The trees screen the piercing light, and under their foliage I can feel the peacefulness of the moment. My footsteps take me further and further along the path, without any particular goal in mind, just for the pleasure of it.
The breath of the wind becomes less and less exciting. The dance of the leaves slows its pace and the bustle around me is barely perceptible. The birdsong drops an octave. All is calm and peaceful.
Where are my footsteps taking me? I look up at the crowns of the trees. I feel my steps lighten and I begin to free myself from gravity. I feel the lightness of movement. Higher and higher.
Who am I? An actor in the human condition, or just an observer? Am I following in the footsteps of philosophers who have already passed this way, or am I an explorer on an unknown path? Why should this question be so important?
To rise again and again. To rise to the point where the eye ceases to perceive details and focuses on the essential. To feel a sense of balance, as if flying weightlessly without worrying about the rest. Where is this place and how do you get there?
Silence settles in, the notion of time disappears. No matter what the hours or days, everything merges into a timeless space, everything converges towards unity.
And in that perception, I saw eternity. The eternity of a simple, sincere life, with no prerogatives. Just being there, being you. I felt eternity around me and within me. Not restlessness, but a soothing, benevolent harmony.
Eternity.
As the sun begins its descent towards the horizon, the light takes on a reddish hue and contrasts become more pronounced. In the caress of the wind, the leaves of the trees are dressed in warm colours, as if they wanted to keep the summer heat alive.
Like little paper aeroplanes, they deposit their messages and form a glittering carpet of colour. The luckiest ones let themselves be carried away by the wind, far, far away, to blend in with the others in an ephemeral mosaic.
When the sun manages to outshine the clouds, golden flashes settle in the valleys. Everything calms down. Calm returns little by little. Nature has borne its fruit and is preparing to rest. The vines have shed their bunches and the birds have picked up the last remnants. The rows of vines have been cleared to give way to the wind that will soon be blowing down from the mountains.
In the stillness of a sunny day, the torrent increases its roar, fed by countless droplets of rain absorbed from the mountain slopes.
At the harvest festival, among the guests, we will turn in a slow and then fast dance, like dead leaves caught in a whirlwind, whipped up by the gusts of a fussy wind.
Before mist, rain and, finally, snow arrive without warning in a heavy carriage, we want to make the most of the sun, which is still warming us, and revel in these rare moments of multicoloured nature.
Soon, the trees will be letting their sap flow down to their roots. They are bare, almost embarrassed by this state of unveiled intimacy. Everything is ready for rest, before a downy blanket covers them with a whitish softness.
Autumn, I feel your deep roots in the earth, my eyes close and my thoughts turn inwards - I've made an appointment with myself.