She sat on her
little stool, wrinkled, shrunken with age and wisdom written on her
face. What an incredibly beautiful sight as she sat smoking her
traditional pipe which was totally uncommon to the women, yet common
to the men of that land. She looked up, a look of kindness on her
face, and watched me approach. Gentleness and compassion filled my
heart with a sense of wanting to belong. She nodded at the stool
opposite her and I sat myself down. I felt a oneness with this
complete stranger that I had never felt before. The silence was so
comfortable that I did not wish to speak. As the minutes drifted by
my mind wandered like a lone ship at sea sailing on peaceful waters
and time seemed endless. Suddenly, in a husky voice, she spoke
calmly of tales relating to her mysterious life. I was captivated by
the magic of her words.
This wise old woman was as old as
the hills, as calm as the seas, as beautiful as the sunset. I was
totally entranced by her wisdom and unable to believe my good
fortune in receiving knowledge that could only have come from the
experience of many lifetimes.