The Fixed Income

Dee and I are blessed with what feels like a comfortable retirement. We’re among the fortunate, two pensions, two social securities. We have some savings. If we are careful with how we tap our savings, we’re fine and there will be some sort of inheritance for Morri. Not everyone is so lucky. I feel good about our blessing, feel that I worked hard for it. I worked until I was 79, longer than most people, and I have the good fortune now to be free of the earning burden. I don’t have to worry about monetizing this blog or charging students for my Zen teaching. I am blessed to be able to give the teaching freely. I feel bad for friends who aren’t so lucky, but I don’t feel guilty. Not about that.

It’s the resurgence of my stinginess. It’s taking me back to those years before I discovered the abundance of the Universe. I’m glimpsing a demon, a demon of insecurity. It’s not just that our income is fixed, not just no raises in income beyond the cost of income adjustments on the horizon. As we spend our savings, it’s gone, unlikely to be replenished.

It’s not a mind of poverty. I’m not feeling poor at all. It’s just that there’s no going back to the well. As my dharma brother Paco says, “No one’s hiring eighty-year-olds.” This is an aspect of aging that I hadn’t expected. I’m reminded of an observation attributed to the sculptor Rodin. When Rodin approached a new block of marble, everything was possible. As he worked, with each stroke of hammer and chisel removing a chip from the block, the possibilities decreased.  I’ve been chipping away at the marble block of my life for a long time, and a lot of options are no longer there. I was 67 when we opened our first charter school. I’m still amazed by that, but I can’t see myself doing that at 83.  This is the non-replenishing time of my life.

This may not be a time of poverty or even of scarcity, but it is a time of ever diminishing resources. Growing up with a mind of poverty was a time of feeling sorry for myself. This is different. This is a mind of gratitude, appreciating this block of marble and all it’s been through. I’m appreciating every moment so much more than I did when I was taking those first chips out of the block.

I’m grateful not to be worrying about money. I'm grateful to go to into a supermarket for the things that we need without worrying about the prices. I love being able to order what I feel like eating in a restaurant without worrying about price, but we only go to restaurants we can afford. I love to be able to plan an extravagant vacation. I take comfort in a story Shelly shared. When he was getting nervous about the cost of a vacation, his financial planner told him not to worry, “You’ll run out of time before you run out of money.” As long as I’m frugal.

This is part of aging. It’s a new experience, and I’m enjoying it – we’re all working with a diminishing block of marble – even if there are moments of nostalgia for the days of replenishing. I’m grateful to have this time. And I’m grateful for the awareness that it’s running out. It’s all a gift, the abundance of the Universe. And I’m not wasting it.