The pond is still, cherry blossom petals resting on its surface, surrounding a thick island drop. A tree, poses serenely for centuries in the center, surrounded by younglings. Stillness. A bridge from one place to another , without motion, lays near. Green – deep, rich, on black water, in shade – drenches all. This is the scene that is so close to my heart now. It’s a mixture of a 1000 different frames, each special, each peaceful. It’s a misty rice field among a million, endless hills in China, or a gray, calm, stone lake in the heart of pulsing Hanoi. It’s a giant elm tree enveloping me in silence, away from the bustling bay front of Sydney. It’s a house, on a plateau, with a forest of flowers, idly flourishing in Melbourne. It’s the silence, before crawl of dawn above the spires of Angkor Watt. It is the act of doing nothing, all day, on a white beach, in front of a world of still blue water in Vietnam. Or the beauty of a billion lights, silent, forming the endless miles of Hong Kong Skyline. Or the moment, in a beautiful woman’s arms, of oneness, not urged by desire, but rising from the perfection of the moment.
I have found moments of peace here – there - those places. They will be with me, laying just under me to be ushered up to consciousness on a frenetic moment’s notice. Moments when self was almost no more, and the moment, the place, the silence was all that was.
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