Inspired by Zen tradition.
A weary traveler arrived at a small mountain temple after a long journey. Their face looked worn. Their bags seemed heavy.
For several days, the traveler sat quietly in the temple, at dawn and again toward dusk. They seemed to be searching for answers, sitting as if stillness might finally make something clear.
The master of the temple noticed the traveler. Without a word, the master led them out through the gate.
Spring had arrived in full. The air outside was clean and new. Birds cut sideways through the sky. Grass pushed up half green through the old season’s brown. Wildflowers danced in the sunbeams and warm breeze. Below them, a small stream wandered through the valley, catching the light as it went.
The master chose a place halfway up the hill and settled down, completely at ease, saying nothing. The traveler sat beside the master.
They had a million questions.
But the master’s eyes were already closed.
Perhaps this is the lesson, the traveler thought.
So they did the same.
The afternoon passed slowly this way, the two of them sitting on the hillside in the new spring air. Toward evening, the master rose. Still without speaking, the master gestured toward the temple, and the traveler rose to follow.
But at the gate, the master stepped ahead, swung the two wooden doors shut, and left the traveler standing outside.
Staring at the closed doors, the traveler grew confused and angry. After a while, they sat down on the steps, watching the sunset and waiting.
The last light slowly left the valley. The green hills softened into shadow. The flowers disappeared among the grasses. The stream could still be heard for a while, though the traveler could no longer see its silver path.
Then mist began to gather. The birds grew quiet. Soon the traveler could barely make out the trees.
At last, the temple door opened. The master stood inside.
“What is it like out there?”
“What do you mean?”
“What is it like out there?”
The traveler looked toward the valley.
“Nothing,” they said. “There is nothing but darkness.”
The master smiled.
“The hills are still there. The grass is still there. The flowers, the trees, and the stream are still there. Nothing has gone anywhere. Only the light has changed.”
Turning toward the valley again, the traveler still could not see the hills, the flowers, or the stream.
But somehow, they no longer seemed gone.
