Reflections on retirement 7: Wholeheartedly on my bike

I cycled in to the University today – perhaps for the last time. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the first frost of autumn was shimmering on the grass, a shadowy mist hovered over the duck ponds, and the mothers and children were skipping on their way to school. Actually, the children were grumbling and the mothers getting stressed (this was Tile Hill after all!) but I smiled cheerily at them nevertheless.

I had started the morning with a reflection from one of my 21^st century gurus, Richard Rohr:

‘Much of a man’s life is spent going to work, running errands, cleaning house, mowing the lawn, waiting in lines, attending meetings, and tending to the necessary but endless minutiae that make up life. We know that we can’t live as if we’re in the middle of an Indiana Jones adventure. We know that much of life is rather dull and repetitive. That’s why it’s so important to be fully present to the ordinary things that keep us going: a movie, a concert, dinner with a friend. Anything you do fully gives you joy. Anything done halfheartedly will bore you. People do not tire from overwork nearly as much as from halfheartedness. Wholeheartedness requires that a person be fully present. And people who are present are most ready to experience the Presence.’ – Richard Rohr, On the threshold of transformation, p186.

I reflected that that has been my experience in the amazing 36 years of my career. When I have been fully present, wholeheartedly engaged in the task in hand, I have felt fulfilled, energised, inspired. When I’ve been distracted, halfheartedly engaged, my mind on other things, I’ve ended up bored or frustrated.

I guess I have been blessed by being involved in work which lends itself to fulfilment: clinics; teaching; inspiring research… But it has had its share of routine, repetitive tasks: management meetings, governance reports… Surprisingly, though, even those things which carried the potential to be tedious and uninspiring have turned out to be fulfilling when I was able to engage with them wholeheartedly. One of the most rewarding parts of my job over the past few years has been chairing our local serious cases subcommittee. I have loved this work – partly, I’m sure, because of the great team of people who have formed the committee; but also because I have been able to carve out the time to focus on the work in hand, to see its importance in terms of children’s lives, and to think creatively about how we learn from these cases.

And so, getting in to my office, I was once more privileged to be able to throw myself wholeheartedly into the tasks before me: editing some journal papers; feedback to students; supervising one of my PhD students; supporting another PhD student through her viva (successfully so – well done Jumana! A great bonus for my final week at work); and doing some final clearing out of my office.

‘That was the best defended thesis I have ever examined’ – Julie Taylor, external examiner

So I was feeling fulfilled and not at all tired when I closed my office door and walked out to my bike for the long cycle ride home. Only to find that some other dopey (I will give them the benefit of the doubt that it was dopiness rather than malice, or some warped attempt to keep me at the Medical School) cyclist had padlocked my bike to theirs!

Fortunately it was just through the brake cable, so an hour later, when Lois came to rescue me in the car, complete with a set of Allen keys, I was able to free my bike and get home. And the added bonus was that in the intervening time, I had managed to finish clearing my office and say goodbye to room B028 at Warwick Medical School. And while the sun was no longer shining, the sky was nevertheless crisp and clear with golden tints of an autumn evening.