When I was working, I had a plan for most days.
There were meetings to attend, appointments to keep,
deadlines to meet, projects to finish and people expecting me to be somewhere
at a particular time.
That was work.
Retirement was supposed to be different.
Yet I have discovered that one of the easiest traps to fall
into during retirement is continuing to live as though someone is paying us to
be busy.
We fill the calendar.
Monday: appointment.
Tuesday: golf.
Wednesday: volunteer.
Thursday: lunch.
Friday: another appointment.
Saturday: something we promised to attend three weeks ago.
Before long, we need a vacation from our retirement.
I have decided that isn't the way I want to spend my
retirement.
I don't have a daily or weekly plan. I keep track of my
commitments, of course, because forgetting an appointment is not a particularly
good retirement strategy. But I try not to schedule more than one major thing a
day.
Why?
Because I want some empty space.
Empty space sounds unproductive, but it isn't.
Empty space gives life somewhere to happen.
There are two five-letter words I have learned to be
suspicious of.
The first is PLANS.
I'm not against planning. Some things absolutely require
planning. If I'm going on a trip, I'm going to make sure I have a ticket. If
I'm having surgery, I'm going to prepare. If I have an appointment, I'm going
to write it down.
But I have learned not to take my plans too seriously.
Plan A is often just something that gives me the confidence
to begin.
By the end of the project, trip, event or adventure, I'm
usually somewhere around Plan G.
Something didn't work.
Someone changed their mind.
The weather intervened.
An appointment was cancelled.
A better idea appeared.
Someone I didn't expect to meet showed up.
And sometimes the change turns out to be better than the
original plan.
Some of the most interesting experiences in my life have
happened because the original plan went sideways.
That's where the unexpected friendship can begin.
That's where the interesting conversation happens.
That's where you discover a restaurant you would never have
chosen.
That's where you find yourself saying, “I never expected
this.”
And those moments are difficult to schedule.
The second five-letter word I try to avoid is LATER.
“I'm going to call him later.”
“I'll read that book later.”
“I'll go for a walk later.”
“I'll get around to that later.”
I've discovered that whenever I say “later,” there is a good
chance that later will turn into tomorrow, tomorrow will turn into next week,
and eventually the thing disappears completely.
Retirement gives us something work often didn't: choice.
We don't have to fill every hour.
We don't have to turn every day into a productivity contest.
We can have breakfast with someone because we feel like it.
We can sit in the sun and read a few pages.
We can take the long way home.
We can stop and talk to someone.
We can say yes to an invitation we received that morning.
We can spend an afternoon doing absolutely nothing, and
discover that nothing was exactly what we needed.
That can be difficult for people who spent 30 or 40 years
measuring their days by what they accomplished.
But retirement isn't a project that needs to be completed.
There is no final report.
There is no annual performance review.
Nobody is going to ask whether you achieved 87 percent of
your retirement objectives.
So perhaps we need to change the question.
Instead of asking, “What do I need to accomplish today?”
Try asking, “What might I enjoy today?”
There is an important distinction.
I'm not suggesting that we abandon all structure. A little
routine is good for us. Having commitments, hobbies, exercise, volunteering and
people to see can give our days meaning.
But don't build such a rigid schedule that there is no room
for spontaneity.
Leave some doors unlocked.
Leave an afternoon open.
Leave room for the unexpected.
Because life doesn't always arrive according to our
calendar.
Sometimes it walks through the door unannounced.
A friend calls.
Someone invites you for coffee.
You discover a book that changes the way you think.
You meet somebody who becomes an important part of your
life.
You take a wrong turn and discover something wonderful.
You laugh at something you didn't expect to be funny.
Those moments don't usually come with a three-week notice.
They happen NOW.
That may be one of the great gifts of retirement.
For much of our working lives, we were told where to be and
when to be there.
Now we have an opportunity to decide.
So don't confuse an empty space on your calendar with an
empty life.
That space may be where your next adventure begins.
Make plans when plans are necessary.
But don't plan every minute.
Expect the unexpected.
And when something interesting comes along, don't
automatically say, “Maybe later.”
Seize the moment.
Because **later isn't guaranteed.
Now is.**