the path of paths

The cold kissed his moist nose invitingly – a blessed welcome into the snow-sprinkled realm. Each breath he drew in was christened with Mother Nature’s winter perfume, crisp and invigorating, that he sought after again and again. With every inhale he felt cleansed and further melded with the environment. His mind was comfortably empty – a vacant room left not littered and ruined but allowed to be a perfect image of neatness that he could temporarily exit in good faith. Right now, there were no thoughts he needed to tend to. He could just… be. And that was something that did not come easily to everyone.

It was something many in his family pursued, and attempted to seize indefinitely. But Nagendra felt that such a thing was impossible. He felt a bit guilty for thinking so – wondering if he only thought it because he didn’t want to put forth the strenuous effort that came with. But wasn’t it a bit of a contradiction? Trying so, so very hard to achieve… the very opposite – a total peace, a mind completely existing in the present. So he mostly just enjoyed the small moments like these when he could sever himself from the burdens of a whirring mind. Contemplation was wonderful, but sometimes, taking a break was the purest joy imaginable.

His expression was calm as he sat, breathing in and out with slow rhythm. He was allowed a few more minutes of solitary relaxation until he heard something, treading gently amongst the snow. Slowly, both of his emerald eyes opened and unto him was revealed the most stunning image of a silver wolf, picking her way towards the pond. Nagendra’s lips fell delicately apart, not in anticipation of words but merely in an expression of graceful enchantment as he watched her, head tilted slightly to the side. He said nothing for another moment, his fascination hanging gingerly in the silence. And then he lifted his muzzle a little and called out, softly but surely, ”What brilliant phantom strides before my eyes? Stutters my heart in both enthrallment and awe?” A brief pause. The next sentence rose upon the throne that was the quiet of the approaching night, each word enunciated so carefully that they would entice no less than full attention. ”This evening must be a special one, for, surely the divine do not descend without reason.”