The teacher was beaming at me when I went to see him after so many years. His white beard was long and bright like clouds in the evening sun. I gave him the water colours I brought with me. It was an ethereal sunset behind the mountains and he started painting right away. We sat in silence and all the things I wanted to talk and ask him dissipated into the soft air between us. His presence was melting through me and I did not feel like uttering a single word.
As the time passed, twilight faded into the mountain range and the sky was turning maroon-red like the wardrobe of a Tibetan monk. I showed the gesture to leave as it was getting late. He beamed at me again and said, "Wait, you should go to this cave down at the foothills and sit there for a while before you leave. A sufi saint lived there long time ago." I was hesitant and a bit concerned as it was getting dark and I knew those hills were infested with snakes. However I decided to go down the valley, and found the cave after looking around. I sat there on a rock inside the cave for a while, wondering why the master asked me to do this.
Later I stepped into the night assuming my path forward. Left to my own devices, I am still toiling to navigate through the realms of 'the hungry ghosts'. I often wonder about that last meeting with my remarkable teacher and his style of conveying the message. A mystic one definitely has his ways of pointing to the mysteries.
graphics: 'farewell' /sebastian©2009
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