Blessed is he, for the hills are his family and the seas are his friends...
Hills are his family
Unsettled in every city, departing from every gate, it is in the hills he finds his home. Isn't he, the free bird, expected to make a home above all those abysses? Hills are his bright home, supportive family and the omnipresent teacher. Hills taught him to possess less for he who possesses little is so much the less possessed: praised be a moderate poverty.
Up there, the food is pure, the air is fresh, the people are pure. The trees sway, the flowers blossom, the birds chirp for he, their own, is back in his physical self. He liked to lie here where children play, beside that oak tree, among thistles and red poppies.
The outsider feeling evaporates when he is wandering in the hills. They bless him with the messages of humility, the joys of giving and to embrace the peaks and troughs of life.
And thus he has become the river, beautifully carved into the landscape, nourishing all the plants and trees passing by...
Seas are his friends
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"He" and "him" converse often and as they say that the friend of a hermit is always the third one. His third one is the "sea". The sea was there to listen to him, to calm him. It was dependable and above all it was non-judgemental. He would sit by his friend and observe the large heartedness of it. A true friend is one who gives you a background to the frame you walk in.
This friend supported him in his voyage of an outrageous, scornful and untroubled life. And with his friend he shared the greatest events; for they are not our noisiest but our stillest hours.........
Blessed is he, for his family are the hills and his friends are the seas...
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(Inspired by Nietzsche's Thus Spake Zarathustra)
