On why we must not postpone peace until retirement

There’s a silent agreement many of us make with life, especially in the corridors of the corporate world: “I will suffer now so I can live later.” Later becomes a whispered promise, like a shimmering oasis—retirement, sabbatical, some future point where one imagines finally breathing deeply, laughing slowly, waking up without anxiety gnawing at the stomach.

But “later” is a fragile illusion. And peace, I’ve come to realize, does not arrive on the other side of an office door closing behind you for the last time. It is not waiting patiently in the post-retirement years, like a loyal friend. Peace is either cultivated in the now or never truly found.

In my own post-corporate journey, I often hear a quiet admiration: “You’re lucky—you could afford to retire early.” And yes, there is privilege in being able to step away. But the deeper truth is this—had I not begun reclaiming myself before retirement, I doubt I would have found serenity even after it. Because peace is not a calendar milestone. It is a mindset.

In the relentless rhythm of the corporate ecosystem, employees today aren’t just selling their skills—they are being asked to offer up their identity. Work encroaches into thought, into sleep, into dinner conversations. The demand to upskill, to perform, to “go the extra mile” comes cloaked in the language of excellence and growth. But often, what is quietly lost in this race is presence—the ability to be where you are, fully and without fragmentation.

I’ve watched brilliant minds crumble under pressure. Gentle souls become irritable, cynical, or numb. Laughter reduced to a hollow social mask. Relationships begin to run on autopilot, and the body—so often ignored—begins to protest in silence.

And so, an uncomfortable question emerges:
Must peace wait until the final performance review?
Is mental clarity, emotional spaciousness, and spiritual depth something only the retired can aspire to?

I believe not.

We do not need to abandon ambition to access peace. But we do need to audit what we define as success. We must ask: Who is succeeding? Just the LinkedIn version of me—or the whole, breathing, feeling, sometimes-fragile human?

The answer isn’t always a drastic exit. Not everyone can or should walk away. But even within the confines of a demanding role, some recalibrations are possible—and essential:

• Carve sacred time. Even 15 minutes of undisturbed silence daily is a radical act in a distracted world.
• Detach from role-based identity. You are not your designation. You are not your performance rating.
• Learn to say no without guilt. Protect your evenings. Decline energy-draining obligations.
• Make space for meaning. Whether it’s reading, gardening, mentoring, or prayer—don’t postpone soul-nourishing acts.
• Speak the truth of your inner fatigue. Even if softly, even if just to yourself or a trusted ear.

The real work is to live inwardly rich even in outwardly chaotic seasons. That is the essence of mature living—not postponing serenity, but weaving it into the very fabric of your working life.

Retirement may open up new time and energy. But peace is a discipline, not a dividend. And if we wait until the end to begin, we risk becoming strangers to ourselves—people who bought all the comforts, but forgot to rent time for reflection.

Let us not wait to live.

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Letters for the Inner Journey by Pushkar

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