Flow State

One of the things I said I wanted to do with my newfound unemployment/retirement/semi-retirement/whatever-we’re-calling-this was take some trips. Nothing particularly elaborate. Just go places, see people, and enjoy the fact that for the first time in a very long time, I don’t have to worry about getting back to work on Monday.

Trip One is officially in the books.

This weekend I drove up to a friend’s cabin in northern Wisconsin. I’ve always loved that part of the world. I went to camp up there as a kid; we took vacations in northern Wisconsin, and there’s just something about the lakes, trees, little towns, and bars where you’re pretty sure nobody has ordered a martini since the Eisenhower administration.

My friend’s cabin is in a campground, and the day I arrived they were having a big potluck picnic. It was not in my honor. But since it coincided perfectly with my arrival, I have decided to remember it that way.

The Welcome Ross to Wisconsin Festival featured good food, bags—which I did not play—beautiful weather, and some excellent drunken drama that, for once, did not involve me. There’s something very enjoyable about drunken drama when you have absolutely no role in it. It’s basically live theater. We hung around there most of the day, and that night we went to the bar on the property to play Picto.

Picto, I learned, is basically Bingo with pictures. I did not win. I strongly suspect anti-Illinois bias. I have no evidence of this, but that has never stopped anyone from alleging a conspiracy before.

The next morning, a few of us went shooting. This was actually something I’d wanted to do for a long time because I have a confession: I have owned a shotgun for about 15 years and had never fired it. Worse, I wasn’t entirely sure how to load it. There is a longer story explaining how a person comes to own a shotgun for a decade and a half without knowing how to operate it, but we’ll save that for another day. My friends showed me how to use it safely, and I finally fired a few rounds. They brought a variety of rifles and handguns, so we spent some time trying different things. I was also amazed to learn that the outdoor range—with several different shooting areas—was completely free.

Free! In Illinois, I assume we would have paid $38 to park and another $14 convenience fee just to walk to the range.

That afternoon was almost the exact opposite activity: a few of us grabbed inner tubes and floated down a river. And that may have been my favorite part of the weekend.

It was incredibly peaceful. I found myself doing something I’m not always very good at: being completely present. I wasn’t thinking about what I needed to do later. I wasn’t replaying yesterday or worrying about next week. I just floated. I looked at the different trees, shrubs, and grasses along the riverbank. I watched turtles. At one point there was a beautiful eagle sitting in a tree above us. And I just took it all in. No phone. No schedule. No destination that particularly mattered. Just floating down a river in northern Wisconsin.

It was about as close to meditation as I get without somebody telling me to close my eyes and focus on my breathing, which usually just makes me wonder whether I’m breathing correctly.

We eventually returned to civilization, had dinner at a bar, and later that evening I may have overserved myself back at the cabin. Apparently mindfulness has its limits.

Monday morning, I hung around for a while talking with my best friend before finally getting in the car and heading home. He had suggested I stay until Tuesday.

In retrospect, he was right. Traffic was awful. The drive home took about an hour longer than the drive up. Normally, that would have driven me crazy.

But somewhere along the way, sitting in traffic, I realized something: I wasn’t in a hurry. I didn’t have to get home to prepare for work. I didn’t have emails waiting for me. I didn’t need to mentally prepare myself for Tuesday morning. There was no alarm clock looming.

I’m retired. Or unemployed. Or taking a sabbatical. We’re still working on the branding. Whatever I am, I have nowhere to be and all the time to get there. And that’s a pretty wonderful feeling.

So Trip One of my planned fall/winter/spring adventures is complete: northern Wisconsin. Good friends, good food, a little shooting, a long float down a river, an eagle, some completely unrelated drunken drama, and absolutely no reason to rush home.

Next up: Boston in October.

I could get used to this.