Rainbows, Clydesdales, and the Art of Being a Delightfully Unpredictable Senior

Let me tell you something that took me nearly eighty years to figure out.

Life is not a spreadsheet. It is not a carefully calibrated plan that you execute flawlessly until you run out of time. If it were, we would all be bored out of our ever-loving minds.

No, life is a surprise machine. And surprises are life's ultimate way of gently, or sometimes not so gently, tapping you on the shoulder and saying, "Wake up, sleepyhead. You're missing the show."

Here is the trouble with us sensible seniors. We have learned things. We have survived things. We have accumulated wisdom like squirrels accumulate nuts, and we are rightly proud of our stash.

But sometimes that wisdom becomes a cage.

We know what we like. We know what we do not like. We know what works and what does not work. And somewhere along the way, we stop asking new questions because we already have all the answers.

But here is the thing about answers. They are just old questions that fell asleep.

And when we stop asking new questions, we stop growing. We stop transforming. We become monuments to ourselves, and monuments are lovely to visit, but they do not dance, they do not laugh, and they certainly do not try kale for the first time at age seventy-eight. (I did not like it, but I will try it again in 10 years,)

Let me explain the phrase "Rainbows and Clydesdales."

A rainbow is a surprise. You do not schedule it. You do not earn it. You are just going about your rainy day, feeling a bit glum, and suddenly the sun breaks through and there it is, a ridiculous, glorious, impossible arc of colour painted across the sky. It asks nothing of you except that you look up and say, "Oh."

A Clydesdale, on the other hand, is a different kind of surprise. Have you ever seen one up close? They are enormous. They are magnificent. They are the gentle giants of the horse world. And if you are lucky enough to encounter one, maybe at a fair, maybe pulling a wagon full of tourists, maybe just standing in a field looking impossibly large, you cannot help but feel a little bit smaller and a little bit wonder-full at the same time.

Neither rainbows nor Clydesdales care about your schedule. Neither asks for your opinion. Neither requires a committee meeting.

They just show up. And they make you feel alive.

That is what I mean by thinking outside the box. Not because outside the box is smarter. Because outside the box is where the rainbows and Clydesdales live.

Here is my challenge to you. Starting tomorrow morning, do one thing a day that surprises someone. Especially yourself.

Not big things. You do not need to take up skydiving or learn to play the bagpipes (please do not learn to play the bagpipes unless you live very far from other humans).

Small things.

• Put a rubber chicken on the kitchen table. Leave it there. Say nothing.
• Call your adult child and leave a voicemail that is just you humming the Jeopardy theme song.
• Wear one purple sock and one green sock. Act like you do not notice.
• Put a funny sticker on your walker. A googly eye on your cane. A tiny plastic flamingo in your houseplant.

These are not ridiculous acts. These are acts of rebellion. They are you reminding yourself that you are not a monument. You are a living, breathing, surprising human being who still has the capacity to delight.

And here is the best part. When you do something surprising, you force everyone around you to ask a new question.

Why is there a rubber chicken on the table?
Did Dad just hum the Jeopardy theme song?
Is he really wearing mismatched socks, or is this a test?

Those questions wake people up. They shake them out of their own deep sleep. And before you know it, you are not just a senior. You are a leader. You are a role model. You are the person who reminded everyone that life is allowed to be fun.

A few years ago, I decided to wear a Hawaiian shirt to a formal board meeting. Not aggressively formal, but the kind of meeting where people wear collared shirts and use words like "strategic alignment."

I walked in. People stared. No one said anything.

Halfway through the meeting, the treasurer, a lovely woman, looked at me and said, "Royce, is that a palm tree on your shirt?"

I said, "It is. I am conducting a strategic alignment of tropical vibes."

She laughed. The whole room laughed. And the meeting was better for it. People loosened up. Ideas flowed. We got more done in that hour than in the previous two meetings combined.

All because of a stupid shirt.

That is the power of thinking differently. It is not about being smarter. It is about being looser. It is about giving yourself permission to be a little ridiculous so that the people around you give themselves permission to be a little human.

Here is a truth that might surprise you. The young people in your life are not looking for you to have all the answers. They have Google for that.

What they are looking for is permission. Permission to be uncertain. Permission to try things and fail. Permission to laugh in the middle of hard times. Permission to wear mismatched socks and put rubber chickens on tables.

And you can give them that permission simply by doing it yourself.

When you act like a monument, you tell them that life is serious and mistakes are not allowed and joy is for children.

When you act like a rainbow or a Clydesdale, unexpected, glorious, a little ridiculous, you tell them that life is allowed to be strange and wonderful and that growing older does not mean growing stiff.

Which message do you want to send?

So here is my challenge to you for this week.

Find one rainbow. Real or metaphorical. A splash of unexpected colour in an otherwise grey day.

