As I approach sixty, I find myself reflecting on the balance of my days, and how I might gently shift their weight towards the soil and the seasons—the life I feel I was always meant to lead. For a quarter of a century, I heeded the call of the city, prompted by diversification schemes that, though well-intentioned, nudged me away from the fields and into the rhythm of a shopkeeper’s life. I have no regrets; the shop has brought joy, purpose, and a new community of wonderful people into my life. Yet, there has always been a part of me—the country man, the farmer—waiting patiently, tethered but not forgotten.
Now, as the next generation of staff begin to take their place, I feel the reins loosening in my hands. It is a bittersweet moment—letting go of something you’ve built—but also liberating. It is not the end of one thing but the beginning of another. I imagine this spring, stepping out onto the farm with a sense of renewal. I long to smell the damp earth, to press seeds into the soil and see them sprout. The leaves unfurling, the blaze of bright oilseed flowers—it is in these moments, Falicity, that I feel truly alive, grounded, and whole.
I hope to have a good few years yet to devote to this life. To pace myself alongside the seasons, to revel in their transformations, and to savor the deep satisfaction of tending the land. Retirement will come in its time, but for now, I look forward to reclaiming the life of the countryside, which I believe still courses through my veins.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts. It's lovely that you can gradually hand over a business that sustains both staff and customers. I understand what you say about soil and growing things, it's so fulfilling. Although I didn't mention it here, I hope to devote more time to tree planting and nature recording in 2025 (I've been doing butterfly surveys for a few years). Enjoy nurturing and developing your farming roots.
I should also have added @tairmuir that I hope you have more time for your own creativity in 2025. I hadn't realised until I reencountered you on Substack that you were a wordsmith.
I’ve just had a second and slower read of this Felicity and would certainly like to contribute to your discussion. Probably tomorrow after I’ve taken my thoughts for a walk, rather than now when I’m tired.
Morning walk duly taken here are its thoughts. Influenced, I’ll say in advance, by the fact I’m something like ten years beyond you on the “what comes after work” adventure.
So given that, and remembering how long my own slowing down and shift of focus took - the best part of that decade - my principal thought is that your list of aims feels like too much busyness. Too much for one year and potentially too much altogether given your overall desire to move away from work and towards what I broadly call things of the spirit.
I too had that “semi-retired” thought you’ve expressed, along with a wish list of what I wanted to do next. And several years into my alleged slowing down, found the two had been incompatible. Because of the addiction my 25 years of self-employment had turned out to be. An addiction and a saying “yes” to new work that I didn’t shake until a conversation with a wise friend persuaded me to start saying “no” and move towards actually stopping. Difficult anyway for the self-employed as no one gives you a date or a leaving-do.
But I’d say two years after that conversation my working life came to its final end and my afterwards properly began. So? Maybe set a shorter list of afterwards activities for now and have a serious think about your end of all working date.
And I hope all this helps, all these walking thoughts!
Thank you. That's food for thought. You're probably right that I'm going to end up with some things I intend to do not done, especially if the semi slips in semi-retired. Even over the past couple months, when I haven't been working much, I've not attended to all the things I thought I would. Though that's probably because I need a good holiday from the 'should dos'.
Maybe I will narrow my focus to make more time for 'things of the spirit', which are noticeable in their absence from my list. But I feel the process needs to be gradual, so I will wait a few months then take stock again. Having 'gone public' I will be reminded by this post that I should review how my approach is going and whether what really matters seems to have changed.
I relate to nearly all of this (though not the wild swimming). I was doing pretty well at 60, but a couple of health issues gave me pause. Intimations of mortality, as you say. In my case, the biggest change I made was to focus on writing and publishing fiction. It had always been there in the background and I had rough drafts and partial drafts that had been sitting on my hard drives for twenty years or more. The decision was made easier because several of my regular sources of freelance income were drying up but I think I would have shifted anyway.
Apart from that I’m still walking and cycling as much as I can. Not as much as I once did, but maybe I appreciate it more.
I sense that you are really enjoying and gaining satisfaction from your fiction writing – and have found a new community of like minds there.
