A couple years ago, on a routine trip to the Getty, I came upon a painting that struck me so deeply. I know people say things like that all the time, and often I think people are brave for saying - and though I have fallen in love with many pieces, I have never been so struck by one. I am not sure if she was newly placed there or if I had just simple unknowingly avoided her gaze on all my other trips. I walked into the room, full of beautiful, colorfully bold, extravagantly large oil paintings, but was immediately drawn to the rather small, quiet painting of an old woman. Her eyes stared into mine and her tears connected with me - I knew immediately - She was me. I have always been told that I have an old soul, and though I would usually disagree, because I knew old souls and I did not believe that I was among them. Usually with such a comment, I would give an awkward laugh and just sorta nod, but on that day there was no awkwardness - She was me and I her. I may not be her completely, but she is in me and I strive to be all that she is. Her eyes, gentle and kind, filled with tears; her wrinkled and blemished skin, her contentment, her humbleness, her solitude, her kindness. It was she who is inside me - I often loose her, but she is still there and I hope I do not disappoint her. I hope all her goodness shines through me. I know as a Christian this sounds odd - shouldn't it be Jesus in me? Well he is - I am not being blasphemis, I'm just saying if you could take my soul out of my body, it would be this old woman you would see. I thank God for my old soul, I hope that I can find her again - me and my old soul.
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