Find one Clydesdale. Something so unexpectedly magnificent that it makes you feel small and wonder-full at the same time.

And then find one small, surprising thing that you can do to wake someone else up.

Not because you have to. Because you get to.

Because you are a senior. You have earned the right to be eccentric. You have earned the right to be surprising. You have earned the right to put a rubber chicken on the table and dare anyone to say a word about it.

Now go forth and be delightfully unpredictable.

The world needs more rainbows. And Clydesdales. And seniors in Hawaiian shirts.

That is your legacy. Not what you accumulated. What you awakened.

The Artist in All of Us: Why This Time Is Not Our Undoing

I know it is easy to look around right now and feel the world coming apart. The news is relentless. The arguments never end. The ground that felt solid yesterday seems to shift beneath us today. And if you are over sixty, you have seen versions of this before, different details, same unease.

But here is what I want you to hear, especially if cynicism has become your blanket or depression your unwanted companion.

You are not a sinking ship. You are a swimming rat.

Let me explain.

Chaos Is Not the End. It Is the Beginning of Something New.

Think about ice. Solid. Predictable. You know exactly what it will do.

Now add heat. The ice cracks. It softens. It becomes something else entirely. For a moment, it looks like it is falling apart. But that chaos is not destruction. It is transformation. The ice is becoming water, and water can flow where ice never could.

We are living in that messy middle. The old ways are melting. The new ways have not fully arrived. And yes, it is uncomfortable. But here is the truth the cynics forget: every stable thing you have ever loved was once chaos being shaped into order.

The peace you enjoy. The rights you hold. The community you cherish. None of it appeared fully formed. It was built by people who refused to believe that the mess was the end of the story.

When the world feels unstable, we tend to look for engineers people who will bolt things down and make them rigid again. But that is not what holds a civilization together.

What holds us together is the creative spirit.

The artist. The storyteller. The gardener who plants seeds in broken soil. The grandparent who tells a child, "I have seen worse, and we got through it." The volunteer who notices an empty chair and makes a phone call. The neighbour who bakes bread and shares it.

These are artists too. They are making something where nothing was. They are imposing order on chaos with the simplest tools: attention, care, and the stubborn belief that beauty still matters.

Toni Morrison once said that this is precisely the time when artists go to work. Not when things are calm. When they are falling apart. Because art clarifies. Art nourishes. Art reminds us that we are still here, still thinking, still feeling, still capable of imagining something better.

Here is what the depressed mind forgets. You cannot control the news. You cannot control the economy or the politicians or the algorithms. But you can control:

·         Whether you get out of bed this morning

·         Whether you call someone who might be lonely

·         Whether you write down one thought that matters to you

·         Whether you plant something, fix something, or simply show up somewhere

Those small acts are not trivial. They are the bubbles being blown in the chaos. They are the webs being spun. They are the lighthouses sweeping the thankless seas.

And they matter more than you know.

Younger people are looking at this moment with fresh eyes. Many of them have never seen instability like this. They are frightened. They are angry. They are looking for someone who has been through a hard season and come out the other side.

That someone is you.

You have lived through recessions. You have lived through wars and threats of war. You have lost people you loved. You have rebuilt. You have adapted. You have learned that the sun rises even after the darkest night.

You do not need to be a professional artist to be an artist of living. Every time you choose hope over despair, you are creating something. Every time you refuse to pass your cynicism to a younger person, you are legislating a better future. Every time you show up to a coffee, to a board meeting, to a grandchild's recital you are building a vantage ground in the chaos.

The writer E.M. Forster once said that when the ships are sinking, he would rather be a swimming rat than a sinking ship. It is not dignified, perhaps. But you can look around longer. You can see things the officials missed. And you can find other rats swimming beside you, hearing each other's calls through the impenetrable wood.

That is what we are. Not dignified. Not certain. Not in control of the whole storm.

But swimming. Looking. Calling out to one another.

And that is enough. That has always been enough.

So, this week, make something. A meal. A phone call. A garden. A joke. A quiet hour of sitting still and breathing. It does not have to be grand. It just has to be yours.

Because the world does not need more cynics. It has plenty.

It needs the artist in you.

And that artist is still very much alive.

How Much You Need to Retire in Canada at Age 65.4

You are eligible for Old Age Security (OAS) immediately, and your Canada Pension Plan (CPP) payments are no longer penalized for early withdrawal.

Annual Expenses Remain the Same

The average Canadian retiree still spends approximately $41,000 per year on living expenses .

How Much Help Do You Get from the Government at 65.4?

Federal Programs

A) Canada Pension Plan (CPP)

• Starting at 65.4 years: You avoid the early-retirement penalty. If you wait until age 65 (or slightly beyond), you receive the full base amount.
• Maximum monthly amount (age 65): $1,507.65
• Average monthly amount: Approximately 900 for most retirees.

