Here and Now

We have John Calvin to thank for the work ethic that permeates our culture.  Wasting time sleeping too much or relaxing were literally considered sins. His belief system seeped into most American's bones and became the reason we struggle with so much angst during our retirement years. We fight against taking a nap, continually search for purpose and productivity during our waking hours, and feel we are taking up space that could be occupied by someone more worthy. It's as if there is someone out there taking measurements of our efforts and putting in a red check mark for any failures.

Europe operates on a whole different plane. Especially southern Europe. Italians, Greeks, Spaniards never swallowed this line of thinking. They nap in the afternoons, eat a leisurely dinner, open their shops when the mood strikes them. I suspect their retirement years look pretty much the same as it has for most of their lives although I've no proof of that.

So here we are, struggling to make sense of our retirement within a Calvinistic mentality. I'm as guilty as anyone. I resist lying down in the afternoons unless I am exhausted, or slept badly instead of just appreciating the luxury of time to relax. "I can do it myself!" is a refrain I began as a child and continue to think, even when I know I can't get up off the floor unless I'm near a chair or a table. My walk is fractured instead of brisk, and I tell myself to stop waddling. The body has its own time table.

And yet. There are moments of such wonder that we may miss if we're not present. Steve and I used to drive up Lake Drive to see the blooms in spring and the colors in fall. Sometimes when we walked around the plaza, he would pick up a leaf to examine the intricacies of the veining. Then he would say, "Look. God-Goddess."

I've begun to believe that's the purpose of retirement. To breathe in the miracles, to pay attention to the beauty, to simply be present.