Reckoning My Days

I love this transition I’m experiencing. Retirement is part of it, but only a part. It’s very substantial in that it has given me time, by taking that time out of pursuits I’d grown tired of, in which I could no longer meaningfully invest myself, and from which I could draw little inspiration.

I’m trying to re-create myself, as a former client described his path after finally acquiring decent housing after fourteen years on the street. My transformation may not be that drastic, but then again, it may.

The old has fallen away quickly and easily. I don’t ‘miss’ any of it. Not yet, anyway. The other morning, I awoke at 6:00 am, and lying in bed, I recalled that just a few weeks ago this was my standard, and a necessary one. Whenever I deviated from it by sleeping in, I paid for it by having to working late.

These days, I’m routinely sleeping until 10 and staying up past 2, and it causes no stress. I start my days according to how I work myself into them, and there’s only a very loose structure. But the main thing I’m finding is simply that there is time. If I get to a particular task two hours later than I’d intended, it doesn’t much matter. There is still time to get to it and to everything else I choose to take on in a given day.

I’m very grateful that I had a practice retirement a bit more than a year before commencing the real thing. It made me aware of this very fundamental difference in the structure and pacing of my days, so that I haven’t been disoriented.

One of the things I did during my practice retirement, that I’m duplicating this time around, is a fitness regimen. Both then and now, I went to the gym on my very first day off, and I’ve made it a point to have a good, thorough work out every other day, supplemented by walks and bike rides. And, as I did then, I’m feeling so much fitter and energized for it. There just wasn’t time to persist in this once I went back to work.

Something I thought I needed last time around, but never managed to put in place is a schedule. And lacking that, though I managed to be active, I never felt that my activity was as regular and focused as I needed it to be.

This time around, I’ve approached it from a different angle. Instead of aiming at structure, I’m focusing on awareness, by documenting my time every day. And the simple act of keeping track of time spent writing, meditating, exercising, watching television, reading and walking, as well as tasks to do and done, and contacts made, has created as much structure as I appear to need. Looking over what I did yesterday and the day before immediately generates motivation to be active again today.

Motivation also comes from the accumulation of results. I’ve gotten through about three books in these three weeks. I’ve lost close to ten pounds, and I’ve bridged one of the biggest gaps in my novel manuscript. And lots of little things around the house and throughout my life are slowly coming into order. This time has been a beautiful confirmation of the “One Day at a Time” approach.

I have such a sense of gratitude.  It's quite a gift to wake up each day and to feel totally empowered to participate in Life on my own terms. I wish that everyone could experience this.

The Master and Margarita

In conversation with a colleague recently, I was asked what The Master and Margarita is about, and when I did, she suggested I blog about books I love. So here it is…

…The Greatest Novel Ever Told.

Satan comes to Moscow for a Ball of the Damned. His preparations are carried out by a retinue that includes a trickster, a demon and a huge black cat that is both. Hilarity and mayhem ensue. Parallel to all this is the story of an insane author and the devoted mistress who attempts to save him, as well as a third story, linked to both of the others, but contained in the pages of the author’s rejected and destroyed book.

But, what’s it about? I’m not sure how to say. It’s about so much, too much to wrap up into a paragraph. In fact, I don’t really know what it’s about or what it means, despite having read it half a dozen times, in three translations. But, like the novels Invisible Man, or Life: A User’s Manual, or the film 2001: A Space Odyssey, the fact that it can’t be fully and finally comprehended is part of what makes me love it and continue to explore it.

The Greatest novel? Really? Well, it’s is certainly among the greatest. It is definitely one of the most fun. And, as a combination of side-splitting humor and thought-provoking substance, it has few rivals.

And why do I write ‘told’? Merely in recognition of the way it unfolds, much of it through conversation, through story-telling, as well as through the chapters of the novel within the novel.

I’ve been told, since the time I first loved it in 1973, that it’s a satire of the early Soviet regime that persecuted its author, Mikhail Bulgakov and which kept this novel underground for the first 26 years of its existence, until it was finally published in 1966.

Sure, I can recognize the caricature of political society within The Master and Margarita’s pages. But I know so little about the soviet system that if it depended on such knowledge to have punch, it wouldn’t work very well. Like Orwell’s Animal Farm, what this novel draws out about humans foibles is pretty universal, and can be recognized anywhere.

It is also a book about cowardice, guilt and redemption. And it’s about creative obsession that latches onto you and won’t let loose. And, it’s about devotion and betrayal. It’s even about the existence of God, and about “that power which wills forever evil, yet does forever good.” Let that be enough to get you started, and you will encounter riches. 

