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Repurposing ourselves.

During my last adventure in moving, the crew somehow managed to mangle a piece of furniture I had carried with me through several previous moves.  It was a somewhat odd piece; a bit of wrought iron in an interesting shape holding what was basically a metal tray at the top, and then sprayed black.  Sounds ugly, but it was actually interesting.

When I opened the box it was supposed to be in, all that remained was the metal bottom, now squashed together and no sign of the top.  I’m not sure how they managed to do this, but it was done. I kept the mangled iron piece, as it just seemed like the right thing to do.  In my new digs, I put the piece in the yard, thinking maybe it could be some kind of yard art or a vessel for a vine to cling to.

A few years pass.  And the piece is just leaning against the fence, looking lost. I’m thinking it’s starting to suggest I’m collecting junk for the sake of collecting junk. So I go out one day and pick it up, and inspect it again.

It’s still interesting.  In fact, in many ways, it’s downright beautiful.  A little scarred.  A  bit more rusted.  But actually an elegant design that begs to be seen. 

I carry it inside my house.

I’ve always loved art with texture…tapestry, fiber, something I can put my hands on.  I like unexpected things.  I like found objects. So hey…what about that empty space on that wall?  Where I’ve been hoping to find something I like to put there, yet finances have kept me from really pursuing anything?

You guessed it.  I hung it. And I LOVE it.

And even if no one else understands, I do.

It made me think.  If we can repurpose objects that have been mangled or abused, why can’t we repurpose ourselves?  We get older, and we start feeling like we don’t fit in.  We want to get involved in new projects and groups and we are timid to do so because someone will think “we’re old.” 

Our careers come to a stopping point, often by no choice of ours, and we have to find part-time employment.  Yet we have anxiety about walking into a business and inquiring if they need help, because we know we’ll be years older than the person standing there.

Or maybe we are just ready to “repurpose” ourselves, but we’re not sure we know how.  Can we really do that?  Is it ever too late to shake off some of the rust and get back out there?

It’s funny how time works. When we’re in our 20s and 30s the road just seems to stretch out forever.  Then we get to the 40s and 50s and it feels like everything is speeding up.

Then the 60s come and we would give anything to have 20 years back (and our waistline).

Where did it all go?  And what lies ahead?  If all we really have is right now, this minute, then does any of that really matter?  Maybe the best use of our energy is just making it right now, whatever that is.

Check out what author and educator Nancy K. Schlossberg wrote in a 2018 Market Watch article:

“When Mikhail Baryshnikov, then age 62, danced at the 2010 Ringling Museum International Festival, he came onto a plain stage with nothing but a screen. He started dancing to a video of a young man dancing. And the young man was Baryshnikov at a much earlier age. He danced to his younger self. You saw three dancers-the younger, the older and the shadow. He no longer leapt in the air but he still created a thrilling performance. He had style.”

As baby boomers and beyond, we’ve earned the right to be whoever we choose to be, and if that means a newer, “repurposed” version of ourselves, then bring it on.  We’re still handsome.  We’re still beautiful.  We’re still spirits in the universe.

Life really is a kaleidoscope. And each time we turn it, we see new things. New shapes. New beauty. And that includes us.

Make each day your masterpiece. John Wooden

You retired. Now who are you?

You’ve worked hard. Very hard. You’ve worked so hard for so many years that it’s how you define yourself. You see familiar faces every day, follow a familiar routine, and relate to the world based on what is expected of you. There’s a peace in this. A safe comfort.

Your goal: to retire eventually and really “start enjoying life.” You long to sleep past the alarm, have that second cup of coffee on the deck, plan your day as you wish or have no plan at all.

It all sounds divine.

And then it happens.

And you feel lost.

No one is expecting you each morning. You are free to do or not do as you please. Your “title” is how you were once known. There’s no friendly chatter in the break room or office parties at the holidays.

You’re not even sure what you’re supposed to do now…or who you are.

Freedom is scary sometimes. It’s easy to forget how it felt all those years ago when you took a chance on a job, or moved to a new city, or took a deep breath and went it to the boss and said give me a raise or I’m history. You did it then. You forged your path and created your persona.

And you can do it again. Because now, all the noise and chatter and burden of what others expect from you is fading away…and your spirit is free to guide you.

