of a panic. All about scarcity and uncertainty: Uh-oh. Gotta get a job. What if someone reads my blog and sees I'm not ideal employee material. Might have to take down the blog. But I love the blog. Writing is what I enjoy the most. <span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Oh I wish I had
a husband to pick up the slack. I wish I didn’t have to make these kinds of
decisions on my own. I’m alone. And on and on. Waa-waa. Boo-hoo. For about a
minute. Until...whoooaa. Wait. </span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">No I don’t
(want a husband).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And no I’m not
(alone). And haven't I learned anything from my year of authenticity and pursuit of zen? Some changes will need to be made, sure, but I don't need to grab back to old ways. I'm still gonna eat and have a roof over my head. There's nothing urgent about this. </span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Let’s just turn on the Pandora “calm meditation” mix and get a grip.<span style="color: black;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">I feel an
energy coming on, but in a new way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I've overcome the fear-of-being-a-bag lady syndrome </span></span><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">that has kept me from taking some
risks in the past, sent me down one road rather than another in the name of
security. Which is why I even have the privilege of retiring now, so no regrets
there. But that’s not where I want to be now. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="line-height: 115%;">I cannot fall back into fear-based thinking. I am believing
in myself and the path I am on. </span><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">This is the real change that I was
hoping for once I set out on the frontage road. No turning back now. Instead, </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">I’m going to pick up on the
inspiration from the wise words in my last post and dance with these
circumstances through to true change. It's time to step it up and learn more than I already know about the financial investment world. Not rely so passively on the experts. And continue to explore what comes next. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">I had been thinking
that maintaining the abundance attitude and belief in my ability to find my way
are easy when circumstances are flowing along easily. I wondered how it would
be when challenges arose. Well, now I’m finding out. Lazy Mary is up. And
about to take it on.</span></div>
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Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-54533542634735044372013-08-03T21:29:00.000-07:002013-08-13T14:41:29.707-07:00Back to the FutureOk, so it's been awhile. I know. I'm back now. I wasn't really gone. Just diverted. Doing hard labor in my front yard, which has been interspersed with random thoughts, just not enough to corral into something. I'm seeing how writing takes presence. Intuitive clarity. Clear thought field. Instead, I've been working my lists and moving crushed rock around. <br />
<br />
I've resurfaced in time to acknowledge that August 1st was one year of retirement. This anniversary feels more meaningful and celebratory than my upcoming birthday cause I've had lots of those. Good opportunity to take stock.<br />
<br />
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<span style="background-color: #134f5c;"><a href="http://zen-road-retirement.blogspot.com/2012/07/the-transition.html">Early on,</a></span> right before I actually stopped working, I wondered what the challenges of being able to do whatever I wanted almost every day would be. Wondered if I would finally learn to meditate (no) or drink in the day time (every once in a while. it's 3 p.m. now and I'm drinking a beer. that's what writers do). I suspected I would get bored and be inspired, be lazy and be active, travel far and wide and burrow in, watch a lot more movies and, I hoped, live my own story. That pretty much sums it up, although I've done a lot more reading than movie-watching. Books come to me. Not sure how interesting or inspired my story has been, but I certainly have been living it.<br />
<br />
And I have yet to be bored. <span style="background-color: yellow;"><a href="http://zen-road-retirement.blogspot.com/2013/02/dare-to-be-bored.html"><span style="background-color: #134f5c;">Daring that precipice and engaging "not knowing"</span></a><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: #134f5c;"> have</span><span style="background-color: #134f5c;"> been a</span><span style="background-color: #134f5c;"> </span></span></span><span style="background-color: #134f5c;">gift.</span><span style="background-color: #134f5c;"> </span>There has been a lot of good nothing and plenty of somethings. Life is different now. I am different now.<br />
<br />
I'm no longer working against type. Or my type has changed. I thought all that paying attention to details and the intensity that propelled my work life might transfer. But now I swim in the ocean of conceptual, big picture, creative possibilities and am no longer driven to push the rope uphill against an avalanche of resistance.<br />
<br />
My relationship to time has really changed. Life is much more spontaneous. I get caught up in the day, going from one thing to the next without regard to time. I love looking at the calendar and seeing many days ahead with nothing planned. There is so much going on in my head and out. I hardly have to plan. Things present themselves - invites out, workshops, camp-outs, meet-ups - or they don't, and I read or putter. A big day can be getting some really good berries on sale. On a Friday I'll have a list of a few things to do on Monday. But then they might not get done for a week. So what. Things seem to get done when they really need to. I haven't missed a deadline yet, although I have come close because I'm just not "on time" anymore. I'm off time.<br />
<br />
I've become patient with change. I recently came across this bit of inspiration that resonated:<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<em>True change isn't a light switch. It's an intention you hold. It's a dance with the circumstances that present themselves.</em></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
- <em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/TamaKieves">Tama Kieves</a></span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
So I'm no longer looking for the big something that comes next. I'm open to whatever good is looking for me. And there has been plenty of that. Seems passive, but it's more in tune with how reality actually is, unlike in the workplace where everyone pretends we can control circumstances more than we can. I just keep doing what comes to mind, feels right. While I have some ideas about what might come next, I'm only thinking a few months ahead now (increase my Spanish proficiency) with vague notions about anything after that (travel alone in a foreign country). I might combine the two, although having traveled so much while working, I'm actually paying more attention at home. Traveling is less essential to maintaining a sense of adventure than it once was. Now I have more of that on a day-to-day.</div>
<br />
Writing has been grounding. It has created an outlet for my internal dialogue as well as being something in and of itself to learn about and get better at. Admittedly, I veered a bit from chronicling retirement per se because living in retirement is about more than the absence of work. Like <a href="http://zen-road-retirement.blogspot.com/2012/09/im-forty-years-old-in-here.html">getting older</a> and <a href="http://zen-road-retirement.blogspot.com/2013/05/certain-realities-must-be-faced.html">embracing certain realities</a>. I'll probably be doing more of that. Those posts were among the must popular.<br />
<br />
I'm still about emergence of authentic self, just no longer necessarily in relation to the past work life. A year away from stopping work, experience is starting to stand on its own. It is less a comparison to what was and more about what is. I'm still on the frontage road to zen. And probably always will be. I can't wait to see what this next year holds. I hope you'll stick with me on this continuing adventure. Thank you all for being there.Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-59758507824553062442013-07-07T13:58:00.003-07:002019-07-29T17:57:52.340-07:00Somnambulating Through Sonoran Summer<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Anyone who has lived through a desert summer knows the
out-of-time nature of it. Intense light. Intense heat. In Tucson where students
and winter residents have left, this whole town becomes more like what it used
to be decades ago. Smaller, quiet. And
there is a palpable feeling of camaraderie among those of us who stick around.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Then come the summer rains. In good years there are almost daily
downpours. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sky opens up about four-thirty
and dumps for about an hour. Then glorious sunsets are reflected on the
under surface of thick yet dissipating clouds. Sometimes the pink or golden glow
extends all the way over your head to the eastern horizon. Stunning. Reward for
staying with the lizards and braving the parched oven-blast air that slaps you
as you emerge from an artificially cooled building. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">We’re still waiting for those rains. Last weekend we got a little
preview. In an effort to get out of the house, a friend and I went downtown and
walked a couple blocks to our dinner destination through hot, somewhat heavy
air that draped us like a burka. It was overcast so the sun was an eerie glow
in the west and the slanted light was greyish gold. As we ate and chatted we
noticed a rise in the mood of our fellow diners and looked outside. It was raining.
