how is it being retired?

"And so how is retirement?" they ask.

And I can see in the eyes of some that they have already answered the question -- that it is a fate worse than death, that one has lost one's true and real identity -- the job that one holds, and is cast off into a vast and desolate wasteland to wander thirstily in a scape inhabited by wearers of white socks and plaid coats desperately seeking jobs as Walmart greeters.

Actually, I retired long ago, while I was still "gainfully employed" as they say. 

In thinking on it, I retired in 1974, when a university offered me tenure. I took the offer as a sign that I HAD MADE IT, refused tenure, and leaped into active retirement in which I have

·      driven an 18-wheeler

·      raised and sold cucumbers to a pickle factory

·      organized, edited, and published a community magazine

·      stocked the shelves of a university bookstore

·      helped gather and publish in useful form statewide criminal justice data

·      performed weddings, christenings, and ministered

·      been a houseparent for 6 teen boys with middle fingers raised to the entire universe

·      developed and taught wellness courses for a medical school

·      taught martial arts

·      bagged potato eyes in a basement inhabited by 7 eye-cutting women and a blaring country-western radio

·      shot pistol and run through the night with members of a peace officer association

·      become acquainted with many strong and good-hearted Native American folk

·      taught wellness courses for Native American nations

·      been executive director for a two-county behavioral health center

·      been chief psychologist for a 4-county behavioral health system

·      been clinical director of a 4-community behavioral health system

·      been psychologist for a university employee assistance program

·      written a few books

·      done the Imogene Pass "grueling" annual trek three times

·      gotten married and divorced twice

·      fathered two magnificent children, both warriors and loving beings

·      hiked a large number of the trails of northern Arizona

·      read ten zillion books

·      and so on

So when I'm asked how is retirement, I usually reply, "I'm having the best time of my life!" and let it go at that. Sometimes I say, "Re-tired? I was never tired in the first place"

the art of geezer walking

Since I am a bonafide Geezer, having been dubbed this by an irate man some time ago, I feel that I am qualified to make some remarks on the art of Geezer walking.

You can be a Geezer regardless of your age. One requirement is that you not take yourself too seriously. So most anyone can do the Geezer walk.

Some guidelines (no rules; Geezers do not care for rules nor abide by them) are: 

·      Choose asphalt over concrete, dirt over asphalt. (It’s easier to let flowers bloom in your footsteps with dirt, though concrete may need it more.)

·      Choose neighborhood streets over traffic stream streets. With traffic stream streets, it is too easy to get irritated at the constant engine roar and tire-whir noise and/or fall into pity and depression for all those poor folk locked away in their mobile cubicles. Of course, if you are a Zen Marine, you will welcome this opportunity to practice deep meditation. 

·      Choose back alleys over neighborhood streets. Man! The sights you see! 

·      Take a new route, rather than an old route. The reasons are obvious. 

·      Always return a different way. Walk the unexpected, unpredictable. 

·      Take shortcuts, even though they are longer. 

·      Stay open to change. Pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters are everywhere. Pick them up, put them in your walking savings jar. 

·      Notice side paths (human game trails) and follow them. Most of them are short cuts. All lead to interesting places. 

·      Keep a soft-eyed open gaze. You see more; are perceived as less a threat or challenge; get in less trouble. 

·      Keep your head up and look around. No head bouncing. When your head bounces, your visual world bounces. Keep an even keel. 

·      No marching. Amble. Amble fast or amble slow, but amble. Since you are amble-atory, you are less likely to need an amble-ance. 

·      Stop, look, and listen. At any time. For as long as you care to. 

·      If you have a watch, leave it at home. You will get there when you get there. And you will never get there since you are always here. 

·      Carry a teeny notebook to record your teeny thoughts. That’s how this guideline you are reading was formed.

Well, that’s way too many guidelines.

Just go out there and walk around.

geezing along

Now I know why we older persons nap more. We are preparing for entry into the other world. We dream its dreams.

At this older age, one is not interested in the next HALF of one's embodying (are you kidding, to live to 150? no thanks!), nor in eternal youth (you younger folk go ahead, scamper round, and do your do), but in the winging of the soul into realms mysterious, not yet known, but tasted.

We are dying to this world and birthing into another.

But don't mess with us. We are still very much here.

sweet angel of death

less relevant

An 87 year old man wrote in a comment on a blog: "I have lost...all relevance for the bulk of the people I contact." He was neither moaning nor whining, but simply stating fact.

As we move into geezer-geezellehood, we are in a different dimension than the young and the younger-young who are in hot pursuit of life. We have less and less relevance to the hot pursuers.

We have let go of much and continue to let go, allowing more room for "the less important:" the sound of the wind in the trees, the quietness of the pre-dawn morning, a chipmunk sitting on a rock, the brief three notes of a distant bird, the deep knowing that one's body is transforming and one is passing on.