If that sounds all touchy feely, think about it. This might be the first opportunity you’ve had to really see what’s inside…is there a creative voice waiting to express something? Is there a cheerful volunteer looking to help others? Is there an adventurous soul who is ready for that bicycle trip to Europe?

And when it comes to age, sure, you’re older. But good news: it might mean you’re even better! The New England Journal of Medicine says, “…abilities requiring expertise and experience, verbal knowledge, executive functioning, and complex problem solving—the components of wisdom—don’t peak until our 70s. As compared with younger people, older people report having significantly less stress and worry and significantly more happiness and life satisfaction.”

How’s that for a boost? You really are getting better!

So retire with pride. With gusto. With the understanding that it might feel odd for a bit, and you might feel lost, but the path is waiting for you. And you soon will be ready to go places you’ve never before imagined.

And if your “path” is simply a quieter way of life, that’s okay because that is what is right for you. No more rush hour madness. No pressure to dress “corporate.” No having to ignore the rudeness of a supervisor. That person you’ve always been deep down inside no longer has to bend and twist to conform to company policy.

Now, you’re the boss of you. (At least in theory!) So give yourself a raise! A raise in happiness. In spontaneous moments of fun. In making a difference in someone else’s life. In trying something new or going back to something you loved long ago.

And don’t forget the wisdom and experience you have gained is so valuable. When you’re ready, share it with someone younger. It’s your gift to the universe.

Retire from stress, not life. You’ve been promoted!

“Don’t act your age in retirement. Act like the inner young person you have always been.” – J. A. West

What scares you?

It’s Halloween.  Ghosts.  Goblins.  And lots and lots of fun-size candy sitting on your counter just daring you to stick to your diet.

Great for kids, and aficionados of the classic horror films.  Fun for adults who like to decorate their homes into eerie places that give trick-or-treaters a thrill.

But you know what’s really scary?

What goes on every day. Fears of gun violence no matter where you go on a sunny Saturday.  Health insurance premiums skyrocketing.  Bigotry, white supremacy and incessant name-calling grabbing center stage.  Crazy people in power encouraging lies, revenge and insults to ignite frightening results.

And what seems to be a general ho-hum reaction to most of it—or what’s even worse, a weariness that results in inertia.

Why aren’t more people upset that the planet is suffering from our abuse?  That children are taken from their mothers and walls are built to keep out people while the privileged just get more?  That bullying seems to ongoing with no end in sight?

It’s terrifying.

Maybe some are afraid to admit they are afraid.  

Maybe some figure that’s just the way it is.

Maybe some are so used to it all they figure someone else will fix it.

Maybe some think they can’t do anything.

But we can.

Even if you never leave your home, you can do a lot.  You can make your voice heard.  You can decry meanness.  You can shine the flashlight on off-color jokes and inappropriate behavior in mixed company.  You can not laugh when someone you’ve known for years tells a repugnant joke.

You can send out positive thoughts and not buy in to the garbage.

So much negative energy comes in through our televisions, computers, phones and more. It’s enough to make you put a piece of foil on your head and hide under a rug.

But don’t.

Be true to your heart.  To the spirit of good, of light, of redemption.  Get out your hippie t-shirt from the 60s and wear it while you do housework.  Be the ripple in the pond that goes out to the universe.

We boomers have lived through a lot of war, anger, bad politics and more.  We know how to change minds.  How to be heard.  And while we may not be able to participate in a 3-day sit in (we’d never be able to get up), we can do our part to not let so much junk invade our lives.  And not let the uncivilized talk go unchecked.

Here’s to some positive energy…and to turning down the volume on what others think we want to hear.

“Come on people now, smile on your brother, everybody get together, try to love one another right now.”

       Chet Powers

Falling away

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So many leaves are falling…bringing up images of childhood…remembering orange, red and yellow leaves from several sugar maple trees that lined one of the homes I lived in when I was very young.

They were beautiful. They crackled beneath my bicycle tires. I’d press them between pieces of paper and use crayons to come up with masterpieces (at least in my mind).

Years pass and leaves have become more of a chore, raking, bagging and hauling to the curb. Yet I never pick up a rake that I don’t think about how much fun it was to run and jump into a gigantic pile of them. (Always remembering, as Lucy Van Pelt would tell Charlie Brown, “never jump into a pile of leaves with a wet sucker.”)

