Emptying the shlepping bag

Sometimes it amazes me how much time it takes me to learn timely lessons.  Yup, I’ve been thinking a lot about time again.  So far I’ve gone through a period of getting up at 6:30, writing and sipping a latte while munching on toast and cheese (lovingly provided by my sweetie) until I’d get up and head down to the Y.  Home in time to relax a bit before teaching a bar/bat mitzvah student around 4 (Monday, Wednesday, Thursday) or to head down to Ryerson to teach (Tuesdays) or – a little later, not until 5:45 after teaching a lesson – down to choir (Wednesdays).  Friday nights we always have the pleasure of having shabbat dinner with my mother and Ellen and often other family or guests as well.  Turns out that on weekdays – between my evening schedule and the work David often brings home with him in preparation for the following day – we see each other for about 5 minutes in the morning when he brings me coffee/toast/newspaper, have a quick dinner together Mondays nights and Thursday nights which is then followed by his working downstairs and me doing something upstairs, and about 20 minutes at night between when he joins me upstairs and is blissfully snoozing.  So how did this happen?  As Elizabeth Barrett Browning said: “let me count the ways“.

Happy without a plan

May something good happen to you today that you didn’t plan. That’s what I saw written on a sign in front of a building as my daughter, grand-daughter and I walked along Bank Street in Ottawa a few days ago.  It was one of those ‘ah ha’ moments for me.  Something about that sign kept drawing me back and so we drove by it again today as we were heading for the airport for my flight back to Ottawa.  It wasn’t the wish for something good to happen today; that kind of sentiment is generic and pretty much always there.  It was the ‘that the you didn’t plan’ part that really caught my eye … and my heart.

Out in the middle of the day … and more

Here I am at my new website.  This is really an exciting moment for me.  A year and a half ago I first started really thinking about, and writing about, what it would be like to move from a career-life to the life of a retired woman.  I grew up firmly rooted in the feminist movement and believed that I could have it all; career, family, travel, joy.  Sometimes I really did believe that I had the best of everything:  a career that was engaging, challenging and rewarding; three wonderful children; good recipes for home-made bread and raspberry preserves, because after all super-Mom had to both career woman and earth mother; husbands (got to smile when I write that) that shared my life; and lots of adventures.  My identity was all of those things. And then I realized that before long the picture would be oh so different; no more career, kids grown up and living their own lives, husband (just the one now) busy with his own life and children, and generally less interest in baking or canning although I do spend more time preparing gourmet feasts.  Leaving my professional life behind, I was about to become a “housewife” and that didn’t sit so easily with me.  And now … here I am … busy and happy (mostly) and launching a website which includes my blog and information about the women and retirement workshops I’m ready to do.  The first one’s already scheduled for the Crones Counsel Gathering in Atlanta, Georgia later this month.  If you know of anyone who organizes these kinds of events or workshops, please do forward my website info to them.  Can’t wait to gather with more women who are travelling this most interesting road.

Meanwhile, before I get to what was going to be what I was going to write about (now there’s a convoluted sentence … if you read it very slowly it should actually make sense), I want to tell you about an amazing thing that happened this afternoon.

Retiring my kayak … again … with optimism in my heart

Here it is October 1st.  In one month I will have been retired for a whole year.  Holy crow!!!  Soon it will be time for me to reflect on this first year “beyond work” … but not quite yet.  What’s very exciting is that by the time I enter year two of retirement I will have not one website  (www.sylviabereskin.com), but two.  Next week we’re going to be launching a For The First Time website that will focus on women and retirement.   For only the second time in the past 18 months that means I’ll be missing a posting; we’ll be “in process” next Monday so my next posting will be next Thursday.  You’ll be automatically directed to the new site when you check the blog.  Here’s hoping it will all go smoothly!

Meanwhile, as sad as it makes me, I think I might just be finished kayaking for another season.  There’s nothing that I do in the fall/winter months that gives me the same sense of peace and the same opportunity to think deeply as paddling along a river.  Often when I’m paddling I meditate.  That means that I’m trying to stay aware of just the very moment that I’m in; the feeling of the air, the sound of the paddles in the water, the motion of  my arms moving back and forth, up and down.  Nonetheless, other thoughts do pop into my mind (the point in the approach to meditation that I use is not to empty my mind but just to acknowledge the kinds of thoughts that pop up and then go back to the moment).  So what slides into my awareness as my kayak slides along the surface of the river?

