Searching for Meaning in Retirement

This past year has been so busy with family and traveling that writing has taken a backseat. It’s been two years since I retired and life has been a whirlwind…finding new love, remodeling and setting up a winter home in Tucson, buying the Scamp and planning camping adventures in 13 states, getting married, and vacationing in North Carolina, Maryland, and the Canadian Rockies. Whew, I get tired just reading the list of things we’ve accomplished!

After the pandemic started, I couldn’t wait to retire. Who knows how much time we have left on this earthly plane, I thought, so I set a retirement date and put my plan in action. It has turned out far better than I ever could have imagined…I’m living the dream.

The trouble is whenever you move or do something different, you always bring yourself with you…the good stuff and the quirks and habits that don’t serve your greater good. When I worked, I lived a very structured, routine life that carved out time for writing. That has been my biggest struggle in retirement.

I don’t have a routine. It’s hard to structure your day when each one can be different, depending where you are and who you’re with. Could I have made my writing a priority to the exclusion of others? Yes, but I felt it was a higher priority to go with the flow and see what life brings.

For now, we’ve settled back in Tucson and I’m trying to write a little every day…even if it’s just one or two sentences. It keeps it top of mind and gets the writerly juices going again.

The one thing I have made a conscious effort to do more of is read, whether through Audible, Kindle, my library app, or my favorite, a book I can hold in my hands. I use Goodreads to keep track of the books I’ve read and last year I finished 22.

This year, I set a goal of 25. I just finished the 24th, The Book That Changed My Life: 71 Remarkable Writers Celebrate the Books That Matter to Them. Published in 2006 and edited by Roxanne J. Coady and Joy Johannessen, it contains essays from authors in alphabetical order. Since it was published 17 years ago, there were many authors I didn’t know, but included such notable authors as Anne Lamott, SARK, Carol Higgins Clark, Doris Kearns Goodwin, Patricia Cornwell, and Frank McCourt.

Loaned by my friend Steph who shares a love of books about writing, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I found it a fascinating read and put many of their suggestions on my GoodReads “To Read” list. I also found some of their choices surprising. For example, Patricia Cornwell, who writes a series about medical examiner Kay Scarpetta solving crimes lists Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin as the book that changed her life. She cites Stowe may be an ancestor on her father’s side of the family. The title of her essay, “The Original Sin,” is powerfully brought home at the end of the essay where she writes, “…our shared belief that all unfairness, harshness, and inevitable violence are born of the same original sin: the abuse of power, the ultimate result of which is enslavement, impoverishment, suffering, and death.”

I was disappointed to see that none of the authors mentioned, Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl, though one of the editors mentioned it in the appended list she “reads, rereads, and always keeps near at hand.” That was the book that changed my life.

While taking undergraduate classes at Mira Costa Junior College while I was in the Marine Corps, the book was required reading in my Philosophy 101 class. A holocaust survivor, Frankl writes about daily life in the Nazi death camps. What I found so compelling was his comparison between those who had a woebegone attitude and those who remained hopeful, helping others the best they could. I had always felt like my life would be colored by the stigma of my mother’s mental illness.

Frankl spoke of men who didn’t define themselves as prisoners but looked forward to a better life. I remember thinking when I first read the book, if he can survive something like that, what I’m going through is nothing. The book helped me understand that my attitude impacted the quality of my life more than any other external factor. Man’s Search for Meaning is still my favorite and is on my bookshelf today.

What is the book that changed your life? If you’re retired, how have you found meaning in your post-work life?

Badass Women Warrior Writers

After I was discharged from the Marine Corps, my first mother-in-law asked me what would be a prescient question.

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to be a writer.”

“Don’t strive to be a writer, write.”

It would take years before I finally put pen to paper, first writing poetry in the 1990s. Then in 2018, I saw a Facebook post saying the MilSpeak Foundation was hosting a Women Warriors Writing Workshop weekend at Queens University of Charlotte in North Carolina. I only had to pay for my room and transportation.

I jumped at the chance and took an early flight so I could check out the Whitewater Center and take a zipline tour before the festivities started. Note to self: visit the Whitewater Center again and try whitewater rafting.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I wanted to reignite that dream, to write the book I wanted to read when I was struggling.

The weekend was transformative.

A Friday night welcome reception with Open Mic kicked things off. Several women were published authors, and many others were further along their writing journeys than I was. It was intimidating. And inspiring.

The weekend was filled with keynotes, break out sessions, and on Sunday a small-group workshop. Participants were asked to bring five copies of a work-in-progress, whether it be fiction, memoir, poetry, or an article. I went back to my room to write something so I could participate.

Nothing.

I could not write. I was so hung up on wanting it to be perfect that I couldn’t get any words out of my head.

