This ceramic figure has been hanging out with me for a long time.  I like to set her where I see her.  My sister bought her at a street art exhibit near Columbia University, circa 1985, and she has looked at me in Baltimore, Iowa City, San Francisco, Provincetown, Charlotte, and Gettysburg.  Part of her right foot broke off. I don’t know when. She’s very relaxed.  Two inches tall. Sits in her chair.  Version of a Buddha, almost.  In my peripheral vision near the kitchen sink. Her chair is modern and not severe—it has cushions.  She is unencumbered by clothes, book, telephone, remote.  She has nothing.  Seems to want nothing.  It’s okay to sit in a chair, thinking, or not. She makes it look easy.  A sign, seen last week in front of the United Methodist Church in Middletown, Connecticut, read: Be still, breathe, praise God.  I usually pray to the forces of the universe, which don’t seem at all human.  But, okay, call it God.  Do you know how hard it is to be still?