Listening to Jodie Foster speak at the Golden Globes reminded me of what appears to be a universal truth: good bones are everything.
Think of the beautiful women, the beautiful houses, the beautiful stories. They all have great bone structure; bones that are delicate but supportive, bones that disappear and yet always seem to shine through, bones that change the thing from good to great.
It’s all about the bones.
As far as women like Jodie Foster (Michelle Pfeiffer is another good example from the film industry) go, their delicate bone structure gives them an ethereal quality that we big-boned and burly girls simply can’t capture. They must hail from folk who danced more closely to the forest sprites back in the times before.
Watching them, I am reminded of the time as a child that I sat for hours until I caught a hummingbird. I sat surrounded by flowers in the garden, waiting as the sound of beating wings got closer and closer. The air smelled of dirt and cut grass, honeysuckle and raspberries, sunshine and a coming rainstorm.
My hands closed around those beating wings, a tiny cage not much larger than the bird.
Holding my hands up to my face, I looked into its eyes. The hummingbird looked at me as much as I looked at it. Two very different souls in two very different bodies. Two hearts in two very different cages.
I can still feel its heart racing against my hand when I opened my fingers and let it return to the flowers near me.
Like beautiful women, houses, and stories, the souls with delicate bones give us beauty and something to forever reach out to hold if only for a moment.
But even the indelicate may have good bones. Bones sturdy and solid. Bones that don’t break easily. The heavy bones carry the heaviest weights, even when that weight doesn’t look like much.
So don’t despair if you don’t have delicate bones. The important thing is to have bones, to have the support with which to carry your heart in your rib cage, and your legs into the journey beyond.