It has been over a decade that he first crossed these paths. Here was something deep he was looking for, and near the crashing water is where he ended up. Always. He would go about thoughtlessly, empty minded; or the opposite, full of overwhelming imaginations. Lost. But the mountain spring boiled with life. Blue jays bathing, dancing on a deep turquoise base, scarlet trees with white trunks with the urge to spread their wings, golden dandelions making love to the greenest of grass.
A presence changed the air, a slow moving shadow. And it settled. Scribbling in his pocket notebook, wiping away the crumbles of dirt from its pages. It was an old man in a oversized leather coat. He sat atop a great boulder overarching the spring, with nothing but air below his feet. Through his gray hair you could barely see his eyes, but you could see they were slightly tracing, and squinting downwards to the notebook. He was breathing slowly. The blue jay acknowledged his bird friend with a few shrieks. The white noise of the water that meets water, and the scratching sound of a tip moving on paper. “But the mere act of grasping it with the claws of my mind, the more it resembles a fleeting dancing vapor of hopelessness”, he wrote. A void, he thought. Drowning in deep space. “Is it not the unconscious observer within me which is truest, and closest to this reality, than is my own capacity to solve this equation with precise rational thought?”. The two birds took off. Wind. He looked up, and his gray eyes stared directly at the rising sun. The day was coming, and the night was far away.
The Realm of Indifference 