She stood under the bar. The weight was more than she had lifted ever before. She positioned herself just right, followed the instructions, lifted the weight to her shoulders and stepped away from the cradle that had held the bar a moment earlier.
She squatted and came back to her standing position. Then again and again and again and then replaced the bar in the cradle. Repeated again and again.
The weight. The squat. The strain. The sweat. The completion.
At that moment I realized that that is exactly who she is.
She takes the weight of the day. She handles it just fine. She pushes through it and once done, without fanfare or trumpets, puts it back in its cradle and moves on.
Isn't that all we can ask for from anyone. No flash. No cameras. No awards. Just lifting the weight, doing the job, finishing the task and moving on.
If we could all just do what she does it would be so much easier.
Every day I learn something from her and she isn't even trying to teach.
She is just living the day. Lifting the weight, doing the task and moving on.
Satisfied with her worthy effort for its own sake.
No external acknowledgement. Did it come from a voice deep inside. Did it come from a wish to just present herself to the day with all she had to offer. Leaving nothing on the table any day at all.
Don't know. Just know I learn each day. And there is the weight, in the cradle, waiting to be lifted and replaced.
I will foillow her lead.
An ageless experiment.