Speaking out … is that what retirement’s for?

George Orwell said that “If  large numbers of people are interested in freedom of speech there will be freedom of speech even if the law forbids it.  If public opinion is sluggish, inconvenient minorities will be persecuted even if laws exist to protect them.“

Since I read this a few days ago it has been swirling around and around in my mind.  The events that followed the recent election (to use the term loosely) in Iran is evidence of the first part; even with arrests and punishment people found a way to exercise freedom of speech.  In the face of torture.  In the face of death.  As President Obama said  ”…Their [Iranian protesters] bravery in the face of brutality is a testament to their enduring pursuit of justice,…The violence perpetrated against them [Iranian protesters] is outrageous. In spite of the government’s efforts to keep the world from bearing witness to that violence, we see it and we condemn it.“

And then there’s the second part of what Orwell said.  How is it possible that within a democracy so little is being said about the rights of all to have access to health care?  How is it that there isn’t a larger outcry from the very same people who rallied to elect Obama to start with?  Why is there so little public campaigning for universal health care?  Where is the concerted, organized, rational response to the lies (thank you again to Sarah Palin for introducing death panels as a real entity) and deception that’s being perpetrated by what I will call “the right” for lack of a better way of describing this out-of-control mob?  Just a few weeks ago we witnessed what I’ve heard referred to as the Million Moron March on Washington; as these photos (as police records suggest) it wasn’t a million morons after all, perhaps fewer than 70,000.  That’s comforting to me because at least it suggests that there are fewer people being duped and misled into hatemongering than I worry about.

So, what are we all doing about this?

THE TERRIBLE DIS-EASE OF LONELINESS

Loneliness.  Now that’s a surprise of retirement I hadn’t planned for.  Foolish perhaps but since solitude is something I revel in I’d not thought much about what it would be like to spend so much time alone once I wasn’t heading out to the office each morning.  Sometimes it seems that I’ve lost an anchor and I definitely feel adrift.  It’s not just that most of  my friends are still working and so not available so much during the week.  Even those who retired a while ago seem to have already settled into new patterns and rhythms and aren’t so much available either.   It’s deeper than that though.  Kurt Vonnegut said that “the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured.”  I’ve lost a community of co-workers and colleagues, a room with my name on it, a place at the table.  Yes, yes, I know … this is something that I chose to do and that is definitely a gift to those of us with privilege.  That said, the pain of loneliness isn’t lightened by this understanding; it travels with me as I go through each day and throws its pall over much of what I do.

My first Rosh Hashanah – in a way … and thank you to Defying Gravity

Rosh Hashanah.  The Jewish New Year.  The start of 5770 (we’ve been counting for a very long time).  Deep sigh.

In some ways it started the way New Year’s Eve often starts.  A group of people – family and friends – come together around a table that is replete with symbolism and good, sweet spirit.  One of the traditions is to eat a fruit you haven’t had yet this year so that you can be thankful for coming to this place of renewal.   Apples dipped in honey (honey is, by the way, a theme-food for Rosh Hashanah) symbolizes our hope for blessings of fruitfulness – in all ways … creativity, loving, caring, contributing among the ways.  There are traditions that connect certain foods with certain aspects of living.  This year, this Rosh Hashanah, is the first time that I can remember having enough time to prepare for this day in a relaxed, contemplative, mindful way …without having to squeeze it into the few hours that weren’t devoted to my job.  This year, inspired by a conversation with my son Motti, I decided to put a lot of little things on the table that would be either never-eaten-before things or traditionally symbolic things.  Here’s a few of the less traditional foods that adorned the table when everyone gathered together:

• baby coconuts – hoping that whatever nutsy things we had to contend with in the coming year would be tiny, surprisingly sweet, and even a bit of fun;
• baby bananas – because, like us, bananas bruise easily, they show us how important it is to be flexible (have you ever seen an unbent banana?), and if you can get beneath the peel they’re surprisingly sweet;
• leeks – we have many holidays where we light candles and the word for that in hebrew is l’hudlik (pronounced le – hud – leek) … so we hope that there will be many many opportunities to light candles together – in celebration – in the coming years

There were about 18 things altogether and we had some fun figuring out what they might all represent.  Hhmm … enough of those ideas would make a funny little book.  I digress.  But, from that meal on it’s about as different from New Year’s Eve as two celebrations of the turning of the year could be.

