In Perfect Stillness

Before dawn, an old monk left the temple and followed a narrow path through the pines to a mountain lake. The world was quiet except for the faint dripping of dew from cedar branches and the distant cry of a waking bird.

A small wooden skiff rested near the shore. The monk stepped inside and pushed away from the land. The lake was hidden beneath a blanket of mist, and the opposite shore could not be seen. Water and sky seemed to mingle into one boundless gray silence.

As he drifted farther from the shore, a cold wind moved across the water. Ripples spread outward, disturbing the lake's mirror surface. The mist swirled and folded upon itself like wandering thoughts. For a moment, the monk could no longer tell where he was going or from where he had come.

Many people fear such moments, he reflected. When the familiar shore disappears, the mind begins searching for certainty. It invents dangers hidden in the fog and imagines currents that are not there.

The old monk rested his oars and listened.

The wind blew.

The water moved.

The mist wandered.

Nothing was wrong.

Then, through the pale veil of morning, a figure appeared upon the lake. It seemed neither distant nor near, neither coming nor going. The monk looked carefully and realized the figure was only his own reflection appearing between folds of mist and water.

He smiled.

The one he had been searching for had never been elsewhere.

As the sun climbed above the mountain peaks, golden light touched the lake. The mist slowly lifted and dissolved into the morning sky. Shorelines emerged. Pines revealed themselves. Stones beneath the clear water became visible once more.

The monk guided his skiff toward land.

Nothing had changed, yet everything appeared different.

The lake had not become clearer.

The world had not become wiser.

Only the fog had departed.

Stepping onto the shore, the old monk bowed toward the water and continued his walk through the mountains.

Behind him, the lake rested in perfect stillness, as though it had been waiting all along for the mist to remember that it was never separate from the sky.