When my job was abolished in 2010, I was too young to retire and couldn’t afford to retire. I was not successful in getting a job in my field I had been in for 20 years. Now I had to figure out what to do for the rest of my life. I was given the opportunity to take a test to evaluate my skills and strengths. The only question I remember is “Would you like to be a zookeeper “. My answer was yes. Well they determined I should be a hairdresser to which was a big fat NO. After some discussion with a counselor, the VA agreed to pay for my schooling to become a dog trainer. I love doing it and 16 years later I am still involved in dog training. I volunteer for a rescue and foster and train dogs for them. It’s so much better than sitting at a computer all day. I get all kinds of unconditional love which I never received from any boss!!
I’ve been following you and find that l nod my head a lot, smile, and find what you’re saying as a kind of explorer’s reporting of “retirement years.”
This post is especially relevant—at least for me. I’m in the midst of writing a memoir. A writing mentor of mine from years ago told me that the structure has to fit the story.
Is it creative nonfiction—essay? Is it poetry? Is it a novella? And I think that it is only when one just dives in and begins writing, when you write into the meandering paths, even mucky mud holes, that you may get a glimpse of what in the hell is emerging!
I had a dream a couple of weeks ago. A lucid dream. And in it, a voice (probably my own) was suggesting that I open up some of those cardboard boxes I have in a closet, and start reading through my old journals. And a manuscript that I stuffed away for some clues to how “piecing together” what I’ve written over the last year!
For so many of us there is a struggle to live into these years with a purpose that comes from our bones and blood. Deeply authentic. What better way than to retrace or rejuvenate or renew what may be in a box or a drawer or even on a shelf that you have not seen with “new eye?”
Thank you for this post and your work that you do here on Substack.
Thank you. And I am so glad to know this essay ressonates with you. Interstingly I am now beginning to form ideas for a book. I am deliberatly choosing to not consider within the framework of any of the standard models accepted by publishing houses. Why? Well life isn’t standard- at least mine is not and why would I attempt to standardize my writing to fit into their pre determined nomencalutre for a body of writing?
Monica—Kudos for you to be considering “a book.” As I write this, I’m feeling that even the term “book” doesn’t seem to fit with what has been marinating for me!
I’m nodding again as you make a key point about
why should you “agree to a predetermined nomenclature by a publishing house.”
You’re onto something. I’ve been there for a while, too. Again, as we are in the midst of so many institutions and structures already disassembling and others gone, why would not this same energy/chaos be, too, reordering hybrids/radically new forms for “body of works.”
My life pattern has been anything but the normative structures of a life lived in America.
Especially the interior life and how it has influenced how I’ve lived.
This is timely since I've been pondering my life as a whole after attending three funerals in one month's time. I've wondered how my children and grandchildren will remember me. And then there are my remaining siblings who might as well live on a different planet than I do... So there has been a lot of musing of late. This ties in with your question, Monica, because I have evidence of a wild, colorful, surprising life scattered all about my house. I've take crazy detours, experienced things I NEVER would have imagined and fortunately still have a sense of anticipation for wonders to come. Thank you for reminding me to pause and give thanks for more gifts than I can count. Life has enough pain and sometimes I zero in on that instead. Remembering the many unforeseen treasures along the way breathes new life into my soul.
When my job was abolished in 2010, I was too young to retire and couldn’t afford to retire. I was not successful in getting a job in my field I had been in for 20 years. Now I had to figure out what to do for the rest of my life. I was given the opportunity to take a test to evaluate my skills and strengths. The only question I remember is “Would you like to be a zookeeper “. My answer was yes. Well they determined I should be a hairdresser to which was a big fat NO. After some discussion with a counselor, the VA agreed to pay for my schooling to become a dog trainer. I love doing it and 16 years later I am still involved in dog training. I volunteer for a rescue and foster and train dogs for them. It’s so much better than sitting at a computer all day. I get all kinds of unconditional love which I never received from any boss!!
Hi, Monica!
I’ve been following you and find that l nod my head a lot, smile, and find what you’re saying as a kind of explorer’s reporting of “retirement years.”
This post is especially relevant—at least for me. I’m in the midst of writing a memoir. A writing mentor of mine from years ago told me that the structure has to fit the story.
Is it creative nonfiction—essay? Is it poetry? Is it a novella? And I think that it is only when one just dives in and begins writing, when you write into the meandering paths, even mucky mud holes, that you may get a glimpse of what in the hell is emerging!
I had a dream a couple of weeks ago. A lucid dream. And in it, a voice (probably my own) was suggesting that I open up some of those cardboard boxes I have in a closet, and start reading through my old journals. And a manuscript that I stuffed away for some clues to how “piecing together” what I’ve written over the last year!
For so many of us there is a struggle to live into these years with a purpose that comes from our bones and blood. Deeply authentic. What better way than to retrace or rejuvenate or renew what may be in a box or a drawer or even on a shelf that you have not seen with “new eye?”
Thank you for this post and your work that you do here on Substack.
Thank you. And I am so glad to know this essay ressonates with you. Interstingly I am now beginning to form ideas for a book. I am deliberatly choosing to not consider within the framework of any of the standard models accepted by publishing houses. Why? Well life isn’t standard- at least mine is not and why would I attempt to standardize my writing to fit into their pre determined nomencalutre for a body of writing?
Monica—Kudos for you to be considering “a book.” As I write this, I’m feeling that even the term “book” doesn’t seem to fit with what has been marinating for me!
I’m nodding again as you make a key point about
why should you “agree to a predetermined nomenclature by a publishing house.”
You’re onto something. I’ve been there for a while, too. Again, as we are in the midst of so many institutions and structures already disassembling and others gone, why would not this same energy/chaos be, too, reordering hybrids/radically new forms for “body of works.”
My life pattern has been anything but the normative structures of a life lived in America.
Especially the interior life and how it has influenced how I’ve lived.
My guess is that you know and feel this, too!
Really appreciate this connection.
Thanks for the reminder, Monica. It may seem like a small thing, but it’s really ginormous.
This is timely since I've been pondering my life as a whole after attending three funerals in one month's time. I've wondered how my children and grandchildren will remember me. And then there are my remaining siblings who might as well live on a different planet than I do... So there has been a lot of musing of late. This ties in with your question, Monica, because I have evidence of a wild, colorful, surprising life scattered all about my house. I've take crazy detours, experienced things I NEVER would have imagined and fortunately still have a sense of anticipation for wonders to come. Thank you for reminding me to pause and give thanks for more gifts than I can count. Life has enough pain and sometimes I zero in on that instead. Remembering the many unforeseen treasures along the way breathes new life into my soul.