Life Clichés (1): The loudest silence

(Not that sexist manifesto you so wanted to read - :3)

Born  under the same star, she the Aries has grown to be a gentle lamb. Of the bright cardinal she only kept glittering eyes, shining with passion : a passion for life.

We met a few years ago, through mutual friends. We got closer enough a year ago. She would wreck all my misconceptions, and religiously profess her ideas, until her energy dies out, she would stop at once. And I would understand that my time was up, that I should leave and schedule another appointment. Other times, she would help herself to her books, and start indicating what she wanted to say through paragraphs, schemata and notes, completing her barely audible words. I, on the other hand, was getting used to her heavy silence, learning how to be a good  non-judgemental listener.

One afternoon, I was carefully walking beside her. It was  gloomy and windy, my lovely kind of weather, when she suddenly burst into recounting her story. As we neared the gates of the park, she carefully lowered her voice, seeing other visitors rushing in and out of the park.

We sat under the biggest tree around, a central spot from where we could have a whole view on the park. Before carrying on with her narration, she almost sighed and whispered under her breath : "How much of my life did this tree witness..!" I only smiled lovingly, for I too had entertained a tight liaison to places in which my life has once been shaded.

She recounted her near death experiments, how the furthest points from Life drew her nearest to it. Hope is a major attribute of human life. The struggle has been a major event in her life, she cried while remembering how she suffered to become who she was. She hid her tears, and started a silent prayer of thankfulness. I already regretted the shortness of that afternoon. 

Our meetings became quite regular. Once, under the same tree, she asked me all of a sudden "Tell me what do you know about God ?". I was surprised, and I couldn't hide it, as my eyes rolled around. I could only say that, I can by no means know more about Him than she does. She insisted, and I began recounting naively how of God's attributes the closest to my heart is the All Merciful. She smiled at me, and I dared, not without some childish pride, carry on to the etymology of the word Allah, and the love it has within its letters, the enfolded Mercy and Love in its meaning, the suffering and yearning of the Beloved. I paused and we sat in a deadly silence, leaves falling around us, for what seemed to be an eternity.

I recalled evenings I spent on my own, tortured by my own ignorance, how can it not be a bliss being where I was? Meeting her constantly kept me wired to Him. She was gentle, soft,  and radiating a serene aura. She drew back the veil of the unseen, and allowed me to peer inside, carrying back with me the majesty of the imagined place.

She once told me : "I think that Faith is a muscle, the more you train it, the longer it stays fit. Get your reservoir full, as you will need to fill glasses as you grow older."