Her body crippled with arthritis.
Slender fingers no longer cylindrical, now Corkscrew willow branches – twisted and knotty.
Every day she struggles with formalities which once were effortless and unnoticed tasks – holding soap to wash; pulling on clothes to dress.
Out on the street, she places her disfigured hands upon the keyboard and presses down lightly.
First one key, than another, slowly her hands begin to move gracefully back and forth dancing across the ivories –eyes close and body moves ever so slightly with the sound.
The music engulfs and transports her inside it. And, for a time, there is no her, no keyboard, no street, no daily struggles…only presence within melodic sounds – music of the heavens.
She isn’t just creating.
The instrument isn’t just producing.
She plays for a time and a half time. Her arthritic hands move fluidly as they had before. The people listen and throw change into her jar supplying her daily bread.
To me, it is not simply the wonderment of the gift or the beauty of the music–in cities around the world street performers are some of the best –but it’s the gentleness of the touch and the strength of the spirit that imbues life once again. Natalie you inspire me!
Plump, graspy, wrinkleless wands
greedily clasp what by chance
Nurturing tools of coddling, coaxing, service,