The young man was sitting on the bench in the garden, with his guitar resting on his body. His head was slightly bent, his hair slightly disheveled. His eyes were closed as his fingers gently caressed the strings. In the world of his creation, he and his guitar were the only reality. All of us passing by were just lost phantoms – noiseless, shapeless beings floating by without meaning or purpose.
In his world, there was no one, nothing, no creation, no religion, no thought, no emotion, no start, no end. Just him gently drifting on the waves of his music – that filled his universe and his eternity. There was something so profound in that moment – where the nothing (of my world) and the everything (of his world) met. There was a sense of peace, of oneness, of belonging, of detachment, of simple and beautiful existence.
I want to be that young man today. At least for today.