Slipping through my fingers

As the summer moves into the fall I am trying to get in as much kayaking as I can before I have to wrap up my boat for another winter.  Last weekend I managed to get out onto the river twice; it was hot and sunny and both times my spirits soared as I paddled along.  Beautiful white swans often escorted me and flocks of Canada Geese flew by, perhaps practicing for their soon-to-take-place journey south.  Kayaking for me is a form of meditation; I leave the outside world behind as I become one with the river (really, truly, that’s what it feels like) and often I listen to music to add another element to my joy.  It doesn’t happen all of the time, but often – as I paddle along – I gain a sense of clarity and awareness that I haven’t had before.  This happened over the weekend.  Let me share it with you.

Thank you President Obama and President Clinton

Sometimes, living in Canada, it’s just very very hard to figure out what goes on south of our border.  I’ve been feeling that way quite a lot lately and it’s truly mystifying … and distressing.  True, I’m not an American although I’ve spent a part of my life living in the US and, since my sister and her family live in California, and Santa Fe, NM is one of my favorite places, I spend a lot of time south of the 49th parallel.  So why am I spending so much time thinking about this?  Because, in the end, I’m pretty sure there’s something I can learn by figuring out what’s going on in the land of the free and the home of the brave.  And in that quest for understanding I want to pause and thank President Bill Clinton and President Barack Obama for the light they’ve recently shed on this confusion and for how they’ve both helped me deepen my understanding of what life’s all about.

Disguises and latent Impostor Syndrome

September 10th was a 9th wedding anniversary for David and me.  We’ve had a lot of transitions to make in those nine years; a lot of joy, a lot of excitement, miles – in both length and depth – of journeying together, challenging challenges – my transition from career woman to retiree included – and a lot of love.  Interestingly we each gave the other an anniversary card with a similar message … that every day we fall in love all over again and that we’d marry each other again.  Knowing he’s on this journey with me is a real gift; my kudos – and gratitude – to him … and anyone else who can support someone in this journey into understanding what this new part of life – retirement – is all about.  I wonder what it’s like to live with someone who’s doing one of those life-cycle, ground-shifting sort of dances?  Not easy I’m sure.  Thank you David.

NOW, to the original Thursday morning posting:

I was watching Criminal Minds with David the other night (a favorite show we share) and I heard these words:

ON THE FLIGHT OUT (if you watch Criminal Minds you’ll know what I mean, otherwise just see these as two quotes in the show):  “The French philosopher Voltaire wrote ‘there are some who only employ words for the purpose of disguising their thoughts’.”

ON THE HOMEWARD-BOUND FLIGHT:  “The author, Francois  Foucault wrote  ‘We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others that in the end we become disguised to ourselves’.”

These words were kind of jangling and set my mind racing.  They’ve been sort of haunting me now for several days.  I worry that through my words here I am disguising myself … maybe even from myself.  It’s another spin on words that I’d heard from the women I interviewed years ago when I did my doctorate.  They’d all talked about their take on the Impostor Syndrome which leads many of us to continually question ourselves about whether or not we really have earned what we’ve achieved and whether or not we’ve been misleading others into believing we’re smarter and/or more competent than we really are.

Then I read Bettina’s comment on my Labour Day post, suggesting that she thought I was “finding that comfort center” in (my) retirement if there is such a thing” and I knew I had to pause and think and write.  So I’ve just spent time – for the first time in a very long time – rippling through the pages of my dissertation (Solomon, Sylvia R. (1989).  Women of Eminence:  The Underrepresentation of Women at High Levels of Achievement.  University of Toronto) and what a nourishing journey through old words it was.  Let me share it with you here.