SOUL in Beijing
There are a lot of things I miss about not going to China this year. Not the "new" things, but those with "soul". There are a lot of things that still have those special feelings of a place, the depth, the beauty, the poetry. Those people who practice the things that you know one day won't exist anymore, so now they are gold in value.
One day in a park I saw this man who was 80 years old, with a glowing smile, beautiful posture, and a gracefulness that only a person in great shape can have. He walked around and around these shaded trees, with a stick, deepening the already written lines that he carefully created to embellish the area, that by now had become "his". The symbols around the trees were explained to me by my daughter. We followed him both with our steps and with our eyes, admiring his silence, his precision in creating such a beautiful design with pure earth, actually, at times with mud. He would add water when necessary, and return often to make sure the lines were deep enough to maintain the many curved lines that he created. He would also brush away stray leaves, anything disturbing the clean design.
It was beautiful in all ways. His devotion to this special dance, this exercise, all of it leading to beauty thanks to his work and passion.
He would get close to the earth to work on the lines, digging them deeper and deeper to make sure they would keep.
A year after we returned to this area of the park.
Only a faint faint line remained. Only an intent eye would notice it, one who was looking for it as I was.
The lines were gone, I imagine, forever.
Sad and disappointed, I searched and found nothing that showed any life of this excellent and unique area.
Was the man gone as well?
