The Old Lady on My Wall

Somebody once asked me, “Why do you put a picture of a sad old lady up there? Please remove her.” I replied, “Why should I?” He continued, “Because she looks sad. I don’t like looking at a picture of a sad old lady.”

I answered, “Too bad. In my view, she doesn’t look sad at all. She looks peaceful — comfortable with herself and her surroundings. She doesn’t bother anybody. She just sits there by herself.” And I love everything about her. The way she sits on the floor with nothing to protect her but a white cloth. Her hands folded, resting gently against her head. Her eyes staring straight at you.

As you look, you can feel them pierce through you. Who is she? I don’t know. I found this image long ago in a National Geographic magazine. But the moment I saw her, I loved the picture instantly. It’s good to like someone you don’t know. Does it matter who she is? Must my walls only bear pictures of famous people?

She’s probably a beggar on the street. Or just an old woman sitting alone, watching the world pass her by unnoticed, unseen. But someone saw her. A lone photographer saw what others didn’t: Her stillness, her dignity, her presence. And captured that moment. She is the person in me the one I’d rather be. A nobody. I like being left alone. Let me be the silent observer of those around me. And in that, I’ve found my peace.

Life is like that sometimes. We choose not to see the parts that make us uncomfortable. We prefer to ignore them, pretend they don’t exist. We push them far away, out of sight because we don’t want to be reminded. People often ask me, “Who are you?” I don’t know. I’ve never asked myself that question.

Instead, I ask: “This is what you have become. This is where you are right now. What can you do to make this journey pleasant and meaningful?” So please don’t ask how I look. It’s not important to me. Looks are nothing more than a physical shell superficial at best.

I am the lone old lady in that picture. Look at her… and you are looking at me.