Life In The Slow Lane?

It’s ‘life in the slow lane’ here in the Pennsylvania Wilds for a retired woman.  At least, that’s the theory.  In practice, I have the Watershed Association, Trout Unlimited, and other conservation organizations for which I volunteer; meetings and fundraisers for the local library, and other worthy causes; and purely social activities like the local herb guild, music festivals, outdoor shows, and community fairs.  That’s part of the pleasure of being here, although I must be ever-wary of my tendency to over-commit.

The important thing is balance, between active fun, social fun, and contemplative fun.  Yes, retirement is fun.  Sometimes I have to remind myself of this very firmly, especially when I’m running from one ‘enjoyable’ activity to the next with no time in between to remember to actually enjoy them.  Like many people my age, I sometimes find myself wondering how I freed up 40 hours a week for a job.

Not that I see myself as ‘retired.’  I worked 42 years in a field I never liked, most of it for an employer I despised (the feeling was mutual), and now I am concentrating on my second career doing exactly what I’d wanted to do in the first place:  writing.

What would my life had been like if I had followed the advice of my heart, rather than that of  my high school guidance counselor?  If a person 16 or 17 years of age would listen to advice from an old fogey, I’d tell them to ignore the authorities (also old fogies) and make a career out of whatever they do well and are happiest doing.  The odds of success, in the traditional sense, may be long, and money scarce; but there are different definitions of success, and money is not the biggest or best part of those definitions.  I chose the security of working for someone else, but what I should have realized that ‘employ’ means ‘to use.’

But that is all behind me now.  Every day I recover a little more self-esteem, a bit more balance, after my years of being used.  I spend my days at creative tasks, in beautiful surroundings, which is my idea of heaven.  I am free: I choose my daily activities (or lack thereof), the way I dress, and the thoughts I think.  I write, I fly-fish, I observe the natural world, and have finally achieved what I think of as success.  Perhaps not strangely, a more usual type of success is beginning to happen to me.  I find this ironic, annoying, gratifying, or amusing, depending on my mood and how this ‘success’ manifests.

This is life in the Pennsylvania Wilds, the north woods.  A place outside of time, where only seasons change, and stories of brook trout caught and turkey gobblers called in take precedence over national or global news.  A ‘destination,’ my destination, about which I often say:  “Vacation?  Why should I go on vacation when I’m already here?”