The Hermit Chronicles: Fallen Trees

“But other people also ‘invite’ us to behave like victims, when they complain about the unfairness of life, for example, and ask us to agree, to offer advice, to participate. Be careful. When you join in that game you always end up losing.” – Paulo Coelho, Bythe River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept
My life is at odds with the general push and shove of crowds. A crowd may be many people, or many words, both which are troublesome. My obstacles aren’t those of briar and bush, but of opinions and gossip. I’m a solitary traveler, troubling no soul along the way. Yet, here he comes, shoving my shoulder as he flies past, mumbling to himself about the error of my way. He assails my peace, that very thing that led me to wander alone. Why am I a trouble to those who hurry to find themselves at some dead-end, or worse, find themselves exhausted at journeys mid-point, gasping and lost? They are fallen trees and I step gingerly around their bulky frames of negativity that I may be unaffected by the nervous energies of their cumbersome discontent. At times they come in packs, each agreeing with the other and with faceless anonymity, slaying those who are at ease along their way. Their unique talent is to destroy dreams with doubtful comments and hinder progress with the attraction to follow their crowd. I maintain my distance though, and to dissuade them, I turn down a path of unknowing to find pastures of unsurpassed beauty. Follow my way through the brush, apart from the crowd, you can see the grasses and limbs bent to my will, a will that holds peace and protection from their diseases of mind and offers fellowship with the wind and the birds that fly on it, neither of us holding anxious thoughts of tomorrow.