The Christmas story as a girl recalls the parts important to her, that is, she is not reading so we're not having the usual story the usual way. The tiny hands say something when it appears as if they're just waving around, no, there is meaning in there. I have this thing about watching hands and reading meaning into them even when it is not there. To a fault. One time I was observing a girl in the arms of her mother, watching the group through bulletproof glass, so quite dense and green, and up there two floors, and across the street, wave "bye bye" to someone close by down there on the mall and right then I heard a baby girls' voice distinctly directly and sharply in my ear say, "Bob." My brain provided the voice. *whispers* "He's writing from Colorado."
3 comments:
She needs to be ticketed for exceeding the cuteness limit :)
I'll go with adorable. Had to look it up though.
1610s, from French adorable, from Latin adorabilis "worthy of worship," from adorare (see adore). Weakened sense of "delightful, charming" is recorded from 1710.
What delights and charms, and edges close to the Latin adorabilis, is the inside to out freedom revealed, as she finds the story held within and allows it to move through herself in wholehearted expression without playing to the camera or seeking outer approval with the eyes. Her delight in putting the whole thing together appears to come from within as well.
Head and Heart,
Mind and Body,
Feelings and
Thoughts imbued
With Spirit
Performing
Together
To present
One story live
While living
In another.
This works here too:
Violinists practicing scales and dancers repeating the same movements over decades are not simply warming up or mechanically training their muscles. they are learning how to attend unswervingly, moment by moment, to themselves and their art; learning to come into steady presence…Yet however it is brought into being, true concentration appears—paradoxically—at the moment willed effort drops away…At such moments, there may be some strong emotion present—a feeling of joy, or even grief—but as often, in deep concentration, the self disappears. We seem to fall utterly into the object of our attention, or else vanish into attentiveness itself. This may explain why the creative is so often descried as impersonal and beyond self, as if inspiration were literally what its etymology implies, something “breathed in”. Jane Hirschfield,
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