Our minds are calmer, less excitable. That alone makes us less relevant for a frenzied busy world.

as al grew older

this interspinning of all duality

Strongly appreciate that sperm my dad shot into my mom's welcoming receptivity of an egg. After 74 years that sucker is still traveling interwoven with this great expanse of open space so that the penetrating and the receptive are one. My mom and dad produced this interflow of the tao, this interspinning of all duality as one dude laughing. No, it's not my birthday, yet it is my birth day as is every day. Just as every nanosecond is my birth nanosecond. Thanks, parental karmic flow!

dying young

Old age is the last challenge we have to face. The only way out is to die young. What does this mean: to die young?

Of course, there is the surface meaning: to die at an early chronological age. And some do. No. I refer to inner youngness, a youngness of spirit. This does not mean that one has to wear purple or don red hats. External clothing is of no importance here.

What does one do when one's body is failing, is deteriorating before one's eyes? Laughter is a pretty good response. How does one laugh at such a thing? Like this, my friend! Like this!

super geezer

Two more hours until Super Geezer strikes again! 

Circuit weight training at the Y.

hanging around

Hang around long enough and you'll become a historical item. Hang around even longer and you'll become hysterical.

mind body conversing

My mind thinks my body can do certain things and my body laughs. My mind thinks I can hike the Canyon rim to rim like in the old days. My body says sure you can but you must drag this wounded animal along. My mind says what is so wounded about you? Your legs are strong, your lungs are good. Buck up, buddy, and come on. My body says you forget the feet. They are your Achilles heel. They will function and you can Marine it and never yield to their agony but later you will feel their screams. My mind says shee-it I don't like this at all. I keep refusing to accept de feet.

Geezer Bus

the older I get, the better I was

A buddy and I bumped into each other and sat drinking coffee at a sidewalk table in downtown flagstaff this a.m. and noting how many folk in uh-merry-kuh these daze isolate themselves in their cell phones and ear buds and such and hardly notice anything around them. He's a Vietnam vet (Army) & I am Marine and we both love martial arts and though we are old farts we work out with weights and such and we both love women and women love us and we are awake and aware and filled with life, so we mutually decided that we both get 10's in the Geezer Olympics. There are none like us! We laughed and went on our way.

just another geezer on the road

I have no more time for the frivolous, no desire to be frivolized. ("He's in his 70's," they say, as if approaching doom, and therefore can be written off, excused, allowed a certain irrelevant peculiarity.)

What "the world" calls of import, I call shrivelous. The world is always in danger, in jeopardy, in need of salvation and has citizens of both ill and good will flying banners to save it. The world cannot be saved, cannot be freeze-framed into some kind of nirvanic perfection. The world is frivolous, is a hussy gigolo who will sleep with any suitor.

I have my eye on more important realms: the beauty of the changing of the seasons; the deep understanding that life is everlasting, that transformation is eternal; the love of my neighbor, human and not human, as myself (and if I do not love myself what good am I?); and perhaps the most important of all, the Light at the core of my being.

I have no more time for the frivilous. I am opening to the realm I am diving into. Pure essence is what I am and pure essence is what I am becoming.

Just another geezer on the Road.

what happens when you get older?

Here are some responses to the question "What happens when you get older?" They are from Facebook friends.
  

• You look at and appreciate the larger picture, let go of the small things and are not to proud to admit when you are wrong.

• But you can't really omit the body which threads right through the heart of mind and soul. For me acceptance and quietude become much easier. I just noticed a couple hours ago that I dropped without intention into meditation though I admit it might have seemed like vacancy to those who might have watched. 

• You realize that the experience of all emotions from the very difficult to the wonderfully exuberant are all valuable and you are thankful that you feel them all for they are truly the totality of your life experience.

• The only thing that doesn't improve with age is the physical body. Getting old is wonderful, each moment opens and blooms, days and years speed up but the moments slow down. Tolerance, patience, self acceptance, better choices, less reactivity (sometimes...I am very sensitive!) all grow, and all young people are stunningly beautiful. When you're old you never lose sight of the temporal nature of everything and so everything is precious. I love being old.

• I concur with Phillip - I can better "see, feel and comprehend" all the various levels (from micro to macro) of existence / life in the cosmos and in and on on planet earth. Being a part of the whole and the Oneness of life. It is difficult to put into language what the actual experience is like. 

• You learn to live without the loved ones who have left; and you assess the kind of world that will be left for kids and grandkids. If my own kids are an indication, the world will be a BETTER place. Health? Our health isn't the question so much as the health of our planet. 

• You ripen into your childhood. 

• One becomes more aware, drops illusions, sees the world and its people truthfully rather than as we think (or wish) they were...at least, that's what's happened (happening) to me. It's a good thing, but sometimes startling.

