Why I keep a running list of things I want to learn in retirement

I have never believed that retirement should mean becoming smaller. It may mean stepping away from a particular job, schedule or public role, but it does not have to mean stepping away from curiosity. When I imagine that next chapter, I see a notebook filled with subjects, skills and experiences I want to explore, from learning a language to understanding native Australian plants and finally becoming confident in the kitchen.

That list gives retirement a sense of movement. It reminds me that personal growth does not belong exclusively to our twenties or our working years. We can reinvent our routines, deepen our knowledge and find fresh sources of energy at any age. Learning can be ambitious, practical, creative or wonderfully unnecessary, which is precisely what makes it so appealing.

Retirement is a beginning

For many people, retirement is described as an ending: the end of the commute, the office, the deadlines and the professional identity built over decades. Those changes can be significant, especially when work has provided friendships, structure and a clear sense of purpose. I would rather see retirement as a change of rhythm, with space to choose what deserves my attention.

The timing will look different for everyone. In Australia, superannuation access is shaped by preservation-age rules, while the Age Pension generally becomes available from 67, subject to eligibility, income and assets tests. That means retirement planning is both emotional and practical. It involves looking at finances, housing, health and family responsibilities before deciding how much time can be devoted to study, travel or a new creative pursuit.

A learning list helps me think beyond the financial spreadsheet. It gives shape to the days that may otherwise feel unstructured and offers small milestones to anticipate. A course in Melbourne, a photography walk in Sydney or a gardening workshop in Perth can become part of a life that feels deliberately designed rather than simply left open.

Curiosity needs somewhere to go

Curiosity is easy to lose when life becomes a procession of obligations. We learn what is necessary for work, parenting, caring and keeping a household going, then postpone the subjects that delight us because they do not appear urgent. A running list creates a gentle record of those postponed interests.

Some items are grand. I would love to improve my public speaking craft even further, explore the history behind places I visit and develop a better understanding of women’s health across different stages of life. Other ambitions are small: learning to identify birds by their calls, mastering a few reliable vegetarian meals or working out how to use the camera settings on my phone.

I also like the fact that a list can hold contradictions. It can include both a serious qualification and the desire to make a beautiful loaf of bread. It can hold a physical challenge beside an artistic one. That combination prevents learning from becoming another performance measure. The purpose is engagement, not proving that I remain productive.

Learning keeps identity spacious

Work can become so closely connected to identity that leaving it feels like losing a piece of oneself. Broadcasting has given me extraordinary opportunities, a public voice and a platform from which to discuss subjects that matter. It has also taught me how quickly a career can occupy every corner of a person’s life.

My women’s platform grew from a desire to encourage confidence, resilience and honest conversations about change. That work continues to inform how I think about growth. Learning in retirement would not replace my professional identity; it would allow me to discover other parts of myself that may have been waiting patiently in the background.

There is freedom in being a beginner again. Nobody expects you to be brilliant during the first pottery class, language lesson or gardening session. You can be awkward, forgetful and curious without needing to turn the experience into an achievement. That humility is healthy, especially for people accustomed to being capable and relied upon.

Small lessons suit real life

I do not imagine filling retirement with back-to-back courses and an exhausting timetable. A full calendar can look impressive while leaving very little room for rest. My ideal approach would be a mixture of structured learning and ordinary experimentation: a short online class, a library visit, a conversation with someone knowledgeable or an hour spent practising at home.

This is particularly useful in Australia, where distance and climate shape everyday life. A person living in regional Queensland may have different opportunities from someone in inner-city Melbourne, while someone in Hobart may plan outdoor activities around cooler weather. Digital libraries, local neighbourhood houses, TAFE courses and community centres can make learning more accessible without requiring a major journey or a large budget.

I am drawn to subjects that fit naturally into the day. Understanding seasonal produce could make a trip to the farmers’ market more rewarding. Learning about native plants could transform a walk through a local reserve. A basic knowledge of home maintenance might make it easier to manage small repairs, while first-aid training could offer reassurance during travel or family gatherings.

The pleasure of useful knowledge

There is a particular satisfaction in learning something that makes ordinary life richer. I want to know more about food, not because every meal needs to be elaborate, but because preparing it can become a generous and grounding ritual. I want to improve my financial literacy, understand superannuation more confidently and keep up with the legislation that affects older Australians.

Cost of living is part of any realistic retirement conversation. Groceries, energy bills, rent, mortgage repayments and healthcare expenses can all influence what remains for leisure and education. That makes practical knowledge valuable. Learning to grow herbs, repair clothing, plan economical meals or use public transport more confidently can support independence while still being enjoyable.

The Australian market also offers an interesting mix of possibilities. There are university extension programs, public lectures, community gardens, language exchanges, craft groups and online memberships competing for attention. Some are expensive, while others rely on councils, libraries or volunteers. I like the idea of exploring the local options first, because learning is often hiding in places we already pass every week.

A list that changes with me

I keep the list flexible because the person writing it today will not be exactly the same person entering retirement. Health, mobility, finances and family commitments can change, and a good plan needs room to respond. There may be years when travel is realistic and years when the most satisfying education happens at the kitchen table.

I also want the list to include different kinds of intelligence. Emotional learning matters as much as technical skill. I might want to become a better listener, understand how to support a friend through change or study the ways women’s wellbeing is influenced by social, physical and psychological factors. My interest in women’s health advocacy comes from knowing that informed conversations can change lives.

Some ambitions may disappear, and that is perfectly acceptable. A list is not a contract. It is a snapshot of possibility, a way to notice recurring interests and decide which ones still feel alive. Crossing something off is satisfying, but moving an item to another page can be just as honest. Retirement should have room for changing our minds.

Making room for wonder

The most important things on my list may be the ones with no obvious commercial value. I want to learn because learning makes the world more detailed. A street becomes different when you recognise its trees. A meal becomes more interesting when you understand its ingredients. A conversation becomes richer when you know a little about another person’s history or culture.

I hope to keep some space for experiences that cannot be neatly measured: sitting in a gallery for longer than usual, attending a talk in Adelaide, watching the light change across the water or joining a community event simply because it sounds welcoming. Retirement can offer the luxury of attention, and attention is one of the most generous gifts we can give ourselves and other people.

My favourite discoveries often come from following a small spark rather than pursuing a carefully constructed goal. I may read a book because its cover catches my eye, try a class because a friend mentions it or learn a skill after seeing someone use it well. That spirit is reflected in my collection of favourite things, where enjoyment, usefulness and personal meaning can sit comfortably together.

A running list keeps that spark visible. It tells me that the future is still capable of surprise and that growth does not have an expiry date. Whether retirement brings a new qualification, a better garden, a wider circle of friends or simply a deeper appreciation of everyday life, there will always be something worth learning.