Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

Opinion-Waiting for retirement January 16, 2020

I keep running into people who have big plans for their retirement.  They’re going to move somewhere with less snow.  They’re going to get serious about that hobby.  They’re going to start writing that book.

I ask them what I asked myself in 1998: Why wait?

One Spring Break when I was in my thirties with two pre-teen kids, I’d driven south with the kids to see my parents. I went to Vancouver, and sitting in the Water Street station, I looked around at the blooming tulips and plum trees and pondered the foot of snow in my yard back home.

On our 800 km journey back home, we drove past lots of schools.  I looked at those schools and had an epiphany.  There are teachers working here.  Why wait thirty years to move?  Why not have the life we want to have NOW?

I returned home and had a chat with my husband.  I sent out applications.  He interviewed for a transfer in his government job.  He had a few offers around the province that he turned down.  I was called to an interview in Salmon Arm and subsequently accepted a position. Two days later he was offered a position in Salmon Arm, too.  Serendipity and synchronicity.  Two months later we were living in a beautiful community that actually had four seasons that appeared when they were supposed to on the calendar (instead of two seasons: ‘winter’ and ‘bugs’).  That was twenty years ago.

I dreamed of being a writer, but thought that in my forties, it was too late to start.  Then my school hosted the BC Book Prize tour, and I discovered that every author visiting us had written their first book after fifty.

I started writing just after Thanksgiving and the week before Easter I finished Grace Awakening.  The week after the following Thanksgiving at the Surrey Writing Conference I pitched it to a small publisher, which subsequently offered me a contract.  A dream come true.

This October was ten years after I pitched that first book.  I was offered a table to sell my books at a signing event at the Surrey Writers Conference, alongside some of my author idols.  I am working in my dream job, teaching English & Creative Writing in an amazing school in a beautiful place, WHILE writing books!  It couldn’t be more perfect!

I still have a few years before retirement.

I have retirement plans.  When I retire, I plan to write a lot more books, and visit schools to teach a lot more teens and adults how to bring their dream stories to life.  I will travel and write and read.  It will be awesome.

But.

A year and a half ago, I received a brain injury.  Out of no where, in my own home, BAM: Life changed.

Words swam on a page.  I couldn’t decipher hand-writing.  The computer screen hurt.  Crowds hurt my ears. Lights hurt my eyes.  I had head-aches and eye-aches.  I was dizzy.  I was nauseous. For MONTHS.

I told my doctor that he needed to figure out healing quickly, because I needed to go back to my dream job and keep working on my books!   He said, “Shawn, you might be retired now.”

That scared me.  The idea that I might enter retirement unable to read, unable to write, and unable to teach or travel was horrifying.  What a bleak picture!  On the bright side, I thought, at least I have been able to have this wonderful job, teaching teens to write, and to inspire them.  At least, I have published nine books.

Thankfully, I had excellent concussion therapy and I have recovered enough from my brain injury to work part-time again.   Despite my injury, 6 pieces were published last year.  Some had been written years ago, some were short articles or stories that took me weeks instead of a day to write.  Slow progress is still progress.

My injury wasn’t the end of my dreams, but it could have been.

Wouldn’t it have been horrible to have all my plans completely unreachable due to poor health?  Wouldn’t it have been a hundred times worse if I had saved all my dreams for retirement, and not have the health to attempt them?  I had two colleagues who were in good health when they retired, but were dead six months later.

If you have a dream, don’t wait for retirement.

We only have today.

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poem- bad days November 29, 2018

When it’s a bad day,

the pain is there with waking.

Constriction or stabbing,

nausea or aching;

it fills the head until there is nothing in the world

but the hopeless frustration,

that I will never be well again.

When it’s a bad day,

there are no conversations,

no outings or errands,

only holding the head,

taking another pill,

and praying tomorrow will be

a better day.

 

poem-gains and losses November 28, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:32 am
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How hard the fight for gains,

wading through mire,

battling the blurred words,

crumbling beneath the crushing pressure.

Surrender.

Another day, perhaps a gain

of minutes of wellness.

Don’t over-do when the body is able

to accommodate desire to do more than

an errand or two before succumbing.

Daily battles.

How goes the war?

I cannot fathom a positive outcome any more.

 

 

poem- looking October 5, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:28 am
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I looked for you.

I peered deep into your eyes

searching.

You were not there,

the hollow globes blinked blankly,

soul flown,

arms embracing expectation

empty future.

I looked for you.

You were not there.

Tomorrow I will look

again.

 

poem- buns April 18, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:52 pm
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I can!  I will!

Independent spirit meets reality.

Baking after the brain injury

the cinnamon buns are tasty commas

rolling spirals a surprising impossibility.

Perhaps everything is

not

as it was.

 

 

poem- deluded December 18, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:42 pm
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Hallucinations

Delusions

and we argue or agree,

Placate or debate,

against the injury in your brain

against frustration and pain

Face the inevitable

and wonder if you’re able

to see the irrevocable

ruination.

 

 
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