The sexist and paternalistic overtones of the title were a little off-putting even in the 70's, but while these tropes pop into view in spots, they are ultimately transcended by a novel that goes beyond expectations at every turn. The writing itself is brilliant, and employs two very different literary styles, maybe three. It’s one of the absolutely funniest and satisfying things I’ve ever read. And it’s also philosophical, touching and poignant. There is no other novel quite like it. 

My First Day of Independence (Retirement)

… is today.

So interesting to wake this morning with the understanding that, though it’s a weekday, I’m not late for anything. I don’t have to go anywhere. My time is mine, to fill as I choose. And though I have definite plans, there remains so much choosing to do. 35 hours a week is a lot of extra time to fill.

And this isn’t like a vacation or leave. If it were I’d be leaning toward indulgences, like staying up late, travelling, eating desserts and spending money I normally wouldn’t allow myself. This is potentially a permanent situation I’ve landed in. So my approach to it needs to be of a different nature. I’m looking to establish a new way to live. But my focus doesn’t have to be primarily on earning a living, because I’ve already done that part, and I’ll continue to get paid. Not nearly as much as before, but enough.

What a concept this retirement deal is! Whoever thought of it should get a Nobel prize!

It’s a sweet feeling, with only the merest tinge of bitterness. And that little, tangy bit has almost entirely to do with what was not done, ventured, accomplished, rather than what was lived. Such is the nature of regret, I continue to learn. Much more about what didn’t happen than about what did.

I will allow myself as gradual and as stress-free a progression into retirement as possible. But I’m determined that from this very first day, my time reflects my goals, values and priorities. I’ll be writing today. I’ll be ordering my space. I’ll be going to the gym for the first time in awhile. I’ll consciously reflect on things I’m grateful for. I’ll meditate. I’ll spend good time with my Bardzo. And I will limit my screen time!

It’s almost pure chance that my first day of retirement is Independence day. I guess it’s merely for bookkeeping purposes that the City recommends that one’s final day be the last in a month. I chose the end of June. Then, since I also decided to save all my vacation time, and to be paid for it, I realized that I’d might as well tack it on after that last day, to extend my benefits another month. Having 4 weeks coming, my last day would become the end of July. But when I went to HR to finalize arrangements, the consultant pointed out that I fell two days short. I would have to work 2 days into the new month for it to balance out.

The 1^st of July was Canada’s national holiday, so an automatic day off. So, my two days would fall on the 2^nd and 3^rd. Which meant that – TA-DA! – my first day of liberation fell on the 4^th of July! Independence Day! Today!

I love the coincidence and the symbolism of that. It strikes me as a great omen, confirming for me that I’m making the right Life move at the right time.

Not that such signs always hold, I remind myself. When I married the first time, I put together the numbers representing our birthdays, the days we met and married, etc. to devise a set of numbers for playing the Lotto. And we won cash money each of the FIRST THREE TIMES we played those numbers! Surely a sign that our impulsive, hormone-fueled decision to marry, and for me to relocate to Toronto from Seattle, was a decision endorsed by the Universe.

But it didn’t prove so. We laughed and fought through ten tumultuous years, but it all came to an end. And looking back, it’s apparent that there was another aspect of those winning tickets that I ought to have paid attention to. Namely, that each win was for about half the money of the previous win. Maybe the signs were true enough, and I just didn’t examine them closely enough.

But I ran with the wonderful metaphor on this 1^st Independent Day, and I made the most of it. Years ago Ponczka got me to observe what I guess is a Polish tradition or bit of folk wisdom. On the first day of the New Year, it’s important to include all those things one wants the year to be full of, and to be sure not to do the things one wants none of. So crucial to have sex, but no arguments.

And today, I acted accordingly. I ate well, I did some reading. I went to the gym, I rode my bike. I meditated. I spent time with Ponczka. And I wrote! And yes, I even limited my television viewing. It’s bound to be a most excellent year.

Another thing that stands out for me is that, just as yesterday represented a kind of goodbye to Toronto, because after more than twenty-five years, I’ll no longer spend the bulk of my waking life there, today represents the start of getting to know the Hammer.

We’ve lived here for three and a half years, and I’m very fond of this smallish City. But I haven’t gotten to experience it fully. A new connection has begun to develop already. Walking through Jackson Square in the afternoon, and biking through the downtown and the near eastside, I definitely felt connected in a way I rarely have before. I was taking my time, free of any pressure to do any particular thing by any particular when. Wow! Yes, this retirement business is going to suit me just fine!