Life is Precious, Time is Scarce, Spend it Wisely

    This is how I felt in January.

Whatever the number of actual days, I experience January as exceptionally long. In addition to its length, this year we can add snowy, cold, dark and dreary, at least in our part of the world. Ugh.

While I busied myself with activities, snow sports, and slowly working on chapters for a book, I also spent time deeply engaged in reading.

I've been reading Atul Gawande's book Being Mortal, a book I'd say is a must read for almost anyone over the age of 21 who plans to age, who has aging family members or who is human. His is my favorite type of book for it stimulated all kinds of questions and 
thoughts and ideas and caused me to research similar material and to read and reread 
important pieces.

One such piece was Ezekiel Emanuel's essay, "Why I hope to Die at 75," from a 2014 issue of The Atlantic. This I followed with Paul Kalanithi's  2014 essay, "How Long Have I Got Left?" published in The New York Times  and then his wife's, Lucy Kalanithi, 2016 essay, "My Marriage Didn't End When I Became a Widow" also in The NY Times. I finished off this series with Arthur Brooks' 2016 NY Times essay, "To Be Happier, Start Thinking More About Your Death."

Hmmm. Do you notice a pattern? I'm certainly thinking lots about the end of life for these works thematically hang together in their exploration of death or as I see it, the idea of living fully with the time you have.

Physicians penned three of the pieces and an ultra conservative, Brooks, president of the American Enterprise Institute, the fourth.
Normally, I'm far left of aligning with Brooks and the AEI, but I was intrigued enough by the essay's title to give it a quick read and found value in a few of his ideas.

 Probably too often I've written here about making good use of one's active, Go-Go Years, living with urgency in retirement (Hearn's idea), postponing nothing, living now, and acknowledging that life is finite.

In his essay, Brooks cites a Buddhist monk practice of meditating on photos of decaying corpses as a way of increasing awareness that the physical self, thus life, is temporary, fleeting. The practice's purpose is to assist the individual in focusing on the present, on what is important, to live better in the moment and to realign one's values with allocation of time.  Brooks argues that most people are misaligned, spending time on low value activities (surfing the Internet, viewing tedious television programs) that are not in harmony with their stated values. Misalignment, Brooks thinks results from an "error in decision making," leads to a life of boredom, tedium, and regret.

The solution to wasting time? It is here that I find myself aligned with Brooks' thinking, especially after reading Being Mortal and "How Long Have a I Got Left?" He proposes that consciously contemplating that life is precious and time is scarce as the solution, as in the Buddhist monks' practice. In other words, to live mindfully, with the full awareness that life is momentary can help one realign values.
How does one put such mindfulness into practice?
Brooks proposes that we live a year as though it were our last, living consciously and intentionally. Many others have suggested this strategy. In 1997 Stephen Levine published the book, A Year to Live: How to Live This Year as if it Were Your Last.

To some this might sound bleak, but not to me. Squandering precious time and denying reality, that sounds bleak. Being clear and intentional about life sounds ....optimistic.
As I finish reading Being Mortal, nudging my husband to read it too, I've already selected my next book, Paul Kalanithi's When Breathe Becomes Air. 
My overarching goal for 2016 is to live this year as if it were my last. For this task, I have found some excellent guides.

    Time for some adventures.

     Stay calm and travel.

Heart of a Minimalist, A Garage Filling With GEAR

Where did 2015 go? And how did it go? And where have we been? More about all that later. But first, let's ponder GEAR.

In 2014, after packing most of our stuff in Chicago for out-of-state storage and cramming the remaining needed stuff in our over-packed SUV, strapping our old bikes on the back, we headed west for a big adventure and life change.  After distributing some luggage and clothing as well as our car to various accommodating relatives for safe keeping while we traveled, off we went, by plane, ship, train, taxi, bike, and shuttle, in what we thought was a minimalist fashion -- one large duffle each and one rolling carry on and for me one enormous, oversized, shoulder straining purse. This is how we traveled for 11 weeks, visiting South Beach, Florida, Lisbon, Portugal, La Harve, Normandy, Dover, England, Amsterdam, Brussels, Dublin, Ireland, Ireland's Connemara 
coast, Glasgow, Scotland, Copenhagen, Denmark, the Faroe Islands, Shetland Island, Reykjavik, Iceland, Oslo, Bergen, Geiranger, and Stavanger, Norway, London, NYC, and then Los Angeles. With just one duffle and one carry on each.  Although in all honesty, our bags were not all that light, for more than one taxi driver in the UK said to me, "Did you know the guy?" after hoisting my duffle into a cab trunk. Finally I got the joke -- perhaps, each cabbie was intimating, I was dragging around a dead someone in my bag -- hence the weight. A little UK cab driver humor.

