I dream, and in my dream I approach a time in my life of significant change. People in the dream ask me, "And what shall you do?"
And I see clearly what I shall do: "I shall live in God," I say.
Yes, I say this in the dream, and there, where, dreamlike, deep and undefinable things take physical shape, there is a vast area, a vast space that is God, right there in front of me, and bit off to the side, tangible, permeable.
Into this space I step.
I step out of this life, this distraction, this dislocation, and into God, where, from this moment on, I've decided I shall live, I shall eat, love, laugh, sleep cry...
I will still be here, of course, in this home, surrounded by this family, but shifted, focused, sheltered... in God.
I wake up; what made sense in the dream continues to make sense awake:
I have stepped out of something, somewhere, somelife, and into God.
We had coffee, two-months post retirement. My first comment, when I joined her at the table, was how relaxed she looked, her face less lined, her posture less rigid, and what was the other thing? Oh, yeah... the smile.
"So how is it, this retirement thing?" I asked.
The smile broadened. "I know you've heard it before, but it's true: I'm as busy as I've ever been, but doing the things I love."
"It suits you. You look... healthier."
"I do, don't I?" she laughed. "Only one thing bugs me..."
"People constantly ask me what I do all day, and I know what I do (since I'm the one doing it), but it's hard to articulate since there's no longer the labels that made describing what I did before so easy. I say, 'I do this or that,' and it sounds trivial. It's not trivial, and I know that, it's just not structured, it's just not...conventional, but instead rich and full and real, a hodge-podge of experiences in a more authentic life, lived more from my heart and less from my wallet."