“If Silence is golden, what is the color of noise?”
She did not die quietly. The sound-barrier blasts from the jets over her Himalayan retreat destroyed what remained of her life.
Though nothing lives forever, she once dreamed that she would.
When she was very young, she freely wandered the globe. She traveled deserts, mountains, oceans, and prairies. Before the first insect, frog, or human, peace and tranquility ruled both sides of the world.
When creatures began to roam the earth, she went her own way, often just in her own company.
She had many occupations during her life. She cared for young children playing quietly and newborns as they slept. That, of course, was before TV.
She worked with night watchmen and lone sheepherders.
Education was her career. She taught many philosophers and mystics. Her universal school transcended religion, politics or culture.
Her passions were as unique as her solitude.
You frequently could find her in empty churches or abandoned houses. She filled ball-fields after midnight.
She avoided crowds and anything mechanical or electrical. She never listened to music. Her music was soundless.
Her hobbies included hang-gliding and mountain climbing. She spent many of her vacations in the Grand Canyon. You could often meet her fly-fishing trout ponds high in the Rockies.
Her friends were often prayerful. Most of the others liked solitary walks with her in the woods.
She was Beethoven’s lover in his later years.
She was a companion to Helen Keller.
She spent time in prison camps and in solitary confinement.
There wasn’t only crying when she died. There was yelling and blaring and exploding and pounding and ticking and dripping and roaring and squeaking and throbbing and barking and thundering and ringing and elevator music endlessly.
Few know that she has died. She simply is not around anymore. She left no remains, inheritance, or next of kin.