The young man dozed off. A whole day of tiring travel lay behind them, a strange landscape, a strange country, everything unusual and unfamiliar, so they had to attend far more closely even to the simplest things. No wonder the young man was exhausted and all but collapsed with fatigue. He fell asleep the moment he closed his eyelids, and already a tremor, fine as a breath, ran across them, as if the dream-butterflies had fluttered their wings. He slept. And a happy peace spread over his face – not the furrows of fatigue but the waves of gladness played upon his untroubled countenance.
‘Homer says that among the sweetest things in life are sleep, and song, and dance, and love… What a selection! Yes, life is not meant for struggle, not for suffering! Well, I know, a little for struggle, a little for suffering too. But the calling of life, after all, is to know our soul, and to find the way home, isn’t it? We were not born to be lost, but to find the way home!’ – mused the older travelling companion, the young man’s teacher. As your faith is – so are you.
I bow to the God who gives light to the Sun and beauty to the Moon!
I bow to the God who instils joy in the heart of man!
I bow to the God who gives life and thought to all!
This serene, sleeping face warmed his heart. He watched the young body lying stretched out, and it was as if the whole day’s tension were easing out of his frame in tiny tremors. Now and then a leg twitches, a shoulder flinches… His chest rises and falls in a regular, calm rhythm as he breathes. This slow, measured pulsing is rounded out by the quicker, visible beating of his heart. He is at rest and, at the same time, a thousand movements stir within him, upon him and around him.
‘He must be dreaming something beautiful.’ – thought the teacher, a little envious of his disciple. The disciple slept, and his teacher meditated. – ‘What does the heart give off? The wise physician listens to the sounds of the heart and understands so much from them. The pressure wave runs through the whole body, carried by the pulsing of the bloodstream. It cannot be seen, but heat, the warmth of life, comes from here too. What is dead – cold, and what lives gives off heat. And this heart-heat is not merely a bodily warmth. The true warmth of the heart is goodness of heart, and this is light, brightness. And then the strength, the strength that dwells in the heart, which does not frighten you but makes your heart leap…’
Slowly his face grew more serious as he watched the serene young man. The joyful and heart-rending moments of his disciple’s service came back to him. When he had managed to pass on what he wished to, and when he had not. Slowly something took shape within him.
‘Let me count into my palm all the knowledge, insight, wisdom, discernment, happiness and love, every good thing that has descended upon me, so that it may then shine across to you… May providence guard and protect you from every ill and harm, so that you may reach your goal on the wandering road of life. When you are awake, a keen reason shines in your gaze, and I wish that deep, warming feelings and love, too, may radiate from your eyes upon the world… Perhaps our paths will part, fate will tear us from each other, but something will always go with you, for a lifetime, or even for an eternity, and that is the goodwill which will always smooth your way. Do not forget that you are here on earth for yourself, for others and, in the end, for Him. May success attend your steps, may the divine blessing be with you to the end. Accept my gift.’ – he said, and he spread his palms, as though he had gathered golden light into them, above the young man’s brow. After all, love forms our existence and our existence forms love…