Contribution to society always meant paycheck to me. I fell into a profession that had the power to influence people: their activities and their impressions. And that always felt like my noble calling. The shows I created and produced touched people’s lives, not always in a good way (I’m not proud to admit), but usually so. We had the privilege of being public advocates for current affairs, offering up ideas for consideration and inspiration, creating community activities and entertaining people in their spare time. I loved playing to a mass audience; it felt like an important public service and provided me years of meaningful work and an increasingly healthy livelihood.
Then I stopped working. No more public platform to exercise my creative juices and throw hours and hours into devising concepts. Every morning offered a blank canvas with a glaringly empty “to-do” list. Nobody relied on me, no deadlines existed, no emergencies reared their heads, no more constantly ringing phone… Now what?
Now… began to mean living each day its own way and reflecting on the kinds of things that offered me meaning, joy, independence, and stimulation. So far, today is a life that includes playing with my pets, some travel, reading, yoga, meditation, exercise, yard work, cooking, friends, writing and volunteering.
Volunteering? I never offered my services for free during my “job” years. First, where would the time come from? The few hours of weekend I had to myself were devoted to errands and stuff like laundry and bill paying. Volunteering was what homemakers did. (Sorry if that offends anyone, no offense intended – just some truth telling.) It didn’t feel big to me or influential or important. And then I saw some listings in the local paper that started to resonate.
Tennessee’s largest horse rescue was holding an open house, a chance to visit their rehabilitated horses now available for adoption. I’ve always loved horses, use to ride them and have even yearned for my own. When I went for a visit I was overwhelmed with admiration for the volunteers’ selfless devotion to helping such magnificent creatures. I’d only experienced healthy, loved horses that were well taken care of. I had no idea that people starved their animals or left them to die on mountains. So now I’m among those who nurse these horses back to health. It’s hard to articulate how these animals make me feel and how their recoveries, both physically and emotionally, offer such satisfaction and meaning. They need us. For them, it’s a question of life or death. What’s more important than that? And the fact that this organization can’t subsist without our unpaid help makes my contribution all that more necessary. It’s a feeling I never had when I got my paychecks.
Passion for me has always included animals. I find their vulnerability encourages the same from me. There are no facades when communicating with animals, only genuine interaction that teases my heart wide open. Authentic relationships are the only kinds that matter to me. Anything else is a waste of time and energy in this short life span we’re offered.
It’s that kind of genuine relationship that also attracted me to hospice work. If there’s ever a time when a human being needs an attentive presence, it’s during one’s countdown to the end of life. And so I’m also, now, a hospice companion volunteer. My patients meet me when they’ve chosen to stop medical intervention for their diseases and, instead, to face death with palliative care. Hospice is a gift to the human species; their nurses and aides are among the most compassionate people I’ve ever met. I consider them heroes. My role is as the patient’s friend, an empathetic ear with no familial baggage or preconceived assumptions. We talk … we cry… we tell stories… I listen.
With an elderly woman whose passion for reading was pre-empted by deteriorating eyes, I read aloud. With an intellectually disabled man, my age – we assembled children’s puzzles, I read him picture books and offered encouragement for the days when he’d “be better;” he didn’t understand the extent of his disease. With a senior gentleman who would not live to mentor his young grandson into manhood, I listened to his sorrow that went unexpressed with his family. Does that sound like time meaningfully spent? I find it incredibly humbling and an un-paralleled learning experience.
Volunteering is a mundane phrase for a mammoth job. It’s influential, inspiring, meaningful and vital. And the fact that I don’t get paid makes it that much richer.
What offers meaning to your life? And how have impressions about satisfying that charge changed over the years? I’d love to hear about it.
And if Tennessee’s horse rescue intrigues you, please visit their website at horsehaventn.org. And you can see their video story on You Tube athttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-DLMKETHFY
Like this:
Like Loading...
Read Full Post »
I sit here on my deck amidst dense trees and window boxes lush with flowering red begonias. The wind is blowing gently and there’s a faint rustle in the air. Life is good here in the woods. I’ve missed you.
Moving to Knoxville, TN was a culture shock – for years. But we bought the right house in a perfect neighborhood and it’s been home for 20 years now. And I’ve come to realize that it’s the woods that my body craves. It’s very much alive in different ways than the city. There are birds that sing and insects that talk and squirrels that bark if you get too close. 
And the rain sounds delicious, rather than bothersome. I’m home here, and though I truly love Boston, I’m not home there anymore. I used to be. I used to get off a plane, smell the salty air and smile from ear to ear. I still love that city and the whole of New England.
These days I experience freedom on my bike and I feel youthful and vibrant. The rides are no longer destination oriented, they’re experiential and offer a slice of life in the slower lane. There’s plenty to see by moving more slowly; just like the freedom of the road offered by 
actthreedotnet 
Autumn Is Like Mid-Life
Posted in baby boomer, baby boomers, career, retirement, spirituality, Uncategorized, tagged Autumn, boomer women, commentary, Creative writing, exercise, new life directions, new life experiences, personal growth, reflection, women over 50, writers, writing on October 27, 2011| 9 Comments »
This bold season feels like a metaphor for mid-life. These are the years when many of us leave our professions behind to re-invent new lives. To discover new passions, friends, experiences. And in many ways I feel more alive now than the days I was engrossed in my paid working hours.
Work life was thrilling for me yet was surprisingly predictable in its unpredictability. Make sense? Every day we had a new show to produce or stories to write or projects to continue with the same constraints to face and paradigm to follow. Every morning I knew what my office hours were likely to be.
Now each day offers a blank canvas to paint whatever picture comes to mind (metaphorically speaking since I don’t paint).
And I can invent what my next years may look like. I’ve grown my hair longer, dropped a few pounds and have become quite active through bicycling, horseback riding, hiking and attending more yoga classes. I feel like I’m on the cusp of something new.
Is autumn to winter as mid-life is to old age? Could this time period be our final hurrah?
Share this:
Like this:
Read Full Post »