The Garden of Life: Cultivating Purpose in Retirement

In the last post I talked about my cousin, and some of you thought my cousine might have been depressed. He wasn’t bitter or depressed, just resolute. My cousin believed retirement was his time to rest. He told me, “I’ve worked all my life. Now I deserve to do nothing.” And he lived by it. He didn’t join social groups, didn’t take up hobbies, didn’t even help with tasks around the home. He sat in his chair and watched television. Within a year, he was gone. While no one can say inactivity alone was the cause, I can’t help but feel that the absence of purpose, the lack of something to cultivate, played a role.

Contrast that with another friend of mine, Margaret, who has created a garden of life in her retirement. Literally. At 70, she turned a small patch of yard into a flourishing vegetable garden. What began as a pastime became a passion. She shared tomatoes and cucumbers with neighbors, swapped recipes with friends, and even began teaching a gardening workshop at the local seniors’ center. Gardening gave her more than vegetables, it gave her community, exercise, and joy.

Rest as Recovery, Redefinition as Growth

Rest is a necessary part of any transition. We all need time to recover from decades of work. But lasting vitality in retirement comes from redefinition, finding new pursuits that give life texture and meaning. Margaret’s garden illustrates this perfectly. She wasn’t just tending plants; she was tending her sense of identity.

The Risk of Withering

When people stop cultivating purpose, their lives can wither. Psychologists call it the loss of “role identity.” Without something that says, “This is who I am now,” people feel adrift. Retirement becomes a vacuum, and in that vacuum, time feels heavier, not lighter.

A Different Kind of Garden

Redefinition doesn’t have to look like gardening, of course. One man I know took up painting in his 80s, surprising even himself with his talent. Another started writing family stories to pass down to his grandchildren. Some find redefinition in travel, others in community work. The activity matters less than the intention: to cultivate something that brings purpose.

A Story of Renewal

Take the example of George, a retired accountant. He thought numbers defined him. But once retired, he decided to join a choir, something he’d always been curious about but never had time for. Singing challenged him, frustrated him, and delighted him. He laughed when he told me, “I never thought I’d trade spreadsheets for sheet music, but here I am.” In redefining himself, George found new energy and joy.

An Invitation to Cultivate

Retirement can be a fertile season, if we choose to plant seeds of meaning. Whether through gardens, music, volunteering, or family, what matters is that we keep cultivating. Rest may refresh us, but redefinition sustains us.

Like Margaret’s garden, our retirement years can bloom when we nurture them with care.

Redefinition, Not Rest: Finding Purpose After Work

 In one version of the creation story, God created for six days and then rested on the seventh. That rhythm, work followed by rest, has echoed through human history. Rest is important. It restores us, helps us reflect, and allows us to recharge. But lasting fulfillment rarely comes from rest alone. It comes from redefinition.

I once had a cousin who retired after decades of hard work. He told his family, “I’ve worked all my life. Now it’s my time to rest.” He meant it. He didn’t take up hobbies, didn’t help around the house, didn’t socialize or play sports. His days were spent in his chair, watching television. Within a year, he passed away. I can’t say for certain that inactivity shortened his life, but I believe the lack of purpose, the absence of something to look forward to, played a role.

Contrast his story with others I know. One friend went back to school in his 70s to pursue a lifelong interest in history. Another joined a hiking club, finding both exercise and camaraderie. Still another found joy in tending a backyard garden and sharing the harvest with family and neighbors. Each of them redefined themselves beyond “worker” and discovered new reasons to get up in the morning.

The Trap of “Eternal Rest”

Too many people still view retirement as a permanent pause. They step away from work but don’t step into anything else. The danger isn’t just boredom; it’s the erosion of identity. For decades, our careers define who we are. “I’m a teacher.” “I’m an engineer.” “I’m a nurse.” When that role ends, if we don’t replace it with something new, a part of us feels like it disappears.

Redefinition as a Lifeline

Redefinition doesn’t mean everyone must take up marathon running or start a business. It simply means asking: Who am I now? What matters to me? How do I want to spend this chapter?

It might be travel, learning, volunteering, mentoring, or creating. For some, it’s caring for grandchildren or finally tackling that list of unread books. For others, it’s as simple as finding joy in a morning walk or a daily call with a friend.

A Story of Reinvention

Let me share one story that inspires me. One of my brothers retired from Law at 66. For the first few months, he was at loose ends. He missed the buzz of the courtroom and the energy of the other lawyers. One day, he decided to volunteer at a local literacy program. Before long, he was mentoring adults who were learning to read. Myt brother told me, “I thought my days of helping people were over. Now I realize they’re just different.” He found purpose not in a paycheck, but in giving his gift to others.

The Invitation

Retirement offers us something rare: the freedom to choose. But that freedom is wasted if we treat retirement as endless rest. Rest has its place, but redefinition is what brings meaning.

So, ask yourself: What story will I write for this chapter? Will I sit in the chair like my cousin, waiting for time to pass, or will I find ways, big or small, to redefine who I am?

Retirement is not the end of identity. It’s an invitation to reinvent it.