He was a complete microcosm in himself. He was the watcher and he was also the watched. He sat in the woods where he mocked, doubted and laughed at himself. He loved himself and simultaneously hated himself (for both have similar intensity). In short he was both: an artist and a monk.
Artist: Do you have to try hard to keep yourself happy?
Monk: I don't know happy. But life is easy. Its like sea waves. Leave your body in it. Enjoy the waves. Don't try to fight the waves. I mean I don't. Its the nature of the waves to take you to the shore. So one day I will also reach, for sure. Just leave yourself in the sea and enjoy. So much beauty around. Trees, animals, kids, clouds, stars. Aah its amazing. For if you try to fight the waves you might win the ephemeral battle but you will lose the long lasting war.
People have a tendency to fight the waves. And worst is that they end up fighting the wave which is calmer for they can't fight the strong waves. That's a mistake because it is in a calm wave you notice things more around you. The octopus, the dolphin, the starfish, the walrus,the turtle. I mean when life is slow people get bothered and want to quicken the pace. That's why they discovered video games, cars and tv while ignoring simple pleasures like playing outdoors, watching the stars.
Artist: You are right I feel I am always in a hurry wanting to reach somewhere I don't know where! Just to avoid where I am.
Monk: You are right, we are the only creatures who refuse to be what we are, how we are and where we are. Don't fight the waves. Flow with it. One of the ideas involved with the concept of entropy is that nature tends from order to disorder systems in isolated systems. Which means that mind will go towards chaos if left alone. Hence your hurry. So you need to control your mind. And through what is more important. I think art is the best solution. Nature is the best art. Try poetry, magic ,painting, fiction, aesthetics, any piece of art. Now you will say that art is a lie, its a fiction and hence not the truth. Isn't it ironical it is the lie which is setting you free? While men have the curse that they refuse to be what they are, they also have this gift of imagination. Its the imagination which sets him free. And when you sit in the most beautiful surroundings of those hills, you have that infinite imagination which dissolves you, divides you (a finite) and makes you feel zero. Don't you aspire for that?