Soon we emerged into the caress of lush air. Puddles created a cooling effect
as we made our way to PorchFest, a first-time event in one of Tucson’s historic
neighborhoods. We met a couple more friends and wandered from one porch to the
next where musicians played mostly acoustic music. The little bit of water
awakened desert neighborhood scents – creosote and cleveland sage, pigeon
droppings and warm wet concrete. Music wafted in the luscious air along with
the scents and the soft receding light. Really lovely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQzlztyWy41n6Wyh6DTKL7CwrTb6sbdtc_jWLSeNJvG-kE4vDOls9sr6Dofgk0hWgChptuGetOHKJEp-lQqXCb50YVXjHPMSd3PQEgd_6OltoXbrcdjTbBgcXOzdxz-PcuNcaQK_3PfW0/s1600/PorchFest2013-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQzlztyWy41n6Wyh6DTKL7CwrTb6sbdtc_jWLSeNJvG-kE4vDOls9sr6Dofgk0hWgChptuGetOHKJEp-lQqXCb50YVXjHPMSd3PQEgd_6OltoXbrcdjTbBgcXOzdxz-PcuNcaQK_3PfW0/s320/PorchFest2013-12.jpg" width="320" /></a></span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><o:p><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Used by permission. </span><a href="http://www.touchwind.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: xx-small;">http://www.touchwind.blogspot.com/</span></a><o:p></o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">That was short-lived though. This week we’ve had a little bit
of afternoon rain but for the most part it’s been about 106 outside and a
little humid as the monsoon season builds. With the creeping humidity, I’m retreating.
Shifting to a more internal life inside my house. There is a lot of reading. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many hours of reading. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I keep the phone next to me on the off chance
someone will call. I don’t want to have to get up from my chair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Yet I have been slowly making progress on my house projects.
These are the conditions I’m facing: I went out earlyish in the morning to
measure my front square footage in preparation for ordering crushed rock cover,
walking round the edges with a tape measure. It’s only about 400 square feet so
we’re not talking a lot of time outside. I came back in and was fine for about
a minute. And then sweat burst from my entire body. Which just perpetuates the desire
to close the blinds, turn the air conditioning down a couple degrees and dive
into a pool of words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I know it is probably a lot more interesting for all of you
if I get out and do things and then report back. But for now I’m estivating. I’ll let you know if anything dramatic happens.<span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"> Like, I went outside. And survived.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-12568734106249974622013-06-28T12:23:00.000-07:002013-06-28T12:23:00.719-07:00Nun with A Ruler
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My self-discipline has really been flagging lately. There
are several big-ish house projects that have been nagging me and I want to have
done, but not actually do. The only <span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">way to get these projects done is having nothing
else on my plate, so I've created that reality.</span> <span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yet I procrastinate on the tedious info
gathering and the many decisions that need to be made. </span>I read, I write,
do the dishes, water the plants. I plod through my house projects list like a
reluctant teenager. Do I haf ta? Also part of this self-imposed lethargic
reality - <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t seem to plan more than
a week in advance or motivate beyond my few weekly commitments to various
exercise activities. And I’m not paying attention. In the span of three days,
all these things happened to me: 1) I went to a meeting and parked in the
downtown library garage underground. Came back at 8:30 and it was gated, locked,
inaccessible. I had failed to see the sign that said when it closes. It was
daylight when I went in. 2) I had my credit card in my hand in a weird way when
putting the movie into the Redbox slot and it got sucked in with the movie. No
way to get it back. I checked. 3) I was tired driving back from horseback riding
and saw the flash of the remote camera. Looked down - eleven miles over the
limit. Looked around - no other cars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m waiting for the envelope in the mail. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I completely re-habbed my little house in 2008 before I
moved. I don’t remember it being this tedious. I just added all the rehab tasks
into the fast track that is the work world. And work filled in the spaces
between the numerous small accomplishments that it takes to get a project
completed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is not enough to make me
miss work however.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Clearly, instead of an inner child, who has pretty much been
running the show lately, I need an inner nun with a ruler. A taskmaster who can
tell me Pay Attention! And yes, you haf ta. So you can get on with the rest of
your life. I’m visualizing: </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ_pu_55r9POQ4e4fCUHWiBbJt_ry05z-ozoZz_DleU93lwoH3M0rhuNI3xIyULRTUDY88DU9lvqujcbYw22Xh8SBZXyKmXiv2JkseekLhYssN9mUGaqImoznWCvwJl2UCaoMoMnLdfkc/s400/nun_ruler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ_pu_55r9POQ4e4fCUHWiBbJt_ry05z-ozoZz_DleU93lwoH3M0rhuNI3xIyULRTUDY88DU9lvqujcbYw22Xh8SBZXyKmXiv2JkseekLhYssN9mUGaqImoznWCvwJl2UCaoMoMnLdfkc/s320/nun_ruler.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-82294840294359998622013-06-18T14:20:00.000-07:002013-06-18T14:21:33.155-07:00Workshop Confidential<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Apparently I'm a cliché. Or not, I'm
telling myself. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In keeping with my “methodology” of getting
out there and exploring things of interest to see what sticks and wanting to
write more better, I go to the 25<sup>th</sup> annual <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>writers workshop sponsored by our community
college. I’m in line with the other retired people, or at least a lot of people
in my age group, thinking they could be, or who are, writers. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Apparently, older retired people who take
up writing are a known element with established writers who have been dedicated
and paid dues for decades. "Uhg, another retirement blog" can be an
initial thought that needs to be transcended. As quickly as possible. I'm
already contemplating taking “retirement” out of my blog title in order to
capture the attention of the retirement-blog-adverse. 'Cause this ain't your
grandma’s blog. Or so I want to think.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Quite a few of the participants looked
grandmotherly or conventional.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Others
reflected a sensible-shoes, makeup-less look….bookish. Duh. Of course: Writers.
