Living the Vita Quieta

I have been retired from my job for almost a year now, and it has taken me this long to get used to the rhythm of being unemployed. I can’t say the rhythm of not working, because I still work, probably just as much as before, but the work is different now. I would say I am working on my own dream rather than somebody else’s. I like that I can keep my own hours and wear whatever I want.

Actually, clothes aren’t a big deal, since I try to look respectable all the time. I wore jeans to a Fourth of July party to the surprise of my daughter. She didn’t realize I owned a pair and claimed she had never seen me in them before. I told her I keep them in the trunk of my car with a pair of cowboy boots in case I’m invited to a rodeo.

The worst part of a job for most people is working on somebody else’s dream rather than their own. Some lucky or determined people find jobs that do both, or they happen to share the same goals as their boss or company, but many people are stuck in their careers. That’s why you hear work referred to as a four-letter word. Johnny Paycheck and Oliver Anthony come to mind. Some things are eternal.

When I talk about getting used to the rhythm of not having a job, I should point out that I never really got used to the rhythm of having one, either. I never felt quite in synch even teaching at a university, which is supposed to be the ultimate gig. I’ve complained before (what, me complain?) about the two greatest banes to teaching: grading and faculty meetings. At least the latter were made tolerable with Scotch, which we made sure we had a steady supply of. That’s the wonder of a Jesuit university. God bless them.

What I am experiencing now is the vita quieta, which is the simple life. I mean simple as in being honest with others about not wanting to do things. Sometimes I have to be direct. The key word in retirement is “no.” Some people have a hard time taking no for an answer, as the saying goes. I find age helpful at those times. That is, I refuse to be forced or coerced into anything by someone younger than me. It’s just a thing of mine. If you think that’s childish, know that I spent most of my career surrounded by people much younger than me.

Oddly enough, food seems to bring out people’s inner Mussolini. I’ve had other dinner guests try to shame me into eating certain things the host put out as if I were a child. I had a such an experience over cheesecake of all things (see Nuclear Cheesecake). And cheesecake is made of two things that everyone loves and usually sedates them: cheese and cake. How do you weaponize such a marvel even if somebody decides to pass it up?

Pro patria mori decorum est, si ita fata ferunt, sed optima vita quieta est,”

Horace (65-8 BC)

Once you learn the power of no (is that a New York Times bestseller?), you’ll be amazed at how often you have to use it and the effort required to stick with it. People want to pull you into their gravitational field and keep you in suborbital drift. I don’t mean just employers. It’s somewhat understandable with them, since presumably you’ll have something to show for your troubles in the form of a paycheck or bonus. But it can happen with anyone else, even those close to you–friends, Romans, countrymen.

Saying no constitutes half of the vita quieta. It represents the via negativa, but there exists a via positiva as well. This is a path through the forest that leads toward something rather than away from the madding crowd and those frenzied practitioners of FOMO (Fear of Missing Out).

That something is a slowing down, a deceleration, that allows you to be present and deal with others from a position of honesty that otherwise might not be there. It might not be there, because listening and reacting honestly take a lot of work. They require practice over time. They also demand courage. Aristotle looked upon courage as a cardinal virtue that had to be developed through practice, even small steps at a time. That’s one small step for man…

By swinging in a hammock, metaphorically and literally, the vita quieta slows you down and gives you an opportunity to see the world around you, good and bad. You can be present to yourself and others so that even if you have to say no or face an unpleasant reality, the other person feels heard. And you may feel closer to the self you have been trying to find your whole life. You’ll also have a clear conscience. Well, as clear as anyone can have this side of heaven.

Image credits: feature by Devon Wilson; path by Lukasz Szmigiel on Unsplash. Horace: “It is fitting to die for one’s country, if the fates lead there, but a simple life is the best.” Want more? Go to Robert Brancatelli. The Brancatelli Blog is a member of The Free Media Alliance, which promotes “alternatives to software, culture, and hardware monopolies.”