Ever since I moved here, I met a lot of nice people that seemed to care for me more than some that I know for a lifetime. Maybe it’s their old age that made them be wiser and less concerned about the entire materialistic world.
Among all these lovely souls, I found an elderly lady, a revolutionary grandma which fascinated me. This old lady is the living proof that is the mind that keeps you young. Although she is close to her seventies, her mind is incredibly sharp. She is up to date with most of the electronic devices and gadgets, while other grandmas are barely able to use a smartphone without asking for assistance.
Although she is not a fan of watching television, she is well aware of the national political scene. Her knowledge on topics like world history and literature is amazing. It is mind blowing that her memory is still so accurate. I am speechless; I always had a hard time studying history because of all the names and dates I couldn't remember.
No one would be able to guess her real age if her hair wasn't white. She didn't mind showing that she aged. She looks fit and a lot more in shape than some women having half of her age.
She does yoga daily, she meditates, and once a year she joins a vipassana center. I am mesmerized by the level of energy, the positive attitude and the modesty of this caring and humble woman.
Each time we meet, I am more compelled to push myself harder and follow my dreams. I love talking to her because she pin points whatever I am not able or willing to admit to myself yet, as if she was able to read my mind.
I call her Genie, because she is like ones of those little genies living in a bottle. Also because she’s one of a kind. The saying “great essences come in small bottles” describes her entirely. A great mind in a little body.
Most of our conversations took place in the center’s lobby or in the dining area of the Atrium. Today, she invited me to join her for a cup of tea in her small apartment. When I entered, I was surprised to see how frugal she lived. There only a few pieces of furniture and lots and lots of books. Two of her living room walls were having shelves filled with books from the floor level, all the way up to the ceiling.
On the coffee table there was a book and a local newspaper which had a red arrow drawn above an article named “Alberta asphalt”. When she came with the tea, she told me another story about how things used to be in Edmonton when she was young. I’ll write more about it on my future post.