Books. Reading. This wasn’t what I expected, even though I didn't realize I had
expectations. Probably something more like this:<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-no-proof: yes;"><v:shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f">
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<v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0">
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</v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:formulas></v:stroke></v:shapetype></span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m like the homosexual who is
uncomfortable with the effeminates in the community. “No. I'm not like them.
Please don't put me there.” But we need to embrace the whole of our communities
least we engage in self-hatred. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The diversity evened out a bit over the
weekend but I was one of the few people in the crowd looking at the internet
during presentations. Probably because I was the only one that needed to look
up the authors to whom references were made. Not sure if I should be apologetic,
although no one noticed because it was in an auditorium, or a bit "hey
girl" for my modern habits.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I learned terms like project, voice, and
platform. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Are you working on a project? Uhm. Pause. Oh, project means some
piece of writing .... a book, a play. Quick. I think. Is a blog a project?
Sure. Make up the elevator speech on the spot. Try to describe using terms that
resonate.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And I got an encouraging review of my manuscript
(aka this blog) from a published </span></span><a href="http://arealemotionalgirl.com/"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">author</span></span></a><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">. I really appreciated being matched with a
writer young enough to be my daughter. Score!<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Main take-away: be more descriptive. Not
the first time I’ve heard that. So if you see my posts getting a bit longer,
blame the workshop. It’s called scene-setting.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can see that being a writer requires deep
commitment, especially if you want to get published - like, for real. I’m not
ready for that, for so many reasons. For now, and so as not to get too
self-conscious about words, I’m going to focus on the art of living, rather
than the art of writing. So I have something to write about. Descriptively. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-55049839392935686852013-06-07T19:56:00.000-07:002013-10-19T14:17:19.439-07:00Owning It <br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m on a roll. Having faced certain truths and accepted that
the limits of my physical abilities no longer encompass tens of thousands of
stone steps, I’m letting go of more outdated images from the past. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another nostalgic pipe dream I had for retirement was also
based on the image in that forty-two-year-old self photo (see my last post). I
was thinking I could get back to that weight and cohesiveness of flesh. Despite
efforts - I tried - I really, sort of, tried - that hasn’t happened. And isn’t
going to happen. Instead I find myself, for the first time ever, accepting and
owning the excess. Or at least some of it.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I let go of self-consciousness and wore a sleeveless blouse,
which I haven’t done in several years. No one even noticed, of course. I didn’t
catch anyone starting disapprovingly at my crepey underarms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not even me. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Growing up labeled a “big girl” puts down deep roots. Now,
I’m digging them up, tossing them out and just accepting what is. Perhaps some
of the recent press on and advocacy by fat girls has bolstered my shift. For
example, check out local rad girl, </span><a href="http://www.themilitantbaker.com/2013/05/to-mike-jeffries-co-abercrombie-fitch.html"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">The
Militant Baker</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">. However, those images are limiting – it’s always young women.
With zaftig flesh, yes - but its firm, smooth - young<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- flesh. I see the pictures and think: talk
to me in four decades girlfriends, when gravity and time have worked their
magic. That will call for a whole new support group.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On the other hand, there’s the
photo-retouch-plastic-surgery-industrial-complex that creates impossible images
to emulate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought once I got older,
I’d be free of that. But no, here we have Helen Mirren in her skimpy two piece
bathing suit, Jane Fonda all sleek, Susan Sarandon's unrestrained boobs, and Diane Keaton (skinny bitch!). There is
no end to the images of the ideal. I just had to stop looking. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I still notice the number of products it takes to keep it
all going though. I remember thinking when I was in my twenties, when I had
not-much money and smooth skin and wore little make up: Who would pay $40 for under
eye cream? Uh, your future self, sweetie. I’m not letting go of that hedge
against deteriorating aesthetics. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just as I’m not going to start sitting in cafes because I no
longer will be doing tens of thousands of stone steps, I’m not giving up. I‘m
still going to wage battle with gravity and time, but in a more aikido kind of
way. With love and acceptance of what is no longer possible. And know that just
as I look back on photos from decades ago and think “hey, you looked pretty
good despite what you were thinking at the time”, I’m going to look back on
photos from now and think the same thing. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
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Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-61893365842010525462013-05-30T17:21:00.000-07:002013-05-30T17:24:07.222-07:00Certain Realities Must Be Faced<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After my trip to Nepal, it took me over two weeks to get back
to normal sleep patterns and energy level. It wasn’t just the jet lag, which
was formidable. It was 17 days of not-normal sleeping and the physical demands
of eight days of trekking up and down tens of thousands of hand-hewn stone
steps.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m caught up with myself now and back to the day-to-day. And
realizing that the trek defined what my physical limits are now. Made me face
some realities. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Many months before I went, I put a picture of myself on the
refrigerator for inspiration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somewhere
in the recesses of my mind I thought maybe I could be that woman again. As
though looking at that photo and a little increase in my exercise routine would
prepare me. My knees knew otherwise. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was the early 90's. I was 42 and in great shape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m standing on the side of a road
where we had stopped for some reason, out in the middle of nowhere in Mexico. We
were there primarily to climb </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Popocat%C3%A9petl"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">Popocatepetl</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">, </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iztaccihuatl" title="Iztaccihuatl"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">Iztaccihuatl</span></span></a><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> and </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pico_de_Orizaba" title="Pico de Orizaba"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">Pico de Orizaba</span></span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">. </span>They are all fairly non-technical climbs,
which means walking zigzag up snowfields with crampons on your boots for
traction and an ice axe for stability and to catch yourself if you fall and
start sliding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beginner mountains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The “we” being my recently no-longer-boyfriend and his
friend. Both almost a decade younger than me. I was big into bravado in those
days. Probably still am - or was until now. My claim to fame – crouching behind
a rock on the lip of Popocatepetl to change a tampon while looking down into
the steaming caldera. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Booyah! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I did some more mountaineering in the years after that. Even
then it would take a bit to recover from the physical demands and depletion. So
I’m not sure what I was thinking when I signed up for the trek. That, like
then, I’d get out there and after a day or so I’d be adjusted to the demands?
