If you would have a look out of my window you would see a giant wooden man in relaxed position, head straight forward, a hooknose, mouth angles down, not showing the slightest sign of a smile. His elbows are resting on the stony ground and the perhaps seven meter-long legs stretched out, makes you feel he must be very content, ignoring all the hustle and bustle around him. Unlike us, he will never be plagued by small pebbles digging into his skin. He always seems to say the same thing, "Whatever my master had in mind by bringing me here, I will surrender." Well, he has to! Since children do not care for anything, he is the daily attraction of numerous children that are coming with their mothers, fathers, or both. (The smallest will probably know him only as a piece of wood if even that).
Like a lion mother who patiently bears the untamed play of her cubs he allows all the little feet to climb up and down on him, sometimes sitting on his head overwhelmed by their final success after tremendous struggle, protected and guided by their parents.
Around noon the whole place becomes like a bee hive when hundreds of people enjoy their lunch break right in front of my window.
Being surrounded by cafès and restaurants (yes, including the backyard), the afternoon is not much quieter. Mothers are parking their baby wagons next to their tables and having their chats, cake and coffee. Sometimes their babies mercilessly cry for something - milk or attention, God knows. I then have to close the window and pray for them to stop crying, otherwise I don't know how to bear it, but I have improved a lot.
The picture changes from hour to hour. This day it is a meeting place for families, friends, at other days, street artists begin their performances 'using' the place for changing or having breaks. How sweet it looked yesterday, when a clown on very high stilts was leaning on the wooden man's shoulder while his female companion, their costumes matching, with outstretched arms cheerfully balanced on the resting man's longer than the longest body. Unexpectedly say saw me and I smilingly waved a little, indicating that I really liked their idea. Only the man waved back and I closed the window. The children would have had so much fun, but unfortunately it was cloudy and raining softly and only those who really had to be were in the streets, like 'my' wooden man, whose head and body got all wet.
Finally, in the evening young people replace the innocent picture of playing children with their all too often noisy "wait and see" attitude until late into the night. Coca Cola cans, beer bottles and empty pizza cardboard boxes are often left behind.
Sure enough, I have to add my two cents once a week when I am returning from our Wednesday night meditations. When Man comes in sight, I usually look at first at his grumpy face, make a faces, tickle his giant feet, sure he would not kick me and disappear in the house.
Only late after midnight I can open the window for it has now become quiet, the way I like it so much. It is a peaceful, star filled night, the wooden man long forgotten. He may look at his own stars. There and then the echoing 'sounds' of drunken vagabonds and screeching car brakes in the distance, but you cannot have everything, they say. I am content.
I found two sweet songs composed by the Master:
I Play Not Alone
Star-like You Soar
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