Although I feel that I can climb hills as well as ever (except for increasing stiffness that makes coming down less pleasant), I suspect that I suffer from 'shifting baseline syndrome' and forget how very energetic I was when younger. Certainly, I can't fit as many things into a day!
Thanks for the invite to your thought process on "growing old." As an old geezer myself (77) I sometimes have these thoughts... but maybe from a not ordinary perspective. There is "being" and "doing" in life, perhaps when it comes to aging it becomes more important to know and understand the difference.
Doing is a process external in our life and begins to lose its paramount sense of importance for many, about where you're at now (60's) in the cycle of life. It never really fades away completely, unless one becomes demented. Doing is related to what others see of our projection, and the self we have created.
Being is an internal process in our life - which has really always been going on but largely ignored while one is primarily engaged in the doing cycle. Being relates to our core sense of identity or essence, perhaps transcending our sense of self or physical personality. It's related to what is often referred to as soul, or our eternal conscious awareness.
One doesn't figure this out in the usual sense of "doing" type problem solving; it grows in one's awareness, as the still quite voice within becomes more audible. During quite moments one can become inspired, or simply know a truth about something. Normal intuition is a cousin to this type of understanding.
I think that our primary task as an older person is to understand what we have come to know, at different levels. This is enough to stay busy... forever. 😊
Thank you for your profound perspective. Your words are worth reading – more than once.
Maybe I am beginning to make that shift. Although my points above sound as if they are all about 'doing' they are actually activities where I feel more alive as a 'being', often totally absorbed in the 'process' (that's a trendy word these days) rather than any specific achievement. Many of my local walks are nature wanders with no set direction.
But I'm not good at being still, which might be what I need to do to hear that quiet voice. I had reached the conclusion that in 2025 I should rely more on my intuition, rather than my culturally conditioned logical analysis. The next step is to listen more to internal truths that won't otherwise be able to penetrate my busyness.
Thanks Falicity for making me think too.
As I approach sixty, I find myself reflecting on the balance of my days, and how I might gently shift their weight towards the soil and the seasons—the life I feel I was always meant to lead. For a quarter of a century, I heeded the call of the city, prompted by diversification schemes that, though well-intentioned, nudged me away from the fields and into the rhythm of a shopkeeper’s life. I have no regrets; the shop has brought joy, purpose, and a new community of wonderful people into my life. Yet, there has always been a part of me—the country man, the farmer—waiting patiently, tethered but not forgotten.
Now, as the next generation of staff begin to take their place, I feel the reins loosening in my hands. It is a bittersweet moment—letting go of something you’ve built—but also liberating. It is not the end of one thing but the beginning of another. I imagine this spring, stepping out onto the farm with a sense of renewal. I long to smell the damp earth, to press seeds into the soil and see them sprout. The leaves unfurling, the blaze of bright oilseed flowers—it is in these moments, Falicity, that I feel truly alive, grounded, and whole.
I hope to have a good few years yet to devote to this life. To pace myself alongside the seasons, to revel in their transformations, and to savor the deep satisfaction of tending the land. Retirement will come in its time, but for now, I look forward to reclaiming the life of the countryside, which I believe still courses through my veins.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts. It's lovely that you can gradually hand over a business that sustains both staff and customers. I understand what you say about soil and growing things, it's so fulfilling. Although I didn't mention it here, I hope to devote more time to tree planting and nature recording in 2025 (I've been doing butterfly surveys for a few years). Enjoy nurturing and developing your farming roots.
I should also have added @tairmuir that I hope you have more time for your own creativity in 2025. I hadn't realised until I reencountered you on Substack that you were a wordsmith.
I’ve just had a second and slower read of this Felicity and would certainly like to contribute to your discussion. Probably tomorrow after I’ve taken my thoughts for a walk, rather than now when I’m tired.
I love that expression – taking my thoughts for a walk.
Morning walk duly taken here are its thoughts. Influenced, I’ll say in advance, by the fact I’m something like ten years beyond you on the “what comes after work” adventure.