    Cabbies found the duffle heavy. Huh? But these held all my stuff for 11 weeks.
We repeated that same minimalist packing, though much pared down, on our two-month trip from Vancouver, BC to the Hawaiian Islands, Tahiti, Bora Bora, North Island of NZ, Sydney, Adelaide, and Kangaroo Island, Australia, and a cycling trip of the South Island of NZ. The two of us mastered the art of hand washing clothes, frequently wearing the same outfits with minimalist pride, and feeling somewhat superior to fellow travelers who hadn't been on the road (or ship, plane, bike, 
shuttle....) for two months yet overpacked.
     We vowed to keep up our minimalist lifestyle, buying and using only what we needed, living clutter-free as much as possible, adhering to a simpler, less stuff driven life. After all, we reasoned, life now was to be about gathering experiences not tending to stuff. 
     And then we moved to Bend and met GEAR.

     Of course, GEAR is not a something one meets but more a philosophy, a way of living life.

Our new house came with a garage and soon followed kayaks, a kayak rack, personal flotation devices, paddles, kayaking gloves, dry bags, water proof bags for phones, new bikes, bike bags, bike rack, bike repair kits, water bottles, hiking poles, hiking packs, and on and on. Seemingly, we were under the spell of GEAR.

    Pretty neon kayaks require additional GEAR like dry bags, kayak racks, water vests, and more.
    As though accepting summer gear wasn't, well embarrassing enough, we are now, with a new season, living with the additional failed minimalist shame of WINTER GEAR.
Snow shoes, poles, water proof boots, ski gloves, ski masks, ski hats, ski pants, ski boots, skis, ski jackets, ear covers, more boots than two people can possibly wear and on and on.

    Hmm? That's a lot of GEAR.

 Do I really need my long semi-puffy coat with a hood, short wool coat, a long wool coat, a zipped fleece, a zipped ski jacket, a water proof jacket with pit zips? Yup, in Bend, I guess I 
do.
     As a minimalist-want-to-be how do I square GEAR with myself?

While my fancy urban heels and fine leather boots from a different lifetime sit unworn, snubbed, in my closet, watching as my Keen hiking boots and water shoes, hiking pants and so much more playfully join my almost daily excursions, I remind myself GEAR is part of a new life.  We purchased GEAR to support engaging in new experiences.
While the house and our wardrobes may be more minimalist in style and decor, simplified from urban living, the garage is GEAR.

In my previous post, I quoted psychiatrist Glen Gabbard's advice that in one's 60s and 70s, spend on what has been postponed. For us, that means experiences and GEAR.
Happy New Year.

Next up.....how did the year go, where did we go, and looking ahead. Isn't it time for a bed count?

Possibilities, Perils, and Embracing Retirement

    This guy has his retirement figured out. Beautiful, isn't?
Every so often, a few thoughtful gems land in my email account. This happened recently. Well, the gems did not land recently, I just unearthed them as I waded through long neglected, unread emails.

In my email box, I discovered Mark Moran's (Psychiatric News, July 2015) article highlighting pieces from psychiatrist Glen Gabbard's presentation, Possibilities, Perils for Aging Physicians. Gabbard's lecture, sponsored by the Senior Physicians Section of the AMA, was addressed to the AMA's House of Delegates in July. While Gabbard specifically focuses on aging physicians, I think the gist of his message applies to social workers, psychologists, psychotherapists, clergy, and many others in helping professions and non-helping professions.

 In his presentation, Gabbard makes several points, including that the "practice of medicine is not a job, it's more of a calling," that "the profound gratifications that medicine offers....make aging a challenge" and that the perfectionism, compulsiveness, and an "exaggerated sense of responsibility for one's patients," qualities that make for an excellent physician, can also make "slowing down or retiring difficult or impossible" (Moran, 2015). To this Gabbard adds the kicker, "We have a need to be needed."

Hmm. That last thought cuts true and deep -- the need to be needed.

     In part, Gabbard is pointing out that one's profession and therefore professional identity impact the evenness or unevenness of the transition into retirement.  This, of course, makes sense.  Our talents as well as who we are and what we have experienced combine to draw us toward our chosen careers and can make stepping into the next phase tricky.

