There’s Nothing To It

I glanced to my left. Darker. Blurry. I looked back at Aron. He put a finger to his lips to indicate quiet. The only sound was the intoxicating mystery music. And there we sat. No words, no hand gestures, nothing.

I was in a haze, a mental fog. After about fifty minutes, Aron got up and began walking into another room. Follow him? I did, twenty steps behind. The surroundings changed but there was no reason to notice.

Aron made himself a cup of coffee and sat down in the cafeteria. I did the same. We looked at each other. Again, the finger to his lips. A new way of conducting one’s self, one’s life – began to unfold.

The idea of the restrictions that personal thought brings echoed in my mind. Soon to follow was the thought that even the echoes were substandard and a restriction.

In an hour, Aron arose, motioned for me to stay, and walked out.

Silence was of utmost importance. A song came on that made me feel as though I was being cradled in a crib. The next one seemed to be a melody to enhance new growth.

The question of ‘what was I to do?’ never appeared. Perhaps that was the game. Time passed. Not sure how much. Was thinking on a human level a complete waste of time? Did all those hours of my pensiveness produce anything I would call ‘elevated’ or ‘magical’? No!

The thought of a ‘work belt’ came and I chuckled out loud.

I could not fathom the venue in which I sat. Everything else I had experienced in life was limited . . . this experience showed potential, Infinite potential.

‘Things that are frivolous’. Should I make list? No. Consider those things that are not frivolous.

What an introduction! What a starting line! So much, from absence.

There’s Nothing To It!

– – – – – epilogue tomorrow – – – – –