Wisdom

Wisdom is a small child spirit in a simple woman’s body. She walks leisurely and sings frequently. There’s nothing she needs to do. Her body is full and glad of sensation, and loves to float in water and rest under trees and stars. A long slow fire laughs in the dark of her eyes. She has a whole lot of grandbabies and contentedly holds them as often as she can. Not lazy, not impatient, she savors the doing of anything—hanging clothes on the line, trimming roses, sipping water, opening a door—without thinking ahead to what’s next. She lingers over flowers sprouting from sidewalk cracks, and feathers, and wooden beads, and cream soups. She thoroughly tastes, with her whole tongue, every bite. She enjoys folks as they are and takes a mind of compassionate wonder toward their problems. Has no interest in giving advice. Often wears an unexplainable smile. Can be sassy with laughter. Is fascinated by her body: its abilities, temperatures, sensings, scents, changes. “Look at this beauty mark,” she’ll say to her hairdresser, in awe. “It didn’t use to have a hair growing from it. What miracles we are.” The world is her discovery playground, always unfolding to her delight. She takes her sweet time, because time is simply the wonder of this instant, and therefore her dearest friend.

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