So given that, and remembering how long my own slowing down and shift of focus took - the best part of that decade - my principal thought is that your list of aims feels like too much busyness. Too much for one year and potentially too much altogether given your overall desire to move away from work and towards what I broadly call things of the spirit.
I too had that “semi-retired” thought you’ve expressed, along with a wish list of what I wanted to do next. And several years into my alleged slowing down, found the two had been incompatible. Because of the addiction my 25 years of self-employment had turned out to be. An addiction and a saying “yes” to new work that I didn’t shake until a conversation with a wise friend persuaded me to start saying “no” and move towards actually stopping. Difficult anyway for the self-employed as no one gives you a date or a leaving-do.
But I’d say two years after that conversation my working life came to its final end and my afterwards properly began. So? Maybe set a shorter list of afterwards activities for now and have a serious think about your end of all working date.
And I hope all this helps, all these walking thoughts!
Thank you. That's food for thought. You're probably right that I'm going to end up with some things I intend to do not done, especially if the semi slips in semi-retired. Even over the past couple months, when I haven't been working much, I've not attended to all the things I thought I would. Though that's probably because I need a good holiday from the 'should dos'.
Maybe I will narrow my focus to make more time for 'things of the spirit', which are noticeable in their absence from my list. But I feel the process needs to be gradual, so I will wait a few months then take stock again. Having 'gone public' I will be reminded by this post that I should review how my approach is going and whether what really matters seems to have changed.
I relate to nearly all of this (though not the wild swimming). I was doing pretty well at 60, but a couple of health issues gave me pause. Intimations of mortality, as you say. In my case, the biggest change I made was to focus on writing and publishing fiction. It had always been there in the background and I had rough drafts and partial drafts that had been sitting on my hard drives for twenty years or more. The decision was made easier because several of my regular sources of freelance income were drying up but I think I would have shifted anyway.
Apart from that I’m still walking and cycling as much as I can. Not as much as I once did, but maybe I appreciate it more.
I sense that you are really enjoying and gaining satisfaction from your fiction writing – and have found a new community of like minds there.
Although I feel that I can climb hills as well as ever (except for increasing stiffness that makes coming down less pleasant), I suspect that I suffer from 'shifting baseline syndrome' and forget how very energetic I was when younger. Certainly, I can't fit as many things into a day!
There’s great satisfaction in the writing, but a real kick when someone likes it.
Thanks for the invite to your thought process on "growing old." As an old geezer myself (77) I sometimes have these thoughts... but maybe from a not ordinary perspective. There is "being" and "doing" in life, perhaps when it comes to aging it becomes more important to know and understand the difference.
Doing is a process external in our life and begins to lose its paramount sense of importance for many, about where you're at now (60's) in the cycle of life. It never really fades away completely, unless one becomes demented. Doing is related to what others see of our projection, and the self we have created.
Being is an internal process in our life - which has really always been going on but largely ignored while one is primarily engaged in the doing cycle. Being relates to our core sense of identity or essence, perhaps transcending our sense of self or physical personality. It's related to what is often referred to as soul, or our eternal conscious awareness.
One doesn't figure this out in the usual sense of "doing" type problem solving; it grows in one's awareness, as the still quite voice within becomes more audible. During quite moments one can become inspired, or simply know a truth about something. Normal intuition is a cousin to this type of understanding.
I think that our primary task as an older person is to understand what we have come to know, at different levels. This is enough to stay busy... forever. 😊
Thank you for your profound perspective. Your words are worth reading – more than once.
Maybe I am beginning to make that shift. Although my points above sound as if they are all about 'doing' they are actually activities where I feel more alive as a 'being', often totally absorbed in the 'process' (that's a trendy word these days) rather than any specific achievement. Many of my local walks are nature wanders with no set direction.
But I'm not good at being still, which might be what I need to do to hear that quiet voice. I had reached the conclusion that in 2025 I should rely more on my intuition, rather than my culturally conditioned logical analysis. The next step is to listen more to internal truths that won't otherwise be able to penetrate my busyness.