The Bald Man in Orange

I walked along a stream in a forest. The trees always brought me a sense of peace unlike anything else. Based on the bamboo and moss that seemed to engulf everything, I knew I was in an unfamiliar place. My life lacked stillness. I, like most Americans, had become content with a kind of chaos. The chaos fueled my fears. And the fear, somehow, verified I was alive, so in this place I wasn’t sure if I was alive. I just let it feel that way. 

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Before stumbling upon a beautiful red tower that diverged the stream, I felt a release in me. It was a reminder to release the concept of control. “Come in” came a voice from the entrance of the tower. And suddenly I knew it was not a tower, but a temple because the voice came from a man without any hair in a long orange robe. It was a monk tucked neatly away in this perfect place.

I followed his instructions with ease. It shed a light on how much hesitancy I lived my life with prior to this moment. I was typically guessing the outcome of my decisions two or three steps down the line in attempts to avoid regret. I thought I couldn’t afford anymore regret. But I had a feeling that everything I had to lose I had lost already. 

A small bridge led me across the bit of stream that isolated this temple from the rest of the forest. When I finally stood face to face with the monk, I didn’t know what to do. He stared through me in silence, and I stared at him awkwardly. I could never stand the silence between me and a near stranger. Maybe because my silence was never silent at all. My stream of thoughts instantly went negative, anticipating any rejection that waited for me. But he seemed to gather all of this and responded to it with the simple phrase “Stop.” 

Just like that, my thoughts were replaced by the sound of the water streaming around us. I figured this must have been a coincidence, but I sat in the peacefulness for a minute, or maybe ten. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed before my thoughts resumed and I finally responded, “Stop what?”.

He turned away from me and walked toward the railing on the perimeter of the temple. He stared out to where the two streams of water that flowed around the temple rejoined into one. He closed his eyes and seemed to become a part of the world around him. As if he was the trees, the stream, and the temple itself.

When he finally spoke, his voice sounded quiet as if it was barely escaping his lips. Yet, his words filled my mind so loud and clear that it felt telepathic. “You have spent your life being led by your vices, or the vices of others for the fear of being left behind. Your thoughts have gotten the best of your life experience as you have made no effort to control your attention.” 

I didn’t like being read so clearly. I spent my whole life protected by a facade of mystery that seemed to be gradually decaying with each year of life that passed. It seemed nearly everything I did was to distract those around me from my crumbling composure and growing vulnerabilities. But here I was, completely seen by a man in a robe that has not seemed to look directly at me since our encounter had begun. And that was the irony of it all. Looking directly at me always took a person further away from understanding who I truly was. 

“Stop”

The word rang through my thoughts again as I was abruptly pulled back into the current moment. I couldn’t help it. My thoughts seemed to be the only remaining real thing about me. All of my other attributes were so curated and altered to manipulate how I was perceived by others. I felt I had lost all that was authentic long ago.

“This is only because you believe what you think is who you are. But you can not control your thoughts. You can only control your attention and the things in which you attribute value.”

I fell silent in every way as I digested what he had just said. My mental cage seemed as if it had been unlocked. The door was left open. And I simply stood within the cage and looked out, completely able to escape, yet hesitant to do so.

How many times in my life had I been in a similar position with a different context? Too many to count. But I know I never walked out of the cage. Instead, I just admired the view of the outside. At times I maybe even fantasized what it would be like to leave, but it never seemed worth it. I always concluded that outside would reveal itself to be, simply, a larger cage, in which my current cage was safely positioned within. And with relativity the thief of all joy, I figured I’d soon look back at the cluelessness I had now and regret longing for anything more. So, in short, fear never let me release accountability for my thoughts. Fear never let me be anything but my thoughts. And the life in which I was free from that intrinsic shame well… I never bothered to give it a try. 

“Well how about now, Justina? How about you give it a try…”

Suddenly the sound of the water streaming around us faded into a steady beeping sound, that of my phone alarm, and I opened my eyes. There I lay in bed, for the first time, awake.