Dr. Barton Goldsmith: The simple life

Oh, how I wish I could embrace the simple life. But the idea of retirement makes me feel like I'd be disappearing from the world too soon. I need to feel relevant, like I'm still contributing something — and if I can still make a difference in someone's life, that's reason enough to keep going.

Ambitious people are sometimes less happy than people who are less driven. I don't fully know why I'm built this way — always moving forward, not always chasing the right dream — but sitting still has never felt as good to me as making something.

I know plenty of people who love being retired, and they share one thing in common: financial security. They came up in an era of real pensions, and they planned. These days, too many people wing it or assume it's too late to start saving. It isn't. Security and luxury aren't the same thing — don't measure yourself against a mansion. A comfortable place with someone who cares about you beats a castle you rattle around in alone.

It's also never too late to chase a dream. Having goals — even small ones — keeps you moving instead of just letting life happen to you, and that matters more as you get older, when no goals can mean a lonely, empty stretch of years. The goals don't need to be big. Daily exercise, kept up for two weeks, can change how you feel. I've seen it. I've done it.

I've had clients in their 70s come in convinced their best working years were behind them, and I've watched what happens when they take on something small and genuinely theirs — a class, a volunteer shift, a project nobody assigned them. The shift isn't subtle. People who feel useful sleep better, argue less with the people they love and generally seem lighter in the room. Purpose isn't a luxury item. It's closer to a vitamin.

I still work hard every day, and one of the things that brings me the most joy when I come home is family dinner. Most nights, whoever's around — dogs included — is somehow part of the process, from prep to cleanup. Sometimes we eat in different rooms with the TV on and just keep talking across the house. It's the connection that makes the ritual matter, not the formality of it — though nothing beats everyone actually at the table.

If you're on your own, find people to share a meal with as often as you can. It's a small act, but it does something real. Religious organizations run these gatherings. So do plenty of support groups. It takes a little Googling and a little nerve, but don't just let the evenings happen to you.

Simple life or complicated one — probably some mix of both — the real work is finding your own balance and doing the things, however small, that bring you some joy.