August 28, 2024

Some use clocks. I keep time by the rhythm of The Meadow.

And I am retired. The Meadow is telling me, as always, that time is passing. As always, it challenges me to make good use of my time before it’s gone. The first of these pictures, taken three weeks ago, hints that even though the tree’s fruit is not yet ripe, it soon will be. The second, taken yesterday, says we are further down the road.

And as I saunter along the well-worn path around the wetland that is the Willow Springs Open Space, with its series of beaver dams that always give me pause, it’s still August, and hot. Notably, we’re already two months beyond the summer solstice, and only less than a month from the equinox. And the angle of the sun is such that it has eased off a bit from mid-summer. It’s intensity is lessening. I realize that it’s done it’s work for the fruit trees and is tiring. Though still months away, its rest for the winter is taking its focus the same way a worker with a beach vacation scheduled months away becomes more and more absorbed with the idea.

Which means my walks are more pleasant from an anatomical standpoint. I’m less concerned about wearing sunscreen. I don’t give as much energy to planning for the heat while I’m out.

Another summer, another season, is almost passed.

The Meadow tells me that this is where we are. Where does that put you? I’m still in transition. My last flight with United Airlines was five months ago. I promised myself that I would do nothing – no new enterprises, no new obligations, for at least a year. The idea is that I have a clean slate before me, and I should give it some quiet thought before I start dirtying it up again. I intended to spend the year leaving space for The Universe to speak and have been mostly successful in keeping that promise. Of course, I, being who I am, will eventually get busy again.

But because, as Jane Fonda famously said, “I’m entering my third act, the one that will give meaning to the other two,” I want to write with intention on that slate. For the first time since I was in grade school, there is an opportunity for me to be the only person writing. I should do so with intention – not by accident.

I’ve been asked what it’s like to be unemployed. How does it feel to be “retired,” like an old snorkel truck that is too worn out to be safely operated and is sold off for parts?

The intellectual answer is that I have fulfilled all my obligations to my previous employer who no longer has any claim against my time, emotion, or thinking. At the same time, three of my four children are raised and on their own, with the fourth to follow soon. So there is nothing of significance calling to me when I wake up in the morning. I have fulfilled all my obligations.

One important consequence is that I have no purpose for living. There really is no reason for me to get out of bed at any particular time on any given morning.

The more emotional answer is… “unmoored.” I feel no gravity. There is nothing anchoring me to anything else. I’m a latex balloon filled with helium to neutral buoyancy. Such a thing floats at eye level, unmoving, until someone opens a door, and the air moves ever-so-slightly. The balloon begins to drift. Or the sunlight shifts into the window and the room gets warmer and the balloon rises. Then the air conditioner comes on and the balloon slides gently across the room, rebounds without conviction off one wall, then the ceiling, then another wall, until it cools and descends, so, so casually, to find its original level. And stands still again.

It can be disorienting. I have never in my life been this unstructured, unscheduled. Carried along by the breeze. And when the discomfort of wondering where I need to be taps me on the shoulder when there is no such need, in those times I relax into the truth that the lack of responsibility brings a level of peace. No obligation means no demand.

The day after I retired, I sauntered down to the saint terre of The Meadow, and when my brain kicked in after about 45 minutes of walking, I was struck by a sense of lightness. That lightness led to a profound understanding.

It was there because of what was no longer there.

When I was an airline captain, I carried an awesome and weighty responsibility. I chose daily to lift it. Nobody else made me do it. It was an honor and a privilege, afforded to few, and it gave me a sense of purpose. It made me happy.

Never in all those years did I know how heavy it had been – until it was lifted away.

And there I was, newly retired, on a well-loved trail, experiencing an epiphany of lightness.

Now, five months down the road, with the sun nearly halfway to its southernmost destination, I still feel that lightness. I intend never to let it go. I, being who I am, will gradually pick up commitments and responsibilities, but only those that will be meaningful. In my previous two acts I found meaning in carrying my passengers to their moments that mattered most. That can no longer be my mission.

I need another one.

And so I go back to The Meadow. And listen without searching. I wait for The Universe to speak. I am determined not to engage out of a lack of purpose. Today I have inklings without certainty of what’s possible. My next “Act” will be given to me with great clarity and a sense of purpose attached. I’ll still be retired from my previous life; and retired to something new. I’ll no longer be unmoored. Another summer, another season, is passing. The Meadow tells me where I am. Indeed, it tells us where we are.

What’s it telling you?

Thanks for reading.

Link to Mark’s book, The Symphony of Your Life

The Symphony of Your Life    

The Symphony of Your Life on YouTube

Mark graduated from the USAF Academy in 1982. After nine years as a pilot on active duty, he left the military to join a commercial airline. In addition to flying B-737s around the country, Hardcastle spends time in the Rocky Mountains and serves on the artistic staff of the Colorado Children’s Chorale. He lives in Centennial, Colorado, with his wife and four children. Need some help figuring out why you’re on this planet? Want to talk about discovering your mission and purpose? Contact Mark today at 720.840.8361 to schedule a free personal consultation. He can also deliver an inspirational keynote or workshop for your organization! email: mark@symphonyofyourlife.com for information.

Posted in Inspiration, Motivation, UncategorizedTagged BeingUnited, CaptainsLog, determination, how, inspiration, NewWorld, perseverance, PostCovid, purpose, StayInTheProcess, StepOverTheBar, symphonyofyourlife, TheSymphonyofYourLife, United, WeAreUnited

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