I am thrilled to say I continue with the biannual retreats and reflection ritual I share with the four — Dawn, Joan, Judy and Lynn — longtime friends. Each of us had been some kind of manager/planner/facilitator in our work lives and decided we would be as thoughtful, as plan-ful, about our retirement as we had been with our careers. We began in 2014, reflecting on our values and how we spent our time and money, a potentially better gauge of what we really value. We set specific goals for retirement, trying to focus on what mattered most. It was a chance to stop and think.
Everyone agreed the day was a success and we went forth to live out our ambitions. While we shared a number of aspirations — stay active, keep on learning, be grateful for what we have, contribute to our communities — we also had individual wishes and dreams to pursue.
Needless to say, things didn’t just miraculously unfold into a perfect future where we experienced the fulfillment each of us sought. We persevered, however, holding another retreat for ourselves six months later. And again, the following summer. We wrote up our objectives and meandering thoughts after we met. We made to-do lists to help us focus. We sent each other reminders. And we dutifully reported out at each session — what went well, what didn’t, what should change — and questioned each other, not letting something slide that we knew should be on the discussion table for someone else.
As we sat on my deck overlooking Hood Canal a year later, each of us voiced a little discontent. It took different forms — dissatisfaction with our progress, disenchantment with our goals, disappointment in ourselves. It wasn’t that we lacked things to do or projects to pursue. Or that we found our lives dull. There was just something... a vague feeling that something was missing. We struggled to name it and define its source. Remorse about puttering rather than achieving. Guilt about feeling gloomy despite our many blessings. Frustration. Distress. Anxiety.
Then we had a collective revelation: If we strive for the same objectives or measurement standards we used in our work — be productive, be efficient, provide good client/customer service — we will fail at retirement. We needed to redefine success. That phrase — redefine success — triggered a turning point in our minds and our shared endeavor. We crafted a set of new standards to judge our paths through retirement.
Have you had some fun? Have you done some good? Have you learned something new? Have you done something for yourself?
It was an AHA moment. These four questions proved enlightening. They encompass the many things we all strive for. They nudge us without hammering at us. They give us a gentle way to look at our lives. We each have this list displayed somewhere we see every day. To remind us. To encourage us. To inspire us. To help us when things get tough.
We are now heading into our 10th year of biannual retreats--yes, we still meet and are still inspired--the Fiercesome Foursome. We revisit the four questions and are surprised at how valuable they continue to be. We try to live them. We shared them with a friend facing a life-threatening illness. With younger family members struggling with choices about their futures. With others who have used them to ponder their own retirement lives.
So, if you’re thinking about ‘what happens next’ and have this vague, niggling feeling that you’re not quite sure, try out the questions. Or develop your own to fit your values and your dreams. Head into the future with something more than a resolution — something that makes you feel good and hopeful.
Everyone agreed the day was a success and we went forth to live out our ambitions. While we shared a number of aspirations — stay active, keep on learning, be grateful for what we have, contribute to our communities — we also had individual wishes and dreams to pursue.
Needless to say, things didn’t just miraculously unfold into a perfect future where we experienced the fulfillment each of us sought. We persevered, however, holding another retreat for ourselves six months later. And again, the following summer. We wrote up our objectives and meandering thoughts after we met. We made to-do lists to help us focus. We sent each other reminders. And we dutifully reported out at each session — what went well, what didn’t, what should change — and questioned each other, not letting something slide that we knew should be on the discussion table for someone else.
As we sat on my deck overlooking Hood Canal a year later, each of us voiced a little discontent. It took different forms — dissatisfaction with our progress, disenchantment with our goals, disappointment in ourselves. It wasn’t that we lacked things to do or projects to pursue. Or that we found our lives dull. There was just something... a vague feeling that something was missing. We struggled to name it and define its source. Remorse about puttering rather than achieving. Guilt about feeling gloomy despite our many blessings. Frustration. Distress. Anxiety.
Then we had a collective revelation: If we strive for the same objectives or measurement standards we used in our work — be productive, be efficient, provide good client/customer service — we will fail at retirement. We needed to redefine success. That phrase — redefine success — triggered a turning point in our minds and our shared endeavor. We crafted a set of new standards to judge our paths through retirement.
Have you had some fun? Have you done some good? Have you learned something new? Have you done something for yourself?
It was an AHA moment. These four questions proved enlightening. They encompass the many things we all strive for. They nudge us without hammering at us. They give us a gentle way to look at our lives. We each have this list displayed somewhere we see every day. To remind us. To encourage us. To inspire us. To help us when things get tough.
We are now heading into our 10th year of biannual retreats--yes, we still meet and are still inspired--the Fiercesome Foursome. We revisit the four questions and are surprised at how valuable they continue to be. We try to live them. We shared them with a friend facing a life-threatening illness. With younger family members struggling with choices about their futures. With others who have used them to ponder their own retirement lives.
So, if you’re thinking about ‘what happens next’ and have this vague, niggling feeling that you’re not quite sure, try out the questions. Or develop your own to fit your values and your dreams. Head into the future with something more than a resolution — something that makes you feel good and hopeful.