Solitude

His walk had brought him solitude. In this solitude, he found peace. He sat upon a boulder, resting his feet and observing his surroundings. The pines and the junipers have sprouted from the ground and looked to be stretching toward the exiled planets and stars invisible in the daytime sky. He gazes at the trees which appear stationary to the human eye. He realizes that these life forms grow into something larger, wiser, and more powerful each day. The wild brush enters the focus of his vision, exploding rapidly throughout the floor beneath the trees, twigs and pinecones. A gentle breeze enhances its radiant lifeforce as it shimmers, powerfully. 

A soul soars nearby; his stillness provides this soul with the necessary feelings of safety. Sitting here he realizes this creature too has a soul. It is not empty and devoid of feelings, it is as full of life and passion as any human. He marvels at this realization, thinking of it as a soul rather than a beast or a natural machine. The mountain is quiet, mute compared to the society in which he constantly dwindles his life away. The subtle sounds which are  disregarded in the city are obvious here. His mind becomes aware of a bird landing upon the branches of a nearby tree, the sound creating a mental image of talons grasping and digging into bark. The sensitivity of his mind and body while immersed in wilderness astonishes him. 

There is a clarity here, he thinks. 

He stares at this soul upon its native perch and compares it to a man standing upon a sidewalk. People have always implied that they were better than these animals, but are they?

Everything changes, nothing is beyond the next, there is merely adaptation- adaptation and success.

He is suddenly awakened. A waterfall of sound falls from the droplet of the bird. He feels it as it flows over his body, realizing not an ounce of this song belongs to him. The bird's song belongs only to the bird. Yet, he is encovered.

Sunlight washes over his skin. He thinks of it as soundwaves vibrating across his body. His fingertips reach for the moss upon a boulder like it's growing beneath the freeflow of a waterfall. It is softer than any fabric he has stroked, naturally, wildly. It thrives from the nutrients of this sunlight, beneath the waterfall of this wild song; it is the exemplification of success.

He ceases speaking and drops his head to the ground shaking it slightly. He appears to be chastizing a young child, or disappointed by the behavior of a lover. This only passes for a moment, then he lifts his head taking a deep breath. He gazes at the ocean of eyes in front of him as if nothing had happened. Where enlies his disappointment? Thus, he spoke once again.

Now, at this point it is important for you all to realize a series of things. Instants inside of our existence only have meaning because we ascribe meaning to them. This is true for our lives, for our interpretation of artwork, and for our understanding of one another. This experience may seem subtle to you, and rightfully so, for you have probably never experienced anything like this until now. Still, I implore you to attempt to understand. Why was the realization that an animal has a soul so breath-taking? Or that specific intelligence or society or even evolution does not mean one thing is better or further along than another, but that it is merely adapting to its current environment? Why did this song strike him like a bell in a temple where monks have remained for hours in silent meditation? 

There are other, more subtle realizations which occured to him, such as why he thought of the planets as exiled, or why the growth of the tree meant so much to him. I will not take the role of a pastor or a teacher and interpret these things for you. Even observations become less powerful when pointed out rather than self-realized. Yet, you have as much to gain from this experience as him.

A gentle smile blossoms upon his face, altering his demeaner and sending a sense of equanimity over the crowd. A rare and passionate smile from an individual is a powerful thing, he thinks to himself. With this, he waves his hand nonchalantly, as if brushing aside the distraction from the minds of his audience. Then, and only then, does he begin to speak once again.