A decision has been made. The nameless has a moniker. Life for this wandering soul is good.
What are we talking about, you ask?
You may recall last spring I acquired a piece of art that was unusual, unique, and probably not to everyone’s liking. But I loved her. She was created by Edward Swift, a well-known artist and author living in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico.
She has character. She brings a smile to my life. And she judges not. Well, most of the time.
Here she is in all her glory.
When I introduced her to my readers, friends, and those unknowing folks who visited my abode she had no title. I asked you to suggest names and I got quite a few worthy suggestions, but none seemed to cling to her with admiration and authority.
I moved into my casita, found the perfect location for her, waited for her to give me a hint about what she wanted to be called. And she finally spoke this week.
“My name is Mime,” she crocked. “I am a parody, a caricature, a representative of you.”
I scratched my head in confusion, then set about trying to figure out her meaning.
A mime expresses, mocks, imitates, represents, symbolizes, and often ridicules. So how does she mimic me?
Here’s my take on her whispered meaning, correct or not.
I am often two people, the one seen and heard, and the one hidden within who is always here, stays nestled within, and murmurs softly her content or discontent, approval or disapproval, consent or objection.
She is my mirror. She is my leveler. She offers me balance and does it in a mocking and fun way letting me know when I get off track thinking I am better than, smarter than, less than, separate from.
I benefit from her presence within me, her delightful reflection to what I may believe or how I am acting.
So, to keep levity within her soul I have prominently placed her in a place where all can benefit from her wisdom. She oversees her domain in my guest bathroom.
Befitting a mime, don’t you think?
Thanks all who contributed names to a piece of me.