Painting in my Vermont backyard, sometime in the early 1990s (photo by Jonathan Sa'adah)
Unlike many people whose working life has been in institutions or businesses, I've always worked for myself, or in partnership with my husband, which is pretty much the same thing. My career has been in graphic design, communications, and publishing, first in print and then on the web, for a long list of corporations, institutions and non-profit organizations. It was challenging, demanding, and well-paid; now, that part of my life is pretty much over. I still have a publishing business, which is also challenging and demanding, and not well paid at all. In addition to the design, editing, illustrating and marketing for the publishing business, I sell some artwork or do a design job from time to time, and I write words and make music, both of which sometimes feel more difficult than the work for which I was paid during the past forty years.
Because of these lifelong interests, I can't imagine "retiring" in the traditional sense, and hope I won't have to. But the transition is significant when moving from paid work to unpaid work; from externally-imposed deadlines to those I impose on myself; and from clearly defined goals to work that may never be "used" or even seen, other than maybe sharing it with a small online audience. I have greater freedom now to decide what to do with my time, how to structure my days, and to what purpose. Although the concept of that much freedom once seemed like paradise, in actuality I haven't found this change particularly easy, though it's getting better. What's helped is trying to become more clear and intentional about what really matters to me, and who I am now.
A lot of my sense of self has always been about accomplishing something or learning something, but for many years the primary expression of that was through being responsible to other people and to organizations with which I've been involved, and meeting their expectations. My writing and artwork, reading and music, including taking piano and voice lessons, were "on the side," though it was crucial for me to keep doing them to whatever extent I could; sometime I felt like I was living two lives at once, plus being a wife, daughter, friend. I'm obviously happier if I'm busy; less happy when I feel aimless or scattered, and fortunate to have been pretty self-motivated and self-disciplined since childhood. What I'm revisiting now is the question "Why, and for Whom?" because the answer to that has shifted, both because of the big arc of life-changes, and because of much faster-moving shifts in the way we share creative work online and in real life.
How do we find a balance in later life, when we are no longer "needed" or even "wanted" in the same ways, or when we can't (or don't want to) keep up the same pace? I don't think the answer lies in becoming more self-centered, although we may have to adapt to being more alone, but actually in being more discriminating and focused about our choices. I want to help others, to be a mentor and friend, to teach, share, and give, and, equally, to learn from younger people, to stay engaged and in touch. I don't have children or grandchildren, so having contact with younger people requires an intentional effort.
But part of being a mentor is actually to be more and more ourselves: to keep doing our work, and living our truest lives. From the older people I've admired and learned from in my own life, it's clear to me that one can continually learn and grow, even with limitations that come with age or infirmity. And for that, one needs the freedom to concentrate, to experiment, to explore -- and also to do nothing, because out of that "no-thing" often comes clarity, peace, and genuine contentment in spite of the chaos of the world at large. That means saying "no" more often, both to myself and others, without guilt. It means not wasting time reading books I don't really want to read, or absorbing negative energy from other people, or losing hours on social media. I want to shed everything material that feels burdensome and unnecessary, and to travel these next years as lightly as possible, but still with focus and purpose.
This period of life is about acceptance of reality, and setting new priorities. Work-for-pay is less central. So is the striving to "be somebody" -- and thank God for that. Time opens up a little -- there are more uncommitted hours in each day -- and yet, the total is finite; the hourglass is starting to run out. Is that a tragedy? Only if we give up, abandon the search, step off the path, or decide we've already arrived. I need to remind myself sometimes, because it's impossible not to get discouraged or tired, but I do know the answer, at least for myself.
Who are we meant to be, in the end? So many people never seem to find an answer to that question. The answer for me is that we are meant to discover our true nature, which some might say "lies in God" or, to put it differently, in our interconnection with, and love for, all life. Discovering myself has always been an inner journey, through creativity, thinking, and being in nature, with the companionship of my beloved partner and a few close friends; for others, it is a different path. However, if we don't find our way into that primary relationship with our own true self by later midlife, we may remain mired in superficiality and materialism and what others think of us, as well as worrying about losing what we think we deserve or have hoarded up. Worse, our most constant companions will be fears, regrets, clinging, and bitterness. Take a look at the difference between the current First Family, and Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter at age 92; could anything be more obvious?
Thank you for this post, Beth. So much.
Posted by: Rachel Barenblat | February 16, 2017 at 02:34 PM
Beth, I love this photo. It says much the same things you're saying in this post. The fierce concentration and committment in your stance and your expression and the gentle receptivity of your hands, attuned to the nature surrounding you.
Posted by: Natalie | February 16, 2017 at 06:17 PM
Hi Beth
A very thoughtful and reflective post. Carry on your great work. Your drawings, like your prose are always a delight!
The journey is home……
“This search for God, this longing for meaning and understanding, while often frustrating, has given me greater acquaintance with many gods along the way – all, especially the dark ones, worthy of and demanding respect – and many good and many bad people, but always an interesting life. In the end, having a more interesting life, a life that disturbs complacency, a life that pulls us out of the comfortable and thereby demands a larger spiritual engagement than we planned or that feels comfortable, is what matters most. To have been here, to have wrestled with such things, to have lived such questions, to have kept the mystery before us, to have joyfully accepted being ‘ defeated by ever larger things. ‘ to have kept one’s appointment with destiny, to have taken one’s journey through this dark, bitter, luminous, wondrous universe, to have risked being who we really are, is, finally, what matters most.”
James Hollis
Namaste
Michael
www.michaellewin.org
Posted by: michael lewin | February 17, 2017 at 01:49 PM
Beautiful, thank you. The still-life with cup and horse is sheer genius.
Posted by: Laura | February 17, 2017 at 09:20 PM
Retirement. A time to relish one's weaknesses. To doze after lunch and to revel in the sensuality of dozing - occupying that territory where real sounds mingle with imaginary landscapes. Recognising that facetiousness is nugatory but continuing to practice it, knowing it can never be morally ambivalent, its worthlessness makes it untouchable. Paying people to do work that doesn't appeal to you, leaving them behind and ordering a bacon roll that you know is bad for you - at eighty-one! - and the exclamation mark is, for once, permissible. To put aside the awful implications of Donald Trump and see him, instead, as a comedian, a skilled comedian for goodness' sake, operating from a carefully written script. At home, to mis-sing a deceptively easy ascending sequence for the fiftieth time and to say to oneself - almost maliciously - aha, no one else heard it. To not decry the virtues but also to not envy them. To be willing to split infinitives.
Posted by: Roderick Robinson | February 18, 2017 at 03:23 AM
I was at a lively neighbourhood restaurant the other evening with friends around my age, 68. One of the women said to me, "We are the oldest people in here!" Her tone conveyed she didn't like that. And I thought-and then said (thanks to a glass or two of wine)- "I'm glad. Glad to still be here and glad these young ones can see that with a little luck, a person can have a good time at their age, and also at ours."
I lost nearly all of my professional work products a short time ago, decades of work. I could have paid for expensive (and iffy) data retrieval but decided to let it go. I have a few papers in hard copy, and the rest is in the hands of clients. So be it; felt like the iceberg of my ego had calved.
Posted by: Duchesse | February 18, 2017 at 05:22 PM
These are the most enjoyable and fruitful years, the 60s, if you play them right. It gets tougher later on, as I'm discovering in my 70s.
Posted by: Hattie | February 22, 2017 at 01:57 PM