Growing Up at 70

It all begins with an idea.

Robin says hey, here’s an idea. How about a retreat in Ireland?

I say sure.

Two years go by and in the interim I have the idea that we should grow our organization with other people running retreats besides me and Nancy. Robin hooks Pam on the Ireland idea and they’re a team. Renting a castle and checking for flights. We’re on.

I’ve been back for a week now. nearly recovered from jet lag and catching up on calls, emails, and bank foolishness. All of that I am accustomed to from the past 10 years of travel and retreats with Wide Open Writing. I love to travel and I love to come home from it. But this homecoming has some extra juju to it.

I was not myself while I was away. Oh I walked my ass off and chat chat chatted with the locals and the participants and my partner and my fellow WOWsers just like my regular self does. I poked around Dublin and Sligo and Galway and gaped at the Cliffs of Moher. I sang and danced and laughed just like me.

But I was unsettled. Uncomfortable. Mad about something and I didn’t know what. Till it all came clear. I felt irrelevant.

I talked with my tribe there after the retreat and it slowly came into view - I was accustomed to being in charge, having a job to do, and in the doing of it, I’m fed with a sense of purpose. Of value. But here in Sligo, on the sidelines of the retreat, I rode around in the car looking at the peat bogs and highlands and while appreciating the stunning views, I did not know why I was there.

Silly, right. Silliness compounded by shame at my ego fragility. I did not want to cop to what I was feeling, even with my dear friends. I wanted to be cool. I wanted to be unflappable. I wanted to be a leader.

But instead I had to hang my bare ass out there in front of them if for no other reason than it was obvious that I wan’t okay and they were worried. I went on for a bit and they chipped in their own thoughts about what might be going on and why it was okay and they still loved me even if I was having a little identity crisis in their midst. We went on together from there.

And that is how I get to be just another person on the planet. Right sizedness does not come free of charge, right? If it did, we’d all be so humble and there’d be peace on Earth and good will towards all. But we’re not and there isn’t becasue so much of what we have to learn comes in a form that can be indecipherable when you don’t have really good friends and a habit of writing your way to the truth.

I offer this out on the page as part of that learning process. As much as I would prefer to do my insecurities in private, I know that being part of a community gives support to all of us. The next time one of my friends has a similar crash I’ll be able to say “I know what you mean” and mean it. I think that’s how this all works.

Until then, I’ll just keep writing.

And you’re welcome to join me. Consider this a prompt about insecurity and the weird things it does to seemingly grown up creatives like ourselves.