• I don't want to paint my house purple anymore. 

• It is that "each moment opens and blooms" "moments slow down" that has amazed me about getting older. Then, too, I understand myself and the part I played in the story of my life so much better. That makes for more peace within.

• Dealing with the reflection we see in the mirror is difficult. I swear I don't know who that old woman is looking back at me. I could concentrate on that image and become very depressed and just want to give up.

• I think it is more important to work on your spirit. Inside you are still young. Your spirit thinks you can do things that you body has long since given up on. To stay alive we need to stay active, but we need to keep active in loving others, seeking ways to help other people and to spend time on growing within ourselves. I am not happy with what I see in the mirror, but I become more and more pleased with who I am. And I know that there is so much more I can learn.

• This is an easy question.What happens is that the Catholic, which I am, me says there is a heaven and Hell. That is not true in my opinion. Hell is very real. Every minute of every day is dominated by thoughts of everything you did wrong in your life. I can remember every name of women I mistreated, men of whom I lost friendship and the facing of knowing there is absolutely nothing that you can do about it. 

• I miss being young and cute too. I see now how I used that to get out of pickley situations or get into good ones so that's interesting. It no longer works! But there is a time for everything and so I really appreciate how beautiful young people look. It's their turn to shine. 

• I never described myself as cute. That's one thing about aging. When you are young, you see yourself as others see you. When you are older, you form your own opinions about yourself.

• Acceptance happens.

• I agree being cute was fun, but it was also troublesome to some degree. I don't know that I would trade the peace I've found as I age for looking like I used too (or being as small as I used to be). Thank heaven I don't get to or have to make that choice. I have become much more mellow with age. And, as Richard says, acceptance happens.

• You become more accepting, wiser and a person who can take criticism. You become a better person. 

• I enjoy more of the little things in life...a sunrise, a flower blooming, a cup of coffee, a good book, a slow drive through an old neighborhood. But....I also find I am able to voice my opinion more now than when I was younger and was afraid of what people would think...yes...I am more accepting of myself I think.

much to do about no thing

My To Do List:
1. Laugh
2. Evaporate all bounds (Redundant to #1)
3. Wad this list into a little ball and eat it.
4. Face and deal with all that arises as it arises.

my new geezer business card

some things you just can't tell

Some things you just can't tell other people as you grow older. They'll say you are complaining (but the body DOES go through peculiar spells of change) or hallucinating (but angels DO exist). So one keeps quiet. You can feel the nearness of dying and of death, though these twin angels (only two of many) sit quietly and with decorum awaiting their turn. You are not to speak of them or the hallucination charge will be trotted out again along with New Age talk of light and cheer with its underlying accusation that you are losing faith and are depressed. Nor can you speak of the serenity you feel with its accompanying knowledge that you need do nothing but live here in this moment, or knowing glances and raised eyebrows reveal the forthcoming insistence that you join a health club, go meet some people, take up a new hobby. Those not here yet live in a go go progress must be made world. They are still living FOR the future. They can not comprehend that you are living IN the future, which is NOW. Some things you just can't tell other people as you grow older.

hair on the cue ball

Hairs grow out of my head. Little spools of hair between the skin and skull continuously unfurling. I whack 'em from time to time with various sharp implements -- weed eaters of the head. They'll outlive me. As will the fingernails and toenails. Feeding off my body until there is no nourishment left. Unless of course I go the incineration route. That'll teach 'em! I won't let them go on without me. Kind of romantic in a way. Like lovers leaping together from a cliff, bound forever in their de-termination.

old, bold, and uncontrolled

Damn Near Dead: Old, Bold, Uncontrolled: An Anthology of Geezer Noir (Click on title to see Amazon description of book)

From the Publisher:
When people think "senior citizens" and "mystery," certain images come to mind: the kindly old amateur sleuth with a ball of yarn in her lap, cat on the sofa, and a dead body in the foyer. A cup of tea, a plate of finger sandwiches, a severed head in a gift box. Jessica Fletcher, Miss Marple. Fixodent, and forget it. Genteel stuff like that.

But there's a dark side to The Golden Years.

Truth is, getting on is the most hardboiled thing you can do. Make it past 60 and your hair starts to go. Your body fails you at inopportune times. You begin to suspect you're surrounded by idiots. You have values and morals the rest of the world seems to have forgotten. You're the ultimate outsider. Cast aside. Ignored. Expected to die peacefully, in your sleep.

Not the seniors in this collection.

Welcome to a twilight world where turning 65 can mean you're the last woman standing... or the guy too stubborn to die. Here you'll encounter ORIGINAL crime tales by today's hottest crime writers!

We bet you haven't had these kinds of senior moments.

Hahahaha! Geezer Noir! I love it!