That I could recreate that level of fitness before I went? That didn’t happen. And it’s not
going to happen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Which is not to say I’m not going to keep doing as much as I
can as long as I can. I’ve always thought that I can sit in foreign cafes when
I’m old. Although my knees still hurt, I’m not there yet. I am here now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At a point of realization. Of acceptance. I’m
admitting that I need to rein it in a bit. Take it a little easier on the
relentless ascent and decent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can look at that picture from 20 years ago with love
instead of longing and think – it truly was, and still is, all good. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if I need a regular dose of Ibuprofen at
the moment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-37680606763915693792013-05-13T08:51:00.000-07:002014-02-04T15:50:10.150-08:00Fun With Avalanches<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If there is such a thing, I had it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On Monday, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the
mid-point of our trek, we were supposed to reach Annapurna Base Camp
(ABC)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(13,500 feet) which would have put
us right at the base of the Annapurnas. We never got there. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">While hiking on Saturday it got a bit rainy and foggy as we
got higher. We stayed that night, as planned, at Deurali (10,500 ft.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When my roommate and I woke up at about three in the morning, which wasn’t unusual, and she when came back into our little room from her
trip to the loo, I asked “Is it still raining?” Answer: “No. But it’s snowing”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yikes. We weren’t expecting that. So much for
going back to sleep. We huddled in our sleeping bags hoping for the best. However,
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>as we emerged into the weak morning
light, there were about three inches of snow on the ground and it was slowly
still coming down. It must have been about 30 degrees, so it was that big,
wet-flaked stuff. Unseasonable snow fall.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was still coming down after
breakfast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Half rain. Half snow. As we
took off for Machapuchare Base Camp (MBC), our next destination, none of us
said anything even though we were all wondering what we were in for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At that point I knew that reaching ABC the
next day was in question because, if nothing else, if this kept up, we wouldn’t
see anything. But in big mountains, you never know what is going to happen. Weather
can change very quickly. So, we just … went. Following our experienced and
enthusiastic guides. Up another 1600+ feet. More stone steps and muddy, rooty,
rocky trail.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hours later, when the buildings at MBC (12,140 feet)
appeared from the behind the curtain of falling snow and clouds, there was more
snow on the ground.</span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Arriving at MBC</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When we woke up the next day - “summit “day - there was more
snow. And it was still coming down. And was predicted to continue for three
days.</span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What we woke up to at MBC</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We ate breakfast wondering what the plan was going to be.
Stay here an extra day, people had been stuck at MBC before? Go down in poor
visibility and conditions? The thing is, the trek crosses one small and one
large avalanche chute. Spring, when things freeze at night and then thaw in the
day time, is prime avalanche time. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
morning we could hear small avalanches happening at a distance, higher up. Like
every 15 minutes. A rumbley rocky thundery sound. Yet I’m thinking: We’re fine. We
have food, shelter, warmth (well, Himalayan-style warmth), competent guides, as
well as contact with the outside world – there was Wi-Fi (what a world). Plus
DK (our lead guide) carried a satellite phone. We were never out of contact
with Active Adventures HQ.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Eventually DK tells us that we we're not going to ABC - “too
risky”. We’re going down – and that if it looks too dangerous when we
get to the avalanche area, we’d come back to MBC. So we start out. The porters
hiked with us, instead of bounding ahead as they usually did, for their safety
and ours, and we all stuck together more closely. I felt calm and
in-the-moment. I’d been in avalanche conditions before when I did some
mountaineering in the early 90’s and I know that knowledgeable people<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
can look at conditions and take a decent read on the risks. Gokul, our Nepalese
guide, </span>had been through that corridor dozens of times, including in snow
conditions. I trusted his judgment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
knew that he and DK wouldn’t be taking unnecessary risks. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So it was fun, despite the fact that it was
very slip-slidey-slushy and everyone took at least one plop in the snow and me
once in the mud.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As we’re hiking we can see small, brief avalanches happening
at a distance, high up and on the other side of the ravine. Think of long,
narrow waterfalls you have seen - it was like that - only it was snow. It
didn’t feel threatening. Just surreal. Other-worldly. Indeed the guides and the
porters all said they had never experienced avalanches happening so often. I
have no pictures to show you. We were all focused on
the conditions and maintaining our footing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To add to the drama, as we’re about 15 minutes or so away
from the main avalanche chute, other, faster hikers coming up from behind us
(they must have left MBC a bit after we did) tell DK that there is a woman by
herself struggling on the trail a ways back. I guess he looked like someone who
could help because, of course, he was. The code of the mountains and guides
being what it is, he goes back to check. The rest of us keep going. We get to
the avalanche chute. Gokul and the porters are talking back and forth – in Nepalese,
so we don’t understand a word. We get the signal that it’s a go.
Standard procedure is to walk as briskly, but safely, as possible and not stop.
That’s what we did. One does not dally in an avalanche chute.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">All safely across, we go a bit more till we’re out of the
avalanche area. Still no DK. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As we’re taking a break, DK emerges out of the fog, holding
the hand of a Japanese woman who seemed dazed. She had become separated from her
hiking companion, a major no-no, even under good conditions. And she was
totally ill-equipped to be out there – her shoes were so slippery she had
been sliding along the trail on her butt. DK had her put her socks on the
outside of her shoes for some traction. See, experienced guides know these things.
