What I wouldn’t resort to –
just to get away – meals
prepared by others,
cleaned up, too…
but really, is there
any coming back once
it’s all handed over –
I’d be afraid I’d lose
my identity, come up empty
embarrassed by how little
of value I have to give –
and the guilt would taunt
slap my silly ego, criticize
me for laziness, acting all
privileged; worth is directly
linked to service…isn’t it?
And my shadow self would
appear – just break in uninvited –
and threaten complicity, beat me
down further, hope doomed
no way to justify my absence,
to keep the critics at bay,
I need to work, need to lose
myself in the routine of endless
chatter, a blanket of small talk
to keep me safe – busy noise
to drown out the thieving voices
and help me find myself again.
One Woman's Quest 
vj i loved this ❤ thank you for sharing it was great. xx
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I’m glad.
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Intriguing poem. After I retired in ’02, I could not squelch the sense that I was now supposed to DO something else NOW … serve in some other fashion. A wise shaman advised me to rethink “service” along with “now”. Possibly “doing nothing” (thereby available for the yet-to-emerge) serves the Universe perfectly. (I hope so … as I’ve gotten very comfortable with this sort of service!)
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In a way, I am making fun of myself here – as you know, I was forced to give up work early, and the guilt plagued me quite a while. The shamanic advice sounds good.
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Yes, yet in a very real way this what we humans go through when we are forced to shift gears!! Reading your post took me back … no way I could have prepared for that transition while still working.
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