Blog post Part B - The Modern Elder Academy

How do you take a week of magic and wisdom and distil it down to an essence that makes sense to anyone who wasn’t there? The answer is that you don’t. Or at least I don’t, or won’t, or maybe I will later. Just not yet.

Let me tell you how beautiful it was down in Baja California, though. Magical. The landscapes, the cacti, the flowering bougainvillea and crazy goats. Hot during the day, tempered with ocean breezes, then chilly enough for a fleece when out for my pre-sunrise runs through the desert hills. I could taste salt in the air, feel an energy from the whales migrating north.

One day,  I’d like to watch wild lightning illuminate the desert.

The workshop, entitled “Reframing Retirement: Thriving in Your Next Phase of Life”, challenged the group of us in a myriad of ways, stripping away habits and mindsets, and allowing us new ways to consider this next phase of our lives. Transition built on curiosity.

I remember the trepidation I felt as I took my first steps through the beautiful buildings and courtyards, past pools and colourfully tiled sitting nooks, and out to the patio overlooking the Pacific Ocean. A new moon hung low in the sky, a thin-lipped smile, with both Venus and Jupiter lining up above. It felt auspicious, and my discomfort eased as margaritas were mixed and conversations began. By the end of the week, I was in the hot tub with a bevy of new friends, celebrating wonderful memories of deep exploration, and feeling an excitement for whatever comes next. 

In between those two bookends, I had one kick-ass birthday party!

I had signed up for the workshop as part of my year of discovery, but it also coincided with my birthday, which I felt was an excellent way to celebrate and also escape it. My plan was to slide into the next decade without a fuss. Avoidance on a grand scale. I mean, I’m comfortable in my skin but was disconcerted at the number. So I told no one. 

It turns out that it’s not easy to keep secrets around there. Which in the end was great. After days of doing communal exercises with an amazing eclectic cohort of people, I learned, and saw by example, that life gets better with age. It was the perfect environment to celebrate turning 60.

Close your eyes and picture an airy, light-filled kitchen with an expansive island, colourful tiles and dance music blasting from the speaker. Insert a conga line, flower crowns and a tier of birthday bread. Nice image, isn’t it? Amazingly, two of us had birthdays that day, and we were celebrated in style. 

I learned that March 24^th is national cocktail day, national chocolate-covered raisin day (who decides this, anyway?) and national cheesesteak day. In addition, it is the day to celebrate achievers, flatmates and introverts (triple whammy for those who are all three) as well as being the Right to Truth day and World Tuberculous day. How fun is that?

During the joyous festivities, we received handmade birthday cards with poems written inside. I feel somewhat reluctant to include it here - as though I’m divulging secret details of a personal ritual - but the joy and excitement from that day is still within me and I want to share it. 

So here you are:

Amber-eyed warrior

Defender of girls

Seeker of knowledge

under tangled red curls.

In just a few days

you’ve shown us true grace.

Sharing your heart

has enlightened our space.

Happy birthday, dear Judy

We wish you the best.

With your wisdom and

spirit –

you’ve got the rest.

Enjoy the journey.

 

The stars aligned such that my road trip with Fiona and this workshop dovetailed together in a way that felt auspicious. And now, after a week that exceeded my expectations, I know that something shifted within me. I'm still my essential self, and yet ... more. Check out Modern Elder Academy if you think it may resonate with you. 

A suggestion – watch “The Boy, the mole, the fox and the horse”. It's the animated short that won an Oscar this year. Which I realise doesn’t mean it's fantastic. Except that it is.

Blog Post Part A – Visits with daughters

There’s been a gap in our one-sided conversation! It’s odd how I consider it a conversation given I am the only one talking, but I get enough feedback through email, calls and what’s app to feel a flow. 

I’ve been absent because of time spent with my daughters. First, Mads and her partner here on a quick visit to Costa Rica, and then my road trip with Fiona in central California over her spring break just a week or so ago.

Of course, what happens on a road trip stays on the road trip, but there were highlights.

Monterey Aquarium was particularly awesome, and I do mean that we were awed. Fiona's marine knowledge is deep and enlightening. We were there the whole day, with my nephew John, and were never bored or twitchy or fed-up with the multitudes of children (except maybe by the penguins where they were particularly excited but that’s understandable). The jellies were ethereal, the richness of the seascapes fantastic and the sardine schools mesmerising (we did find that little guy swimming against the masses – there’s always one).

We stuck to the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH for those in the know) when we could, taking turns driving. It was great fun to see the many faces of California, and the elephant seal colony just above Cambria was magnificent in spite of the torrential rain and gale force winds. This was during one of those weeks that much of California was living with windstorms or floods or simply closed. At times, I was wearing all of my cooler weather clothing.

As a grand finale, and to celebrate my upcoming birthday, Fiona and I got belly button piercings in San Francisco. It felt right. Well, not the piercing, that was a little uncomfortable, but I am content. No, you won’t see a photo. Who are you kidding? Doing it with a gorgeous 24-year old? That’s not going to happen. We made the decision while at dinner, and yes, there were negronis involved, but we had to wait until the cold light of day to do the deed, so this wasn’t as crazy as getting on a plane to elope on New Year’s Day. Oh, right, I did that, too. Anyway, it’s something I’ve always considered and Fiona held me to my commitment the following day. I must give a shout-out to my cousin Sarah, who even though a year older also sports jewellery in her navel. But of course she has always demonstrated great common sense and been a role model to me, particularly when cavorting in the pubs of northern England at the tender age of fourteen. 

