The Retirement Bubble

Some years ago, I had free time on a Saturday and visited a local dojo (the Japanese word for a training center in the martial arts) for an introductory session in kendo, the Japanese martial art of sword-fighting. I found the discussion and demonstrations very interesting. Once it was over, we were invited to stay to see an old film that had been sent from Taiwan. Okay, why not? So I stuck around.

The film was taken at a Taiwanese center for training in the martial arts. The guest of honor was an old man, one of the great masters, we were told. He certainly was old! He was very much the stereotype of a very old Chinese man. Short, thin, and with a long wispy white beard, he appeared easily to be in his 70’s, probably older. He looked as fragile as glass.

He had agreed to a demonstration. He stood in the center of a large mat. The four best students of the center were given the responsibility of attacking him and knocking him down. They could try as many times as they wanted and do it in any style from one at a time, to all four rushing in from different corners, to whatever they could come up with.

For the next 15 or 20 minutes, we sat and watched this seemingly ancient gentleman repulse the four young men again and again and again. It was astonishing. He moved only when necessary, as little as possible, and extremely quickly. The four students spent their time running into each other, running right past the old guy, and frequently ended up flat on their backs. Sometimes, they even appeared to bounce off him. Only when the film was slowed way down could you catch the subtle movement that allowed him to avoid or deflect them. He seemed to literally have eyes in the back of his head. The old man had been introduced as one of the great masters and there was not a person in that room who did not believe it by the time the film ended.

The students did not treat the old man gently. Respect for his age was rapidly replaced by respect for his fighting. This was an example of a martial art practiced more as a martial art, a defense against a serious attack meant to kill or seriously disable, and less as a sport. I did not become a student of kendo, I chose to be a student of another very old Japanese gentleman, equally skilled to this Taiwanese gentleman, in the martial art of kyudo, archery. But I have never forgotten that experience.

When used as a means of defense from an unexpected attack, a master of a martial art has to take into account the fact that the man or woman threatening him might have a friend who waits for the master to focus his attention on his partner, then moves in and hits the master from behind. Indeed, the attacker might have several friends who can attack from different directions and at different times. A master has to be able to deal with it or lose the fight and possibly his life. If his attention is completely on the immediate attacker, he’s finished. So a master must be aware of his total environment, even in the heat of an attack. That requires him to be always alert to the slightest sound or movement wherever it occurs, even behind him.

In English, we use the word “focus” frequently. Generally speaking, it is most often a positive word implying focus on a single factor. So when we ask someone for their focus, we expect a single answer. For many people planning their traditional retirement or planning for the rest of it, the answer to that question will often boil down to one thing – money. When I ask a person to discuss their retirement planning to date, the answer is almost always (99% of the time) phrased in terms of money. Later on, other concerns (location, family relationships, etc.) may be raised, but money is the clear focus and they are seeking advice as to how to get more of it.

I understand that. It is perfectly logical, to a point. However, that focus can become something we have a different term for in English – tunnel vision. That means the focus has become so intense that we may miss other factors that are important, or notice them only when it is too late to do anything about them, or if we see them, to give them too little serious attention. In the world of the last couple decades or so, “money” has meant investing (or more likely speculating, as I discussed in an earlier post), tightening the focus even more and threatening us with tunnel vision. If that martial arts master practiced his craft as many of us practice retirement planning, he would be the one flat on his back. Thanks to a “tunnel vision” on money followed by the real estate collapse, we can find plenty of would-be retirees and retirees out there today, flat on their backs.

One exercise I use with people of any age in planning their futures is to ask them to talk about everything they want to be true in that future, but without mentioning money at all. I cannot help but notice that those whose future planning is traditional retirement planning initially have the most difficulty in coming up with answers. But if I continue to encourage them, leaving them to come up with the answers on their own, what starts out as a list of maybe two things becomes a list of eight or a dozen or more. They range from the physical (warmer weather) to the mental (intellectual stimulation) to the emotional (adventure) and on and on. It is fascinating and enjoyable to hear them come up with a pretty impressive list of factors that are really important to them, without mentioning money.

Once they have settled on their list, we talk about each factor, trying to find the least expensive way to handle it. Slowly, we work toward tying the various factors and approaches together. Now we are on our way to future planning, but emphasizing what makes life good for us, not how much we have in our bank accounts. The money is important, but it has to wait on the side while the things that make life worth living get the attention they deserve. The goal of future planning should be to have a happy, satisfying future, not just how to increase our “portfolios”.

So let me pass that idea along to you. It is something you can do in your own head, or, if you have a partner or family, than you can (and should, in my experience) do it together. None of us may ever be a master martial artist, but we can at least do our best to stay off our backs.

[A quick house-keeping note. The email alert system used here is operated by Feedburner, as is true of many blogs. It seems to be a fine system, but I have noticed it occasionally messes up and sends out the wrong email alert. That is very rare, but if it happens, my apologies! It certainly is not intentional.]
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