patience
she sat very still.
her head was thrown back, turning her face up towards the sky and pulling her jaw agape as she soaked in the sun.
she had her eyes closed and as far as i could tell, she was content. was it the curl at the corner of her lip? was it the crows feet that patterned her eyes? was it simply the way she sat, relaxed; the stillness that she evoked as the world seemed to speed by around her?
i looked up into that patch of sky that had caught her attention and for a brief moment, was arrogant enough to think that i understood.
it was strange, but her quiet composure excited me. i could only imagine that what lay underneath her slight, motionless frame was something well beyond my experience and imagination.
she sat very still. and she was very calm.
the minder, who... didn't seem to mind, wasn't far off. arms folded and legs crossed with a knot in her brow, agitated by some thing or other the person on the end of the line was insinuating, she yammered away trying desperately to prove a point that i hadn't cared to pay heed to, but was sure was unimportant in the grand scheme of things.
and turning back to look at the steady figure not 3 feet away, fawning at the sun, i found myself hypocritical and was compelled to retort: "isn't it all unimportant after all?"
but just as quickly as my cynicism arose, it was dispelled. for, captured in that one woman reclined unabashedly in her wheelchair, were all the questions... and all the answers of the universe.
and then, i was jealous. what had she discovered about humanity that allowed her to sit so still and be so calm and be at ease? what was it that allowed her the serenity to lay motionless, ignoring all else and be fixated by an unknown singularity? was it a singularity at all?
but just as i was to muse further and delve deeper into the psyche of my unexpected inspiration, i was yanked back through the vortex of imagination and romanticism and back into cold, hard reality.
the minder was done and had hung up. she stood impatiently and carelessly engaged herself in what was surely standard operating procedure for the pair.
the minder lifted the svelte, aged woman up out of her chair and plunked her back into a more 'comfortable' position. she then produced what looked like twine and proceeded to mechanically secure our heroine into the wheelchair, possibly for fear that the limp carcass of a woman might fall out of her human-powered sedan as it was pushed carelessly along.
she did not resist. she could not. and so she sat then in her new position, body limp with head hanging low. the awe and wonder that her simple, upturned face had exuded was now obscured by the cruelty of gravity and of time.
and i swear i saw it: the joyous curl of her lip that, moments ago, was lit by the sun... faded.
and yet, she could not have smiled at all. she was too old and she did not have the strength.
then what was it i saw? what was it that inspired this piece?
a hope?
a joy?
a feeling?
i'll probably never know. all i know is that the knot was secured and the brake was released and the chair wheeled away behind a corner. and i never saw the old woman again.
but i do remember her.
how she was always still. how she was always calm. and how she was always strong.
------------------------------------
i've read that "strong people are always calm." and that "you'll understand when you understand."
it makes me happy and sad at the same time that if i do, someday, come to finally understand, i might be too old to realize it.
her head was thrown back, turning her face up towards the sky and pulling her jaw agape as she soaked in the sun.
she had her eyes closed and as far as i could tell, she was content. was it the curl at the corner of her lip? was it the crows feet that patterned her eyes? was it simply the way she sat, relaxed; the stillness that she evoked as the world seemed to speed by around her?
i looked up into that patch of sky that had caught her attention and for a brief moment, was arrogant enough to think that i understood.
it was strange, but her quiet composure excited me. i could only imagine that what lay underneath her slight, motionless frame was something well beyond my experience and imagination.
she sat very still. and she was very calm.
the minder, who... didn't seem to mind, wasn't far off. arms folded and legs crossed with a knot in her brow, agitated by some thing or other the person on the end of the line was insinuating, she yammered away trying desperately to prove a point that i hadn't cared to pay heed to, but was sure was unimportant in the grand scheme of things.
and turning back to look at the steady figure not 3 feet away, fawning at the sun, i found myself hypocritical and was compelled to retort: "isn't it all unimportant after all?"
but just as quickly as my cynicism arose, it was dispelled. for, captured in that one woman reclined unabashedly in her wheelchair, were all the questions... and all the answers of the universe.
and then, i was jealous. what had she discovered about humanity that allowed her to sit so still and be so calm and be at ease? what was it that allowed her the serenity to lay motionless, ignoring all else and be fixated by an unknown singularity? was it a singularity at all?
but just as i was to muse further and delve deeper into the psyche of my unexpected inspiration, i was yanked back through the vortex of imagination and romanticism and back into cold, hard reality.
the minder was done and had hung up. she stood impatiently and carelessly engaged herself in what was surely standard operating procedure for the pair.
the minder lifted the svelte, aged woman up out of her chair and plunked her back into a more 'comfortable' position. she then produced what looked like twine and proceeded to mechanically secure our heroine into the wheelchair, possibly for fear that the limp carcass of a woman might fall out of her human-powered sedan as it was pushed carelessly along.
she did not resist. she could not. and so she sat then in her new position, body limp with head hanging low. the awe and wonder that her simple, upturned face had exuded was now obscured by the cruelty of gravity and of time.
and i swear i saw it: the joyous curl of her lip that, moments ago, was lit by the sun... faded.
and yet, she could not have smiled at all. she was too old and she did not have the strength.
then what was it i saw? what was it that inspired this piece?
a hope?
a joy?
a feeling?
i'll probably never know. all i know is that the knot was secured and the brake was released and the chair wheeled away behind a corner. and i never saw the old woman again.
but i do remember her.
how she was always still. how she was always calm. and how she was always strong.
------------------------------------
i've read that "strong people are always calm." and that "you'll understand when you understand."
it makes me happy and sad at the same time that if i do, someday, come to finally understand, i might be too old to realize it.
posted by bobby @ 9:33 AM
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