Wisdom is also richness, not suspicion or reserve. The richness of experience folded inside you. Experience not only of the past but also of the future, gently knowing what is to come. It is like an income, the interest of which is used daily to live with ease, to avoid pitfalls, but the bulk of which remains saved inside, emerging unbidden when there’s a ‘crater’ in your life.

Though there is richness, wisdom avoids shows, understands economy and knows that no-one needs your judgment, only your love for life, your warmth and perception. Wisdom simply sees the need and provides, fits in, but remains unique, quietly.

As such, wisdom is not so much a creative quality as one of nurturing what has already been made, what is already there. Using what you have to the last inch, squeezing blood out of a stone, because the last drops are worth it. It is seeing the drabness of life and making it beautiful, like a child thrilled over a button that an adult would throw away because it isn’t part of a set.

So wisdom is making the very best of what you have, working vertically not horizontally, not stretching your hand out for more, nor taking on too much. Never saying you will do something, just doing it; not being too enthusiastic, but smiling in the eyes and turning to the task.

Wisdom is knowledge of danger but no fear. It is the ability to spot a twist in the path in the distance, a narrow stretch, the possibility of a collision; to stop and wait in peace until something has passed. No wisdom is keeping going, hoping it will all be alright.

It is recognizing that every gesture of giving is a right gesture and every gesture of taking is an invitation to influence. Because even if you take what you most want, there may be mud stuck to it; the mud of this is mine. Heaviness, by giving, as you withdraw, you bring back lightness. It feels right.

And this is what wisdom does - it recognizes the rightness of life. It bans protest and demonstration but never strength. It is a life of quiet victories and smiling defeats.