The Girls

The girls and I pass each other every morning. My hair is long and light gray. Theirs is black—a fuzzy cap between horns that are long and straight, curvy and sometimes different on each side. The herder for this number of water buffalo is a young man, maybe in his 20s, who, after passing me for three weeks, finally waved.

I live alone and have learned to choose “alone” over “lonely.”

The herd is an example of “together,” while the herders are mostly alone—standing in hot sun or in rain, sitting cross-legged under a thorn tree or on the edge of the road. I wonder about them—hours of silence with an occasional voice, the noise of a few cars and more frequent motorcycles.

These men, boys, women, and girls appear to have inner strength that sustains them—watchful over the herds that are the family’s bank account yet relaxed enough to endure a daily silence.

Our true self is our inner self. The one we take with us into our next life. Cultivating an ability to be alone and comfortable is a valuable tool.

My realization is, “When we call out sincerely to God, we will receive a reply, in some way. There are those around us who do well in silence, whom we may observe in learning.