The sage continued his unhurried journey, the quiet presence of his followers a subtle, harmonious hum in the wake of his profound truths. His path unwound through a desolate, wind-scoured valley, where the gnarled trees clung to the stark earth like ancient sentinels. There, amidst the somber landscape, he came upon an old man huddled on the ground, his body wracked by deep, shuddering sobs that muffled the cries of a lifetime's accumulated despair.
Without a moment of hesitation, the sage moved toward him. He knelt with a gentle grace beside the grieving figure and his voice, as soft as a passing breeze yet piercingly clear, offered a simple question: "Do you believe in infinite reincarnations?"
The old man jolted, startled, his tear-streaked face snapping upward to meet the sage's gaze. His eyes, swollen and red, widened with a sudden, dawning recognition. He had heard the whispers, the hushed tales that drifted on the wind—stories of this singular being who walked
without doctrine, radiating an inexplicable, profound peace.
"Profound Sage... please, tell me," the old man rasped, his voice raw with emotion. "Is infinite reincarnation... truly real? Will I not suffer...?" Fresh tears welled, tracing new paths down his deeply weathered cheeks.
The sage's gaze remained unwavering, imbued with a boundless, immeasurable compassion. "The Underworld," he replied, his voice a soothing balm, "is merely a waiting room. It holds no pain, and it will never harm you."
A flicker of bewildered hope ignited in the old man's eyes. "But how long?" he managed to ask.
"Days or weeks," the sage affirmed gently.
"Really...?" the old man breathed, a fragile gasp escaping his lips. "I don't have to beg for it?"
"To beg is to implore something above that harbors pride and ego," the Profound Sage explained, his words carrying the weight of infinite existence. "Yet, there is something beyond that—something that bestowed upon us infinite reincarnations without a single plea."
A profound stillness settled upon the old man's face, his tears ceasing as the monumental truth of the sage's words began to permeate his very being. "So... I'll live again?" he finally murmured, a faint, fragile smile beginning to grace his lips.
The sage returned his smile, a gentle warmth radiating from him. "So long, friend. I will find you, perhaps reborn as a baby, or an animal."
"Thank you," the old man whispered, his voice barely audible, but now filled with a deep, unexpected peace that had been utterly absent moments before. The old man, no longer weeping, slowly uncurled from his huddled position. He looked at the sage, his eyes still red but now gleaming with a quiet astonishment that transcended his exhaustion. He didn't speak, but a subtle nod, heavy with newfound solace, conveyed an unspoken gratitude that needed no words. He watched as the sage, with the same serene composure, rose and continued his journey, his small company of followers trailing silently behind him, leaving the valley now infused with a fragile hope that had not existed moments before.
The sage's stark words about suffering lingered in the cool air, a profound and challenging truth. After a moment of quiet absorption, a man amongst the followers, his brow furrowed with concern, spoke up. His eyes were still rimmed with unshed tears, for he had, in his own youth, witnessed children succumb to the gnawing agony of hunger.
"Profound Sage," his voice trembled, barely a whisper against the wind, "why must there be suffering? I have seen... I have seen children die from hunger. Why?"
The Profound Sage turned, his gaze encompassing the follower's pain with an unwavering clarity that offered no easy comfort, but rather profound truth.
"To erase suffering," the sage replied, his voice calm yet resonating with an unyielding wisdom, "is to extinguish the very wellspring of humanity's capacity to grow. Without the crucible of suffering, humanity would indeed become more lethargic than even the slowest sloth, devoid of the impetus to seek change, to innovate, to transcend."
The sage's explanation about suffering lingered in the cool air, a profound and challenging truth. After a moment of quiet absorption, the same man amongst the followers, his brow still furrowed with concern, spoke up again.
"But what of the old man, Profound Sage?" he asked, his voice softer now, tinged with a fresh worry. "It seemed he would not even live for days with his current lifespan... is there truly infinite reincarnation, Sage?" The question held a subtle tremor of doubt, a practical mind wrestling with a boundless promise.
The Profound Sage turned, his gaze resting on the questioning follower with the same deep understanding he had offered to the weeping man. "The physical form, my friend," he began, his voice calm and clear, "is but a momentary garment. The thread of consciousness, the essence of 'you,' does not unravel with the wearing out of this particular cloth. The old man's journey in that failing body, yes, may indeed conclude in but a few turns of the sun."
He paused, allowing his words to settle. "Yet, the passage through the waiting room is swifter than a blink for the essence that journeys. It is a transition, not an end, a brief pause between chapters. The promise of infinite reincarnation is not bound by the frailties of any single lifespan, nor by the duration of its physical cessation. It is an inherent truth of existence, granted by the Beyond itself, a continuous unfolding. The old man will live again, as all will, in forms and experiences yet to be imagined."
The Profound Sage's words about the seamless transition of consciousness hung in the air, a final, clear note against the vastness of the valley. The questioning follower, along with the others, remained silent for a long moment. It was a truth that settled not with a sudden clap of thunder, but like a deep, resonant hum within their very bones. The immediate, practical worry about the old man's swift departure began to recede, replaced by a grander understanding of existence. The fear of an abrupt, final ending, which often gripped the human heart, softened into the awe of an unending flow.