And leaves also remind me it’s time to let go of the past.

Pack away the summer clothes and get out the well-worn sweatshirts and long socks. Wrestle the comforter back into the duvet. But more than that, it’s a natural reminder that things fall away, plants stop blooming, and people pass away. Life reinvents itself in preparation for the next season.

One of the most beautiful passages about this ever appeared in Bambi, written by Felix Salten in 1923. (Not the Disney cartoon version. This book is a beautifully written, deeply moving look at nature, humanity and life itself.) If you never read it, you might pick up a copy. If you did, perhaps you’ll recall this amazing passage from Bambi that takes a gentle look at death, rebirth and so many of the questions many of us still have even though we’re not children anymore.

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The leaves were falling from the great oak at the meadow’s edge. They were falling from all the trees. One branch of the oak reached high above the others and stretched far out over the meadow. Two leaves clung to its very tip. “It isn’t the way it used to be,” said one leaf to the other.

 “No,” the other leaf answered. “So many of us have fallen off tonight we’re almost the only ones left on the branch.”

 “You never know who’s going to go next,” said the first leaf. “Even when it was warm and the sun shone, a storm or a cloudburst would come sometimes, and many leaves were torn off, though they were still very young. You never know who’s going to go next.”

 “The sun hardly shines now,” sighed the second leaf, “and when it does, it gives no warmth. We must have warmth again.”

 “Can it be true,” said the first leaf, “can it really be true, that others come to take our places when we’re gone and the after them still others, and more and more?”

 “It really is true,” whispered the second leaf. “We can’t even begin to imagine it, it’s beyond our powers.”

 “It makes me very sad,” added the first leaf. They were silent for a while. Then the first leaf said quietly to itself, why must we fall?

The second leaf asked, “What happens to us when we have fallen?”

 “We sink down…. What is under us? I don’t know,” answered the first leaf. “Some say one thing, some another, but nobody knows.” The second leaf asked, “Do we feel anything, do we know anything about ourselves when we’re down there?”

 The first leaf answered, “Who knows? Not one of all those down there has ever come back to tell us about it.”

 They were silent again. Then the first leaf said tenderly to the other, “Don’t worry so much about it. You’re trembling.” “That’s nothing,” the second leaf answered, “I tremble at the least thing now. I don’t feel so sure of my hold as I used to.”

 “Let’s not talk any more about such things,” said the first leaf. The other replied, “No, we’ll let it be. But what else shall we talk about?” It was silent, but went on after a while. “Which of us will go first?” “There’s still plenty of time to worry about that,” the other leaf said reassuringly. “Let’s remember how beautiful it was, how wonderful, when the sun came out and shone so warmly we thought we’d burst with life. Do you remember? And the morning dew and the mild and splendid nights….”

 “Now the nights are dreadful,” the second leaf complained, “and there is no end to them.” “We shouldn’t complain,” said the first leaf gently. “We’ve outlived many, many others.”

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 “Have I changed much?” asked the second leaf shyly.

 “Not in the least,” the first leaf said. “You think so only because I’ve gotten to be so yellow and ugly. But it’s different in your case.”

 “You’re fooling me,” said the second leaf.

 “No, really,” the first leaf answered eagerly, “believe me, you’re as lovely as the day you were born. Here and there may be a little yellow spot. But it’s hardly noticeable and makes you only more beautiful, believe me.”

 “Thanks,” whispered the second leaf, quite touched. “I don’t believe you, not altogether but I thank you because you are so kind. You’ve always been so kind to me. I’m just beginning to understand how kind you are.”

 “Hush,” said the other leaf, and kept silent itself, for it was too troubled to talk anymore.

 Then they were both silent. Hours passed. A moist wind blew, cold and hostile, through the treetops. “Ah, now,” said the second leaf, “I….”

 Then its voice broke off. It was torn from its place and spun down. Winter had come.

*******

 I’m grateful for the seasons, and how the light changes with each. I’m grateful for the fall afternoons  as a child raking leaves.  I’m grateful I still have trees sharing their leaves with me.  I’m grateful I’m here to see it all.

 

To every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.

Ecclesiastes

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