He said she could have so easily slipped over the edge. He pulled out some chocolate
from his pack just as we all needed a boost and she hiked on with us. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As we were moving on, the most spectacular avalanche across
the ravine stopped us all. We were spell-bound watching it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was coming over the top of a small high saddle
and looked like a liquid snow fall. There are high lakes on the other side, so
it could have been a combo of water, ice, and snow breaking through. I’ve never
seen anything like it. We all just stood there mesmerized. It went on for so
long we just had to move on.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As we moved lower and reached the tea house for our morning
break, I wondered whether the rescued hiker realized that she could have died
that day. By contrast, we had experienced something truly unique and
exhilarating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were fully alive and
engaged for a fleeting magical morning.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<br />Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-22498868032133668242013-05-06T13:39:00.000-07:002013-05-06T15:43:26.844-07:00Himalayan Freak-out <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I went to Nepal with a New Zealand company with which I had done trips before: </span><a href="http://activeadventures.com/"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Active Adventures</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">. There were six of us in my group, plus two guides – one Kiwi/Maori and one Nepalese (and four porters – who were always well ahead of us, despite their loads). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some of us were more fit than others. Some of us were younger than others. I was an other, not an us, on both accounts. The <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>first day of the trek was a little rough for me. My primary thought: I should have taken training for this a lot more seriously. The terrain was mostly steep up and steep down (and then up and down again) on hand-hewed stone steps (uneven surfaces, uneven heights – I’m guessing over 100,000 of them all told) or on rocky, root-strewn forest trail.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was humid at the lower elevations and I’m not used to that. So the strenuous first-day uphills meant lots of sweating. After half a day of this, we had to rather quickly step up out of the way of a donkey train (the method for moving goods at the lower the elevations). As I stepped up off the track to let them pass, I got an intense charley-horse in both of my hip flexors, from knee to groin. The definition of OWWWWW. I had to consciously relax them. The muscle cramps subsided soon enough and I moved on (one guide took my day-pack, which helped). I had experienced this once before, years ago after a strenuous hike without enough water, so I knew it was continuous use coupled with a bit of dehydration from all that sweating. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That evening, after arrival at our tea house, settling in a bit and downing an electrolyte packet and lots of water, I had to watch how I moved so as not to set off the charley-horses again. Worrisome, but so far so good. But as I lay in my sleeping bag after dinner, ready for sleep, I start to shiver – although I wasn’t cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mind raced – “What was I thinking? Can I do this? Maybe I should turn around.” And I couldn’t stop – till I realized that the shivering was probably a physical manifestation of anxiety and I had to consciously corral my thoughts and attitude or I’d be quaking all night. So I switched to deep breaths and: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ll make it to Chhomrong (which was an actual small village more on the main track and our next destination) and then I can go back down if I have to. In the morning, I’ll talk to DK (our competent, patient and experienced guide). We’ll figure out options. It will be alright. I will be alright. It. Will. Be. Alright.” And it was. I calmed down and when I woke up I was fine. Physically and emotionally. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Although the relentless up and down and stone steps never stopped … neither did I. It never got easy, but I gradually got into the rhythm of hiking six or so hours a day - about 2 hours at a time (we stopped for morning tea breaks and for lunch): Breath deep (especially as elevation increases), drink water, keep moving forward … slow but steady. It is cliché to say, but now I know what Lance Armstrong meant when he said: It’s not about the bike. Now I see: It’s about the psych. I’ve never experienced that so poignantly. THAT will stick with me. As will the melodic sound of the </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DDlRnLlDr-Y&feature=youtu.be"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">donkey trains.</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> And I have a (hopefully temporary) aversion to stairs.<span class="MsoHyperlink"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-41431754510880940552013-04-30T19:00:00.000-07:002013-09-26T16:31:29.580-07:00Time Warped<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is 6 p.m. on the clock in my kitchen. I need the clock to orient me, although it is just a number - it doesn’t feel like anything. It is out of context as I slowly emerge from my longest journey so far - almost 40 hours of travel, including one 16 hour flight. I left my hotel in Kathmandu at 8 p.m. on Sunday night and arrived at my house at 10:30 p.m. Monday night. Nepal is 12.45 hours later than Tucson (yes, they use a quarter-hour difference; no, I don’t know why). I lost track of time, day/night, breakfast/lunch/dinner somewhere over the Arabian Sea when I awoke from my first of many “naps”. I didn’t even try to keep up - I just reset my watch each time I landed. I practiced “be here now” - ate when there was food, slept when I was tired, watched movies, and read. Not bad really.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYcKfSUSPKwo1pCK24E4ZrNqKcKqZclxR1woBXMKmQsGOQA1xI281OB60T1Ux-sWu114Fb6vQlGh8-VlNMrc-rOZk5TlFev4-6mVBqb8nFdLFIbnapxmhGDnZ7TbGIpS0uP8rbiHc25ww/s1600/time+warp2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" lua="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYcKfSUSPKwo1pCK24E4ZrNqKcKqZclxR1woBXMKmQsGOQA1xI281OB60T1Ux-sWu114Fb6vQlGh8-VlNMrc-rOZk5TlFev4-6mVBqb8nFdLFIbnapxmhGDnZ7TbGIpS0uP8rbiHc25ww/s200/time+warp2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Wading through the return time warp is different this time. First, my luggage is still on its way back from Houston, so I’m not engaging in the usual unwinding of all that prep and packing as things get washed and put back in their usual places. (All went well in the developing world, where we assume there will be problems. The Kathmandu airport was hot and crowded and chaotic but they managed to get my luggage tagged and on my plane just fine. Here, in the developed world, we have all kinds of computerize systems on which people depend. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things can look ordered, but there is chaos - like three different places to drop off your baggage after clearing customs and misinformation from people not really paying attention. Welcome home!) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">More importantly though, wading through the time-warp is different because when I was working there was a need to get “caught up” - to get “back to it”. Now, there is no back to an it, there is only forward. I can let this re-entry unfold at its own pace. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Integrate the experience in a new way. At some point I’ll catch up with myself and the time zone and be able to process it all. And see how it will shape what forward means. Time will tell. </span></div>
Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-20750161271239059162013-04-11T14:25:00.000-07:002013-04-11T14:25:59.431-07:00Stripping<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">No, I haven’t taken up some geriatric version of burlesque. Rather I’m talking about what comes next, after cultivating boredom (see Dare to Be Bored, Feb 2013), namely: stripping away of expectations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In preparing for my trekking trip to Nepal, I’ve found myself on the excitement/anxiety edge. While I have some sense of what it will be like, the trip is so different from those I have taken in the past (which was the point) that I don’t know what to expect, really. That had me on the edge. But as it gets closer, and all the little details are taken care of, I am anticipating the unfolding. The revelation of the unknowns. Gradually sitting deeper into the moment…becoming more “present” with the experience. I want to make that way of seeing – that way of being - part of me and bring it back. If I can, that will be my most valuable souvenir. If I need some guidance, perhaps one of these Hindu holy men will have some insights:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-GSAUAGJyCm1mQhCN7ujItJaVskV0XpovpX4xOXvFH6TeeiI_G1OE9QVgYEazLILuKWRHT5jQ_lk5qxGaKr2WtRIJapCQUNG4AM1sHs_nDcKDFqjspff5Jqa7LWSibaM5PAd5BgHrmAA/s1600/hindu-holymen-nepal-nepal+1152_12960908440-tpfil02aw-16118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bua="true" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-GSAUAGJyCm1mQhCN7ujItJaVskV0XpovpX4xOXvFH6TeeiI_G1OE9QVgYEazLILuKWRHT5jQ_lk5qxGaKr2WtRIJapCQUNG4AM1sHs_nDcKDFqjspff5Jqa7LWSibaM5PAd5BgHrmAA/s200/hindu-holymen-nepal-nepal+1152_12960908440-tpfil02aw-16118.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For now, I’m noticing how good home can feel when you are about to leave it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-79784713612574799172013-04-04T12:42:00.002-07:002013-04-08T15:56:28.638-07:00Looking for Lessons<span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I haven’t written in a bit because I have been distracted and a little anxious. In February I wrote about seeing more clearly in the figurative sense (Post: I Can See Clearly Now) and the consequences of that. Now I literally cannot see clearly. I’ll spare you the details, but the vision in my right eye is blurry, so everything is a little off. I can’t tell if having this kind of thing happened now that I am retired is better (I don’t have to be reading emails all day in order to get my work done - and there’s more time to run around to appointments and to get meds) or worse (more time to dwell … worry about what is going on and feel the frustration of navigating doctor office gate-keepers who aren’t listening and cause days of delay as my vision gets worse). <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I’m not one to think that everything happens for a reason. I’ve seen some pretty random stuff – good and bad - happen for no discernible reason – to people who did, and people who did not, “deserve it”. Yet I do like to explore whether there is something to be learned or experienced from an altering of things as they were, to something else. An opportunity to see things differently (in this case, literally). In that I am not cultivating a new career as an impressionist painter, I haven’t come up with anything for this yet. Blurry vision has not enhanced my worldview.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">At its simplest, it has been a lesson in dealing with anxiety: think positive – “it’s something that can be dealt with” (which, it turns out, it is) – rather than negative - “I’m going blind” - and dealing with frustration: be patient with people who are not entirely competent, or more likely, working in ineffective systems. I failed both these lessons in the past few days. And I kinda don’t care. There is probably a lesson in that too. If only I could see it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">P.S.: Just as I was putting final touches on this and about to post, a friend posted a poem about </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dukkha"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Dukkha</span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a Buddhist term, and the first of the Four Noble Truths,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>commonly translated as "suffering", "stress", "anxiety", or "dissatisfaction". I think there is a lesson in there somewhere. I’ll have to look for it.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">P.P.S (about 5 days later): I think the lesson revealed itself: Admit that I might actually need some help. Ask for help. And the help will appear.</span></span></span></div>
Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-10051922870912177702013-03-22T11:03:00.000-07:002013-05-11T14:49:42.361-07:00Animal Husbandry<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Courier New'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another thing I thought I would do at some point after I retired was get a dog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Up until 2004, when my last dog went to doggy heaven, I always had a dog - and a cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My last two dogs were wonderful companions and lived to be 12 years old. I fed them basic dog food, trained them to sit, stay and come (sort of). Gave them their shots and brushed their teeth myself. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Took them backpacking and hiking with me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And attended to emergencies (like when one of them got too intimate with a huge bull while we were hiking and ended up with a 3” by 3” skin-flap-wound right through to the muscle. Fun times.) But that was pretty much it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Courier New'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now there are so many expectations to dog ownership. (Note I didn't say “parenthood”. I just can't go there. Those of you who see that differently, please do not report me to the ASPCA.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now you practically have to put them on a list to get them into a good doggy preschool and, as a recently-viewed pet food commercial opined: attend to their needs - physical, emotion, social (and one other need I can’t remember<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- maybe spiritual - we’re not far from that folks). Although I did refer to my dogs as Canine-Americans, I just can’t live up to current expectations. </span></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Courier New'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Plus, and probably most important, I don't know how much traveling I'm going to be doing as an ongoing thing, so the timing is just not right.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Courier New'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I'm thinking about these things when I see a little ad about a </span></span><a href="http://www.desertmuseum.org/programs/tap.html"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Courier New'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">desert tortoise adoption program</span></span></a><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Courier New'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">. Eureka! I think. Just at my skill and commitment level, I think. When I was working, I assisted with collaboration on the recovery of the Mojave population of the desert tortoise and learned a lot about them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve run into a few out there in the natural world and marveled at their ability to survive on so little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I go online to check out the details. And find that there are six steps to the requirements, including numerous yard modifications - not to mention the things you are supposed to grow for them to eat (yes, store-bought produce is inferior for these guys). I don’t put that much effort into feeding <u>myself</u>. And my frontscape re-do (to create habitat pleasing to me) is yet to get underway. Geeez, I think. I don't even measure up for a tortoise.</span></span><br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Courier New'; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I guess I’ll be leaving the animal husbandry to the 4H-ers for now. I wonder how long one can wait to get a pet to reap the live-longer benefits that supposedly flow from pet ownership? At some point, it is just a little too late. I’ve got awhile before I get there though. I think.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-55576348009277112012013-03-17T16:39:00.000-07:002013-03-18T13:07:05.773-07:00One Small Step. A Giant Leap<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">… into cyberspace. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve been doing comparison looking (teed. e. ous) into tablets. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to have something to take with me when I travel so that I can keep in touch a bit and have access to information. Particularly for my upcoming trip to Nepal which will involve many, many hours on airplanes and in airports.