Wooden Woman here. Hello again, yes, it’s been a while. Sometimes one has to take time to live before there is anything to say.
So there was last weekend–Wooden Woman and her beloved went downtown because there was a happening. A spectacle of three on three basketball. World’s largest they say. Masses of sweaty humanity milling the entire blocked-off downtown area. Every age, shape and vocabulary you can imagine.
And Wooden Woman.
Let me just say Wooden Woman does not play nor has ever played basketball–it’s not her thing. No matter. Sometimes you join others different than you, for no reason or for any reason at all.
Apparently people love this. Competition. Rules. Stay here, don’t go there. Whistle means stop. Nothing needs to be said. You just know. Everyone knows.
The players and the watchers. Unspoken rules for each.
Don’t be fooled there was nothing really passive about roosting or playing.
Through the park and streets or makeshift courts the throngs shifted and surged, searching it seems. For points. For food. For good game. Hoping for something to grab their attention. Ohhh there! Point a finger and all around people turn or lean or lunge for the opening.
And that was it.
A stunning wonder, a miracle actually, walking among thousands an entire afternoon and making it back to the car without touching one person (other than her beloved).
Wooden Woman wonders if the gyre of humanity is after all as beautiful as a murmuration. (Thanks National Geographic for the video link). ASTONISHING. SUCH BEAUTY.
Even if reality looks more like this:
In starling’s need for a safe place to rest for the night or humanity needing to play win-or-lose, oh let there be unexpected good, we cannot see or understand.
Isn’t that what we hope for–that somehow every bit of the whole will find a place in redemption?
And sometimes keeping a little distance is exactly what is needed. Hah.
Tell me your astonishments. They hide in the ordinary.