    Gabbard, a psychoanalyst, speaks not just to the perils of the transition but also to the upside, the wonderful possibilities of the retirement phase. "Don't postpone" he advises. "The 60s and 70s are a time for harvesting -- spend money on those things you have postponed."
     "Retirement should not be about leaving something; it should be about going to something. Whether you work part-time, not at all, or full time, have a plan about what gives you joy. You have nothing to prove, you have run the race and are no longer in competition."

     Gabbard's points are well made. Move toward something, seek joy, don't postpone (the old live life with urgency idea), and spend time harvesting the fruits of your labor.

     Is this easier said then done?

     Over the years, I'd heard former colleagues suggest that they would "leave their practices feet first," either from financial need or another need and in fact, some did just 
that. Perhaps not quite the approach Gabbard is suggesting.

     However you decide to configure this phase, experts have some suggestions: (Retirement blues: Taking it too easy can be hard on you, Healthbeat Harvard Medical School)

-- Stay engaged since social connectedness is important for health.
-- Find a balance of activities that challenge, like improving a skill or learning something new.
-- Some stress is good, so choose activities that cause you to stretch, but not too easy or too hard.

This year has whizzed by and I'm wondering how I've applied this advice. Guess I'll find out in my next post. Until then, 
Stay calm and carry on 

    Here I am learning something new. And I'm fairly certain when I fell, I stretched something.....does     that count?

A First Thanksgiving (as a Pescatarian-Veganish Celiac)

It is the Thanksgiving season, the season of gratitude, feasting, turkey, stuffing, rolls, friends, family, pie, and all things gluten, and on and on.

I am entering a season of food challenges.

The newish food identity I'm wearing is as a fish eating vegan who is gluten free, or a pescatarian-vegan who can't eat gluten? Or a ....oh geez, I don't know, I'm just about to call myself someone who has to think way too much about food. 

As all my food choices have fallen into place, I've morphed into a UDG -- Undesirable Dinner Guest. I think some people want to invite us to dinner but after a few minutes of quizzing me on what I can eat, move off the topic and on to one less confusing and frustrating, like when to collect social security, the best way to have Americans embrace the metric system, or when the Fed should raise interest rates.

This will be my first Thanksgiving as a.....pescatarian-vegan-dairy-free Celiac. And we've been kindly invited to a large gathering of folks, many of whom I do not know, some who also have food restrictions. 

Weeks ago, I decided to learn more about veganish-pescatarian cooking and took to researching food blogs. I figured I could always offer to bring my own food in the event someone wanted to invite us to dinner. While I found lots of good blogs, two stood out as 
particularly useful and user friendly -- cookieandkate.com and ohsheglows.com. 
My own little veganish test kitchen has produced Spiced Vegan Lentil Soup from www.cookieandkate.com which I was bold enough to serve to guests on two different occasions

    Vegan Spiced Lentil Soup

 and below, Glazed Lentil Walnut Apple Loaf  from www.ohsheglows.com

    Pictured here with Roasted Rosemary Sweet Potatoes.  Looks pretty good, doesn't?

In the process I've collected some amazing recipes including Curried Lentil Soup and Vegan African Peanut Stew as well as Quinoa, Black Bean and Mushroom Burgers. I've 
also gained an appreciation for all combinations of simple, healthy rice bowls -- like those with black beans, tomato, avocado or rice noodles, steamed vegetables topped with spicy peanut sauce.

But I've gained much more than a variety of recipes. I've acquired a renewed respect for difference, how people accept and manage difference and work with what is not traditional 
and expected. For that I'm thankful.

Stay Calm. Carry On. Eat Well. Just not too Much.

Fear: Honor it? Ignore it? Work Around it? Create a New Normal?

When asked, most Americans can say exactly where they were on September 11, 2001.  They can recall details of what they saw, on television or in person or what they heard on the radio as the horrific story, the unbelievable unfolded.

A fair number of us remember life before 9/11 -- life before Homeland Security, TSA, long airport security lines, shoe removal, body scanning and the like. And so many other changes, external and internal, including a fleeting sense of safety, of freedom, of movement. And the settling in of fear.

We are Americans and we've adapted, accommodated to new structures, rules, uncomfortable feelings. We adjusted to a new normal.

I'm in a Seattle, WA hotel room perched on the 27th floor watching CNN report on the Paris terrorist massacre. We are here to celebrate our anniversary.
On the Saturday morning following the Paris attack, I look down on the street below from the 27th floor and an unwelcomed, unbiddened feeling washes over me. I am afraid. I'm afraid to head out for the day's activities in Seattle.