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have this weird bias: if it appeals to soooo many people (like McDonald’s), how good can it be? Hence, I resist. I figure I’m just paying extra for a brand name when some less expensive, off-brand would suffice. But I have several friends who are enthusiasts (and don’t eat at McDonald’s) so I included the apple’s in my research. Try as I did to avoid the i, I succumbed (to the mini). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And I can see why it is so popular – easy, easy, easy. I even synched up with my desktop. On my own. Needed fewer hints than getting through a game of spider solitaire. Of course it would probably still be sitting in the box if my visiting friend (a former engineer) hadn't gone shopping with me and then hooked up a wireless router (magic!) so I could use the thing at home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And for many of you this may just be in the same category as this post: Revelations Probably Already Known to Others (August, 2012), but I feel as though I have crossed a new threshold.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Maybe I’ll see some of you on Facetime (although that fun-house-like camera was obviously tested by young people. It's kind of a sobering experience for us semi-oldsters).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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P.S. (a couple days later): Oh. And if you hear me referring to Siri as though she is my new BFF, please stop me.</div>
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Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-80353538774135174232013-03-04T14:58:00.000-08:002013-03-05T06:54:26.963-08:00I Feel Weird<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Probably a combo of too much caffeine on top of jetlag. Just got back from a five-day trip to Florida for a family wedding. First time I’ve flown since I stopped working. I used to travel every three weeks or so. Got used to it. Sort of. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sounds more glamorous than it is. That cosmopolitan feeling wears off after about six months (although I never got tired of cool hotels in the center of hip DC neighborhoods I never could have afforded to live in). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Traveling for pleasure is a lot more … uuhhm ... pleasurable. No stress worrying about <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>whether your package of training materials arrived<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>or whether you will get in on time to get the room set up for the early morning meeting. No need to check the smartphone to keep up with emails. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s easier to go with the flow and just let it happen. And I was traveling with my mom who uses a wheelchair at airports because of the walking distances. What a gig. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Long security line? No problem. Go directly to the head of the line. Priority seating? Yep. First on. Royal treatment. All for a few dollars in tips. I’m surprised people don’t take advantage of this. (You didn’t hear that from me.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And there is also the post-trip “let down” (not that I am not glad to be home). A weekend of events and socializing with family - functioning in groups - is immersive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tide just floats you from one thing to the next. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m the oldest of 15 cousins. Quite a few of them, and their children (my second cousins – yes, I looked it up) most of them in their twenties, plus a couple little ones, were there – along with my Aunts. We don’t get together much as we are scattered across the country. It was really good to spend time and to catch up on the trivial and the important. Yet not enough time one-on-one to really dive in. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just enough to make me wish we were closer geographically. That little bittersweet taste lingers longer when not facing an onslaught of work-related things to deal with.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What is the same though, is the first-day-home feeling. It was the equivalent of 2 o’clock in the morning when we got to my house, so I still have that time-warped-weird-sleep-fuzzy brain that used to be all too familiar. Throw in no real exercise for five days and lots of eating, and you have quite the travel hangover. When I was working, I’d just go to work and stumble through. But with nothing distracting me now, I can really feel it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Finally, this trip made real just what I got myself into with traveling to Nepal in April: four times the travel hours that this was. Yikes. I might need to adopt the work -travel mode for that trip: don’t think about it - just do it. And make sure to have spare batteries for the noise-cancelling headphones.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">P.S. It's a day later and I can still feel it. Weird.</span></div>
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Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-68517600100253875912013-02-26T14:34:00.000-08:002013-10-09T13:09:50.222-07:00And I Quote<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hope you all don’t mind that I have been adding quotes in my posts. There is an odd synchronicity that has been happening: I’ll be thinking about something (like seeing more clearly or whatever) and in something I’m reading or even Facebook posts there is a quote from someone more famous than me who brings it together. Or I’ll be reading something and there is a quote touching on something that I’m trying to get to crystallize so I can write about it (like the quote from Phillip Glass in the Dare to Be Bored post) (BTW: His music drives me crazy, but his methodology resonated with me). So I cut it out, save it, and let it marinate with the rest of the thought-soup in my head. Eventually it fits in somewhere. Which is cool. But what I really like is the synchronicity of it. That used to happen to me a lot more when I was younger and life was less complicated and hurried. That’s coming back. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Quotes can be helpful to illuminate your writing. As long as they are not trite <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">and do not annoy your readers”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> - Me</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Postscript 10 days later: Vindicated re: the legitimacy of quotes. See <a href="http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/03/02/we-are-what-we-quote/">this</a>.</span></div>
Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-14265028904537239252013-02-22T09:49:00.000-08:002014-06-12T12:28:16.550-07:00I Can See Clearly Now<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Well, maybe not clearly – but a bit more clearly. I don’t claim to be becoming a Buddhist (despite the name of my blog) but this resonated: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span lang="EN" style="color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><em>The secret of Buddhism is to remove all ideas, all concepts, in order for the truth to have a chance to penetrate, to reveal itself. </em></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> ~ <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thich_Nhat_Hanh">Thich Nhat Hanh </a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span>When I was working, there was the ever-present buffer of life-in-the-fast-lane. It was just easier to see things the way I wanted them to be. I didn’t have the time or energy it would have taken to make them any different. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">However, things reveal themselves when not partially hidden behind the artifice of what they need to be so that life keeps going with minimal hassle. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Since I’ve been cultivating boredom (see Dare to Be Bored post) it is easier to see the true essence. With many distractions stripped away, some things are coming into focus. I have room in my consciousness to see things more as they are. Preconceived constructs are receding. Realities are illuminated. The veil is lifting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This applies to situations - for example, the pretension that is Hollywood and movie awards shows, despite the seduction of pretty dresses (and you know I love the fashion moment) or the agenda-protection that passes as right and left political “analysis” ( or governing).