Living in France can warp your sense of time and what that does to a person.
Now, I don’t consider myself particularly ageist – I think I have said that before, perhaps recently even. But lately life has been kind to me by inviting friendships into my life with several women who are older than I am, at times considerably so. And I have to say that it has been eye-opening to say the least.
I see where their knowledge has been accumulated and how perspectives have eventually been sharpened with patience and not bitterness. There is none of that competing elbowing that has driven me towards the more stable companionships of men in the past (well, dogs too but they don’t quite merit nosing in here). Phenomenally, these women willingly share their wisdom without weight or preaching or directing. I haven’t figured out how that magic trick is pulled off yet but that is just one more secret to look forward to unravelling, one day.
They are utterly themselves and can care openly, benevolently, without second guessing.
Each one is truly beautiful and none of them remotely look their age, although that seems to be more of a bonus of being true than a goal. Inside they are lit with personal cocktails stirred with undimmed curiosity. Imagine a glowing silk thread spinning outwards from the heart in several, specifically cast directions with a calm economy of action. Like that. And that form of willingness has been extended towards me in a way that doesn’t judge what I know already or don’t know. My experiences are not discarded but taken in, hopefully adding and not subtracting, another step to climb, moving onwards.
I feel incredibly fortunate and am listening. Ok and admittedly am often talking entirely too much. One of my friends reminded me that I am still young at 46; I tend to forget that.
Speaking of a curious nature and an appetite for progression, let’s go back to Anthony and his partners wonderful renovation project. After a considerable amount of thought – let’s say that of a child from days gone by having to select just one piece from an array of penny candy – I have decided that my very favorite feature of this mid-18th century property is its staircase. Unlike me (or the current me), it is ambitious.
Well, the family who built it certainly was. For it was not enough that they had one of the grandest hôtel particuliers in this small but then still important village, they absolutely had to have the tallest one too. And so, an additional ceiling was built, raising the roof to a double height in the stairwell, one lined with open windows to catch the Provençal winds and topped with a delicately shaped plafond à la française. You can see very well what shape it is in now…we will have to wait together to see what it will become and the scaffolding is already in place.
Can you see why this makes me dream? Come with me, let’s start from the beginning. At the base of the stairs, I start in near darkness, my hand on the cool iron railing. I tilt my head up and place on foot above the other, drawn by the light, the space and wondering if following my will is endless and painless as well. Up I go, climbing the staircase, until I reach the last floor, then I shakily climb the wooden ladder, nearly vertical, to that extra space, the secret alcove where families inscribed their names after world wars and unforeseen triumphs (or trials, who knows). Turning at last, the world falls from just beyond my feet and I feel the sway of vertigo. There is nothing there and everything and so very much still to learn. I have gone as high as I can go for now…chaque choses en son temps…all in good time.
Let’s keep going on…
Have a great weekend everyone and thank you for being here…
I don't know Lorrie but I think that Anthony is going to make that a special spot for la sieste!
I think it is all relative Judith. I have been through some things in my 46 years that…
I realize it might seem scary, Sister. I almost published a series with a lot of sun in the photos (next time, I think) so as to banish away the "blue" theme but if you could see the house I think that you would see how wonderful the energy is…so calm, not in the least haunted and you know that I know haunted! 🙁
I am absolutely crazy for your White Tara image and have changed the page on the Tibetan Buddhism pop-up altar that Mom gave me years ago (to take with us when we were traveling – and I did!) from Green Tara to White Tara….ah, such peacefulness…much needed! 😉
Jackie, you are quite an adventurer, I think that in itself will keep you young at heart more than anything!
Joan, I have thought so much about this comment since I first read it. As a former NYer, I am also deeply saddened by the news of your friends enforced departure. And to think not too long ago I read an article in the NY Times saying that the population of those past retirement age has only gone up in Manhattan. No doubt, those are folks who had the wherewithal to buy their apartments in the past. New York City is her home…I find it heart-breaking and wonder if there is not an association that could help her find rent-stabilized housing? My Sister and I dumb-lucked into ours and it was such an amazing deal that it made it hard for us to leave NYC but we did. But how different for your friend.
I don't know if this would be of help but look under the Affordable Senior Housing section at Columbia: http://worklife.columbia.edu/senior-housing
And the Home Sharing program: http://www.nyfsc.org/home-sharing/
Depending on her financial situation there is the Mitchell-Lama program:
http://www1.nyc.gov/site/hpd/renters/mitchell-lama-rentals.page
And a pdf that might be of interest:
http://www.cidny.org/resources/HAFOP-Senior%20Housing%20Guide.pdf
But then again, if she is your friend, she has probably already looked far beyond these alternatives. I hope so much that she is able to find a solution.
xo
H
From what I understand, Mr. Proust did not often wander out beyond his cork-lined rooms and certainly not to socialize with the likes of me!
Fantastic photos Heather. My favourite one if the one with the little urn. I am intrigued by the little room that you have to reach via the ladder. In very old Maltese houses they had such rooms too – that were only accessible by a ladder. They call them birthing rooms and it's where mothers would go to give birth to their little ones. I am not sure why they would choose such a strange place to do so.
Staircase is mysterious. Is someone or something waiting on top of the stairs? It's wonderful when neighbors are friendly.
Lots of works to do.
Phenomenal stairwell!!!- I have to go back a third time and look at the photos, what a beauty. I hope I might be one of your 'older friends,' having just turned 71 (hard for me to believe). I too,like you and some other readers, love having friends of different ages. I think age does have its benefits, hopefully along with more contentment, still lies a healthy curiosity and joie de vivre. Looking forward to every step you take in this grand project of Anthony's.
Joan, we've not met either but I too can relate to the stairs. Last year, at 61 and 64 respectively we decided to grow olives instead of old. We purchased a home and grove on a Greek hillside. There are 28 stone steps from the parking lot to the house and many have asked if they hadn't been a concern (the silent 'at your age' lurking behind the comment). I've told them we will use the stairs to gage when it is time for our adventure to come to an end, right now they are better than our daily trips to the gym's Stairmaster and much more fun. Enjoyed your comment!