<p class="bodytext">Retirement... the word itself seems to carry a weight of finality. So, when I turned 60 and people started asking, “What will you do after retirement? You can’t just sit idle at home!” I couldn’t help but chuckle. Sit idle? Who has the time? If anything, retirement feels like the universe handing me a blank canvas and saying, “Go wild.” </p>.<p class="bodytext">To be honest, though, the idea of leaving a job you’ve held for decades—especially in academia, where the lecture halls and faculty meetings become a second home—can feel daunting. But while routines are comforting, they can also be stifling. Even if you love teaching and administration (and I do), there comes a point when you have to ask yourself: Is this ALL there is? Should I really be doing the exact same thing at 60 that I was doing at 30 for 30 long years? Isn’t there more to life than the familiar?</p>.<p class="bodytext">The truth is, there is a whole world out there waiting to be explored, and it doesn’t involve sitting idle. That is a myth perpetuated by people who have never dared to look beyond their routines. Retirement is not the end of productivity; it is the beginning of freedom. Freedom to read books not because they’re on a syllabus but because they spark joy. You have the freedom to write, not for peer-reviewed journals, but because you have something to say. Freedom to sit quietly and meditate on life or to reconnect with old friends over coffee (or something even stronger). Freedom to travel, not just to tick off destinations but to truly see new places and meet new people. To take in the world’s wonders at your own pace. And let’s not forget the younger generation.</p>.<p class="bodytext">By stepping aside, you’re creating opportunities for fresh minds to step in. Think about it: how many brilliant young academics are out there, waiting for their chance to teach, research, and make their mark? Holding onto your position past 60 might feel like staying in the game, but sometimes the most generous thing you can do is to make room for others. It is not about being pushed out; it is about gracefully passing the baton.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Retirement does not mean disappearing into the void. It means redefining what work looks like. Maybe it is writing that novel you have always dreamed of. Maybe it is volunteering, or starting a blog, or finally learning how to paint. The point is, you are no longer bound by the 9-to-5 grind. You get to be the boss of your own time and rhythm.</p>.<p class="bodytext">So, when people ask me, “What will you do after retirement?” I tell them, “Plenty.” There is a whole life beyond the routine, and I intend to live it. Not because I have to, but because I want to; the world is vast, and my curiosity is endless. Because sitting idle isn’t an option—it’s a choice, and I choose to keep moving, keep exploring, keep growing. After all, isn’t that what life’s all about?</p>
<p class="bodytext">Retirement... the word itself seems to carry a weight of finality. So, when I turned 60 and people started asking, “What will you do after retirement? You can’t just sit idle at home!” I couldn’t help but chuckle. Sit idle? Who has the time? If anything, retirement feels like the universe handing me a blank canvas and saying, “Go wild.” </p>.<p class="bodytext">To be honest, though, the idea of leaving a job you’ve held for decades—especially in academia, where the lecture halls and faculty meetings become a second home—can feel daunting. But while routines are comforting, they can also be stifling. Even if you love teaching and administration (and I do), there comes a point when you have to ask yourself: Is this ALL there is? Should I really be doing the exact same thing at 60 that I was doing at 30 for 30 long years? Isn’t there more to life than the familiar?</p>.<p class="bodytext">The truth is, there is a whole world out there waiting to be explored, and it doesn’t involve sitting idle. That is a myth perpetuated by people who have never dared to look beyond their routines. Retirement is not the end of productivity; it is the beginning of freedom. Freedom to read books not because they’re on a syllabus but because they spark joy. You have the freedom to write, not for peer-reviewed journals, but because you have something to say. Freedom to sit quietly and meditate on life or to reconnect with old friends over coffee (or something even stronger). Freedom to travel, not just to tick off destinations but to truly see new places and meet new people. To take in the world’s wonders at your own pace. And let’s not forget the younger generation.</p>.<p class="bodytext">By stepping aside, you’re creating opportunities for fresh minds to step in. Think about it: how many brilliant young academics are out there, waiting for their chance to teach, research, and make their mark? Holding onto your position past 60 might feel like staying in the game, but sometimes the most generous thing you can do is to make room for others. It is not about being pushed out; it is about gracefully passing the baton.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Retirement does not mean disappearing into the void. It means redefining what work looks like. Maybe it is writing that novel you have always dreamed of. Maybe it is volunteering, or starting a blog, or finally learning how to paint. The point is, you are no longer bound by the 9-to-5 grind. You get to be the boss of your own time and rhythm.</p>.<p class="bodytext">So, when people ask me, “What will you do after retirement?” I tell them, “Plenty.” There is a whole life beyond the routine, and I intend to live it. Not because I have to, but because I want to; the world is vast, and my curiosity is endless. Because sitting idle isn’t an option—it’s a choice, and I choose to keep moving, keep exploring, keep growing. After all, isn’t that what life’s all about?</p>
