Fog And Clarity

One early morning pedalling slowly on a steep road in southern Ecuador, I feel a hand on my shoulder. A familiar voice speaks to me.

“What is that you seek?”

“I want to escape. I am searching for something, but I don’t know what?” I reply.

“You can only search for something when it is lost. When the whole universe is inside you what are you looking for in the wilderness? What makes you go round?”

“A while ago, I saw a dead butterfly. I lifted it and released it in the air, but it fell on the ground. It didn’t stay afloat in the air despite having big wings. To find out if I was still alive, I took on this journey.”

“Why are you afraid then?”

“Not knowing my path!”

“You cannot see very far through the fog, but after taking each step, the path becomes clearer before your eyes. The same way, the true picture of life will become sharper if you come close to the mirror—your true self.”

“I don’t know if I can make this long journey.”

“When a bird leaps off a tall cliff, it is not afraid of the heights because it knows it has wings. Your wings are your bicycle. No road is long enough if you keeping going.”

I stop and turn around, but there is no hand. All around is a whiteout, and everything wears a thick blanket of fog. After listening to the silence for a while, I resume my ride on the long misty mountainous road. To some, I vanish into the fog, but to others, I emerge from it.


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