Silence and Meditation
Journal Entry From a "Rucksack Wanderer"
July 9th, 2006
I gaze into the quiet, slow stream. There's something about being alone, far away, and silent. It's a drug to a struggling mind, and sitting here on the solid shaded earth I see sounds, hear colors, and feel my state of mind flow by against my numb fingers in the cold spring. Devouring my thoughts, the raindrops fall from the opalescent covered sky- colors of everything carried to the ground, to the stream, and to the back of my neck. My gaze does not shutter or move as the wet colors roll down my naked spine. My thoughts are empty, but continuous; untouched water moves past my solid stare. I have never been so high and I have never been so wise. I float down the narrow stream connected to nothing and seeing everything unimaginable. Unconscious of my surroundings and at peace with myself, I drift hoping never to come down.
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