She was just an old woman…
She was just an old woman, small and frail. I’m not sure why I noticed her, she didn’t stand out in anyway, yet, she stood out to me. I looked at her, the way she surveyed the world around her. She seemed so still, yet, her eyes were so alive and bright and when they fell on me, they held my gaze, as though to invite me closer. She was sitting on a park bench, amidst walkers, joggers and a varied array of people. She was dressed in a long dress, khaki in color and very old looking. Not ratty old, no, it just looked like an outfit worn many years ago. She wore her hair up in a loose bun, white as could be, and thick. Her complexion was olive, dark and lined, however, she possessed a beauty that in her youth must have been breath taking. Her eyes were the color of dark moss; piercing and possessed I was sure, of an ability to bring you to your knees if she were ever angry with you. Yet, they were so warm and inviting, as though all she wanted was someone to go sit with her, listen to her. So, I did just that and for a good while, I listened to this woman tell her story. In her soft, clear voice, this storyteller took me to a past rich in character, bittersweet and joyful, tragic and compelling. This old woman had indeed lived life to the fullest. She’d broken rules that were meant to bind her and in doing so, she’d challenged the mores of her time, standards that would have been crippling to many. Enthralled as I was, I found also that I was awakening, something in me burst forth, as though my soul had found her voice and could do nothing to stop from singing out. Sitting on that bench that day, I realized I had a choice. I could go back to my world, once this treasure trove of a woman ended her story and tuck away this moment as though just another interesting encounter. Or, I could take from this profound experience and create something different for myself. I could create the window from which I would step out of my own, self imposed box and I could live, awake and present to my full power as a human being. The seemingly accidental appearance of this woman, I realized was only accidental if I allowed it to be so. I chose to put a purpose to her presence. As it were, I know there are no accidents…I write this with a smile. At the end of her storytelling, this frail old woman put her hand on mine and held my gaze. Who she was I did not know, but, looking in her eyes, I felt myself with familiar company. The last thing she said to me before she rose and slowly walked down the path away was just, “Whatever you seek, try looking one more place, a place you havent considered. Seek within”. And then she left. I’ve never seen her again, though I do wander from time to time to that bench, hoping perhaps to chance upon her. Since this magical encounter, I’ve slowly taken what she imparted and, albeit with difficulty, applied the truth to my life. I find I run into walls, I fall, struggle to understand. Yet, I continue to pursue wakefulness, I continue to look within. And I’m living, really living, taking chances and learning so much. I’m becoming who I really am, a soul with a voice singing forth a freedom that cannot be diminished unless by choosing to stay asleep. I choose to wake up. I choose to seek within and live.
