Rebirth

Rebirth

The OED defines “retirement” as “the period of one’s life after retiring from work”. But what is work? That is defined as “activity involving mental or physical effort in order to achieve a result” and “such activity as a means of earning income”. These are very different ideas; confusing them leads to misconceptions about the period of life in question. In the latter sense I have done no work since retiring in 2013, since I have not exerted myself as a means of earning income. I don’t work at all. But in the former sense I have worked harder than ever: I think of this as WORK. WORK is a lot better than work. Let me count the ways. First, academic or intellectual work: I have read vastly more than I was ever able to do when working; this has been enormously enjoyable and beneficial. It’s like having a second education, only this time under no pressure and well equipped to undertake it. I won’t list my retirement (i.e., rebirth) reading but it has been prodigious, taking in philosophy (especially history), science, biography, fiction, and so on. Now I feel properly educated, a man in full. Then there is my writing: here I find it hard to express the expansion. So much more time to write, many fewer distractions, the benefits of prolonged concentration. One’s mind seems to stretch out to the horizon. I can’t believe how much I have written in this work-less period. And I am so much happier with the product. It has been a philosophical rebirth for me—more productive, more satisfying, more far-reaching. My WORK has been enormously expanded. This would never have happened if I had not retired. In sum: I have done much more WORK now that I don’t work.

But that is just the beginning. I have also had much more leisure, free time (good phrase). Again, I won’t go into detail: tennis, table tennis, watersports, knife throwing, motorcycling, swimming, skateboarding, trampoline, darts, strength training, golf, archery, etc. I have learned many things in these areas, improving dramatically. I am a better all-round athlete than I have ever been. Musically, it has been a revelation: I neglected this in my previous life for lack of time and other priorities. In retirement I have honed my drumming, neglected since my teenage years, learned to play guitar (not easy), and miraculously learned to sing after believing I couldn’t sing for toffee. I took lessons and diligently practiced; it took a couple of years and I am still improving. I never thought that was possible. Now it is one of the most enjoyable things I do. Learning to sing a particular song is always a thrill; I probably know a hundred songs now. I actually sing for people. In addition, I became a songwriter, again to my considerable surprise. It took some effort and trial and error, but eventually it came. This would never have happened if I were still working. It sure beats grading.

More fundamentally, my relationship to time has changed. I don’t hate time anymore. I always used to be short of it, under its thumb, fighting it. Now time is my friend, my benefactor—I have the gift of time. Time is actually good! You can do things in it—things you like to do. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. Time stretches out, lots of it (I nearly said oodles, but refrained); it is now at my command. I do with it what I like. I don’t have to beanywhere at a certain time, or only have a fixed amount of time to get something done, always a bit behind, never satisfied with my life-in-time. Now I luxuriate in time, relishing its endlessness, its generosity. Working for money is bad for your relationship to time, but working for pleasure makes you appreciate time. I am sure most people need time therapy: you are married to it for life and it can be a bitch (as Heidegger would say).

I am trying to capture and convey the existential aspects of what we call retirement. It isn’t a stopping; it’s a starting. It isn’t the end of life but the beginning of a new life. Imagine if at retirement you were given a new identity, a new lease on life—perhaps a new body with a refreshed brain. People don’t even recognize you as the same (so fit, so handsome!). Retirement would then seem like rebirth, a type of metamorphosis (I see a Star Trek episode). That’s the way to think of it–like a release from slavery, a liberation. It isn’t the beginning of the end, a slow decline into uselessness; it’s like waking up to a new and brighter future. True, you still have advancing age to deal with, but now you are free to be what you want to be. The existentialist values freedom; retirement is freedom. We shouldn’t call it “retirement”, like a tennis player retiring injured from a match; it is more a kind of recrudescence, a rebirth, a becoming alive.