As I watch and listen to survivors tell their stories of the massacre, the executions, the sounds of reloading guns, the drive by shootings, the escapes out windows, the bombs, the helpfulness of strangers, I hear the citizens of Paris express their outrage and commitment that the terrorists will not win, will not take away their lives. I can imagine, as these citizens 
speak their words of defiance and heroism, their underlying fear. How can they not be 
afraid? A father and his adolescent son recount their tale of surviving the shootings in the concert hall. People around them were executed.

R nudges me to head out for the day. He says what the survivors say, we can't let the terrorists win.

I agree. That day in rainy, cloudy Seattle we set about creating our new normal -- pushing through the fear, waking up to reports of bombing raids, learning of new uncomfortable global alliances, checking the State Department's latest travel warnings, debating whether trips planned are safe to take.

I think about the Parisian adolescent boy, father by his side, speaking his story on camera, less than 24 hours after the massacre. He is a lucky one, a defiant one, but how can he not 
feel afraid? The magnitude of our fight ahead, the level of hatred the terrorists express toward the west, has yet to sink in.

New normal.

Try to stay calm if you can and truly try to carry on. We've Democratic work to do.

The Wisdom of the Second Year in Retirement (or what adolescents can teach us)

     Our beautiful mountains. 

Ok, that title way over states what I know. Wisdom? Hardly. Wise? Nope. Figuring it out? Yup. I've been working toward figuring out this phase.

There is a bit of mythology among those who haven't yet retired, including some who write about retirement that goes something like this -- You will know (or need to know) how you want to spend your time before you retire. In other words, that you'll have this phase all figured out before you arrive, before you live it.

Hmmmmm.  Quite honestly, that just doesn't make sense.

Most people spend upwards of 35 years building and nurturing careers, meaning they've worked long hours, made sacrifices, delayed gratification, probably worked on weekends, short changed vacation time. The shift from developing and focusing on a career to enjoying life, pursuing leisure, and perhaps pursuing the fun path not taken -- is enormous and realistically the shift takes time.

Several months ago, I wrote a post about the "Go-Go Years," the "Slow-Go Years," and the "No-Go Years" and offered up my disagreement with Vanguard's advice to evaluate retirement's progress five years in. Waiting five years to gauge one's progress toward a satisfying retirement just seemed, well, hair brained to me because one could very well be wasting precious "Go-Go Years."

 Even more months back, I highlighted a slice from Joe Hearn's 8 Habits of Highly Successful Retirees in which Hearn states that the number one habit of successful retirees is......to live life with URGENCY. Life is precious, don't waste it, get moving.

While one needs to live with urgency and certainly not wait five years to assess if retirement life is working out.......I also think retirees, pre-retirees, almost-retirees must allow themselves time and space to figure out this phase.

What exactly do I mean by that?

Adolescence is a time of exploring, figuring out likes and dislikes, experimenting, trying new activities, learning what fits. Because adolescents are still emerging, growing, developing, adults allow them this time -- or perhaps adolescents seize it.  I don't know. It has been a long time since I was an adolescent.

Why shouldn't retirement lay out sort of the same way? Why shouldn't retirees take some time exploring what works, might work, doesn't work?

Joe Hearn (intentionalretirement.com) spoke to this in his post Five Behaviors That Will Ruin Your Retirement. (I actually think Mr. Hearn is a bit of a therapist disguised as a financial planner, but that's a different topic.) Hearn makes several cogent points in his Five Behaviors post, but the one that resonated with me was "Confusing 'Past' you with 'Future' you." 

Boy, I'm guilty of this one.

As Hearn points out, retirement should be a time to experience all you've dreamed about but instead some people get waylaid by limiting beliefs about themselves, saying about new experiences, "That's not me." To which Hearn answers,

     "That might not have been you when you were working 60 hours a week and raising three kids, but              your circumstances have changed.....Maybe you ARE the guy who becomes an expat to Ecuador. Maybe you ARE the lady who takes up skydiving. Maybe you ARE the couple who sells everything and     starts a B & B in Oregon. Past you does not equal future you" (my italics).

Past you is not future you. Or current you. I like this. And this is what takes time to understand. Part of this process is creating a new identity but part is also allowing time and space for exploring and experimenting. Just like those wily adolescents we all used to be (only now with more money).

I'm giving myself time to figure this out while I live with urgency (always multi-tasking, that's me) and travel.

Stay calm and carry on. I'm off to cycle.

