When you arise in the morning, think of what a privilege it is to be alive, to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love. –Marcus Aurelius

Late March-May, 2024

Two mourning doves are building a nest in a pine tree outside my sunroom window. For a model of hard work, they might serve well. However, as I encounter retirement, this isn’t what I’m looking for. Rather, I want to learn how to let myself go, but for the right season.

I’d meant to say for the right reason—seeking balance between an activity’s value and how much time it takes. Now I wonder if season might be a perfect Freudian slip—a message from my unconscious about how important spring feels to me right now.

I have so many plans for this new chapter in my life! Books to read, places to go, subjects to study, people to see. Yet, when I spend time outside in our small yard, my delight at watching plants waking from winter and beginning to grow overtakes everything—not much else matters.

I thought retirement would mean vast open swathes of time. Yet my days are disappearing, and I don’t know where they’ve gone. When I was meeting with patients as a therapist, hours disappeared. I’d begin at 9:00 a.m. and soon it would be 3:00 p.m. or 6:00 p.m. or whatever time that day’s sessions were scheduled to end. I’d marvel at how fast the day had passed. Time flies when you’re having fun, they say. I loved my work. But I also longed to take walks, to read novels, to write essays, and especially to wander among the various herbs, flowers, and bushes I wanted to nurture in hopes of making the side yard into a pollinator........

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