I recognize that last one to be the message behind numerous dreams I've had, all variations on one idea: I'm moving into a home that I've owned without ever having seen it before. It's somewhat like a residence I owned when I lived in Jackson, MS, a ranch house in a gully. Unprepossessing and long-neglected, it opens up for me to reveal a wonderfully wide atrium, several floors I couldn't see from the front, and a view from a rear window of a town far below: it's on a mountain cliff. While part of me is wondering how I'll pay for the repairs needed and furnishings for all these empty rooms, I'm excited by the possibilities.
That's retirement. This morning, the particulars of the dream reminded me of the Hotel Frontenac in Quebec where I once spent the night in the summer of 1986. [See photo collage]
A few months ago, looking forward to this time, I returned to a writer whose work I studied very early in my career, Michel de Montaigne. Born to successful social climbers, he retired from a life of business and civic involvement to a tower on his estate where he wrote about miscellaneous topics. While he drew on experience and writers in his library, he admitted that he himself was the true subject of his musings.
I recognize suddenly that this is what I've been doing in my blog for years. To continue this, with Montaigne as my patron, will be a good thing. Somewhere, I got the impression that Montaigne intended to "get his soul in order" before his death -- though I didn't see that line anywhere in the wonderful biography of him that I read this year.
I'll be writing more about Montaigne as I seek guidance and guidelines for the months and years to come.
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