A Walk Toward Peace In A Faraway Land

As I was walking in a remote field, in the quiet of a far off place, a tall and gentle man approached me.

He watched.

I noticed the slight movement of the clouds. The way they merge into one another. And upon merging, release once again.

The man walked slowly across the field.

I noticed a sparrow sitting on the edge of a branch.

It blinked.

The man stood behind me.

I stopped.

“Who are you?” he asked.

I surveyed every detail of his eyes. And the gentle creases upon his face.

And I turned back toward the sparrow.

“Who are you?” he asked.

I turned to face him.

“Who is it that wants to know?”

The clouds picked up speed. They were clearly moving now.

They feel the wind before any man.

“Who are you?” he asked again.

Without turning around, I replied, “Who is it that wants to know?”

Where does this wind come from?

And how does it remain invisible?

It ruffles the hair and disappears like a ghost.

“What are you in search of?” the man asked.

“Who is it that wants to know?” I replied.

The man sat on the grass and crossed his legs.

He looked up and me and asked, “Who are you?’

I turned to face him and gently said, “Who is it that wants to know?”

“Me,” he said.

“Who is this ‘me’ that you speak of?”

“The man sitting before you?”

“I see the man. I hear the voice. But who is it that wants to know?”

“Have I missed something?” he asked.

“We spend over half of our lives ‘missing,’ my friend.”

“Someone sent me to you. He said you could teach me.”

“What is it that you wish to learn?”

“I don’t know.” He said.

“Such a lovely reply.”

“What do you think it is that I need to learn?”

“What is it that your heart longs for?”

“Peace.” He said.

“Why do you not already have it?” I asked.

“I don’t know. But I know that I don’t have it. I am not even close to having it.”

“You are still quite young. Barely of middle age. Why do you seek such things?”

“I’ve already achieved everything else. And this is now what I seek most.”

I turned toward the clouds. The wind had caught them once again.

“Why do you hesitate?” he asked.

“Rarely does a man want what he says he wants.”

“Oh but I do. I want peace. It’s what I want more than anything else.”

“Come. Walk with me.”

The fields spread into the distance.

And we walked.

The sparrow stood in the distance, as if to anticipate our arrival.

The clouds began to drift.

“Is it not amusing?” I asked.

“What’s that?”

“You’ve spent your entire life achieving great things. And what you wanted all along was to walk in the fields.”

“Are we walking toward peace?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then where are we going?”

“Nowhere.”

“When will you show me how to arrive at peace?”

“What degree of softness would you rate this ground to be?”

“Sorry?” he said.

“If you stood in one spot, do you believe you would eventually sink?”

“It’s not that soft,” he said.

“From what direction does this wind approach us?”

“From the right.”

“Do you feel how it hesitated?”

“What?”

“The wind.”

“Yes, it tends to come and go.” He said.

“Why do you think that is?”

“There it is again,” he said. “It’s almost as if it blows, then breathes,” he said.

“The earth breathes. Yes, it is true.”

The sparrow hovered over a willow tree.

I looked at it as I passed.

It blinked.

A misty rain began to fall.

I smiled. “So that’s what they’ve been up to,” I said.

“Who?”

“The clouds.”

We passed by a stone.

I stopped in front of it.

“This stone has been here for three centuries.”

“It’s beautiful,” he said.

“Is it?”

“Don’t you think so?” he asked.

“I’ve never considered it. But how absolutely magnificent that it has been able to sit perfectly still for so long.”

“It’s a stone.”

“Yes. And come the easterly winds, the winter snows, and the spring rains, it has always remained A Stone.”

“Yes.”

“The world around it has changed for centuries. But it remained A Stone.”

“Are you trying to teach me something?” he said.

“No.”

We continued to walk.

“Does the grass catch the bottom of your shoe?” I asked.

“Sometimes.”

“When?”

We walked for some time.

The sun began to fall.

“Right there!” he said. “On every third step, the grass catches my left heel.”

“Every third step,” I said quietly to myself.

“Does the wind correlate with the grass?”

“How do you mean?” he said.

“When the grass catches your left heel at every third step, what is the wind doing at that time?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“No matter. Simply curious.”

“The wind blows steady. It doesn’t seem to change, despite the third step.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I just experienced it.”

“Experience. Such a lovely word.”

We continued into the dawn.

The wind became a bit fresh.

“And the sparrow? Does it behave differently with your third step?”

“How could it?”

“No matter. Simply curious.”

“The sparrow remains as it is.”

“How do you know?”

“I just experienced the third step. The grass caught my left heel. The wind blew steady. And the sparrow did not move.”

“Experience. Such a lovely word.”

“Where is it that we are going?”

“Does the wind try to blow the clouds? Or do the clouds allow themselves to be blown by the wind?”

“Why do you ask?”

“No matter. Simply curious.”

“Why do you walk with your hands joined behind your back?” he asked.

“I don’t know. The body does what it likes.”

“How far do you think we’ve come?”

I stopped.

I placed my hand on his shoulder and said, “A very long way, my friend.”

He looked into my eyes and said, “Who are you?”

I smiled and asked, “Who is it that wants to know?”