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Times have changed. Six months ago, ten minutes of sitting still felt impossible, I got restless very easily. Since retiring, I can happily sit in the sunroom for an hour simply watching the clouds float by. I actually find it very therapeutic. It reminds me of my ten-year-old self, drifting off watching clouds from the classroom window instead of doing my work.
I keep coming back to this topic. Having time that’s truly mine has changed something fundamental in me. Somewhere between those daydreaming school days and starting work, I seemed to have misplaced the ability to just…be, I suppose is the correct word.
The work-a-day world, with its pressures and deadlines, had quietly shut down that part of me, the part that could just sit and watch clouds without needing a reason. Retirement, by removing the external pressure, has simply allowed that innate, childlike capacity for wonder and ease to resurface.
I wonder if everyone rediscovers this easily, or if some people fight it, maybe that old work-world guilt makes doing nothing feel wrong, even when you’ve earned the right to do it. I suppose the world of work taught me that being busy was good, stillness not so much.
I personally find it wonderful. I used to meditate a few days a week to clear my mind. I don’t feel the need anymore. My rediscovered ability to simply spend time doing essentially nothing has filled that need, I guess it’s a form of meditation without the focus or mantra.
This ability to do nothing and feel no guilt in doing nothing is, paradoxically, a springboard toward productivity and mental insight. Writing articles only seems to happen after periods of sunroom mindfulness. At other times I find it impossible to think of anything to say. And any problems I might have seem to find solutions during these quiet periods.
My time in the sunroom has drawn back a curtain and revealed a paradox: it seems the most effective way I can be productive is during periods of deep, guilt-free unproductivity. It’s the antithesis of what I formerly believed. True breakthroughs require the quiet processing time that simply watching a cloud provides. If you want to solve a tough problem or find a fresh thought, don’t press harder, step away and do nothing.
Without conscious effort, I’ve reclaimed the part of my mind the working world had quietly shut down. The true gift of my retirement isn’t freedom from work, but the freedom to remember who I was before the world told me who I had to be, that ten-year-old gazing out the window, whose peaceful, non-productive contemplation was, in fact, laying the mental groundwork for an entire lifetime of insight. By honoring that stillness, I’ve not just retired, I’ve found my way back to clarity.
I find the irony of the situation delightfully amusing. If you’re reading this flow of words and thoughts, it’s strange to think that it’s a product of doing absolutely nothing. Try figuring that truth out with corporate efficiency and logic..
From my years of training and indoctrination, I believe that my mind is controlled by the brain: the left hemisphere looks for things in the world to acquire, and the right hemisphere tries to find my proper place in the world for meaning (1). Modern neuroscience shows they need to work together, yet our culture prizes the left’s efficiency with logic, language game, accumulation, while neglecting the right’s mastery for connection and wonder. Only when survival and ambition quiet down does the mind truly and fully engages with life. The world reveals its hidden beauty beyond words.
The cup of coffee contains the whole universe: warm sun, flavor of the earth and the beans, taste of the seasons, light reflection, soft sound with every sip. The moment is complete, without thinking “myself” or “my retirement” into it.
(1) Iain McGilchrist’s The Master and His Emissary (2009)
It seems my retirement is simply a reclamation of the Right Mind—a quiet rebellion against the cultural push for the left’s accumulation. To realize that the universe is contained in a passing cloud is to understand that wealth isn’t acquired; it’s perceived.
What wonderful insights! Although I participate in several rewarding post-retirement activities, one of my favorite things to do is sit on the deck each morning and watch clouds drift eastward with the westerlies.
I read and reread your piece because it is the most important thing in life that I need to rediscover, .Every time I want to find that inner space, that boredom that used to unleash both calm and creativity, I find myself instead turning to our finances. Not because finances are a cause for concern (like they used to be early in life) but because that gives me a sense of control that my restless mind craves. There is always something to analyze, to plan, to understand, yet none of it is mandatory. I even paid for transcendental meditation training with the idea that I had paid for something I would surely take it seriously and commit to it, see gym memberships for many! My inborn temperament combined with a lifetime of managing things for others and the immigrant mentality of always striving has left me with an inability to just relax. After a big wedding (2 receptions 1 ceremony) for our daughter at the end of this month, I hope to be able to find the solace and space that I so clearly need after the festivities, but the first thing that comes to mind is all the things that I must get done after that. I fear that I will never learn how to just be still and eventually mind will collapse under the weight of it all because I never gave it the respite it needed.
Thank you Mark for the reminder that it is possible to find that serenity and peace even as I am one of those that fights agains it.
I hear you. That restlessness you describe, the need to always be managing something. I wish I had a solution, but I think that’s part of the trap, isn’t it? Treating stillness as another problem to solve. Maybe after the wedding, instead of tackling that list, you could pick just one moment, coffee in the morning, five minutes after lunch, and just sit. Not to meditate or achieve anything. Just to prove to yourself that nothing falls apart if you pause.
I hope you find your way to that space
.
Mark, I will surely try and take your advice-it’s a lifetime of habits and mindset that needs to shift and your post was inspirational and resonant.
Having unstructured time with no responsibilities is indeed the biggest gift of retirement for me, three months in. I spent my entire working life always racing a clock or a calendar, never feeling like I was quite on top of things, often thinking I should be doing even more.
Oddly, I’m still doing stuff. I still have several academic writing projects I’m working on. I do volunteer stuff at church and I’m on the HOA board. But it all feels so manageable compared to what my working life was like that I’m constantly delighted by how relaxed and not pressed for time I am.
I will say that I’m still adjusting. There are things I thought I’d be getting done by now—home organization chores, volunteering for a local nonprofit, etc. I’m a bit discombobulated, to be honest. I’m giving myself the rest of the calendar year to recalibrate, and then by January, hopefully I’ll be more purposeful.