At the end of the first part of my story (yesterday), I had just arrived at the clear waters of Lake Huami. I could see all the way to the bottom, yet the surface also reflected my true essence back to me. Nearby there was a marina with a boat waiting for me. It was called “The Heart Recharger.” I got in and started paddling. I soon discovered all kinds of islands, each representing a part of me. At first, they were small islands named after admonishments from my childhood—“excel but don’t draw attention to yourself,” “fit in,” “think small, play it safe.” These islands were overgrown and deserted, and the docks were broken, not that I had any interest in stopping. Yet soon I found other islands that felt familiar and vibrant with names like director, teacher, mentor, creator, friend, husband, writer. I knew instantly that some of them would always provide a home for me and an essential part of my identity. Others were wonderful places I had visited or even lived for awhile, but weren’t necessarily where I wanted to stay now. I continued paddling through these beautiful islands until I was ready to dock my boat on the other side of the lake. I disembarked feeling clearer and more grounded. I could breathe again. I set off walking, and soon I came to…
The “Not as Young as I Used to Be” Foothills, a series of gently rolling hills that grew increasingly steep. I love to hike, but suddenly my knees ached and I was out of breath. I’m a healthy and capable person, but now I was starting to experience physical challenges. I needed stronger eyeglasses (irritating, but a new look could be fun, right?). I needed hearing aids (WHAT!?…no literally…what was that you said?). It was easy to gain weight just by eating like I always had, but hard to take the weight off. And “consuming for comfort” had become an even bigger trap. Time to reevaluate my limits.
I came out of the foothills and discovered a beautiful canyon with dramatic cliffs and rock formations. It was appealing on many levels, but somehow didn’t feel quite right. When I found myself between a rock wall and a seemingly bottomless ravine, I realized I was in the “This Ain’t It” Gorge — an interesting place to visit, but NOT FOR ME. I looked for a quick exit and soon found myself at the edge of Uncharted Territory. Intriguing…but after my recent experiences, I decided to save this for future exploration and passed it by.
Soon, Big Picture Mountain reared its majestic head right in front of me. My arthritic knees were saying “Hell No!” but my heart was being pulled onward. On closer inspection, I noticed a long, but gently sloping pathway of switchbacks that led up the mountain in a spiral. I took my time, stopping to rest as needed, and eventually arrived at the pinnacle. What a view! I could see everywhere I had been with a new level of clarity and equanimity. When I looked to the path forward, I could see a lovely river in the distance, with sweeping plains stretching to the sea. But how would I get there? Maybe it was time to ask for help. I noticed a Visitor Center nestled in a copse of trees. I went in and asked about the best way down the mountain. I was told that most people take the scenic cable car on the other side of the gift shop, next to the cafe. Perfect! I even had time for a coffee before the next departure. Hmmm…maybe things don’t always have to be a struggle!
The trip down the mountain was magical. Safe within the little cable car suspended above the treetops, I could relax and enjoy the view. We landed at the base of the mountain, close to “Flow With” River—limpid and refreshing with colorful inflatable rafts. I chose one and gave myself up to the river. It was so much easier to flow with the current rather than paddle against it. Another revelation. I was eventually deposited gently and peacefully onto the banks of…
The Plains of Possibility. I could see for miles here. There were all kinds of beautiful things growing, some of which I was drawn to and others that I could admire as “someone else’s possibility.” I walked through the fields, filled with ideas, inspiration, excitement. The path led to a beautiful little village on the coast, called The Port of New Hope. It was a beautiful embarkation point, with all kinds of interesting ships coming and going from the harbor. I could see myself staying here awhile, taking my time to decide what I wanted to send out into The Sea of Tranquility (or at least occasional contentment). New horizons. New opportunities and blessings. New ways to be me.
Looking at the totality of my Retirement Map, I’m filled with gratitude and awe. The path wasn’t always smooth, but by seeing everything as part of the journey rather than obstacles in my way, I could navigate with greater clarity and ease. If something unexpected appeared—whether it was wonderful, scary, or confusing—I could be curious. What did it have to tell me? Through the courage and determination to keep walking, learning, and exploring, I gained a deeper understanding of who I am now and how I want to proceed in this next phase of life.
What is guiding your transition to retirement? Google Maps is unlikely to be much help. So why not create your own map? Pay attention to where you are now and what matters to you. There are messages everywhere. Let them show you one step you can take today. Then let your intuition be your guide as the next step appears, and the next, and the next. Happy travels!
-Johnathon
Johnathon Pape is a director, writer, and coach/consultant with over 50 years of experience in the performing arts and higher education within the US and abroad. He wrote Living the Dream: Building a Sustainable Career in the Performing Arts with acclaimed mezzo-soprano Kirstin Chávez. He received a Fulbright to the Czech Republic in 1994 and is a long-standing member of SDC—the Stage Directors and Choreographer’s Society—and AGMA—the American Guild of Musical Artists. (www.johnathonpape.com)