The two-headed Llama from Dr. Doolittle is my mascot today. I am being pushed by my desire to accomplish something – anything, really – and pulled by my desire to do nothing at all.
My closet-cleaning project began a week ago, as I stripped one of four closets of last decade’s clothes, unwearable shoes, and an assortment of forgotten items that crouched, gnome-like, in the corners. I could continue this chore, honor my pledge to myself (and to my children) to rid my home of clutter. But I would rather play Scrabble online or read a chapter of my book.
I could also take advantage of the beautiful weather to trim the monster Ligustrum that has taken over my courtyard or the too tall, straggly, knockout roses that are attempting to escape their bed. I could fight another battle in the war against dandelions, or fix the fence picket that is leaning precariously into my neighbor’s yard. But wouldn’t it be better to drag the lawn furniture from the garage, where it has spent the winter, fix a tall glass of lemonade, and sit and soak up the sun?
The answer to this mini-dilemma is obvious: there is time today for both productivity and leisure. But knowing this answer does not relieve the feeling of being pushed and pulled, for that feeling is the result of a larger difficulty. Engaging in an argument with myself is simply a diversion tactic. If I spend time trying to decide which choice to make, I can avoid facing the real problem: my own lack of motivation.
This is not, I confess, a problem just for this one day in March. It is a description of a challenge that is retirement.
During my career, I was motivated by deadlines, tasks that had to be completed by a certain time. I was motivated by my employer’s expectations. I was motivated by the promise of establishing a strong reputation in my field. I was motivated by knowing, each day, satisfaction from a job well done. Most important, I was motivated by my belief that my work served a higher purpose than my own interest.
In retirement, the first three motivations are gone. There are few deadlines, no employer, no reputation dependent on how I perform. The higher purpose of my career, supporting and helping to develop students, has also disappeared.
But the need for a purpose and satisfaction from a job well done still exists, and now has assumed critical mass.
To jumpstart my enthusiasm each morning, I must look ahead to the evening. When the day is over, how do I want to feel about what I have done? Will I be able to say, “a job well done”? Or will I be forced to admit that it has been a day that I have wasted?
One way to achieve a productive day is to spend it pursuing a purpose. Some of the activities in my retirement develop new skills and interests; this is, I believe, an acceptable goal, but because it is self-directed, it is insufficient on its own. I must add to it service to others and trying to discern God’s purpose for me. To that end, I am an enthusiastic babysitter for my six grandchildren, not only to spell their parents, but also to forge a relationship with them. There are multiple possibilities to support the mission of my church, and, through volunteer work, to help others. Finally, I have, through the church, the opportunity to study the core beliefs of my faith, to learn more about the Bible, to understand my role in my family, neighborhood, and culture. These are activities that are, in themselves, satisfying, but they have a more important outcome: through them, I can catch a glimpse of the purpose that will be the greatest motivator.
In making a positive, motivated choice each time I plan my day, I can create a new llama, a llama with one head who can find fulfillment in completing tasks, enjoyment in relaxing in the sun, and assurance that my retirement life has meaning.
3/7/2016