I read a post by Suzanne Giesemann this morning about how we need an outside cheerleader to tell us that we are valuable and capable of anything. She advocates that we be our own cheerleaders, that we can remind ourselves that we can do anything that we set our mind to do. Deepak Chopra’s current meditation series is on finding our own power, reminding us we have the power to create our own lives.

Last March I submitted a manuscript for a middle grade (grades 3-5) novel to the Florida Writers Association’s Royal Palm Literary Awards competition on a whim. I’d been working on this for several years, first with my grandsons as a correspondence project in an attempt to get them to write complete sentences and paragraphs, later as an independent project that took on a life of its own. My writing critique group read and commented, and read it again, adding their insight, sometimes giving me pats on the back and at others, a swift kick in the butt. Both the pats and the kicks were appreciated.

Sitting in a restaurant one August afternoon, eating lunch with my husband, I glanced at my e-mail and almost squealed out loud when I received notice that I was a finalist in the competition. I hadn’t expected my writing to be recognized as worthy. My Sisters of the Sentence at the St. George Writers’ Retreat and I had a mantra, “My writing sucks.” We all suffer from imposters syndrome. I’m not really a writer. But this designation as a finalist in a writing competition meant that I am a writer. Someone not part of my family or my writing group said my writing doesn’t suck. It is worthy.

In October of this year, at the FWA conference, my manuscript of The Boys on Mars was awarded the Gold for Unpublished Middle Grade Novel. This was the ultimate outside cheerleader saying “You can do it”.

We should all be our own cheerleaders. But there’s nothing like hearing “way to go” from that stranger who’s crossed our path.

Have you noticed that your good intentions seem to flutter away when life happens? That’s what happened with my good intentions to keep up an ongoing blog about life in retirement.

So far, in the long time I have been away from this blog, I’ve become a docent at an art museum, I’ve learned to do mosaics, I’ve played my guitar in public for the first time in many years, and I’ve written a book. A whole book. And it won a prize.

Life definitely happens and sometimes it goes in directions that we don’t expect.

So my intention is now to keep writing. Hopefully that will become part of life happening.

With deposits in the IRA, a countdown to the last day of work, and a stack of travel brochures, I was ready to retire from a 28-year career as an elementary school teacher. The end of an era. The end of my identity, or so I thought.

I talked to my friend Linda about this. “I feel like everythingʼs over. Iʼm not accomplishing anything anymore. Retiring took me out of the realm of what I was really good at, what gave me a sense of accomplishment. What do I have now? Realistically, I might have 20 years of living left,” I said.

“Think about what youʼve done in the past 20 years of your life. ʻOh, yeah, I did this, and yeah, I did that, tooʼ. Think that you have 20 more years to do something else. What else do you want to do?” she said.

That set me thinking.

When computer wizard Steve Jobs died, there were many retrospectives on his life, on his constant drive for perfection and creativity. I doubt if he had an idle moment in his life. In contrast, William Shatner of Star Trek fame, said on a morning talk show, “My goal in life at 80 is simply to get out of bed every day.” I wondered where I fit on that spectrum.

I met a calm, sophisticated-looking lady at a neighborhood party on New Yearʼs Day. “What do you do?” I asked in the age old ritual we have of wanting to identify and quantify everyone by their professions and avocations.

With a puckish grin and a twinkle in her eye, she replied, “As little as possible. Iʼm retired.” Unbidden, she went on to explain. “Retirement is a matter of attitude. You have to remember that what you do, even if it is nothing, is your gift. And your choice.”

These lovely words of wisdom from a retired New York judge set me to thinking, and I noticed that the universe was bombarding me with unexpected little snippets of wisdom.

I frittered away an afternoon munching popcorn and watching “Eat, Pray, Love”. Julia Robertsʼ character Elizabeth is chastised by her Italian friends.

“You Americans always have to do and accomplish something. Thatʼs not the Italian way. In fact, we have a phrase for it – dolce far niente, the sweetness of doing nothing.”

Then I ran across this quote (now prominently posted on my bulletin board): “Time you enjoyed wasting, is not wasted time.” T.S. Eliot.

This gift of retirement is my chance to revisit dreams deferred, dreams happily interrupted by raising two wonderful children and a rewarding career trying to spark the love for learning in my students. Now I get to make my choices every day about what I want to do. Write my memoirs or the great American novel. Play my guitar. Work on my photographic skills. Read a book. Go to yoga class. Do nothing.

Sitting here at the computer, gazing lazily out the window at the birds at the feeder and squirrels playing, I realize the choice is mine. I have to find a happy medium between Steve Jobsʼ persistent drive and William Shatnerʼs surrender. More than just “to get out of bed,” but to follow my gut, my karma — not toward accomplishing anything, but toward what feeds my soul. Continuing to have my dreams, sticking to my ideals, I accept no schlock, but expect excellence, particularly of myself. I choose not to worry about the destination, but to strive to truly enjoy the journey and let my path lead where it may.

“When I let go of who I am, I become who I might be.” Lao Tsu.

Not an ending – truly a beginning.

#retirement

#dreams

Who am I?

That’s a question I’ve asked myself many times since I retired in 2010.

I wore many hats in my years before retirement. I’ve been a student, a secretary, a bookkeeper, purchasing agent, insurance agent, music teacher, classical guitarist, elementary school and college teacher. I’ve worked in at an industrial supplies distributor, an insurance and bonding company, a tropical fish store, a RV trailer sales store. I’ve taught music in a private K-8 school, armed with a guitar and an associates’ degree. I’ve taught 1^st, 3^rd, 4^th and 5^th grades in Alachua County, Florida, public elementary schools, as well as being a Curriculum Resource Teacher. I’ve taught teacher education classes at St. Leo University. I’ve taught Responsive Classroom strategies in five states. All of these in addition to the most important hats – that of wife and mother.

I am now on one of the greatest adventures of my life. Retirement. I am again wearing many hats – guitarist, traveler, museum docent, writer, substitute teacher.

Because of all these hats, my interests are numerous and varied. My posts will be wide-ranging. I’ll try to keep the rants to a minimum.

Hang on. It’s going to be a wild ride!