Someone once asked me what I wanted of life and I said “to be happy.” I realize now how naïve that answer was. Happiness is up to the individual since if we ever base it on anyone else the rug can be pulled from beneath our feet. I believe happiness comes with having a dream for our life and striving to pursue that dream. The effort makes us happy...since often once we have achieved the end the moment of glory is short lived and we are looking for the next challenge.
My answer for that question now would be, to continually amaze myself.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Retirement: a dream job.
Several people think I am retired. Retired; who’s got time to retire? I still work, but now I have the luxury of putting my attention solely on what I want to do instead of what I have to do.
It must be the ol’ German work ethic in my blood that rubs the word “retirement” wrong way against my grain so I finally decided to look it up in the dictionary. Possibly I had a wrong impression of the word. I dug out our twenty-year-old Webster and started riffling though the alphabetical listings until my eyes landed on retire. Of the ten definitions only the last five were devoted to withdrawing from the workforce or advanced age. The first few actually impressed me as my current lifestyle: to go away, retreat, or withdraw to a private, sheltered or secluded place.
Well, you can’t really call being part of a Honduran neighborhood “secluded” but the months of no phone, limited internet and language difference did limit the number of people who tried to communicate with me. My Spanish speaking neighbors enjoy our short communications which have grown beyond weather and animals as my vocabulary has expanded. After years of doing what I needed to do for others I now put my wants first.
Since Honduras labor is so inexpensive we easily afford to pay a cook/housekeeper and caretaker a very good salary to keep everything in tip/top shape. Meanwhile I continue to study with my Mayan Elders, write, and learn from the Garifuna healers. Add to this some beach time, visiting with neighbors and traveling to the States to hold workshops and I stay busy doing the things I love.
You know, I kind of like this new career... this retirement thing.
It must be the ol’ German work ethic in my blood that rubs the word “retirement” wrong way against my grain so I finally decided to look it up in the dictionary. Possibly I had a wrong impression of the word. I dug out our twenty-year-old Webster and started riffling though the alphabetical listings until my eyes landed on retire. Of the ten definitions only the last five were devoted to withdrawing from the workforce or advanced age. The first few actually impressed me as my current lifestyle: to go away, retreat, or withdraw to a private, sheltered or secluded place.
Well, you can’t really call being part of a Honduran neighborhood “secluded” but the months of no phone, limited internet and language difference did limit the number of people who tried to communicate with me. My Spanish speaking neighbors enjoy our short communications which have grown beyond weather and animals as my vocabulary has expanded. After years of doing what I needed to do for others I now put my wants first.
Since Honduras labor is so inexpensive we easily afford to pay a cook/housekeeper and caretaker a very good salary to keep everything in tip/top shape. Meanwhile I continue to study with my Mayan Elders, write, and learn from the Garifuna healers. Add to this some beach time, visiting with neighbors and traveling to the States to hold workshops and I stay busy doing the things I love.
You know, I kind of like this new career... this retirement thing.
Monday, February 4, 2008
To Each His Own (dream)
We sat among the others in the long row of tables under the manaca. We were the newcomers. The twenty some people gathered were from various parts of the globe but the common thread that brought us together was that we were each emigrants to Honduras. Some had come to the country to retire, others were still exploring while a few, like my husband Ordin and I, were seeking new opportunities since we don’t know how to retire.
I felt locked into a time warp as I slid into the chair surrounded by English speaking companions. How long had it been since I was able to relax and follow a table of conversation. My mind released the tension of concentration as I turned off the need to translate Spanish words into English concepts. Listening became easy once more. As I followed the conversation I learned that some of the group had been residents of Honduras for ten years or more while others only months. It took the “newbie” shine off as we confessed to almost three years.
My husband and I sat at the end of the table with other more recent migrates. Each couple had a story of why they felt drawn to Honduras and a dream for their future. The fire of excitement and adventure lit their faces and shone in their eyes as each shared their vision. At the other end of the table sat the more seasoned transplants. Their conversation was not about dreams for the future but consisted mainly of tales from past experiences when gringos were more of a rarity.
As I watched the faces and listened to the exchanges going on at each end of the table I became aware that the veterans did not have the same fire that was so apparent with the other. Most were pleasant with a spark of good cheer but the light of a dream burning in their hearts seemed missing. Was their dream lost among the challenges of fitting in or was their dream forgotten before they came here? As I sat between these two factions I was reminded of how empty a life can be for those who have no dream.
Great Spirit, let me always hold tight to a dream as well as my sense of humor. They are essential to my happiness.
I felt locked into a time warp as I slid into the chair surrounded by English speaking companions. How long had it been since I was able to relax and follow a table of conversation. My mind released the tension of concentration as I turned off the need to translate Spanish words into English concepts. Listening became easy once more. As I followed the conversation I learned that some of the group had been residents of Honduras for ten years or more while others only months. It took the “newbie” shine off as we confessed to almost three years.
My husband and I sat at the end of the table with other more recent migrates. Each couple had a story of why they felt drawn to Honduras and a dream for their future. The fire of excitement and adventure lit their faces and shone in their eyes as each shared their vision. At the other end of the table sat the more seasoned transplants. Their conversation was not about dreams for the future but consisted mainly of tales from past experiences when gringos were more of a rarity.
As I watched the faces and listened to the exchanges going on at each end of the table I became aware that the veterans did not have the same fire that was so apparent with the other. Most were pleasant with a spark of good cheer but the light of a dream burning in their hearts seemed missing. Was their dream lost among the challenges of fitting in or was their dream forgotten before they came here? As I sat between these two factions I was reminded of how empty a life can be for those who have no dream.
Great Spirit, let me always hold tight to a dream as well as my sense of humor. They are essential to my happiness.
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