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">However, it seems to apply most obviously to relationships. I can see more clearly now that I don’t have to maintain a favorable construct. When working, it is necessary to keep some relationships going because of the job/income-related or professional reputation consequences of not. A certain amount of denial or minimizing is necessary. That can become a way of seeing. It permeates.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">No longer in that mode, there is nothing at stake except the relationship itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The stripping away exposes a fuller, more complete, picture. Not just a superficial rosy glow occasioned by the overlay of seeing what I want or need to see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So, while the effect of retirement on relationships has been good (see post on that topic), it is now easier to see little things or let go of assumptions. The Vietnamese pedicurist doesn’t want to connect on a personal level. She’s not interested in a cross-cultural experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She just wants you to come more often so she can feed her family (which is why most people just sit in silence). So stop trying to engage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The insurance agent never seems to get your questions and often makes little mistakes and might need replacing, despite how long you have been with the agency. Some people at casual social events are so full of themselves (bet you thought I was going to say “it” – that’s a similar breed). There’s no need to stand there and try to make conversation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">More importantly though, the challenging aspects of some closer relationships peek out from behind the veil. It is easier to see what has been accommodated to keep the peace. It is easier to see who listens and who is mostly waiting their turn to talk. Easier to notice who is “there” and who isn’t. Who is unaware that they might be being a tad insensitive. Those that have stayed steadfast and those who let distance happen. Who is really interested.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who reads this blog and who is “too busy to read it” (honestly, I didn’t think I was going to be so sensitive to hearing that, but I am). And who are the (very busy) people who keep up when they can. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">All very illuminating. However, while I can see these things, I am not very caught up in them. I can let it be - have patience as time and attention find ways to work things out or let things go.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>When the mind is not crowded</em><i> <em>by imaginary things, </em>i<em>t is the best season of your life.</em></i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kabir"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">-Kabir</span></a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Yes. It is. I might start calling this “The Retirement Effect”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Scientific verification studies to follow.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">P.S. Almost a month later and the relevant guidance keeps coming:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>For things to reveal themselves to us, </em><em>we need to be ready to abandon our views about them</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> - </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thich_Nhat_Hanh"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Thich Nhat Hanh </span></a><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-69119140850180659992013-02-19T09:44:00.000-08:002013-03-06T14:36:41.412-08:00The Effect of Retirement on Friendships<o:p><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
When you are single (and I believe, even when you are not) friendships can make or break the quality of your life. My friends and small family are my life-blood. And this isn’t second-best to having a significant other. It is really good on its own. Even in the rush of work-life before I retired, I made maintaining my friendships a priority for the limited time and energy that I did have. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So, one of my goals for retirement was to attend to my friendships and to widen the circle of people included in that tending. Now that I’m not racing through life, I have the time and energy to be more “there” (there is more there, there – to slightly misquote Gertrude Stein). I’m able to stay in better contact with people. And I am more available to do the coordinating and to get together for social time or to help with some task. Probably most important, I’ve had a couple friends going through some major shite. And they called me. In the daytime. And I had the energy to really listen and do some things to make circumstances a little easier. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It has also been nice to be able to connect with a few former co-workers free of the co-worker aspect. When we worked together we didn’t have (or make) time for socializing. And the mounting stresses started to get in the way of interactions.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m also developing some new friendships. Part of shifting a worldview from head-centered to more creative/intuitive is sharing time and activities with like-being people (I almost said “like-minded” and then caught myself in the contradiction). That translates into more artists and people involved in creative endeavors. Much like in my mid-twenties. In-between social work as a VISTA volunteer and law school I worked as a waitress in a café-ish restaurant that had a cappuccino machine and daily-made-in-house croissants. "So what?" many of you are saying. Well, this what: at the time, there were only two places in Tucson that had a cappuccino machine and this was one of them. (I know you younger readers can’t imagine such a world, but in 1976 most places were a coffee wasteland.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was innovative. It was really fun. It was the gateway to knowing artists, which has enriched my life in many ways for decades. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So, while it sounds a bit Hallmark-ish, the effect of retirement on friendships has been really good. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBcsQk7fE4ZkXzMcxEf7bg4i6VUbOfTeP7Y7jdJaR4Nw1L-MsK0spjrfmaSSKE1XdtDqd-NPKu4gh9zIf3edpxSumzBZwE7oIYUvovThxBlsnc5q0LuaQpeLKalCwlyZ-stiZHEiRAwNY/s1600/relationship1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" mea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBcsQk7fE4ZkXzMcxEf7bg4i6VUbOfTeP7Y7jdJaR4Nw1L-MsK0spjrfmaSSKE1XdtDqd-NPKu4gh9zIf3edpxSumzBZwE7oIYUvovThxBlsnc5q0LuaQpeLKalCwlyZ-stiZHEiRAwNY/s200/relationship1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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It has also been illuminating. A bit about that coming up soon in a post I’m working on: I Can See Clearly Now.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7701318205357035027.post-23770747227210286362013-02-17T09:27:00.000-08:002013-02-17T11:51:46.289-08:00Nothing Doin’ Part 2<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Someone with regular things on Mondays and Thursday and the next two Fridays is NOT doing nothing!”</span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Good point. This is what a recently-retired friend said as part of our communications about getting together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes. I never am actually just sitting still doing nothing. Indeed I don’t even meditate, which is as close to that as one can get (and still be alive). So, how can I say I am doing nothing? Because I am STILL a bit caught in that work-world definition of what “doing something” means. I have used “doing nothing” to mean not committed to anything that requires much thinking, planning or expectations of others - no on-going activity that occupies me. Rather, I drift (except for four times a week exercise things). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Driven by events and invitations. And I am never “busy”. I aspire to not-busy. Rather I am occupied. So, okay, I guess I’m not doing nothing. I just have to find a better way to describe it so I can be more articulate at cocktail parties when confronted with “So, what do you do?” Uhhmmmmm….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Frontage Road to Zen: The Retirement Chronicleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01528807288436639351noreply@blogger.com0