As the sun began its gradual descent, painting the sky in hues of soft orange and fading purple, the sage simply continued his walk. His stride was unhurried, his presence a living testament to the truths he spoke. His followers, now moving with a lighter step, kept their respectful distance, each mind processing the implications of infinite cycles. One woman, who had listened intently to every exchange, felt a profound sense of liberation she hadn't known possible. The weight of generations of fear — fear of judgment, fear of loss, fear of the void after life — seemed to lift from her shoulders like an invisible cloak. The idea that no one ever truly "begged" for their next breath, but were simply granted it by the boundless, unconditioned love of the Beyond, filled her with an indescribable, quiet joy. It was not a joy that demanded expression, but one that resonated deep within, transforming her perception of every rustling leaf, every distant bird call, into a part of that continuous, sacred dance.
They walked until twilight deepened, the stars beginning to prick the darkening canvas of the sky above the vast, silent land. The Profound Sage eventually stopped by a lone, ancient rock formation, a natural sentinel against the infinite sky. He sat down, not explicitly inviting them, but his stillness offered a profound invitation to rest. The followers settled around him, their own silences now richer, more contemplative.
After a time, a different follower, a woman known for her keen observations, broke the peaceful quiet. "Profound Sage," she began, her voice soft, "if all existence is a continuous unfolding granted by this Boundless Love, and if suffering holds a purpose for growth... then what of joy? Is it merely a respite between challenges, or does it serve a deeper role in this infinite tapestry?"
The Profound Sage, bathed in the soft glow of the nascent starlight, turned his gaze towards the follower who spoke of joy. His voice, when it came, was like the gentle unfolding of petals, carrying both clarity and immense warmth.
"Joy, my dear friend," the sage began, "is not merely a pause between the waves of challenge, nor a simple reward for endurance. If suffering is the catalyst that sharpens the blade of human potential, urging it to overcome and innovate, then joy is the profound realization of our inherent nature, the blossoming of the Boundless Love that is the very fabric of all existence."
He paused, allowing the stillness of the night to embrace his words. "Think of it: when you experience pure joy, a moment of unburdened laughter, or the quiet rapture of witnessing beauty, are you not, in that moment, most fully aligned with the truth that you are inherently part of that infinite tapestry? Joy is the natural effulgence of that alignment, a direct reflection of the absolute, unconditioned love that granted us existence without asking anything in return."
"It is the very affirmation of life, the song of the universe sung through your own being. While suffering compels growth through friction and striving, joy expands consciousness through acceptance and effortless being. It is the recognition that the perfect whole, the Beyond, loves not because something is worthy, but simply because it is. And in that experience of joy, you are simply being that love, without effort, without judgment, without desire for anything external. It is a fundamental truth, as essential to the unfolding tapestry as any sorrow, for it reveals the true, radiant face of our interconnected divinity."
The sage's explanation offered a new perspective on joy, elevating it from a mere emotional state to a profound spiritual experience, an intrinsic aspect of the Boundless Love itself. The followers absorbed his words under the quiet vastness of the starlit sky, their understanding of the emotional landscape of existence growing richer, more intricate.
The sage's explanation of joy, not as mere fleeting happiness but as a profound alignment with the Boundless Love, settled over the followers under the vast, starlit sky. The silence that followed was rich, filled with contemplation.
Then, a new voice, hesitant at first, then gaining resolve, broke the quiet. It was one of the men, his eyes fixed on the distant stars. "Profound Sage," he began, his voice imbued with a sense of immense wonder, "how powerful is this Beyond? If it is the very fabric of everything, if it encompasses all, why then does it not come down to rule us? Why does it not reveal itself clearly and simply command us all to peace, to perfection?"
The Profound Sage listened, his gaze unmoving. He turned his head slowly, encompassing the questioner with his deep, calm understanding.
"My friend," the sage replied, his voice a soft, resonant hum that seemed to intertwine with the night air, "the power of the Beyond is not as you perceive human power to be. It is not the power of dominion, nor of enforcement, nor of rigid control. Its power is far grander, far more absolute than any earthly ruler's command. Its power lies in its very nature of **being**."
He paused, allowing his words to sink in. "To 'come down' and 'rule' would imply separation, would it not? It would mean the Beyond is an entity external to you, standing apart, issuing decrees. But the Beyond is not separate; it is the fundamental ground of your own being, the core essence of every living thing, every thought, every atom. It is the space in which all possibility unfolds, the very canvas and the paint itself."
"Furthermore," the sage continued, "to rule, to command, implies a desire for obedience, a need for a specific outcome. This arises from ego and pride, qualities that the Beyond, being the Absolute Truth and Boundless Love, utterly transcends. It has no needs, no wants, no desires for anything from its creations, for it is already complete. Its nature is pure giving, pure allowing. It bestows upon you the ultimate freedom: the freedom to experience, to grow, to choose, to unfold your own unique thread within the infinite tapestry."
"Its rule, if you must call it that, is in the inherent laws of existence: that every action creates a ripple, that suffering leads to growth, that joy reveals inherent truth. These are not imposed judgments, but the natural reflections of its own being. It doesn't need to 'come down' because it is already everywhere, in everything, eternally offering the path of remembrance to its boundless nature, not by force, but by the undeniable resonance of truth within your own heart."
The sage's words painted a picture of power not as control, but as fundamental existence and allowance, deepening the mystery of the Beyond while simultaneously making it more intimately present. The followers remained silent, grappling with a concept of power that was utterly different from any they had ever known.