Semi. Retirement.

A musing in June used the meteorological terms isolated and scattered, which deal with the percentages of the likelihood of rain, in describing the potential for frustrations or joys at certain points during my day. Then I challenged readers to think about their own isolated or scattered issues. Here I’m focusing on the words semi (partly) and retirement (withdrawal from one’s position, occupation or activity) to describe a switch I’m making to what has been a routine aspect of my life for eight years. Perhaps you, too, will find something from which to experience a semi retirement, regardless of your age.

By my most recent calculations, this is musing number 384. Longtime readers may remember that my Monday Musing evolved from a weekly update email that I sent to people in my circle concerned about my recent layoff. But, my words quickly switched from assuring folks I was finding enough contract work to commenting on something that happened that week. Then the musings led to an opportunity to write a book. Soon someone told me my musing should be a blog, and here we are today. Some encouraged me to go for broader exposure with a different format, say FaceBook, but I’ve been content in my little world, composing for those who have been interested.

For the next couple of weeks I’m looking forward to some adventures. Travel, whales, turning 70, a celebratory gathering bringing people from all aspects of my life together, seeing if I’ll reach the goal of collecting 70 cookbooks. (BTW, if you are local and may have missed the invitation, please get in touch so you can stop by if you are able.) But, to finish where I was going, I am semi retiring from my Monday Muser role. As long as you remain subscribed, when I post a blog, which will be when I really have something to say, you should still receive it. Just don’t look for something every Monday morning.

It has been a joy for me to have this vehicle through which to realize my long suppressed aspiration to be a writer. It has been sometimes frustrating, nerve wracking, and always a surprise. Those musings which I sweated over and which I though would draw comments rarely did, while others that just flowed out of my fingertips often sent emails my way. I learned to deal with my inner critic whose voice would often emerge as soon as I hit ‘publish.’ My heart was frequently warmed when someone would say, “that was exactly what I needed to hear today.” I thank you for this opportunity to enter your inbox every week. You’ll still find me there sometimes, for this is only a semi retirement. Let me know if you also find something from which to semi retire, for new plans are always more fun when shared.

Marilyn

“Don’t underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can’t hear, and not bothering.” Pooh’s Little Instruction Book, inspired by A.A. Milne

The tangled webs we weave

For a few weeks this summer an industrious spider wove a nightly web that connected a bush on one side of the walkway to the back door on the other side. That meant every morning I had to destroy its work in order to get to my car. Finally it tired of that routine and traveled the length of the house to the front stoop, where it connected both railings, which again blocked my way. That spider’s daily work got me thinking about the threads that we send out and the threads that are sent our way. Those threads, those webs, connect us to people and things and often define where the control of our lives rests.

Some of the threads are actually strong sturdy ropes, steadying our feet and our view of the world, but with enough elasticity that grounds rather than confines us. Others are single threads, sometimes tiny and tenuous. Other threads may fray, never to be darned or repaired, or, if and when rewoven, can be stronger than the initial tie. Many have a push/pull tension, as both ends vie for control or when one side wants the connection to be stronger than it needs or should be. A few are burdensome and take attention away from ones where we would like to spend more energy. Some we’ve allowed to attach themselves to us willingly, knowingly. Others, not so much. And, it’s not just people. We sign mortgages, car leases, credit cards, student loan papers. We’ve allowed electronics into our web. We pursue passions, hobbies and windmills. 

In our seven degrees of separation world, it is prudent to take an occasional inventory of all the webs of which we are a part. To evaluate the tension, even the necessity or desirability of each thread. We can sever some, lessen the control on a few to make room for new outreach or to be available to new threads sent our way. It may be time for us to do that as we head into autumn. Perhaps like some trees, we can add color or let some connections fly away.

Marilyn