My Rules of Life---Part Five

Remain Open to Change


I think being stuck in a rut is the worst place to be, whether psychic, emotional, spiritual or physical.

I know far, far too many people who are. Fearful. Always heading for the safety factor, the government job, the pension, the same hotel, the same vices, the same breakfast.

Sometimes it just feels so damn good to get out of the other side of the bed. And to move the toothpaste to the opposite side of the sink. And try on the grandchild’s cereal. And go to the funky teenage movie. Just. Because. And not to think to oneself when someone offers to do your astrology chart, I’m too old for that nonsense. But embrace it and say, yeah, maybe some mysteries will now get unravelled.

There is nothing safe about the rut to me. It’s an illusion, like most of life. I’ve known people who collapsed and died clutching their first pension cheque (metaphorically speaking) saying, hell yeah, now I’ll head for Paris. They never make it.

Banks have bamboozled us into believing we need all this money to retire. The banks are laughing all the way to the….

I’m an accountant and no, we don’t. Unless you plan on travelling the world forever in an ocean liner like that woman who prefers it to a retirement home – sorry can’t find the link - and that’s just another rut, albeit an exotic one.

The other day, I approached an old codger who plays the accordion. I said to him, I brought an electronic piano out with me from Toronto (I know, I know, awful things but can’t find a second hand piano here yet, although I’ve put word out on the bush telegraph) and I wouldn’t mind maybe a bit of jamming if we could get a few others together? I was fearful doing it but thought damn it, I miss my music so much, it’s time to uncreak the fingers and get a few licks in before I rust away. He said, yeah, hey, yeah. And that was all I needed. Who knows how it will go, and even if it doesn’t I’m prepared to enjoy the journey back to my music.

I could have stayed in Toronto, surrounded by family, friends and assorted loved ones. Safe. But one of my dreams was to live by the ocean. Wake up to the smell, sight and sound of it. And only I could make that enormous change. Or dither indefinitely about it.

And then get too old to make a fresh start – or any other excuse I can locate in the Stuck in a Rut Directory.

Life is all about change. Try telling that to the people who are stuck and they just don’t get it.

And I resist change, of course I do, but I always go back to the thought that being stuck in a rut is like floating inside a septic tank, it’s all warm and cosy inside there but Sweet Jebus, it smells to high heaven.