I read a book called “Happiness Is a Choice You Make: Lessons from a Year Among the Oldest Old” by Paul Leland. It’s not a wonderful book, I have to say, but it did have a few great ideas. In it, the interviewed centenarians’ words made it clear that they were most happy in their life when they had a sense of purpose. The ones who achieved that were sometimes lucky, but often had planned to get there. I want that to be me.
Ok, I may never make it to 80. Or I could live to be 120. I don’t know. So I refuse to sacrifice the happiness of today in the hope that later I can enjoy it. I will savor my life now, living with joy, as I mentioned n the previous lesson, not worrying about always being happy, but content with the inevitable ups and downs.
I also don’t think, looking back from 80 or 100, that I would be particularly pleased if I had waited until that point in my life to be content with it. I think happiness takes practice, so why not start now?
And yet, say I do make it to 80. What do I think I will want? What will give me a sense of purpose?
So my answer is personal, and yours will probably be different, but I recommend at least pondering this question, looking at the NVC needs inventory. Here’s some of what I came up with:
- Having people around me who I can help in some way would give me a sense of purpose.
- Continuing to write books or teach in some way would give me a sense of purpose.
- Curiosity and the capacity to learn.
- I love the outdoors, and I’d want a space where my dogs can run without me needing to walk them on a leash.
- I want to live in a place where I see people who recognize me and know me on a real level.
- I’d like to have a partner as long as I can. And ideally I’d like it to be my husband, Tom, but he’s 16 years older than me, so if I’m 100, he’s going to be a spritely 116.
These are all things that it makes sense to lean toward now, rather than waiting until I’m 800 or 100. I read this book in 2015 and I now have that land where the dogs can run, at the edge of a town in which people recognize me. I built spaces on the land that allow my friends to visit for long stretches of time, and it is essentially a very tiny intentional community. I started running open mic music nights in the town, so I could get to know more people there.
When someone here needs help, I help out with my time and effort. I volunteer for events with likeminded people, like Cascadia Song Rise and tending grief rituals, and that’s nourishing more quality relationships. I meet regularly for deeply personal big-vision conversations with a group of colleagues on Zoom, because we’re likely to live in different places forever. And I started Stellar Village!
In terms of that partner wish, I worked on my own ability to be a good partner, and continue to do so. That made it a lot easier to recognize a really awesome partner when he came along. Tom and I were married in 2022 and I have a lot of faith in this relationship lasting, because of all of the mutual respect, good communication, chemistry, shared interests, willingness to grieve, and the ways we navigate the vicissitudes of life. Life is unpredictable, though, right? And impermanent. So I will savor it every day while it lasts. And that’s a good way to make it last.
I do save money for financial retirement, when I can, but I don’t intend to ever really stop working, so my focus is more on making an emotional plan for my senior years. I am building connections that may possibly nourish me when I get there. I don’t know if these exact connections will be there. But they are nourishing me now, and I imagine they will lead to other connections as time goes on.
What does your ideal emotional retirement look like? Jot it down and put it somewhere you can check in on it from time to time.