PS (to the post below) ...and then I have one of those magical few days which begins with a Saturday night performance of Jesus Christ Superstar at the Melico Salazar theatre, which I go to with my goddaughter and her mother after a delicious meal in the newly-expanded dining district of Barrio Escalante. We had the record (the vinyl, the LP) of it when I was younger, and I remembered the tunes even though this show was a hip hop version in Spanish.  

The next day, I go to see Everything Everywhere All at Once at the Cine Magaly with another friend. A mid-afternoon treat that left us discussing the ways and means of film-making, and martial arts and whether we had really enjoyed the film or were just glad to have seen it.

When this was topped off with a last-minute invitation to join three other friends for dinner at a Tapas place right around the corner from where I am based...well, what's a person to think? I'm finding some of the depth in Costa Rica that I had missed.

I am feeling inspired creatively and satisfied with life. Just goes to show that, for me at least, it's community and connection that gives structure and inspiration to life.

Costa Rica is a beautiful country. It is lush and green and colourful, filled with volcanoes and beaches and forests, and boasting a climate that is just about perfect. Over my few months here I have travelled to the Pacific Ocean several times, visited waterfalls, hiked remote mountains and valleys, enjoyed delightful meals at friends’ houses in the central valley and ventured into San José for some culture. 

But I’m still unsettled. 

Of course, that's what this year is about. To shake things up, to do things that don’t work. But it’s all coming down to purpose. I have none, in the bigger sense. This isn’t a geographical issue, I realise. Nor is it from a lack of support from my great friends here. This is an internal situation that was present in London but seems exacerbated here with the lack of meaningful opportunities. I either can’t find them or I’m too reticent (read awkward) to follow up on some of the vague suggestions I receive.

I’m not sure I prepared myself for arriving here in the same way that I did for Montreal, or at least I haven’t been able to find the same sort of community engagement here as I did there. Maybe it's a language issue or an over-reliance on friends. I had far fewer in Montreal.

I was 30 when I moved to Costa Rica, newly-married with no children. An adult but still pliable, and life was about discovery. Another language? Absolutely. A new culture? How exciting. Bars on all the windows? Frogs in the shower? Traffic mayhem? Just part of the adventure. Life was filled with a wonder similar to that of childhood, and the learning curve was just as steep and stimulating.

Fast forward 30 years and here I am again. Perhaps not quite as physically pliable (in spite of my increasing running mileage) but I’m emotionally stronger, more aware, my opinions have better sources. I have steadfast values and there are certain lifestyle choices that are important to me. In other words, I am a wiser, more experienced person.

So I’m not sure why I am perplexed to find myself struggling here. I can’t return to that idyllic life I once enjoyed here. I never expected to. Everything has changed, including the country, but more importantly I am not the person that I was back in the 90s. 

My four years in Escazú (out of the almost full decade we lived here) were some of my happiest, and came from a lovely arrangement of family, friends, dogs, work and activities. That's all changed now. The girls are independent, I have no husband, my work in the wine world has finished. I don’t even have a dog anymore. I do still have friends, of course, fabulous ones, and I can come up with adventures without too much effort. But it’s not enough, I’m not satisfied. I have been told that I am quite hard on myself, which may be, but I’m still determined to find work or projects or opportunities that invigorate me.

With this constant questioning and pondering going on, I was excited to hear about a retreat in Baja California that focuses on “reframing retirement”. It’s all about thriving in the next phase of life (now that we’re all living so long, dios quiere), and relates so succinctly with my decision to do this year of self-exploration that it felt tailor-made for me. I've signed up. It’s a week in later March, and fortuitously engulfs my birthday. 

The preparatory work is thought-provoking, and one thing that came up is the idea of switching the word ‘purpose' from being a noun, an object to pursue and obtain, to a verb, so that it becomes a lifestyle. I want to live a more authentic, engaged, creative and passionate life. Honestly, who wouldn’t? So I am looking forward to the exploration.

Do any of you know the story of Miss Rumpius? It's a book I read to the girls all those years ago. We called her the Lupin Lady. Her grandfather, a clockmaker and painter, tells her that the third thing she must do, after traveling the world and living by the sea (both things that I have done), is to do something to make the world more beautiful. That, I feel, is what I’m looking to do. And it can be done in many ways through engagement, enrichment, volunteering, supporting people, being present when with others. These are activities that can make the world more beautiful and lead to a more meaningful life.

So that’s where I am now. Still at odds with the long stretches of time here which feel too solitary, but focusing on the here and now. The cold of Montreal will soon be back with me, so I enjoy the wind in the trees, identify new birds, and go for runs up hills and past rural scenes. The blossoms are spectacular. The markets divine. 

The house where we lived when Mads was born. We revisited last week.