Sunday morning I listened in awe while other brave writers shared their stories. I vowed one day I would too.

It’s been three years since that weekend spent in the company of badass women warrior writers. Although I didn’t write anything myself, I consider it the beginning of my writing journey because of the writing friendships I made and the inspiration I received…and the adventure continues.

Writing the Hard Stuff

I wrote fiction for NaNoWriMo 2019 because my memoir writing has been in a slump. During November, I noticed a February writing workshop in Portland, Oregon with two of my favorite memoirists, Pam Houston and Stephanie Land. Their topic? ”Getting the hard thing, the meaty thing, the painful thing, the unspeakable thing down on the page in a way that others can have emotional access to it.”

Interesting.

My mother passed 34 years ago succumbing to hypothermia on a frigid February North Dakota day. February also claimed the life of my step-brother who passed unexpectedly four years ago. The last straw was two years ago when my father passed on February 2nd. February has weighed heavy on my bones since my mother’s passing, but I once my father passed, the gloves were off. I dubbed the month FuckUary.

So when I saw the title of the workshop ”Getting It Onto the Page, Getting It Out In The World,” I didn’t hesitate. I signed up and made my travel plans.

I’m under no illusion that the skies will open and writing nirvana will commence, but I’m open to being a sponge. This weekend, I’m reclaiming February from the clutches of grief.

Regardless of the outcome, that will be a win in my book.

Trusting Your Journey

“Chicken Soup for the Soul: Running for Good” launched six weeks ago. It was a total fluke that I learned of the chance to submit my story so I was thrilled “Semper Fi, Sister” was included. The one hour Twitter virtual launch with the other authors and the publisher was like downing a triple espresso chased with Redbull.

Then came the let down.

I was now a published author, but I couldn’t coordinate a local launch to save my soul. I had filled out the publisher publicity paperwork, but no one seemed interested. Then I lost interest…and it didn’t seem like such a big deal after all.

But it is a big deal.

I’ve never been published. I work a challenging full-time job and write in stolen moments of time. It’s second nature for me to minimize my accomplishments. I compare myself to others then feel inadequate in their wake. But I have to remind myself that this is my journey alone.

Even if I never have another word published, the story of my magical Marathon journey will live on in the pages of Chicken Soup for the Soul. For that, I’m grateful.

What does the future hold? Who knows, but I’ll keep putting my butt in the chair, doing the work, and let the Universe handle the outcome.

Writing Myself Home

I attended the Rochester, MI Writer’s Conference at the end of April and A Rally of Writers in Lansing, MI last weekend. The Rochester conference focused on self-publishing and isn’t something I need to worry about yet. At this point, I just need to edit my shitty first draft to get it into a working manuscript.

A Rally of Writers, on the other hand, offered multiple sessions in 3 different time slots throughout the day. With so many topics to choose from, there was something for everyone so my choices were memoir and poetry.

Will “The Poet” Langford opened the session and among the many poems he performed was “Pamoja”, which was even more moving since that evening the Michigan State Spartans were playing in the NCAA Final Four. Will The Poet’s ability to weave poetic phrases around metaphors was brillant, beautiful to listen to, and brought tears to my eyes more than once. He inspires me to seek out safe spaces to learn to perform spoken word and I looked forward to his afternoon poetry session.

The memoir session was taught by Mardi Jo Link, a journalist and self described “accidental memoirist”. Link summarized her session by saying memoir needs truth, a timeline and logic the reader can follow, an invitation to experience a life the reader will never know, and a change in the narrator the reader can relate to. I’m working on incorporating all these elements in my memoir, but an off-handed comment about her sons generated a light bulb moment for me. We just never know where know where our next source of inspiration will come from.

In the “Writing Home” afternoon session, Will The Poet talked about his journey to Africa and the need for a home to carry with him in his travels. Church, communities, events, schools, neighborhoods, and work can all be places where we feel a sense of being at home, so he told us to write down five. Then using one of our choices, he brought us to the page to write our own sensory based poem. This is how I feel every time I fly to San Diego and see the Marine Corps Recruit Depot adjacent the airfield as we’re landing:

Lindberg Field

We touch down on the runway…home.
Outside I hear the silent cadence of Marine recruits marching.
I taste the bitterness of regret, but catch a whiff
of promise in the person I became when I marched with them.
With the opening of the hatch, I’m transported back to the present
until the next time I connect with my Marine sisters.

I’m headed to the Michigan Writing Workshop in Livonia on May 4th to round out my Spring writing conference circuit. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting like-minded writers, picking up gold nuggets to incorporate in my own writing, and communing with the writers over lunch. Now I’ve found a new home in the writing community.