B) Old Age Security (OAS)

• Available immediately at age 65.4
• Maximum monthly amount (April–June 2026): $743.05
• Claw back threshold: OAS begins to be reduced if your individual net income exceeds approximately $90,000 per year

C) Guaranteed Income Supplement (GIS)

• Available to low-income seniors receiving OAS
• Maximum monthly amount: Roughly $1,108.74 on top of OAS
• Crucial note: RRSP/RRIF withdrawals count as income and reduce GIS; TFSA withdrawals do not.

Provincial Programs

Provincial support generally begins at age 65, so you now qualify immediately:

• BC Homeowner Grant (Seniors): Up to $845 off property taxes in Metro Vancouver/Fraser Valley
• Ontario GAINS: Additional income top-up for low-income seniors
• Quebec Shelter Allowance: 170/month for low-income renters aged 50+

The Updated Numbers: A Clearer Picture

Assuming you have average CPP (743/month) at 65.4:

Source	Monthly Amount	Annual Amount
CPP (Average)	$850	$10,200
OAS (Max)	$743	$8,916
Subtotal (Government Only)	$1,593	$19,116
Estimated Annual Spending Need	,	$41,000
The Gap (Needed from Savings)	,	$21,884 per year

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How Much Personal Savings Do You Need?

Using the 4% withdrawal rule (a commonly accepted guideline for sustainable retirement income):

Annual Gap	Savings Needed
$20,000	$500,000
$21,884 (your gap)	$547,000
$25,000	$625,000
$30,000	$750,000

Conclusion: At age 65.4, with average government benefits, you likely need a personal nest egg of approximately 550,000 to generate the additional income required for a comfortable retirement.

If you want a more comfortable lifestyle (60,000 annually), target 1,000,000 in personal savings.

Waiting pays off. Delaying retirement to the average age of 65.4 reduces your personal savings requirement by roughly 250,000.

OAS is a gamechanger. Those extra 8,916 per year) significantly close the gap between government support and living expenses.

Know your numbers. If you have a workplace pension or a spouse with additional income, your required savings may be lower.

TFSA is your friend. Unlike RRSP withdrawals, TFSA money does not count as income, so it will not claw back OAS or GIS benefits.

The average Canadian now retires at 65.4 not because they want to, but because the math works better. If you can afford to work those extra years, or even partially retire with part-time income, you will likely enter retirement with more security, less stress, and a much smaller burden on your personal savings.

As always, speak with a financial advisor to tailor these numbers to your specific situation, CPP contributions, and retirement goals.

The Average Retirement Age in Canada

 I retired at officially at age 60. I worked or unretired for another 8 years and finally retired at age 68,

So,  I was curious as to hat the retirement age was in 2025. The numbers surprised me. As of 2025, the average retirement age in Canada hit a record high of 65.4 years . The most recent data from Statistics Canada places the average at 65.1 years as of 2023, up from a low of 60.9 in 1998 .

Here is how the numbers break down:

Group	Average Retirement Age
Overall Average	65.1 - 65.4 years
Men	65.9 years
Women	64.2 years
Public Sector Employees	63.1 years
Private Sector Employees	65.4 years
Self-Employed	68.0 years

 Over the past two decades, the average retirement age has risen by over four years. In 2003, the average Canadian retired at 61.7; today, they work until well past 65 .

Three main factors are driving this shift:

1. Canadians Are Living and Working Longer
The labour force participation rate for seniors aged 65 and older reached 15.2% in 2025, the highest since tracking began in 1976. That's nearly 1.2 million seniors still in the workforce . More older adults are choosing to work for pay, up from just 6.6% in 1994 .

2. Financial Pressures Are Real
Many Canadians are delaying retirement because of inflation, higher living costs, and concerns about having enough savings . The retirement period (the time between stopping work and passing away) peaked in 2012 at 22.7 years. By 2025, that period had shrunk to 20.5 years as people retire later .

3. The Rise of "Unretirement"
Many older adults who thought they had retired have returned to the workforce, often in part-time or contract roles. They stay connected to the labour market for financial reasons, personal fulfillment, or both. This "unretirement" trend is contributing significantly to the rising average age.

What This Means for You

If you are planning to retire early, you would be retiring earlier than the current average. This means:

• You will need more personal savings since you will not yet qualify for Old Age Security (age 65 minimum) and your Canada Pension Plan payments will be permanently reduced if taken early
• You are part of a minority but not alone, many Canadians do retire earlier due to health reasons or personal choice

As one analysis notes, after falling to a low of 60.9 in the late 1990s, "the average age at retirement then reversed course and has since steadily increased to its current high" . The trend shows no sign of changing.