    Last Friday we hiked for R's 65th birthday. He pretty much has this phase figured out.

Time for a Bed Count and a Review of Peru

When I wasn't paying close attention, we reached a traveling milestone of sorts -- 100th bed slept in since March 19, 2014 when we set off from Chicago on our journey into this new phase. We reached this milestone while traveling in Peru, the topic of this post.
So beyond my eating difficulties (see previous post and the cute, edible Guinea pigs) how was the trip to Peru?

I'm going to answer that question in my usual round-about way because hey, I've got the time.

There were people on our tour who since their elementary school days, after looking at pics of Machu Picchu, had dreamed of visiting Peru and gazing at Machu Picchu. I wasn't one of them. Since I don't remember studying Peru, I was probably busy not paying attention in class or reading Nancy Drew or about Florence Nightingale. Either way, it wasn't my dream.
 Others on the trip considered hiking to Machu Picchu and around the ruins of the Sacred Valley experiences of a life time. I really didn't fall into that category either. As I too soon discovered in Peru, a few ruins, that are basically created from the same look-alike granite, go a long, long way with me no matter how tall, complicated or symmetrically perfect. Not to mention I still itch from those nasty, blood-sucking little flies.

    Ollantaytambo, Sacred Valley
    

However, R had long wanted to visit Peru and especially Machu Picchu so in the spirit of marital harmony, I agreed. More than one time over the years, a visit there was on the books and I found a way of wiggling out of the trip.

This time I did not wiggle.

Learning about the Andeans, past and present, was my favorite part of this adventure. I'm amazed that people live in an environment as rugged and in many ways as harsh as the Andes. I loved our peek into Peruvian countryside culture via the "Primitive Market Tour" as our guides dubbed it. I was fascinated watching three adults wrestle a huge pig into a bag for its trip to their village where he would meet his final destiny.  I was captivated in an American-grossed out sort of way by the Andean woman quietly eating her homemade (of course!) cow's head soup with the cow's teeth jutting out of her bowl. While the cloud forest mountains of Machu Picchu are beautiful, the chaotic, dusty, colorful, rural ways were what caught my interest.

   This guy went unhappily and loudly into a bag

    Market, Urubamba, Peru

With that said,

If Peru is on your list of must have life experiences here are a few ideas to consider before heading off --

-- Altitude sickness is a real thing and impacts some more than others. It usually manifests as both middle of the night wakefulness (resulting in fatigue the next day)  and a crushing nighttime and daytime headache. Oxygen, available at most tourist hotels, helps as does Ibuprofen.
-- The trip is strenuous, even if you only hike a mile or so on the Inca Trail. This is the land of stone streets, thousands of uneven, high steps, and soaring elevation. And just so you know, the Sun Gate is about 1 1/2 hours of straight up walking. You'll be visiting ancient ruins not modern structures with ramps and lifts. Wear sensible shoes.
-- During dry season, Machu Picchu is busy since 3,500 people are allowed into the site each day. You will not visit these sites alone, although you may wish you were.
-- Even if your tour guides don't suggest it,  WEAR BUGS-AWAY LONG PANTS (for the uninitiated, these are pants treated with bug repellent). During season, those nasty little flying biting nats BITE! Three and a half weeks post MP my bites, while healing still itch.
-- About half the folks on our trip fell ill at one point or another. Bottled water and a good supply of Imodium and possibly antibiotics, are your best travel friends. Also pack bite stick, hydrocortisone, Calamine lotion, and possibly Benadryl. This arsenal will win you friends and make you more comfortable.
-- Even though the economy and living conditions are much better than they were a few decades ago, Peru is a relatively poor country. Our guides emphasized that Peruvians believe that anyone who travels to their country is wealthy. You may be asked for money to take someone's photo or just because.

One aspect of travel I find wondrous is that different places are magical (or not) to different people. One person's idea of nirvana might be my idea of a ring of hell, or something like that. While Peru wasn't a top trip for me, it was a good one. But it wasn't magical. I still favor cycling trips over walking. However, my analysis of my Peruvian travel left me with a question I'd like to answer but seem unable yet to do so.

How does one balance exploring and trying out new adventures, including some that might disappoint, against sticking with what is known, tried and true, and previously explored?

Thoughts anyone?  Adventure Girl is listening.

Next planned trip -- Asia and the east coast of Australia -- by ship!
But first, someone will have a BIG birthday and we'll celebrate 35 years of ......marriage.
Stay calm and carry on!

   

    Fall in Bend